"AHHHH! ALFREDDDD! ALFRED! PLEASEEEE! I'M SORRY!" the brit squealed between gasps and laughter. He thrashed around under the blanket he was hiding under, trying in vain to crawl out. Currently, he was trapped under the prince, who was bouncing and tickling the man underneath him. The American was laughing too, a light cheery laugh that the brit had never heard before. The brit had half a mind to let this continue just to hear the seraphic voice, but the lack of air coming to his lungs convinced him otherwise.

"Then give me the dresses, and I'll show you mercy." The prince chuckled darkly, temporarily stopping his tickle attack. Arthur nodded numbly and sat up as soon as he was able to. He handed the pretty green dress to the prince with a huff, not at all happy to let it go. Alfred had a smug look on his face as he took the dress and tossed it to the other side of the room. The brit stared at the dress in shock, anger and a mix of other unknown emotions flashing through his eyes. He could just imagine the disappointment in Elizabeta's eyes, having done all that work for nothing.

"You know what, Alfie? I'm keeping these dresses." The brit declared. He turned to the royal in time to see the other's face contort into annoyance. He was gonna say something, the brit could tell, but Arthur wasn't going to let him talk his way out of it. "Do you know why? Because Elizabeta went all the way to the ports to get this for me, even though she didn't need to. She cooks and cleans a-and she does so much around this god forsaken fortress! It's so rude of you to just toss her efforts away because you think you fucking own me! I won't wear them outside, I wasn't going to in the damn first place, but I am sure as hell going to keep them!"

He stomped over to the discarded, and at this point, wrinkled dresses and picked them up, placing them on the foot of the bed. When he rounded them all up, he began to fluff them out and fold them, occasionally giving the American a dirty look. He felt the prince's gaze on him, and despite the brit feeling a little remorseful at the choice of words he had chosen, he commended himself for keeping his cool as long as he had. The silence of the other was getting to him though, at this point the prince would usually shrug it off like it was nothing, but he remained silent, his eyes burning holes into the brit's face.

"What?" the brit deadpanned.

"She went because I made her go, not because she wanted to. She cooks and cleans because I'm paying her to do it, she needs the money. It was hardly an effort to get to the port, she went in a carriage so no one would steal the clothes I sent her to buy." The prince growled.

Growled? That's the first time Arthur had heard him direct a growl at him.

Arthur ignored him though, not caring about the truth. "Whatever Alfred. Is that what you say to convince yourself that your staff isn't overworked? Open your eyes my prince, you need a reality check, desperately." The brit took the folded clothing and placed it on a chair on the opposite side of the room, far away from the prince. The Englishman entered the bathroom without another word to the American. He washed his face and combed out his wild hair, putting it in a small bun. He really needed to cut it.

He left the bathroom about a few minutes later only to find the room empty and the window open. The bed was made, despite it looking like a war zone 10 minutes before. The brit approached the window tentatively, half expecting the American to pop up and give him kiss on the cheek as a weak apology. Alfred was nowhere to be found though, the chilly late November air giving the brit goosebumps. He went to close the window, trying not to look down, knowing he was afraid of heights. He shut it with his eyes closed, drawing the curtains without a second thought. He returned to the bed and settled down on the left side, leaving more than enough room for the prince.

The bed was soft, the light glow of the room was soft, and Arthur soon found himself drifting off to sleep.

~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~

Arthur woke up with a start, a familiar bad feeling in his gut growing. He looked around the dim room dumbly, hardly being able to make out anything. The door was closed, and the bed was still cold. Alfred wasn't back yet. The brit swung his legs over the side of the bed made his way to the table near the bookcase. He took the dying candle and lit another one, instantly brightening up the room.

It was exactly the same as he left it, looking as if no one entered. That was the problem, the brit supposed, Alfred still hadn't returned. There was no light coming in from the window, so it must have been very late and foggy. The curtains were thick however, so it may not be as late as the brit thought it was. As he approached the window, the bad feeling began to grow, causing Arthur to stop in his tracks. He ultimately decided to continue walking, seeing that the other times he had a bad feeling didn't lead him to necessarily bad things.

He pulled aside the curtain and a flood of moonlight filtered into the room, disproving the brit's earlier assumptions. However, the moon was high in the sky, at its highest point actually, it must have been very late. Where the hell was Alfred? There were no clues as to where the prick went, except the open window. Maybe he fell out.

Maybe he jumped out.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" The brit was immediately up against the window, pulling it open and sticking his head out. The drop to the bottom was far down, in fact, he couldn't even see the bottom; that's how high the room was. Arthur founded himself beginning to panic, pacing the room wildly. "I JUST YELLED AT HIM, HE ISN'T CRAZY! HE WOULDN'T THROW HIS LIFE AWAY BECAUSE OF WHAT I SAID, HE DOESN'T CARE THAT MUCH!"

The brit threw on some boots and left the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him. The halls were empty, everyone was asleep, so there was no one to help him look. SHIT! He ran down the hall to the stairwell, tripping over himself as he ran down the stairs. If Alfred really did jump, he would still be down there, seeing that the alarms in the castle hadn't been set off. He ran through the dining hall and cut through the courtyard to get into the forest. He was planning on following the edge of the forest to his bedroom window. If there was no body, then Alfred was alive. If there was, Arthur was dead.

Well that was the plan at least.

Arthur found himself wandering for well over an hour, shaking wildly from the biting cold. He only just realized that he was still wearing a frilly nightgown, something not appropriate for the current weather. Arthur finally found the clearing of grass just underneath his window, sighing happily when he found no body. He cursed himself for not checking around the castle first, wasting an hour for just wandering around aimlessly. Arthur was going to start his trek back when he saw something flash at the corner of his eye. Something small, and fragile. It looked familiar. As he approached the item he could make out more details. They were glasses. Arthur's bad feeling began to come back as he picked up the object in his hands.

The framework, the shine of the glass lenses, the initials.

They belonged to Alfred.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO PLEASE, PLEASE, OH GOD NO!" the brit began to sob as he dropped on his hands and knees, foraging around the clearing. He reentered the woods, looking and searching desperately, panic reaching an all-time high. "WHAT THE FUCK ALFRED!? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!? WHO THE FUCK WOULD JUMP OUT OF A WINDOW!?" hot tears were streaming down his cheeks, guilt slowly creeping into his heart.

"I DIDN'T MEAN WHAT I SAID, GODDAMMIT! I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SO SORRY, JUST PLEASE COMEBACK!" he pleaded, ignoring the scratches that he was accumulating. The pain in his heart drowned out the physical pain. The canopy of the trees made everything pitch black, so Arthur was basically feeling around for his companion, hoping it didn't get bitten or stung by anything venomous. Maybe after another hour, the brit couldn't be so sure, of foraging through the cold, the brit's breathing got a bit more labored. It took more of an effort to inhale now, and he couldn't feel his fingers anymore.

He kept fighting through the numbness though, he needed to find Alfred. "Alfred!" he whispered, his voice dry and raspy. "Alfred, I'm sorry for what I said, just please comeback. I don't want to be alone anymore..." The brit couldn't stop himself from falling to his side in the middle of a clearing, eyes unfocused and lips blue. He stared lazily at the sky, something about this area looking familiar, but the numbing cold took the memory away. He could feel his conscious slipping; he knew that if he fell asleep now, he would probably never wake up.

He didn't mind though.

Alfred was dead, what was the point of living now.

He had no one left; everyone he had ever cared about was dead. There was no point.

There was a ruffling in the bushes, probably some wild animal. The ruffling got louder and closer, but Arthur didn't care; he was a dead man anyway. But there was no wild animal. He heard a voice; a strange English-ish voice. He turned his head with all of his might, expending all his energy in doing so.

He saw a face, a familiar face. A face very similar to his. Green eyes, thick eyes brows, high cheek bones. The man had a bow and arrow in his hands as if he was going to shoot at him. Arthur didn't care, not one bit. The mysterious man must've noticed the similarities between them, the obvious like ancestry. He spoke, his accent deep.

"Arthur?" He ran up to the frail body, lifting the brit and cradling his head. "Arthur is that you!?" He cried out, his hot tears spilling onto the dying man's face. The blonde smiled, finally recognizing the man before him; he wasn't alone anymore. Arthur felt his heart beat slowing, he knew he didn't have long. He spoke, perhaps for the last time, calling out to his older brother.

"Dylan..."

~~~~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~~~

Arthur woke up to the sound of yelling. He was warm, and buried under piles of blankets, the scent of the prince he was tirelessly looking for wafted into his nostrils. He opened his lids hesitantly, hissing silently when the bright light of the evening made contact with his eyes. He was in the prince's room again, and he was in the presence of both princes and Elizabeta. The three were currently arguing, and from what the brit could understand, Matthew and Elizabeta were arguing against the prince.

"How can you be so reckless as to let him out!?" Matthew yelled, pacing the room. "Anyone who knows anything knows that you always tell your mate where you are going to prevent situations like this! Arthur isn't familiar to the area; you can't just fucking leave him to his own damn vices!"

"I didn't let him out! I went to my office to do some fucking work and when I came back, the fucking door was open and no one was inside. I LOOKED EVERY FUCKING WHERE, SO DON'T YOU FUCKING- "Alfred's voice was cracking, the distress in his voice audible. He heard the prince start to pant and breath heavily in an attempt to hold back the tears.

"I didn't know... that he would just run away like that. We had an argument, but it wasn't even that big of a deal. It was STUPID! I WAS JUST BEING STUPID! I-I-I..."

He began to cry, burying his face in his mate's shoulder. Arthur was beyond shocked, his own eyes watering. How could he have been so stupid?! Why did he jump to the worst case scenario!? Arthur was about to speak when the Hungarian maid began to say something.

"What was the argument about? It may not have been a big deal to you, but it might have been huge to Arthur... Alfred, you need to acknowledge that this is very much your fault. " She said softly. She looked like she had been crying too, scared that her friend would lose his life. Alfred shook his head 'no', not wanting to share that information. Matthew huffed, flicking the American behind the head.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'NO'?! YOU found him minutes away from death, Alfred. Whatever you did, it was enough for him to have to dig around for you!" Arthur had had enough; he was tired of the way they were ganging up on his prince.

"Stop yelling at him like that, you're not helping the situation." And with that, the brit entered the conversation. He sat up slowly, leaning against the American for support. He muscles felt like plywood, and his head hurt a little too, but beside that he felt fine, so this argument didn't need to progress any further. Three pairs of arms quickly wrapped around the brit, squealing with joy.

"Arthur, are you okay?!" Matthew asked caressing the brit's cheek with a gloved hand. Arthur leaned into the friendly gesture and nodded. Elizabeta squeezed the brit tightly, placing kisses all over his face.

"Arthur you scared me. Why would you do anything like?!" she asked, her eyes watering. Arthur had no acceptable answer to that question. What would he say? 'I thought the prince jumped out the window?' that was ridiculous. He decided to tell the truth, he had nothing to lose.

"I went looking for Alfred because he wasn't there when I got out of the bathroom. It's not his fault... we just had an argument and so I just expected him to be there when I woke up. Well, he wasn't and I got worried, so I started to walk around the room. I noticed the open window, and somehow, for some unknown reason, I thought he must have jumped or fell or something." The brit chuckled at the last part, finally hearing how ridiculous it sounded. Alfred's face remained buried in the Englishman's shoulder, not saying a word. In fact, he hadn't said a word at all since he had 'woken' up.

"I ran outside to look for him, but I got a little lost before I got to the clearing under our window. I was going to turn back, but then I saw your glasses and I-I-I-I panicked. I thought that y-y-you did fall and that..." warm tears escaped from the corners of his eyes. The brit found himself throwing his arms around his prince, crying lightly into the American's hair. "I thought you did jump, so I started freaking out and looking for your body. It got really cold, but I didn't care because I thought it was my fault."

Matthew and Elizabeta nodded with understanding, but Alfred remained still, the only movement he made was wrapping his arms around the brit and pulling him closer. Arthur breathed in his scent, needing to have it drown all of his senses. He never thought he would miss someone so much, and it had only been a few hours. At least he thought.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"4 days. You really had us worried." Elizabeta said with a sniffle.

"When did you find me?" Arthur asked the prince in his arms. Alfred didn't answer.

"He found you 6 hours after he found you were missing." Matthew answered instead. "It's a wonder your still alive, it was freezing that knight, and you were not wearing much. How did you get that deep into the forest without any light?"

"I felt around." Arthur lied. He decided to himself that he wasn't going to tell anyone about his brother, not even Alfred. He could handle one Kirkland, a useless one at that, but he couldn't handle a Kirkland who was as avid a military leader as their father. Arthur couldn't help but smile in hope that maybe more of his brothers survived the assassination attempts; maybe they were all alive, biding their time to strike the fortress.

That would explain why Dylan was in the area, he was probably scouting. The others noticed his smile widen, light confusion gracing their faces. The brit's smile dropped.

"Maybe I'm just lucky."

~~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~~

When Matthew and Elizabeta left, it was around 8 PM. Alfred was still buried in the brit's shoulder and hadn't muttered a single word. Arthur was beyond worried, never seeing the prince like this.

"Alfred? Are you alright?" the brit tried to start conversation again for the fifth time this hour. Alfred nodded weakly before repositioning his neck. "Alfred, you're really beginning to worry me." Arthur peeled away from the American, who fought against it. The brit was unable to overpower the other and just accepted his fate as his alpha's pillow.

"I'm sorry, Alfie." The brit deadpanned. He regretted everything that lead to this situation, hating himself for upsetting the other. "I just, I just lost my temper over nothing and I said things that I shouldn't have... I'm sorry for leaving the room. I'm sorry for almost getting myself killed. I'm sorry for-"

"Shh, Artie, you have nothing to be sorry about. I was being an idiot and I shouldn't have said what I said either. I made it sound like I was paying Elizabeta to be your friend or something." Alfred said for the first time in the last few hours. Arthur shook his head but the American insisted. "It's all my fault, I'm an awful person." Before the brit could argue, the American confessed.

"I'm so sorry for everything! I didn't think you would get so worried. I'm an idiot, I don't deserve someone as amazing as you."

Arthur skipped a beat, his heart swelling. Arthur was tired of being the big spoon, and shifted until his face was buried in the other's chest. The pressure in his heart subsided a little, knowing that the prince was doing his best. "You came looking for me, most people would have forgotten about me." He kissed the American's neck softly.

"I left in such a hurry to go find you that I forgot to tell the guards, so I was just racing around on Magnus alone to find you. You were 4 miles away from the fortress. How in the name of god did you get that far?" Alfred pulled back far enough just to see each other's faces. Alfred's eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks were flushed. He looked both mentally and physically exhausted. "You were so torn up, that you almost bled out before we got back home. You really scared me, Arthur." He whispered.

"I'm sorry" he whispered back.

"Please don't do that ever again. I love you too much to see you in that much pain." The American yawned, eyes shutting as if he were about ready to pass out. Arthur's heart began to beat a mile a minute, staring at the sleeping person next to him. He pushed his face back into the American's neck before whispering one last time, before he went to sleep.

"I love you too."


3 weeks later...

Arthur woke up with a start, cold sweat dripping from his body and his heart beating so fast that he feared that the organ would leap from his body.

Arthur peeled himself from the alpha's grip and got out of bed slowly, not wanting to disturb the American. He walked quickly to the bathroom and wash lit a candle, illuminating the room. He found some unused water in a bucket and dipped his hands in, noting the temperature. He scooped some cold water in his hands and brought it to his face, rinsing it lightly. He looked up at the mirror and stared at the water droplets running off his cheeks or hanging from his eye lashes, noting his appearance.

His hair had grown longer, now at shoulder length, but the blond mess looked thicker and impossible to control. The Englishman tried to rake his hands through his hair and found that it was knotted and tangled at the ends. It would be a pain to fix it, he didn't need all that hair. He left the bathroom and slowly crept to the prince's closet, well, actually, his closet now. He opened the last dresser and pulled out his dagger, he would be needing it tonight.

He reentered the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror again. He grabbed a lock of hair and pulled it taught in a downward motion. He wanted to be very precise. He cut off a good 5 ½ inches of hair, leaving it just under his ears. He made the same cut to every lock of hair and looked at the finished product in the mirror. He liked it, but, it could be better. He picked up the dagger again and brought it to his face, carefully cutting his bangs just a little shorter. He looked at his reflection and whistled.

Perfection.

He ran his fingers through his hair, playing around with it. It was much easier to deal with; his fingers were no longer getting caught. He smiled at his reflection, feeling a bit more comfortable. His hair was huge before, the first thing anyone would notice. But now, people would notice his eyes, according to Alfred, his very pretty eyes. He wore his hair; it no longer wore him.

He blew out the candle and exited the bathroom, returning the dagger to his dresser. He crept back into bed slowly, not wanting to bother the sleeping prince, who looked like he needed the sleep. Arthur gently repositioned the American's arm around his waist again, and buried his face into his chest. This is how they normally slept, pressed against each other. Arthur liked it very much, it made him feel safe, but he could tell Alfred liked it even more. The prince had confided in him about his constant nightmares, which led to him overworking and his slight coffee addiction.

Alfred told him that having him there to sleep next too makes it all feel better, and that he hadn't had a single nightmare since he started sleeping with him.

On the same bed, not sex, you pervert.

There are rumors about them being mates, which isn't entirely false. They love each other, Arthur thinks, but they just haven't mated. They find each other rather attractive, and at this point, if they could mate, Arthur's about 70% sure that he would be on board. But they can't no matter how mentally ready Arthur and Alfred are; the brit's body isn't ready.

Not only is he a little thin, not too much, maybe a pound or two underweight, but he has also never gone into heat.

Which is concerning at his age, and a bit dangerous as an omega.

It's basically an omega's job to make kids, one way or another. The average person gets their first heat when they reach puberty; 13 for boys, 10-12 for girls. Arthur is very late, seeing that he is 20 years old. When omegas can't have children, they are discarded, no questions asked. They would be completely useless, so they would be left out to die or make their own living. The latter rarely happened though, since most alpha mates are territorial and cruel to their omega counterpart, they maim the poor omega fatally, then discard them in the middle of nowhere so the chances of them finding a new mate is almost impossible.

That's how Arthur's parents met, actually. Igraine was thought to be barren, so her first husband shattered her legs and dropped her in the forest in the dead of winter. Uther Kirkland was luckily hunting in the area, and took her home, patching her up and befriending her. They fell in love, got married, had kids etc. but most omegas aren't that lucky, and if they do survive, or are left to find their own living, they are almost always forced into prostitution.

They had no choice, they wouldn't get hired by anyone once they realize that she or he was a barren omega. There is this stigma around it, for reasons Arthur doesn't understand, and they would be left on the streets to be raped or murdered. They would turn to brothels for help, seeing that they needed protection, and the head mistress would give them sanctuary. All brothels are made up with at least 75% of their escorts being omegas, a statistic that scares Arthur.

Alfred is a prince, an American prince who wants to mate with a British nobody. When he's king, he'll be expected to marry and the chances are that no one will give the couple their blessing, making their marriage in the eyes of the people invalid. If they even get married. For all Arthur knows, the second the queen disapproves, the prince would marry someone else. The brit's heart tightened at the thought of it, but he had to be realistic. Alfred doesn't love him enough to risk his kingship.

Arthur still hasn't told him about Dylan.

And the second he finds out that Arthur never had a heat, he wouldn't hesitate to dump him. Or worse.

Arthur didn't realize he was crying until he felt soft kissing on the top of his head, and heard soft humming in his ears. He looked up at the worried eyes of his prince, and tried to apologize. He knew Alfred needed his sleep; the prince was working nonstop to prepare for his impending coronation. He had been huddled up in his office for days, taking short naps beside Arthur before returning to his office. The brit had begged the American to take a break before he passed out or something, promising that sleeping a full 8 hours would do him good.

But here he was now, preventing the sleep deprived prince of his well-deserved break.

"Artie, what's wrong sweetie?" the prince asked lazily, propping himself on his elbow. The prince was met with silence, the brit turning around to face the wall. He didn't want to express his fears, considering they met just a month ago. The prince would dump him for being clingy rather than all the secrets he has been keeping. The Englishman flinched away from the American's touch when the prince attempted to touch his hair. Arthur could feel the hurt radiating off of the other, but Arthur was just trying to avoid a dreadful situation.

"Why are you crying, Arthur? I'm worried." The prince sat up, placing a firm hand on the Englishman's shoulder. The brit pulled away quickly and buried himself under the woolen blanket they shared. Arthur had never done this before, but his insecurities were just piling up during the last few days. He felt a soft tug on the blanket, but it was hesitant, the prince was losing steam, now was his chance.

"Alfie, I don't want to talk about it right now... can you just drop it already?"

There was a soft hum before the American sighed. "Yeah, yeah I'll drop it, just come here." His voice was soft and understanding. Arthur unravel himself from the blanket and returned to the prince's arms with a sigh and an apology. They went to sleep in each other's arms, but the air was different, they were tense and uncomfortable. Arthur knew that Alfred would find him in the morning, and that a conversation was going to be had.

~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~

Arthur woke up in an empty bed, but the he could still feel the other's warmth on the pillow beside him. He had just gotten up.

"Alfie, are you in here?" The brit called out, rubbing his eyes lazily.

"Yes, I'll be out in a second" the prince yelled back from the bathroom, his voice cheery. Today was Tuesday, meaning it was the prince's unofficial off day, which Arthur demanded he take every week. He regretted it now, not wanting to talk. A lot has changed over the past few weeks, and Arthur hasn't been himself. He felt lost and insecure, and all he managed to do was make himself feel worse by refusing help. He heard the bathroom door open, and the prince walked out with nothing but boxers, a thin smile on his face. The brit smiled back identically.

Alfred sat down beside the Englishman and stroked his face which the brit allowed this time around. He leaned into the touch like a cat while the American got more comfortable. The prince sat with his back leaned against the bedframe, gently pulling his hand away. Arthur figured play time was over.

"Artie, I don't know what came over you last night, but don't push me away." The prince's voice was sad and solemn, his eyes were low too, and he looked like he had lived through a war. Well he has, but that's beside the point. He looked depressed and distant, and it was all the brit's fault.

"I'm sorry." The brit deadpanned, much colder than he intended it to be. He could see the American's eyes flicker between every emotion before settling on the blond brit next to him. They looked expectant. Arthur ignored the look and turned his head to any other direction, suddenly finding the wallpaper really fascinating.

"Arthur... what happened? You haven't been yourself since the visit..." The American spoke softly, discouraged by the brit's behavior. Arthur ignored him again; maybe he'll go away? There was silence, and Arthur preferred it that way. He knew himself better than anyone, if he were to look at the American now, he'd tell him everything. Than the American would hate him.

Arthur couldn't lose him.

Arthur was too lost in thought to notice the American lean towards him, close enough for them to make instant eye contact. Fuck. They were staring at each other, with worn eyes, looking into each other's soul. Arthur could see the desperation in Alfred's eyes; he could see the love, the pain, the frustration, the confusion... Arthur could only imagine what the other saw in his. Probably guilt, and deceit.

"Arthur...?" the American grumbled, stroking the brit's face once more. "What happened? We were so happy... was it something I said? Did I fail you in any..."

"I lied to you... in so many ways and..." Arthur finally confessed, slapping the other's hand away. The brit sat up and threw his legs over the bed, just about ready to run. Before he could take a step, he was pulled back by the waist and turned around. Before the brit could protest, he was pulled back down to the mattress and pinned under the prince.

The prince no longer looked desperate, instead he looked offended, angry, hurt and dangerous. Arthur closed his eyes, trying to conceal the tears that were threatening to fall. He heard humming, it was soft, and it had a little tune; his mother sang it to him all the time. He had taught it to Alfred when he had woken up screaming from a night terror. The song calmed the prince down, and since then, they would sing it to the other if they were feeling down.

Arthur squeezed his eye lids tighter and pursed his lips, which began to shake uncontrollably. Why was he being so sweet? He should be yelling, not trying to cheer him up. Arthur felt the prince kiss his forehead, which only made the brit feel worse. "Arthur" the prince started, "please tell me what's wrong."

Arthur couldn't take it anymore; he couldn't hold it in.

"I... let's start from the beginning. My name is Arthur Kirkland, and my parents and younger brother Peter are most likely dead. I'm 20 years old, I'm British, and for the last 3 years I've been living in the tunnels of London..." Arthur started to pant, getting himself into deeper water. He had no choice but to be honest, the prince was putting his life on the line for him. It wasn't fair to keep secrets. As for Alfred, he remained quiet but he was listening intently.

"I-I... and I have never experienced a heat..." The brit trailed off, opening his eyes in time to see the American's reaction. Alfred's eyes widened and his mouth hung open. His face began to contort into multiple expressions, each not lasting more than a second. His face settled into a worried one, as he continued to stare, leaning down briskly to place a quick peck on the brit's cheek. The Englishman was shocked to say the least, and he looked at the American as if he was alien.

"You aren't upset?" Arthur whispered barely enough for the prince to hear. Alfred shook his head and smiled lovingly at the brit before him. "Why not? Is it because..." Arthur suddenly started to freak out once more, thrashing and crying out. "LET GO! LET GO OF ME YOU... YOU..." this was out of nowhere, and the prince was taken off guard. He fell over and the brit leaped from the bed and ran towards the door, not believing he fell for this.

Before he was out of the door, strong arms pulled him by the waist again and dragged him, screaming to the bed. The American looked confused and annoyed as he tried to figure out what was happening. He must think Arthur is stupid!

"I SAID I DIDN'T CARE THAT YOU WERE STERILE! WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THIS!" The prince sounded distressed, as the brit in his arms stopped struggling and leaned against him in exhaustion. Alfred kissed the back of his head and began to hum again, but the brit began to speak.

"You don't care because you weren't planning on staying with me forever. You weren't planning on having kids with me; maybe a rough fuck, but nothing more. You going to get a spouse that's prettier than me, and healthier than me and not fucking English. Then you are gonna have a bunch of fucking little Americans running around your pretty little fucking castle. If I'm lucky, you'll let me leave here alive and recommend me to your favorite fucking brothel and visit once a fucking week. So I'll no longer be your 'sweetie' but I'll still be your harlot!" The Englishman was sobbing, and sounded like a dying whale but he didn't care, it needed to be said, the prince's plot needed to be foiled. "And to think- "

"STOP, WHAT THE FUCK!? What the hell is wrong with you?! I don't CARE THAT YOU ARE FUCKING STERILE BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THE FUCK! Who do you think I am anyway!? Do you really think I would do that to you? To anyone?" The prince sounded horrified, like that was the most offensive thing anyone had ever said to him. Arthur turned to face him and looked him in the eye. He didn't look like he was lying; he looked sincere. Arthur let the relief was over him and he relaxed in the American's grip, shaking slightly.

Alfred never told the brit that he had loved him. Well, that one night didn't count because he wasn't very conscious of what he was saying. Arthur looked up at the prince in awe. "Do you actually love me?" he needed to be sure if he was going to tell the American anything else. He also just wanted to hear it again. The prince nodded before cupping the other's cheeks and kissing him.

"I love you so much, you had me scared for a minute Arthur." The prince chuckled weakly, already drained and the day just started. "Is there anything else you want to tell me? Just let it all out." He said encouragingly, looking at the pink brit. Arthur nodded.

"So are you planning on marrying me?" Arthur asked quietly, fear of himself looking clingy and insane. Alfred's eyes widened and his face paled a little, but he recovered quickly enough for the brit not to go on another tirade. He nodded, swallowing lightly.

"Yeah, sometime after my coronation. I'll propose, be all romantic, and woo you into my arms." He said with a smile, holding the brit by the waist and hand and beginning to waltz.

"But you're going to be king, don't you need heirs?"

"We could adopt; it wouldn't be the first time. Or, my niece or nephew could take over, not really a big deal."

"What if the public is opposed to it? What if your mother is opposed to it?" Arthur asked hurriedly as he stared at their feet, trying to follow along without falling. Alfred hummed cockily and chuckled.

"My people have no say in who rules, whatever they try will be stopped by me. My mother, on the other hand... it would be nice to have her blessing, but I don't need her permission... Hey? What's with all these wedding questions? Is it because of Matthew and Francis?"

Arthur nodded, about a week ago the French king came over to take Matthew with him and prepare him for their wedding. Francis told him about how they were mates but were separated because of an overprotective parent. That had Arthur thinking about how many people would actually approve of their relationship, and he felt unsure about his future. Looking back now, that was probably the seed for all of his current insecurities, that fear.

"Your dad kept Francis away from Matthew for 6 years; what if your mom separates us?" Arthur whimpered. "She could do it for any reason she wants: because I'm British, because I'm male, because I'm a Kirkland, because I can't have kids... I would just prefer it if my future was more stable is all." He admitted at last.

"Is that why you were upset last night?" Alfred asked as he twirled the brit around. The Englishman nodded sadly as he spun. "Well, she can't separate us because by the time I propose, I'll already be king. Okay sweetie?" he pulled the brit in and kissed him lovingly.

"Yes, but..."

"No buts, I'm yours."