1 week later...
Arthur's POV...
He smiled thinly as the queen-mother hooked their elbows together, pulling him away from his group of friends. He turned around slightly to see the worried eyes of Chancy and Julia, somehow warning him to be polite. He had told the two all about the encounter, Julia dropping to her knees and thanking God the queen hadn't killed him on the spot. At the time Arthur had thought she was being dramatic, but since then Arthur had learned about her extensive rap sheet. Essentially, anyone who has ever gotten on her bad side either disappeared or ended up committing suicide. That would have been nice to know before he had sassed her, but since then they have spent at least an hour a day getting to know each other. There was no substantial progress.
"Did you have a good night's rest? You seem a little tired today." The woman had slight bags under her eyes dull blue eyes. Her hair was in a simple bun and her dress was a simple grey. they were currently walking through the Queen's personal garden, the bright flowers even brighter when near the stark color of her dress. The woman shrugged.
"I suppose so, but it could have been better." She groaned. "I believe I need a new mattress." She speculated.
"Did you inform anyone?" Arthur asked, bending down to look at some pretty pink flowers. "What kind of flowers are these?" He looked up at the queen expectantly. Her cold gray eyes brightened.
"I haven't a clue." She shrugged. "This garden is mine only in name, I never tend to it." She confessed, Arthur making a noise of amusement. "Ask the gardener over there." She instructed, pointing to a man who was currently hunched over a bed of roses. He looked awfully busy.
"Are you sure? He looks quite busy." Arthur stood up. The queen-mother nodded. He bit his lip as he approached the other. "Excuse me, sir?" The brit called softly once he was close enough. The man turned around with a frown before recognizing the woman standing beside him, instantly breaking into a smile.
"Yes? How may I help you?" He asked in a thick Irish accent. He had deep indigo eyes and dark blond/light brown hair. He had deep set wrinkles around his eyes, which looked dull as if he too had little sleep. Arthur had introduced himself, the other looking oddly familiar. The man bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet the prince's mate finally. He has told me a lot about you. My name is Alroy O'Donoghue." He offered out a hand, Arthur gasping in realization.
"That's why you look so familiar! You're Davie's father." He smiled brightly as he shook his hand, the queen-mother discreetly pinching his arm. What? He looked over to the gardener to see his eyes darken as he cleared his throat. "Is something the matter?" Arthur asked slowly, the gardener nodding his head.
"Davie's not my son." Arthur furrowed his brows, about to apologize until the gardener continued. "At least not anymore." Arthur pursed his lips together, suddenly remembering Davie had cut communication with his parents. He apologized quickly, but the gardener smiled at him, shaking his head. "You couldn't have known, I mean, why would he tell anyone he made his mother cry?" Though he was smiling, Arthur could see the pain in his eyes. "Why would he tell anyone that his mother has been crying everyday since he had chosen his mate over his family? He doesn't care, so why would he let anyone know?" He dropped to his knees, Arthur plopping down beside him, feeling awful.
"I'm so sorry. Uh... if you have anything you'd like me to tell Davie on your behalf, I'd do it." He offered, the gardener looking at him with weather eyes.
"Really?" He asked, confused. "Aren't you folk supposed to be awful?" He continued, Arthur pursing his lip in a tight smile. "The British have been nothing but enemies to the Irish." He explained, Arthur nodding.
"I'm well aware of the crimes of my people." He conceded, tilting his head to the side. "For what it's worth, I don't think ethnicity, race or religion should be used to justify inhumane treatment of others, and that what happened in Ireland was a tremendous tragedy." The gardener nodded in agreeance. "Well, then." Arthur sighed. "What's your message? Surely you have one." The gardener nodded.
"Quite a few."
~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~
Arthur had dragged the Queen-mother along with him on his quest to deliver a message to Davie. The queen, who was sighing in reluctance the whole time, was trying to convince the brit to stay out of family matters. Arthur refused, the old man was close to tears, and it was his fault. On the way, Arthur had run into Chancy and Julia, who were standing in front of Davie's surgery door. The two blonds bowed, the Queen and Arthur bowing back.
"Did you two enjoy your walk?" Julia asked, pushing a long strand of wavy hair back. The pair nodded, the queen speaking up.
"We had a nice conversation with the palace gardener." She spoke, grabbing the attention of the French Ambassador. The queen-mother didn't think anything of it, not even knowing who was the mate of her beloved Davie. "He was reduced to shambles because his son had cut communication. My dear friend Alva has been crying every night. However, I don't doubt whoever Davie has mated with must be the fairest of them all, if he was willing to abandon his parents so quickly." She turned her attention to the Frenchman, whose expression was suspiciously blank. "Like you, for instance." Chancy looked up at her in shock. "Someone as pretty as you can easily steal a man away from his family, be he married or a Catholic." She smirked, her eyes knowing. Chancy thanked her.
"Thank you, your highness. However, may I inquire why you two have left the garden so soon? The flowers are in bloom, I would imagine you would want to bask in it for a little while more." His eyes were cold as he gazed at the queen-mother, who smiled.
"Arthur offered to carry a message from Davie's father to Davie." Chancy slowly turned his gaze to Arthur, who was rocking back and forth.
"I can explain, I will explain, and I-"
"Why must you explain yourself?" The queen asked, confused, she looked at the trio of blondes. Arthur sighed, looking at Chancy, who was still glaring at him.
"I," The frenchman started, releasing a heavy sigh. "Am the mate that stole Davie away from his parents." He muttered, turning to the queen, offering a hand. "My name is Chancy Lafayette." The Queen-mother took his hand with a wide smile.
"Well, I guess I was right about you." She said lightly. "Well, You should join us as we relay the message. You may too, Julia, for we are all friends." She offered, Julia shaking her head rapidly.
"I apologize but I had prior commitments that I should get going to." She excused herself, bowing and rushing off. The door suddenly swung open, Davie removing his surgical mask. His shirt was caked in blood and his hands were a little pink. He looked confused, looking around for someone.
"Hello." He bowed quickly. "Do you guys know where Julia went?" The queen nodded.
"She had just left, she has other commitments." She answered, walking towards Davie, who stepped back and began to close the door.
"If you'd excuse me for a moment while I tidy up."
~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~
Davie hadn't said a word since the message was relayed, looking down at his flower samples. What Arthur had thought was blood stains was just red flower extract mixed with a syrup-like substance. Chancy looked extremely uncomfortable, pacing around the room, humming a tune. Arthur cleared his throat.
"Do you have a repl-"
"No." Davie said softly. "You don't need to concern yourself with this, it'll only add to your burdens." He sounded apologetic, as if it were his fault.
"Davie, are you okay?" Arthur asked in Irish, the doctor stiffening before turning in his chair slightly to face the other.
"Yes." He answered back. The Queen was staring at the brit in shock, not knowing he spoke any other language. "I made a choice that I still stand by today." He muttered. "It wasn't easy, but I... it was worth it."
"He said your mother is crying everyday." Arthur added. Davie bit his lip, unsure of what to say. "Maybe that's who you've been feeling when you accused Chancy of being miserable." Davie shrugged.
"I guess, but the presence is getting weaker." He said slowly. "Our bond is breaking." Arthur could only nod.
"You know Chancy's willing to suffer through your mother's nagging, right?" Arthur asked. "He doesn't mind being a little annoyed if it means that you can still keep your bond." The brit didn't personally agree, but he knew Chancy would want to see Davie smile more than anything. Davie nodded.
"I know, but I don't want them bothering him, or our child, with their negativity." He muttered. "The pain is numbing, eventually, it won't even matter." He said sternly. "And I can tell by the look in your eyes you think I did the right thing by leaving my parents. Alfred, though he's not a fan of my relationship, told me that what I did was justified. Francis and Matthew were the ones who even walked me through the steps of breaking off things with my parents. Since nobody minds, I think you should let it go. If you need to tell them anything, tell them to move on." He turned back to his desk. "That's all I have to say, Artie." He said in English, the brit sighing in defeat.
"Okay."
"Thanks, though. For trying." Davie offered.
~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~
"That wasn't very successful." The queen muttered, Arthur humming in agreement. "However, I had no idea you spoke another language." Arthur turned to her before smiling brightly.
"I'm practically omnilingual." The Queen rolled her eyes.
"How many languages do you speak?" Arthur shrugged.
"I don't remember." Arthur confessed. "Whenever I hear a language, it just comes back to me, and I can communicate. Years of schooling, and I can hardly manifest it when I want to because of a decade of turmoil." He complained, the queen chuckling.
"Whatever." She said simply. "It's a good thing your father used his wealth to educate you. I wouldn't want a stupid son-in-law." Arthur scrunched up his nose.
"Oh, have you accepted me into the family yet~?" He teased, the queen releasing an annoyed hum.
"No, not yet." She muttered. "But there are worse things."
2 days later...
Alfred's POV...
He hadn't seen Arthur all day, the brit insisting to stay in his room because he wasn't feeling well. Alfred did what little he could to diagnose Arthur himself, the brit not showing any signs of ailments. Before he had gotten a chance to ask why he was really going to stay in all day, John had knocked on the door and told him more arrangements for the coronation needed to be done, and that he needed to be present. He left the brit with a brief kiss, the other hardly moving his lips in return. Alfred had smirked at the now many times the brit has done that, but on the inside he felt a jab at his heart. He really doesn't know what he's doing wrong, but since he couldn't feel any anger emitting from the brit, he figured everything was alright.
"Alfred." The prince stopped at the stern voice, turning slowly to face his mother.
"Yes mother?" Alfred sighed. It was getting late and he missed his omega. The Queen quirked a brow at him, her long grey dress dragging behind her. The collar was low hanging and black, a bit of her cleavage making an appearance. Alfred averted his eyes. "You're in your fifties." He stated bluntly, his mother humming.
"Yet I still look 30." She praised herself. More like 39, Alfred thought, but he kept his mouth shut. "Where is Arthur? I've been searching for the last 3 hours." She complained. Alfred licked his lip.
"Is he not in his room?" The prince asked, the queen shaking her head. Hmm, then where was he? "When did you check?" The queen hummed.
"About an hour ago."
"Did you check the gardens?" She nodded. "Did you check Davie's room?"
"No, but I had both Davie and his mate assist in my search for him." Hmm, so they didn't know.
"Did you ask any guards to find him?" Alfred asked,now a little concerned. She scoffed.
"Are you out of your mind? They'd only panic because he had just been returned from a kidnapping." She shot. Alfred groaned, she was right. It'll prove unnecessarily stressful to alert the palace if the brit was truly just taking a walk. But what if he wasn't? Alfred shook his head. His mother just didn't look hard enough.
"Maybe he's with John?" Alfred suggested, his mother shaking her head. "Then his father?" She made a brief humming sound.
"I didn't think about Arnold." The pair changed their direction towards the east wing, where special guests stay. Alfred was unsure of which room was Arnold, not being over in over 2 weeks. The pair hummed in confusion until they heard a door open. They turned to Arnold leave his room, Arthur walking next to him, head pressed against the other's chest. The brits were whispering something, small sniffles audible. He glanced down at the queen who had a slightly concerned face. "Arthur!" She said rather aggressively, the blonds turning around in shock. "Where have you been?" She ordered, marching over to them, the prince following as well. The closer the prince got, the clearer the situation became.
"O-o-oh, uh," the brit's voice was light as he looked down, not making eye contact with any of the Americans. He had no shoes on, and he was still wearing his pajamas, which was just an over sized t-shirt that stopped at his knees. Did he really leave the room like that? Alfred recognized the jacket draped over the other, Arnold at least providing some decency. The brit's hair was disheveled, and his eyes were red and puffy. Was he crying? The prince hadn't noticed any discrepancies throughout the day, everything felt neutral.
"Arthur?" He took a step closer to the omega, who shrunk into his father in retreat. Alfred stopped, staring at his lover in shock. "What's wrong?" Arthur bit his lip, searching the ground. "Arthur?" After a long awkward moment of no reply, Arnold cleared his throat.
"Your highnesses," He started, grabbing the attention of the Americans. "Arthur here has requested to spend the night in my room-"
"What?!" Alfred put his hands on his hips, chuckling threateningly. Arnold smiled thinly.
"He has his reasons, and I assure you, the matters have nothing to do with you." His voice was tight, before turning his attention to the queen. "Or you."
"Then what are his reasons?" The queen asked, the man smirking.
"They are of a personal matter." He offered, Alfred staring holes into the other. He was furious, and he could tell by the way his omega tensed up that he could sense it. "I'm sure Arthur will tell later, but for tonight, he prefers to talk about it with me."
"I need my things." Arthur whispered to his father, the old man nodding.
"We must go-"
"Get his things?" Alfred's voice was soft and seemingly understanding, a warm smile on his face. He approached once more, and the brit didn't react, allowing him to get closer. Once arm's width apart, only then could Arthur feel the animosity the prince was concealing, stumbling back. The prince, grabbed his wrist before he can get any further, pulling the other closer. "If it's only one night, all you'll need is an outfit, right?" The brit didn't make eye contact. "Look at me." He hissed, the brit shaking his head. The prince felt his heart drop, but his resolve didn't falter.
"Alfred, unhand him." His mother said, grabbing his forearm. "It's only a night with his father. If you want, you can spend the night with me." She offered. Alfred turned to look at her in shock, her eyes looking at the brit with curiosity. "Let go of him. Let's take a walk."
~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~
Alfred ended up not spending the night with his mother, not willing to let her see him possibly cry. First with the not kissing back, now not sleeping in the same room. The brit wouldn't even tell him why. He wouldn't even look him in the eyes! He groaned as he forced himself to get out of bed, heading to the bathroom to get ready. He brushed his teeth, washed his face and fixed his hair. He may be falling apart on the inside, but he can't look that way on the outside. He left the room and began to pull out some clothes, debating about what he should wear that day. He was in the mood for black, but he didn't want people to think he was in mourning. He was, but he didn't want people to think he was.
As he was about to pick a color, there was a knock on the door, the prince galring at it. He knew it was Arthur, he could feel him. He was only in his underwear, but he answered the door anyway, making sure to wait a little bit so he didn't look too desperate. The brit was looking down at his shoes silently, he too still being in his pajamas. The outfit he selected yesterday was in his hands, but he hadn't put them on. "Yes?" Alfred asked coldly, wanting the other to know that he was still angry and hadn't forgiven him yet. Arthur bowed, still not looking at him. "Look at me." The prince ordered, the brit walking past him and into the room. The prince closed the door, turning and grabbing hold of the brit's waist, pulling him closer, gently scenting him.
"I'm sorry." Arthur whispered. The prince can smell traces of Arnold on him, two probably very close last night.
"I don't forgive you." Alfred deadpanned, pulling away. He could feel a pang at the back of his head, that last statement really hurting the other. He hummed, turning the other around to face him. The brit was close to tears, a small hand reaching up and wiping at his eyes. Something about him seemed a little broken, out of place. Arthur was fine two nights ago, what happened to him? "Are you okay?" He asked softly, the brit looking up at him for the first time, shaking his head. "What's wrong?"
"Sorry." He apologized, the prince waving his hand, repeating the question. "It was just a dream." He confessed. "A nightmare really." He buried his nose in the other's chest. Alfred led him to the bed. "I-I just needed to be with someone who would understand." His wet eyes searched the room.
"Understand what?" Alfred brushed a strand of hair behind his head. Arthur swallowed, a few tears spilling.
"The tunnels. England in general." Alfred knew of the tunnels, he had never personally went there, and he had made an effort to not ask the other about it. From what he did collect from the fortress maids at the time is that the tunnels are an awful place of confusion and gang activity; a gigantic grave. For a while Alfred had thought it was exaggerated because of how sound Arthur was, figuring anyone who had lived through such a hard conditions for three years would have gone insane.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Arthur pursed his lips, eyes darkening.
"I actually don't want to relive those memories." His voice was soft. "No amount of cliffs can amount to the things I went through there." He flopped down onto the bed, rolling onto his side. "I only came back to apologize, and stay in here for the rest of the day. Tell your mother I'm sorry for worrying her." He muttered. Alfred shook his head, not willing to leave his mate in such a miserable state. He climbed in beside him.
"I'm sorry you had to go through... whatever you went through." He mumbled. "It probably means nothing coming from me, considering I was leading the entire assault for a while." Arthur didn't respond. "For the last year and a half we've been trying to get people out of the tunnels and back on farms. We've rebuilt some infrastructure and we've provided towns with some funds to start building up their institutions again."
"What are you getting at?" Arthur asked sharply. "That everything that I and others went through is okay now because you made some superficial repairs on the things you've broken?" The prince hummed, figuring the other would be angry.
"No." He said simply. "I'm sorry if it came across like that." He looked up at the ceiling. If he leaves it like this, things will only get worse. "While I was looking for you," He started. "John came to talk to me because he said that you were more likely to choose your brothers over me. He said that he wanted me to mentally prepare myself for this because I'm already... emotionally stunted."
"So?" Arthur asked, not caring.
"So~," Alfred continued. "He accused me of wanting to be with you because of how mentally strong you are. He called me selfish and weak." There was an awkward pause, Arthur turning around to face him. His eyes were looking up at him knowingly, brows knitted in challenge. Ohohoho, he didn't want him to say it out loud. "John was wrong." he said bluntly. "You and I have the same emotional capacity, we just refuse to deal with our issues. We never learned how to cope."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not saying this to get you upset." Alfred hummed, looking down at the other a smiling. "I just want you to know, just in case you don't, that everything you've been through is still weighing on your shoulders, and until you properly-"
"I don't need this." Arthur cut him off. "I don't want you finish, okay? I'm tired, and I'm sad-"
"So you're just going to sleep it off? You can keep trying to bury your feelings, force yourself to make happy ones, but until you can look back at the bad times without running for the hills, you'll never escape them." Alfred advised. "I realise that it's ridiculous coming from me." Arthur stared at him for a while, before rolling his eyes.
"Yes, but I'd prefer to talk about them when I'm ready." He spat, and Alfred shrugged.
"You don't even need to talk about them." Alfred yawned. "As long as you can find some sort of closure, the-"
"Closure?" Arthur scoffed. "How-"
"You can successfully evacuate the tunnels and provide aid. Make sure no one else goes through what you did." Alfred yawned again. "We're getting married, therefore you have a new set of tools that were never at your disposal. You have the power to defeat the beast, so to speak." Arthur had a pensive face. "Or, if that's too complicated, just talk about it." There was a long pause before Arthur climbed over on top of the other, resting his cheek on his pectoral.
"I would love to do both, eventually." He sighed. Alfred ran a hand through his hair.
"We will, we'll both get closure." There was a long silence before Arthur looked up at him.
"I just realized you meant your memory." He said with a blush. "I was so confused for a good minute, you kept kept calling yourself emotionally stunted, but it's making sense now." Alfred chuckled softly, kissing him sweetly.
"I mean... my memory isn't my priority anymore. Right now it's getting you situated, getting crowned, and meeting my son." He mumbled. Arthur frowned.
"Don't give up just yet." He mumbled. "That's most of your life out of the window, the crucial developmental years of your life. We need to get your memory-"
"You're just curious as to how I might change once I get it back." Alfred accused, surprised at his own harsh tone. Arthur went silent, looking down.
"No, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind." He whispered. "Actually... the thought had never crossed my mind. What i-if you get your memory back and you're not the same?" He sounded worried.
"It should be fine." Alfred shrugged. "I mean, yeah childhood's important, but I can't just erase everything I've been through since then." They shared a kiss, Arthur gazing into his eyes.
"Promise if you get your memory back you'll still love me." He whispered, Alfred smiling in shock.
"I promise." He said firmly, their lips connecting once more.
~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~
2 days later...
Alfred was unsure as to why there was a big feast today, there was nothing special going. The hall was nevertheless packed, his mother raising her cup high and starting a toast. "Hello, all!" She said loudly, the crowd cheering at her. Alfred yawned, tuning out her little delegation. He looked to his left and saw his brother, who was picking at his food lazily; he was hungover. He could see Francis next to him, who was next to Chancy, who was next to Davie, who was next to Marshall, who was next to Julia, who was next to Isabelle, who sat next to Clarke and so on so forth. To his right he had Arthur, who was eyeing the queen with untrusting eyes. Beside him was the queen, who was standing up. Next to her was Anabelle and Thomas, the pair wearing awful hats. Next to them were Mary and Jorge, and so on so forth.
He took a deep breath as he drank some of his wine. He prayed this wouldn't be a long speech. He prayed he wouldn't have to give a speech. He groaned softly, looking over at his mate. Arthur now looked like a deer caught in headlights as he gazed down at his food, Alfred a little confused. He began to pay attention to his mother's speech. "When I first met this gentleman, I thought he was vermon." Alfred coughed harshly, sitting up straight. He was about to protest when Arthur shot him a look, telling him to relax. "I thought that, because of his background: the son of the last reigning monarch of Britain, that he was just an opportunist, a man with no heart. I thought he was threat to my son, and my husband's legacy." She stuck out her hand for Arthur to take, and the brit, with pursed lips, took it hesitantly. "I have finally come to realize I was wrong."
Alfred couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did his mother just...?
"I was wrong to assume that he would leech off of the U.S crown. I was especially wrong in assuming he was useless. " She turned to face the brit, motioning him to stand up. He did, straightening his dress out. "Which is why I, Queen Martha, formally accept your engagement with my son, Crown Prince Alfred Fitzgerald Jones." She enveloped the other in a hug, and Arthur stood there like a statue, the most adorably dumb face Alfred had ever seen on him. Eventually he hugged back, the room cheering, Matthew breaking out of his haze and clapping the loudest. Alfred's mother looked over at him, mouthing the words 'come'. The prince rose slowly, unsure whether this was a trap or not, and he moved to his mother's right side, Arthur moving to her left. She turned to the crowd. "These two will be your rulers, and they will spawn this country the beautiful children of unity."
1 week later...
Alfred wouldn't let go, which was perhaps the most annoying part of this situation. Arthur was in desperate need of a nap, the sweltering heat wearing him out. It was far too hot to have skin contact, yet here the other was, cuddling up against him. He whimpered in protest, trying to push him away. The man refused to, in fact, he only more vehemently draped himself over the other.
"Alfie, I'm begging you, please stop, we have a meeting in an hour." Arthur begged, the prince chuckling. "Please, it's too hot." He whined.
"If you sleep in this heat, you won't wake up when the wedding planner comes." Alfred kissed his cheek, the brit growling as he thrashed, trying to get away. It was this moment did Arthur realize how strong the other was, his unbreaking yet gentle grip on his body making it impossible to escape.
"Let your mother decide for me then." Arthur offered. Yes, he did say let the queen mother do it. A week before she had held a feast with most of the people in the palace and formally approved or Arthur's existence in her son's life. Now, she did make it clear that she still hated Arthur, and British people, but she had deemed him harmless. The brit wasn't complaining, working night and day to get her approval. Now that it has finally paid off, Alfred had dragged her into the loop of wedding planning. The first meeting they had included her in was yesterday and it lead to her changing almost every single decision the couple had agreed upon.
The wedding was no longer going to be indoors, but outdoors. Arthur was no longer going to wear pants, but instead a dress. The cake would be chocolate instead of vanilla, and the flowers were going to be a compilation of every state flower to signify 'America.' Just thinking about it made his blood boil, which only made his situation more uncomfortable. Alfred could sense his unhappiness, and he nuzzled him. "What up?" He asked, the brit frowning. Where should he start?
"Today we're choosing the dress." Arthur huffed. "Make sure you, when you get asked which one you like, you choose mine." The brit instructed, the prince shaking his head.
"I won't be there. It's bad luck to see the dress." Arthur stared at him.
"So what are you going to do?" The brit asked, now truly upset.
"Prepare for the coronation, get the goody bags in order, and find you the best goddamn ring in the country." He sounded excited. "We're all going: Me, and Davie, and Marshie, and Clark and Tommie. Jorge's busy today, but he promised to start the list of who's coming and who's not." That sounded like fun, but...
"How long will you be gone?" Arthur asked, the prince humming. After a few moments of humming, Arthur turned to look the other in the eyes, which were searching the ceiling in anxiety. "Alfred?" The prince eventually looked at him with puppy eyes.
"At the least... 3 days-"
"At the least!?" Arthur shot up. Three whole days at the least? That's ridiculous, considering he could find all those things in the capital city. "You don't even need to leave the palace to get that done, and you can have a ring handcarved in 6 days! Where are you going?" Alfred sat up too, pouting his lips as he stared at Arthur with doe eyes. The brit felt uncomfortable under the unusual pleading look. If anything, if this trip was really necessary, Alfred would have just told him that. Why did he look as if he was about to beg?
"Please!"
Arthur looked at him in shock. He was begging, wow. "Ohohoho, now I really know this isn't any sort of preparation. What are you going to be doing?" He asked, the prince frowning in offense.
"I'll have you know that this is indeed preparation for something... a-and I can't get everything from the palace. What if I want some authentic New York merchandise to give to the wedding guests? I can't get that here in the DMV." He retorted, Arthur glaring at him.
"What's this trip preparing you for? What are you going to do?" He watched as the prince chewed his lip in confliction. He eventually sighed, resting his face on his hand.
"It's a bachelor getaway." He mumbled. "It's preparing me for an eternity of marriage." Arthur frowned. A bachelor party?
"Those get insanely wild, Alfred." The brit scowled. Alfred shaking his head.
"Clarke isn't a big drinker, he'll watch over us. We'll be fine!" He had found new life, bouncing on his knees. "After I get the stuff we'll need, we'll head to this lodge on the countryside and spend a day or two." Arthur nodded. Clarke wasn't a big drinker at all, and he was quite responsible. He groaned.
"When were you planning to leave?" He asked softly, the prince smiling widely.
"This afternoon."
"Would you go if I said no?" Arthur asked, arms folded. There was just something about it that seemed so off. Alfred's smile dropped as he pursed his lip.
"If you began to cry, I'd be obligated to stay. But I really wanna go!" He kowtowed, his forehead pressed against the mattress got a few inches from Arthur's knees. The brit was once again shocked.
"You, Alfred F. Jones, are actually kowtowing to me? I'll be damned!" Arthur laughed, lying back down. "As long as you don't hurt yourself... or cheat on me, I'll guess it'll be fine if you go." He relented, suppressing a smile as the other pounced on him, kissing him and chanting 'I love you!' over and over again.