Chapter IV

He had mulled over his findings for a few days. The rest was just paperwork. In between signing papers that Matthew and Arthur piled up on him Alfred would pull out the maps and notes that Will and Josh had put together for him, and begin tidying up a report. This was serious. This had to be known.

Three days after his escapade into the Lower Towns, Alfred called for Court. Arthur has raised an eyebrow, but gave in with surprisingly token resistance. It was early morning, his knees had been shaking, but he only stumbled three times in his entire speech, and even though there was a thin sheen of sweat on his palms by the time he was done, Alfred thought (a little shakily) that it was a job well done.

Now all he had to do was to convince them that it was a problem-

"If that's the case I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, my King."

Alfred blanched. Before he had called for court, he had pondered over all possible reactions - even the possibility that they would deny everything about this new illness, and the fact that the root cause was the water pollution caused by the heavy industries on the outskirts of the city - but a calm reaction like this was most definitely not what he was expecting.

"Nothing to worry about...?" He echoed, still confused.

Perhaps this was going to go much smoother than he had predicted. To think that he had even prepared graphs and charts to back his argument up if the need arose-

"If the problem lies in the water supply, the current repair projects would fix that."

Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table. Alfred stared in shock at the men in front of him.

Did they even realise what they were suggesting?

They know, Alfred felt his heart drop down, crashing into the depths of his stomach, They know exactly what they're suggesting. This was the Court of the Spades Kingdom, and they didn't care what was happening to the people. It didn't matter to them what happened to the people-

"If the cause was something else it'd be more trouble..."

"But since the Queen is already solving the current water issue we can be grateful that the problem will not worsen anymore-"

"Are you telling me to leave the ones who are already sick alone?" This is bad, I need to stop, Alfred thought to himself, but by then he had already slammed his fists into the dark wood of the table top. "There are hundreds of people in the Lower Towns who are currently suffering from an illness they do not know about, that no doctors can cure, that no amount of money can rid them off-" He breathed in, hearing the slight wheeze of air rushing in through his windpipe. "And you are telling me to let them die? How are you- how can you even call yourselves the Court when you don't give a damn about what happens to the people-"

"Alfred."

The rest of his sentence caught in his throat. Alfred swallowed, trying very hard not to look at the source of the cool voice that interrupted him. Not now, Arthur, goddamnit if it's a lecture it can wait till later-

Alfred tried his best to give Arthur his not-pleased-at-all look as his Queen (and god how terrible that sounded) stood up and cleared his throat.

Alfred waited. He was ready to fight it out this time - in front of the entire court if he had to. If Arthur even dared to side the court or reprimanded his "inappropriate behavior" he would-

"As the King has pointed out, it isn't right to ignore the current spread of the illness. More than a hundred people in the Lower Towns have showed symptoms, but if it's the long term exposure to such toxic waste more casualties might surface even after the filters and water ways have been fixed and repaired." Arthur ignored the displeased muttering that sounded in the room and instead shot Alfred a sideways glare. Probably because Alfred was currently staring at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed and most certainly did not look anywhere near kingly.

"I propose we reconsider our ties with the neighbouring Kingdoms."

"What? Are you suggesting-"

"Actually I beg your pardon, that was the wrong use of the word. We are going to reconsider our ties with the neighbouring Kingdoms. The Spade Kingdom used to flourish with healthy trade relations with the Diamond and Heart Kingdoms. With the current illness spreading amongst the citizens it would seem only natural to consult the Heart Kingdom for their assistance."

"But-"

"As far as relations go, I do believe they are still quite in need of our technology. It wouldn't be a one-sided negotiation on our side. Afterall when Alphonsus broke off the previous alliance I heard that they had been unwilling to lose us as an ally." Arthur smiled, green eyes flashing once around the table, "The King and I will be planning a trip down shortly."

"We will?" Alfred said, incredulous.

"Yes we will." came the snorted reply, "I will only be taking a very small group of guards with us. It will be a diplomatic visit, friendly and completely sincere on our part." At this, Arthur turned back to Alfred, an eyebrow quirked in expectation.

"Oh. Uhm. Yes." Alfred hurriedly tried his best to act like he caught on. "What Arthur said. We will be uhm, paying the Heart Kingdom a diplomatic visit sometime... next.. week?" A nod from Arthur told him that it was alright to continue. "And with that court is adjourned! In other words, I'm not accepting any objections to this! We're making sure the sick receive proper treatment, and that's it!"

"What happened to you?" Alfred asked when the courtroom finally emptied itself of displeased Lords and Earls and Whatnots. He realised that he was probably being terribly rude, but it was most definitely Arthur's fault for acting completely out of it.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that question?"

"Well, I dunno, you were kinda... being..." Alfred struggled to find the most appropriate word, "Nice?" He tried, grinning sheepishly at the resulting glare from Arthur.

"Thank you for your affirmation of my general nastiness."

"No no! I didn't mean it that way! W-well maybe I kinda did but-" Alfred gestured helplessly at the air around him, in hopes that perhaps Arthur would somehow understand what he was trying to say by reading how his hands flapped around. "Y'know!"

"No, I do not." Arthur sighed, rubbing at his temples. "I merely thought that what you were suggesting wasn't entirely ridiculous this time. Besides," he gave a shrug of his shoulders at that, "It is crucial for us to rebuild the diplomatic relations with the other Kingdoms that your father chose to break down. It isn't possible to be self-sufficient and still thrive given the nature of this Kingdom."

He straightened out his robes, throwing another glance at Alfred with his hand on the doorknob, "... we'll talk more about the trip on the morrow."

"The Morrow", to Alfred's dismay, didn't exactly start out too well. He hadn't been expecting it to start or end well, envisioning one of their usual quarrels exploding in the middle of discussion (as Alfred had more or less learnt over the past weeks, putting Arthur and him in the same room usually resulted in very unproductive sessions that involved both of them trying to overpower each other's voiceboxes) leading to Arthur slamming the door in his face and most possibly doing all the planning and logistics for the trip himself. He had even prepared himself for the possibility that Arthur might just suddenly decide that he was "still too much of a kid" (god, the resentment that came with that thought) and leave him behind with piles of boring papers.

He had not, however, prepared himself for this.

The first explosion sounded one hour before he was supposed to be awake, loud enough to jerk him out of the sleep that usually took more than a few shakes from the servants before he would grudgingly climb out of bed.

The second explosion sounded much too close to the first.

Alfred stumbled out of his bed, feet nearly tangling in the sheets that he had kicked onto the floor in his sleep. He skidded halfway, palms landing against the cool glass of his bedroom window, swinging them open by the hinges, choking in the chilled dust of the morning air.

Two columns of smoke rose into the air, jarringly black against the grey monotone of the sky. The Lower Towns, Alfred's brain registered, but why?

He grabbed for his coat, pulling it on hastily as he threw open his bedroom doors. "What's going on!" he demanded, grabbing at a nearby maidservant before she could continue with her flustered rushing down the corridors.

"Y-your highness!" The maidservant's eyes were wide in shock, probably due to the fact that she had actually walked past the King without taking a curtsy. She gathered her skirts in an awkward bow. "T-the Lower Towns, I'm not sure what happend but I think there's an explosion- O-oh god my brother's there and I'm not too sure but the Queen is currently organizing the army-"

"A riot!" Someone else called out from the other side of the corridor. "They're rioting in the Lower Towns!"

"They're what? But why?" He didn't bother to wait for an answer. Arthur was organizing the army? What was he going to do? March them down the streets and plough through all the civilians?

"This is an order! Not a single soldier is allowed the leave the castle, even with the Queen's words! Make sure every single person in the castle knows this!" The maidservant, more than startled at the sudden task placed upon her (she was only in charge of wiping the windows, not passing messages directly from the King-), nodded shakily before rushing down the corridors, passing the message on to other maids and servants on the way. Alfred gritted his teeth. Was he going to be on time?

He ran back into his room, only to grab his boots before he rushed off again, trying not to crash into alarmed servants on his way. If Arthur was organizing the army he'd be somewhere in the courtyard, which meant that so long as he could get there before they left the castle-

"A-Al? What are you-"

"Mattie! Stop Arthur for me!" The exclamation, Alfred realised as he dashed past Matthew, was probably redundant, considering how his twin wasn't going to catch up with him at this speed. He shoved his way through the main doors, ignoring the poor guards who didn't know if they should stop him or open the doors for him or tell him not to run (because what if he tripped and fell?), barreling through the back row of the soldiers as the chill of the morning greeted him face first - and god, the soldiers, Arthur was really going to-

"Stop!"

The men around him took around three seconds to react to the fact that a body had just crashed into them, and realise (in horror) that said body was the King. They spread out on both sides, clearing a path for him before hurriedly lowering their weapons and falling onto one knee.

"Your highness-"

"Arthur!" Alfred gasped, hungry for air. Somewhere in the distance, another loud explosion sounded. It was getting closer now, along with the feeble shouts and screams that the wind carried along. "Y-you- what do you think you're doing-" He approached Arthur shakily, still trying to gather enough air in his lungs so that he could shout at him, him and his ridiculous eyebrows, because he couldn't be thinking of sending the army out, not at the people-

Arthur - much to Alfred's annoyance - simply crossed his arms and regarded him coolly with a raised eyebrow. "There are people rioting in the Lower Towns. Something about the Government being the cause of all their problems and the sickness, and how the rebuilding projects are just another plot to exploit them as workers or something. As much as I'd like to leave them alone they're destroying the things their own fellow citizens have spent much effort building up. We'd have to interfere if we're going to-"

"No!" Alfred inhaled again, rather pleased at how loud he was in the otherwise unmoving silence of the courtyard, "You can't- not- I mean, I understand what you're getting at but not- not now. Please. I'll go talk to them."

"You'll-" Arthur blanched, eyes comically wide. "You'll what?"

"Talk to them! They'll listen, trust me! I-I mean, if I explain to them that we know what's going on with the sickness, and that we're gonna get a cure for them, they'll understand-" He pushed past Arthur, breaking into a run for the gates of the castle. "And then they'll stop!"

Even with the distance between them, he could hear Arthur's exasperated sigh ("That bloody git-"), but he couldn't be bothered, not at the moment, not if the alternative was to give Arthur enough time to regroup and actually send the army out-

"AND NONE OF YOU-" he bellowed over his shoulder at the group of soldiers, for good measure, "NONE OF YOU ARE ALLOWED THE LEAVE THE FUCKING CASTLE!"

That. Utter. Git.

Arthur cursed his lack of vocabulary, because god could vouch for him that he had been using those three words way too often ever since he became Queen. However, there was no other more apt way to put it, and he resorted to repeating it in his head three more times before he turned back to the soldiers.

The poor, confused men, he thought to himself, feeling a tiny twinge of sympathy at the poor soldiers who looked to him for advice.

"M-my Queen, surely we cannot let him-" The first worried man spoke up.

"You idiot!" The redhead next to him gave him an elbow to the chest, "The King said we can't leave-"

"But he's going out there alone-"

Arthur emptied out his lungs in a drawn out sigh, and wished that he could empty out exasperation as easily as that.

"We can't have the army appearing when that git's probably going to do one of his 'we don't want to hurt anyone' speeches. It'd ruin the effect." He rolled his eyes, noticing how some of the soldiers looked even more confused at that. "All of you are to be on standby for further instructions from me. I'll go for the git."

Before he does all of us a favour and gets himself killed, Arthur thought to himself darkly.

The downward slope dragged him forward, his feet slammed against the cobbled ground much faster than they wanted to. Alfred didn't bother to watch the ground. Instead he kept his eyes trained on the columns of smoke in the near distance. It wasn't too far from here, it couldn't be - he could hear the shouts and screams and they were getting clearer each step he took.

Why did they have to do this? His mind chanted, a desperate mantra of questions. There was no need to hurt the other civilians. No reason for them to tear down the infrastructure that was going to help.

"STOP!"

It was, Alfred had to admit, a rather stupid thing to do. He had only realised the fact that he was completely unarmed when he saw the crowd armed with their various makeshift weapons and torches. At the back of his head, the nasty little voice that was starting to sound a lot like Arthur lately was chiding him for his stupidity.

On top of that, it snickered, that was a really miserable way to appear in front of an angry mob.

The crowd in front of him stopped rather abruptly, anger disappearing from their faces for a moment only to be replaced by confusion.

"What- what do you think you're doing, kid?"

"It's the King you idiot!"

"What? Really?"

This, Alfred decided, was going to be a problem that he had to remedy very soon. Nevertheless, he tried to convince himself that it wasn't all that bad - after all he was in his pajamas, and that probably wasn't at all Kingly of him - and cleared his throat,

"Please, you guys need to stop!"

"And why should we listen to you!" Someone called out from amongst the crowd. A roar of approval sounded from the rest of them. "It's not like you know how it's like in that comfortable castle of yours! Bet your siblings and friends are all healthy and not coughing out blood in bed!"

"Look, it's going to be alright, we're already-"

"Planning a way to shut us up?"

"No! Why would we want to do that?"

"Because that's what you guys do isn't it? Hah, even all those rebuilding projects! You make it sound so beautiful and glorious but it's just cheap labour isn't it!"

"What- No! Arthur made sure the working conditions were-"

"And then secretly you're going to kill us with some new disease!"

Rising exasperation in his chest told Alfred that they weren't listening, were not going to give him a chance to explain-

"Get out of the way or we'll knock you down, boy King!"

"HEY- Hey wait-"

But wait they did not.

A few of the men at the front of the crowd charged. In the frenzy of the moment, Alfred's brain bewilderingly noted: axe, stick, something that looked like a butcher's knife. The little voice in his head that was probably a perfect imitation of Arthur by now was mocking him for forgetting his sword.

But if I turn around and run now-

Alfred tugged at his feet, realising helplessly that they were firmly planted to the ground. Fuck, when did I become such a sissy I can't even move out of the way-

A strange sense of dejavu washed over him. No, this wasn't right. This wasn't fear. His feet were firmly planted to the ground, but that was because his body wouldn't budge, and the last time this happened was when-

Arthur-

"GIT! What the hell am I supposed to do with you! Ground you?" The first axe blow was blocked and easily shoved aside because Arthur had the obvious advantage of surprise (judging from the man's face as he lost his balance and fell on his back), the man with the stick kicked in the knees before he could put said stick to good use, and sword met butcher's knife with a sound clang before Alfred realised he could move again.

"Arth- What- I told you to stay in the castle!"

Arthur growled, "Yes, and you are in the perfect position to refuse help." He twisted the stick out of the shocked man's grip and tossed it at Alfred, "After all I suppose your pajamas are impenetrable and your bare hands can render an angry mob immobile."

"Well- I-" Alfred caught the stick, very much aware that if Arthur didn't come, there was a chance that his short life spanning nineteen years would have ended in the next few minutes. Instead, he made a few more noises, spluttered a few more meaningless words, and settled into a permanent pout. He blocked a blow from a make-shift club with the (surprisingly sturdy) stick that came from his right, striking his assailant in the stomach with his fist. "Oh shit- Sorry!"

The rest of the crowd, enraged at the sudden introduction of violence, exploded into what Alfred could only describe as Pure Chaos, for lack of a better, more eloquent term. Something sharp grazed his right arm, but he side-stepped the next blind tackle from a man twice his size, raising his stick-

-only to find himself stuck temporarily in that position for a few seconds-

-and then he was released, though the extra force he had put in instinctively in an attempt to break out of the hold he was previously in threw him off course and into another angry man instead.

"Arthur for god's sake stop-"

-and then time froze again, this time lasting for longer than five seconds before Alfred found himself stumbling backwards, barely making it in time to stop a blow from - was that a frying pan - with the stick in his hands.

"We're not here to fight! And if you hurt them I swear I will- GAH-"

Once more another lock, this time in the middle of a side-step, and Alfred realised that he felt like crying for the first time in many many years, because he knew what was going to happen when Arthur unfroze time-

-his foot landed on the ground a little too forcefully, but he managed to catch himself before he fell flat on his face-

"Please! Just listen to me we're not here to fight-" Alfred inhaled, "Oh for god's sake, LISTEN TO ME!"

Another man fell to the ground in front of him after Arthur dealt a chop to the back of his neck. The rest of the crowd had stopped moving, considering how several of their frontline men were now curled up on the wet cobbled streets, groaning in pain.

"Now," Arthur said, dusting himself off with the composure of a man who had not just disarmed a group of ten angry men, "Will you all kindly listen to your King?"

"Hiding behind your Queen again?" One of the men taunted, but backed down when Arthur held him at sword point.

"You're doing a very strange thing," Arthur continued, sheathing his sword, "Going against the one person who will listen to all of you." The rest of the mob fell silent at that, probably more threatened by Arthur than anything else.

Did Arthur just-

"Well?" Arthur was looking at him, green eyes spelling out exasperation and 'Do I really have to do this?' but also something else Alfred couldn't put a finger on, "You had something to say didn't you?"

Alfred froze for a moment, Arthur-made-freeze non-withstanding, swallowing the lump in his throat. As much as he'd run out of the castle in his pajamas, wanting so desperately to talk to the people, he had no idea of what he should actually say when he got to them.

"Um." The crowd stared at him, unimpressed.

"Look I-" Alfred started, catching Arthur's eye in the process, and the expression he had on seemed so close to condescending once again that for a brief, intense moment, he hated that they could go back to that.

"I HAVE FRIENDS SUFFERING TOO, ALRIGHT?" He shouted, irritated in the moment, at this group of people, his people, who knew everything and yet nothing about him. "One of my friends is out there, and he was already ill enough before this but this- This thing is affecting him too and he can't keep his food down and-"

"And the point is that I know," Alfred cried, waving his hands about exasperatedly, brushing at the physicality of larger ideals and a hundred assorted lives of hardship spread in front of him. "I know what this is, and what's happening and I want to help you guys, I want to help the whole kingdom really really badly. I know things are in pretty bad shape right now-" assorted murmurs from the crowd echoed through the night, as Alfred pushed through, "-But we're working on it, I swear! W-We really are! We're going to find a cure for this illness in the Heart Kingdom-" Alfred cast a slightly desperate look at Arthur, who nodded at him, expression unreadable. He felt himself breathe a little easier.

"-And then we're going to use it to cure everyone! A-And we'll improve living conditions, I promise! You guys have to believe us, we're trying our best, and we're going to make everyone's lives better, you just have to give us some time! We're working to improve water sanitation and general hygiene, especially in the lower districts! We're gonna try to develop cleaner technology for the factories so that pollution goes down and everything's going to be so much better I swear you just have to-"

"FUCKING BULLSHIT!" One of the men on the floor snarled, spitting in the direction of Alfred's boot. He wiped the blood trickling from his nose, half-pushing himself up into a better position. "ALL OF IT," he shouted, as the amassed people directed their attention to him, some pushing forward to look. "We've all heard all of your drivel, your idealistic shop talk- Your sodding father did it too, and look where that left us!"

"We need action!" Another man in the crowd shouted, looking back up to glare at Alfred. "Not your childish, empty talk, King," he spat.

"I-it's not empty talk! Really, I swear we're going to-"

Alfred winced at the sharp pain that grazed his right cheek. Next to him a pebble skidded to a stop.

"Go back home, King! We don't need you here!"

He stared, half-dazed, as a few more people bent down to pick up pebbles as well. Arthur was moving towards him, shouting something over the chants of the crowd, but Alfred couldn't really hear what he was saying until-

The silence that followed the freeze in time rang painful in his ears. Arthur grabbed him by the arm, and then suddenly he could move again.

"Had a feeling that was going to happen," Arthur mumbled under his breath, giving his arm a sharp tug as he began the painful ascend up the slope, "Let's get back before you get pelted to death by pebbles."

He didn't seem to mind the fact that Alfred kept his mouth shut for the entire journey back to the castle, even as the Time Freeze wore off when they passed the gates, even as Arthur gave the instructions to the rest of the army to interfere so as to minimize damage to infrastructure and other uninvolved civilians before dragging him off to the infirmary.

"I can do it myself, y'know," huffed Alfred as he sat down on the stool unwillingly.

The castle infirmary was empty, save for Arthur and Alfred, after the former had shooed out the fretting (and thus unhelpful) nurse, who apparently had a son in the lower district, and was worrying about his safety. Which left Arthur self-appointedly in-charge, as he forced Alfred to sit down to get patched up, as obviously that git can't do it right by himself, if what Arthur was mumbling under his own breath was of any clue.

Still petulantly pouting at being treated like a scraped up child, Alfred scuffed his boots against the white tile, as he shrugged off his coat, leaving him sitting in his pajamas.

Arthur turned around, unimpressed looking and voice dry. "Really."

"Apply this ointment on the bruise on your arm then," he said, handing Alfred a small pot of pale green glass.

Alfred blinked, checking his arms for the first time. "What bruise are you even-"

Arthur walked (even his footsteps sounded dry and utterly unimpressed) behind him to press his fingers at Alfred's upper bicep, as Alfred hissed in pain. "Right, right okay, got it, you can spot bruises which I can't, fine, let me just-" He craned his neck around in attempt to get a good view of the bruise, dabbing at it gingerly with the fingers of his left hand.

Behind him, he heard Arthur snort.

"What," he asked, sarcastic and a little more biting than was probably necessary, on hindsight. "I can't even put ointment on right now?" In his defense, the day had been a long one and oh god it wasn't even ten in the morning yet.

"Well, you could do it better, I suppose," Arthur murmured, as Alfred felt warm, callused fingers rub at the bruise next to his own, and it was startling and almost impossible, he felt, to note the tinge of strangely placed affection in his voice. "You're supposed to rub the ointment in, you see. To make it work faster."

Alfred nodded blindly, his own fingers falling back to his lap, focusing on the slow burn of Arthur's fingers working the bruise. The slow, soothing rub of an unfamiliar, slightly smaller hand, as Alfred felt himself slump slightly, back relaxed from it's previous tautness, and suddenly weary beyond what he felt of his nineteen years, the events of the morning coming back to him.

His people's words coming back to him.

Alfred closed his eyes, sighing.

He felt Arthur's fingers remove themselves, then the smart click of the heels of his boots round about to his front. A considering click of his tongue, and Arthur walked a little further away, to the cabinets, presumably, to fetch something else.

Alfred felt like a failure. A King who has to be patched up by his Queen, he thought to himself, bitter. A King who can't stop his own people from rioting, who's too idealistic and young. Alfred felt himself guiltily sink into the comfort of self-deprecation.

"Remove your glasses." Alfred opened his eyes to the sight of Arthur, a pair of tweezers clamping a cotton ball in his hands. "To clean the cut on your cheek." Doing as he was told, Alfred folded them into his lap, eying the cotton ball, which seemed to have been soaked in a pale violet liquid of some kind.

He bit in a hiss of pain as Arthur dabbed at the shallow cut.

"It hurts," he whined, disappointingly and inherently childlike, wincing at the sting.

"It needs to be disinfected, you know that."

Alfred frowned, and he could just feel the petulant nature of his own expression, but was powerless to help it. Couldn't help being the child- And how he hated that word- that he apparently was.

A King who can't actually do anything without the damn Queen, he thought to himself.

What sort of shitty King am I, he mused, replacing his glasses. "I'm not even sure if I can do this job right, who are they to believe me?" He muttered to himself.

"Yes, you're an awful king," Arthur said, as dry as ever, and Alfred felt himself flush in embarrassment. Had he really been that loud? He really hadn't wanted anyone, least of all Arthur, to hear that. And to hear his dry, not-quite-sarcastic affirmation felt like the slow, aching burn of his bruise.

"You're too impulsive, you run off doing things without any regard for anyone else, you're too idealistic," Arthur clinically stated, as he shifted away to pack up the supplies. "You don't look at things practically or realistically enough, which causes problems for everyone around. And you don't have the experience or expertise to turn your ideas into actions-"

Okay, okay, Alfred wanted to say, wanted to literally curl himself up defensively. I got it, he wanted to mutter, Arthur's words cutting close to the wick of the matter.

"-But you-" Arthur paused, back to Alfred, as he looked up. "But," he paused again, consideringly, as if only thinking about the meaning of his own words right then.

"But that's what I'm here for, isn't it?" And was a question as much as it was a statement for the both of them, as Arthur turned around, eyebrows furrowing.

Alfred licked his own dry lips. "It is?"

"As the Queen," Arthur said almost musingly, "my duty is to... Help you run the kingdom. And I-" Alfred watched Arthur swallow.

"-And I think it's important for a King to truly care about his country." His cheeks pink in the early morning light, and a far, distant part of Alfred, seperate from the sections of him labeled "King" goes oh.

"And so... No," Arthur admitted, looking out the window. "I don't think you're an awful King." And Alfred realized that this might be Arthur's strangely backwards way of giving something remotely close to a compliment.

"S-So," Arthur coughed awkwardly, shuffling slightly as if he had no idea what to do with himself. "I'll just go... Check on the situation of the riot and such." As he inched his way to the doors of the infirmary, Alfred caught his sleeve at the last moment, much to their collective surprise.

"You're a good Queen too, y'know," Alfred blurted, releasing his sleeve hastily. Arthur just stared down at him blankly. "Just um, saying. That- You're a good Queen too, efficient and all, and good with paperwork and-" Oh god what am I even saying, and Arthur managed to blush even more. "-And I mean, maybe you could work on some things, like being less stodgy and maybe with that whole time-freeze thing, 'cause when you do that it kinda throws me off balance after the actual freeze, and it's really difficult to control what happens after you-"

"Hold on," Arthur interrupted, eyebrows furrowing. "What did you just say?"

"Um. Be less stodgy? Maybe?" Alfred tried, grinning a little helplessly because dammit maybe that was a bit much maybe he can't help it and-

"No, idiot," Arthur said briskly. "The other one, about, ah... Freezing?"

"Oh," Alfred blinked. That was one of the last things that he expected Arthur to pick on. "Um. Maybe you could... Give me some warning before you do your time magic thing?" He paused, narrowing his eyes. "It is time magic stuff, right? The thing where I suddenly can't move, but you still can, and you go about doing whatever it is before you unfreeze us again?"

Arthur walked back to him, steps slow and strangely precise, his eyes focusing, scrutinizing Alfred. "You can tell when I stop time?"

"Um," Alfred stumbled. "W-Well yeah? I mean, I can't move or anything but-"

"But you're not- You-" Arthur was squinting at his face now, and Alfred really wanted to tell him that it was rather uncomfortable, but the Time Mage was so intent on staring him down it felt like it wasn't appropriate to interrupt.

"This changes things." Arthur mused aloud, "... Sit down, git. We need to talk."

A/N:
Hello again! Sorry for the late-ish update, still, we hope you enjoyed this longer chapter! Comments and concrit is always loved and welcome, and thank all of you guys for adding SOD to your alerts and favourite lists and stuff! :D

As a side note, Heartstring Doujin pre-orders are officially CLOSED. Thank you all for your support! Also, since Cass is going on vacation, Chapter 5 of SOD will only be up a little before New Year's! Sorry for the wait, and thanks for your patience and support again. Happy holidays!