The remainder of the winter was spent alternating between studying and relaxing in front of the roaring fires indoors, and bundling up to play in the glittery white snow that seemed to materialize out of nowhere overnight. Arthur had seen snow before, of course, but he had rarely been allowed out in it; his mother, concerned that he would catch ill because of his delicate appearance and small stature, had forbidden him to go out of doors in the cold, never mind that his older brother played however he pleased. Now that no one was telling him he couldn't, he wasn't quite sure if he liked playing in it at all, but his experience may have been tainted by Alfred's penchant for starting snowball fights on their daily walks. As long as they were just building forts or snowpeople out of the stuff it was alright, but as soon as even a flake managed to wiggle its way past the beautiful green scarf Anne had knitted for him, Arthur was a shivering, miserable wreck. Alfred, on the other hand, seemed immune to the cold, often returning to the palace smiling, ruddy-cheeked and completely soaked from rolling around in the snow trying to make angels.

But then the snow subsided and early spring brought nothing but torrential rain and Alfred took to moping. Arthur tried not to laugh at the way he would sit at the windows, whining like a lost puppy as hour upon hour of the day was filled with the noise of gallons of wet slopping down the glass. Eventually, Alfred would get tired of trying to whine the rain away, and instead demand that Arthur entertain him. Arthur would read faerie-tales aloud while Alfred drew pictures to go along with the story, or else they would play with the set of painted wooden soldiers that Alfred had in his room.

Then, one day when the rains had gone and the earth was beginning to turn a lush green, Yao sat both of the boys down and handed Arthur a packet of papers.

"Your Highness, Arthur, I must depart for the Kingdom of Clubs in a few days' time. King Ivan has been kind enough to host this year's Deck Council, despite the fact that it is technically our turn to host. I will be gone a little more than a month, but I expect you to follow these lesson plans in my absence."

Even as Arthur was opening his mouth to question the long absence, Alfred was pouting and asking, "If it's our turn, why does King Ivan get to do it? I want to see all the Kings and Queens; it isn't fair!"

Yao sighed and smiled patiently. "I understand your eagerness, but trust me when I say that you will meet and work with all of the Deck Council in due time. The other monarchs felt it unfair that we be burdened with the expense of hosting when you are not yet of age. They have agreed to wait until you are at least a bit older and can attend and understand the processes of negotiation better."

Before Alfred could respond, Arthur cut in. "Why will you be gone so long?"

"Partially in consideration of travel time. The Kingdom of Clubs is the furthest from this city, and the land is incredibly mountainous and the climate cold year-round. Travel to their capital is not easy. Then, the meeting itself is lengthy since the rulers of each Kingdom only meet once a year to discuss any major changes in our realm and share the advances and concerns of each individual House. Of course, there is also much exhibition and flagrant ceremony, which takes further time than I, personally, would care for."

"And do we really have to keep doing lessons while you're gone?" Alfred groaned, eyeing the papers in front of Arthur.

Clucking his tongue, Yao stood and made to leave the room. "Yes, and I will be checking with your attendants to see that you do. Now, if you will excuse me, I must finish preparing for the journey. Good day, your Highness; Arthur."

Arthur skimmed the lesson outlines briefly, then looked to Alfred, shrugging. "This really isn't so bad."

Alfred pulled a face. "Arthur, I'll give you my dessert for a whole week if you pretend to lose those!"

"I highly doubt that. You enjoy eating more than you hate lessons," Arthur teased.

Sticking his tongue out, Alfred hopped down from his chair. "Meanie! Now come on! I want to go play!"

It turned out that the Jack's presence was the only thing keeping the palace running smoothly, or at the very least, keeping Alfred under control. Arthur was impressed by the charm and influence the young royal commanded as he managed to convince his maids and caretakers to let him get away with all sorts of shenanigans, whether it was receiving extra sweets, or being allowed to stay up later or to go exploring past the garden with no one but Arthur as a companion.

Arthur had half expected Anne to try to keep them both on a shorter leash, but she just smiled, patting Arthur's head as he looked up at her with concern, and said, "Adventure is good for boys your age! Now go have fun before the Jack gets back and spoils it all!"

Tripping over the rocky pathway for the tenth time in the last hour, Arthur almost wished they were being more restricted; Alfred had decided that they should hike up to the cattle barn and watch the farmhands milk the cows. The men had paid them no mind other than to incline their heads respectfully and tell the boys where to stand to stay out of harm's way. Alfred had been fascinated by the cows, and one of the farmhands had shown him how to milk, even squirting a little stream of it into Alfred's mouth. Alfred thought this was hysterical, but Arthur just crinkled his nose and shook his head when the farmhand had offered him the same treatment, content to simply stroke the sweet faces of the calves in a nearby pen and let them lick his hands.

Walking back to the palace, Alfred was swinging his arms merrily, occasionally opting to skip for a little while before returning to his stroll.

"I like cows. They're very nice."

"They're dangerous, too, though. And so big."

Turning around to walk backwards in front of Arthur, Alfred said, "Well, I guess so, but the girl cows seem nice. And cows taste good."

Arthur choked on his laughter. "Alfred! That's a terrible thing to say!"

"It's true, though! Like in stew and stuff. Cows taste nice! Stop laughing at me!"

Wiping his eyes, Arthur calmed himself down. "I'm sorry, it's just that most children would be mortified knowing where their meat comes from and here you are happily proclaiming that you like cows because they taste good!"

Alfred turned back around with a huff. "Well, it's the truth!"

As they neared the stone wall near the stables Alfred stopped and shaded his eyes with his hand, squinting to examine something Arthur hadn't seen yet. After a few moments, he gasped and took off at a full sprint, yelling for Arthur to hurry up.

"Alfred! What are you doing?"

"Matthew's out!"

"What?" But Alfred was already out of earshot and Arthur was forced to go running after him to get his answer.

By the time he had made it down to the stables, Alfred was already talking animatedly with the boy Arthur recognized as being the one he had mistaken for a girl on his first day in the palace. Even now Arthur could hardly believe someone so pretty was a boy; the legs were too long and thin, the hair too fair and soft-looking, the eyes too large and expressive. He stared unashamedly at the boy, something in his stomach lurching a little when his gaze shifted beyond Alfred and straight at Arthur.

"Oh. Umm... hello." The boy was smiling, but the voice was so tiny and shy that Arthur could just barely understand him. Leaning forward almost involuntarily, Arthur stumbled closer, nearly knocking Alfred out of the way.

"H-hello. I think I've seen you before?"

The boy nodded, tucking a flyaway strand of his curly blonde hair behind his hair. "Yes. When you first arrived. I mean.. oh!" He bowed awkwardly, seeming to remember that he was supposed to have done so in the first place.

"Aww, Matt, you don't need to do that! Arthur's not royalty, he's just my friend!" Alfred butted his way in between the two tongue-tied boys, putting his hands on his hips in irritation that he was no longer the centre of attention.

"Yes, you really don't have to... Matthew, is it?" Arthur didn't know why he felt so nervous and he struggled to keep his eyes off his shoes.

"Mhmm. And you're Arthur Kirkland."

"Duuuuh! I just said that! Arthur! Matt's my brother!"

Arthur was taken aback for a moment, looking between Alfred's beaming face and Matthew's blushing one, until it finally dawned on him just how very alike they looked. Their hair and eyes were nearly the same colour and they had the same chin, though Matthew's nose was slimmer and more aristocratic looking and his bottom lip was much fuller than Alfred's. The resemblance was uncanny when they both smiled, even if Alfred's was much wider and more

confident than the smaller upturning of the corners of Matthew's mouth.

"B-brothers? You have a brother?"

"Well, I'm only half," Matthew admitted shyly.

"We have different moms," Alfred chirped, as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world.

Arthur spluttered, trying to process this new information and tactfully ask the million questions bouncing around inside his skull, but all that came out was a rather inarticulate noise of confusion before he looked to Alfred. "Is that why Yao didn't want you talking about him to me all that time ago?"

Not missing the way Alfred and Matthew looked at each other and Matthew hung his head slightly, Arthur instantly felt guilty for causing discomfort in what was already a confusing and delicate situation.

"I... I guess. I mean, I don't think Yao minds Matthew, I think it's just..."

"The King was in love with my mom and she had me before Alfred was born. The Queen was really mad. That's why the Jack doesn't want anyone to talk about me." Matthew, apparently, had had enough of beating around the bush and practically yelled his response before clapping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment, his eyes welling up in shock at his own honesty. "I'm s-sorry! I shouldn't have said that!"

Arthur was overcome with the urge to hug the boy, not caring that they had just met moments ago, and was just about to make good on the idea when Alfred's maid came trotting down the path from the garden.

"Your Highness! Arthur! There you are. Anne and I have been looking for you everywhere. Come along now; it's almost time for supper!" She flapped her arms in exasperation, rounding up the two boys with little care for Matthew, who was still fighting back tears and had begun hiccuping nervously. After a particularly loud squeak, the maid turned around and eyed him critically.

"Boy, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be working? Go on then!"

Matthew winced, his face crumpling before taking on a resigned expression. "Sorry, ma'm! I'm sorry."

"You will be if you keep lazing about! Now go!"

Stomach fluttering and knotting in a mixture of pity and anger, Arthur looked over his shoulder as he was prodded back toward the palace by the maid; Matthew gathered himself with a shuddering breath and wiped his sleeve across his face. He looked up and gave Arthur a sad grin, then headed toward the stables once more.

Alfred wriggled free of he maid's grip on his hand for a moment, turning around to wave and yell, "Goodbye, Matt!", but was promptly tugged back.

Still stewing in his anger over how Matthew had been talked to by the maid, and even more curious as to the boy's history, Arthur swore to himself right then and there that he would see Matthew again. The next time they met, he was going to get some answers and, if everything went as planned, he would have friend. Arthur glanced over at Alfred, who looked glum, but was trying his best to hide it.

Well, another friend, anyway.

Arthur spent the next few days urging Alfred to get done with his lessons as quickly as possible so that they could sneak out to the stables to see Matthew again. Arthur could get all of his daily assigned work done in two or three hours, but Alfred had problems staying focused and that cost them what Arthur was now considering very valuable free time.

He couldn't stop thinking about Matthew. He couldn't explain it, but he was drawn to the shy stablehand nonetheless. There was something so delicate and odd about him, something that Arthur found relatable and appealing all at once. The more Arthur thought about him, the more fascinating Matthew got, until he could finally wait no longer and all but dragged Alfred out of the palace and down to the stables, hoping for a glimpse of the object of his interest. They waited for a good half of an hour before Arthur spotted him walking between two rows of horse stalls, toting a heavy-looking bucket in each hand.

Rushing over, Arthur scooped up one of the bucket handles, fingers brushing Matthew's. "Here, let me help you."

"Oh, thank... Oh! Arthur! No, it's alright. This is the last one anyway!" There was a momentary, silent tug-of war between them, which Matthew soundly lost, before both boys smiled at each other and laughed.

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure. They looked heavy. Are you always working by yourself?"

Matthew slid open the lock on one of the horse stalls and nodded with his head to indicate that Arthur was to follow him. The horse inside examined them briefly before deciding they were uninteresting and walking to the far end of the enclosure.

"No. Well, yes. They always send me to do the boring chores, but I'm not the only one working here. The other hands are all older, so they don't pay much attention to me. They don't even talk to me if they can help it."

He paused to pour his bucket of water into a barrel within the enclosure, and Arthur did the same.

"That's terrible, that they treat you like that."

"Oh no, they aren't mean to me or anything like that. I'm just invisible to them unless they need something they don't want to do to be done. But I don't mind. I like the horses, and the work isn't too hard." Matthew locked the enclosure up again and shrugged at Arthur, lifting up his bucket. "Do you... do you want to take these back to the storage room with me?"

"Arthur! Look what I found!"

Arthur had all but forgotten about Alfred, whom he had not only ditched to help Matthew, but had let wander off out of sight. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that no harm had come to him.

Alfred approached, struggling to carry a large, white cat with an odd grey ruff and enormous fluffy grey tail. The cat looked content to be carried, and he turned his head to lick Alfred's face, sending the young royal into a fit of giggles. Arthur couldn't tell if the animal was all fat or all fur, but either way, it was quite round and soft-looking.

"You have a cat?"

Matthew answered as Alfred adjusted his hold on the purring beast. "They are supposed to hunt rats and mice, but mostly that one just likes to sleep."

"There are others?"

"Only the mean one. He never lets me pet him. He ran into the shed when I tried." Alfred shrugged and went back to making faces at the cat in his arms, who he was now cradling like a baby. The cat didn't even struggle as he was bounced and cooed at, seeming to enjoy the attention and closing his eyes to doze off.

Turning to face Arthur, Matthew cocked his head to the side and smiled. For some reason, the motion made Arthur's heart beat a little faster and he had to swallow a sudden rush of excess saliva in his mouth.

"Do you like cats, Arthur?"

"Wha-? Oh, uh, I've never had one. My father and brother had a few hunting dogs, but I was never allowed to play with them, so I've very little experience with pets, I'm afraid."

"You should come see me more often. I'll show you all the horses!" Matthew beamed confidently for a moment before his expression became bashful and he shook his head rapidly. "I mean, only if you want to. I-I'm sure you're so busy and you don't even know me... I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"No! I... I'd like that. If you showed me around here, that is." Arthur stepped closer to Matthew, wanting to him to understand how sincerely he meant it. "I'd like that."

Matthew's smile returned, but he kept his head down, biting his bottom lip and looking up at Arthur through his eyelashes. "We should... we should put the buckets away now."

"Right. Buckets."

Neither of them moved.

As Arthur continued to look a Matthew, he began to hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, which were becoming uncomfortably hot as his whole face flushed. His weight rocked forward almost onto the balls of his feet, his whole body being drawn in by some invisible force, the source of which he felt certain of were the dark violet eyes staring back at him. He was going to drown, any minute he was going to drown if he didn't take a breath and pull away.

Arthur's hold on the handle of the bucket loosened, and its harsh clatter brought him back to reality. Matthew jumped back, blinking rapidly as he looked from the bucket tipped over on the gravel and Arthur as he tried to splutter out some sort of apology or explanation.

Alfred, still holding his furry prize, gave them a disdainful look.

"You two are strange."

As often as he could manage it, Arthur persuaded Alfred to direct their daily walks in the direction of the stables. Alfred was apparently none too pleased to have been usurped by his half-brother as Arthur's point of interest, sometimes flat out refusing to go see Matthew at all. Heavy bribing with the promise of stories and secrets and private playtime only worked enough to get Alfred out of the palace, and Arthur began to grow weary of having to deal with the young royal's whining and impatience once they reached their destination.

Today, however, Alfred was better behaved thanks in part to the entertainment provided by the rotund cat, who the trio had found sleeping in the hay barn. As Arthur and Matthew sat on one of the itchy bales, side by side, and chatted, Alfred took to teasing the cat with straws of hay and climbing up and down the stair-stepped configuration.

Matthew, Arthur had discovered, was not as shy as he first came across. It seemed that all the boy needed was some encouragement and a friendly ear and he could talk just as endlessly as Alfred, though at a wonderfully quieter volume. There was much they shared in common; they were the same age, had grown up somewhat sickly and sheltered, had similar interests in literature and music. Matthew was a bit embarrassed that he couldn't read as well as he was supposed to for his age, given his late start in education, and Arthur promised to bring him books from the palace library and tutor him.

They were sitting in silence, Matthew leaning back on the palms of his hands, legs swinging carelessly over the edge of the hay bale, unaware of Arthur's fervent and focused gaze upon him. Arthur wrung his hands in his lap, debating whether or not he could break the idyllic atmosphere and risk upsetting Matthew again, all for the sake of his curiosity. Finally, he could contain himself no longer.

"Matthew?"

"Hmmm?"

"I know you said that your mother and the King... they, well... what I mean is... what I'm asking is... what happened to your mother?"

Matthew's brow furrowed, but he didn't look at Arthur, eyes staying focused on the empty field in front of the hay barn. He chewed his bottom lip hesitantly, a habit that enraptured Arthur even if he knew it meant that Matthew was in discomfort.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No. It's... It's alright. I think I want to tell you. If we're friends, we shouldn't have secrets, right? Well, if we are friends..."

Arthur patted Matthew on the arm soothingly. "Of course we are!"

Matthew smiled and drew his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around himself to stay balanced. "I'm glad. Well, you see, the King... well, he was in love with my mother, like I said. Then she had me. But he was still married to the Queen, even at first, when he first knew he loved my mother, he was still married. I know it doesn't matter because the King can do whatever he likes and he and the Queen don't get married because they... well, because they..."

"Because they love each other?" Arthur offered bitterly.

Matthew turned to him, a sad smile flitting across his lips as he remembered that of anyone, Arthur knew this fact very well.

"Right. But the Queen loved the King. She was crazy for him. I think maybe she did go crazy, in the end, because she died of a broken heart. Did you know that?" Arthur shook his head. "She did. It was awful. The doctors couldn't help her or anything. Anyway, when the Queen found out that I was born, she got so mad. She wanted to throw my mother out right then and there, but the King and the Jack convinced her to let her stay until I was older at least. I guess she didn't want to punish me, since I was only a baby, I think, and it wasn't my fault that any of that had happened, right?"

"No, of course not!"

Matthew swallowed thickly and tried to continue on nonchalantly, but it was obvious from the strained sound of his voice that he was getting upset. "So, like I said, the Queen waited. But then I guess the King still loved her at least a little bit, because she had a baby-"

"Alfred."

"Yes. And she didn't want my mother around any more. She didn't want her around Alfred. So she banished her. I don't know where she is now. But they let me stay and the Jack arranged it so that I can work here in the stables and I live with the other servants and they take care of me. It... it isn't so bad."

Uncomfortable silence overtook them, Arthur unable to find any words that could possibly make what had happened to Matthew less painful.

"I barely remember what she looks like."

Arthur watched, a heavy sensation crippling him from the inside out, as a few tears made their way down Matthew's pale cheeks.

"Sometimes I think I can remember- what she looks like and sounds like and feels like, but maybe I'm just imagining it or maybe it's just from what other people have told me about her. I don't know what's true anymore. I know I should be grateful that the Queen didn't banish me with her because then that would have been hard for my mother- she would have had to raise me all by herself without any money or a home. So maybe she's somewhere safe now, and she's okay because I didn't hold her back. I just wish..." Matthew trailed off into a little sob, burying his face in his arms.

"You just wish what?"

When the reply finally came, it was in the smallest, saddest voice Arthur had ever heard. "I just wish she'd try to come find me. Why hasn't she even tried?"

Arthur couldn't get his arms around Matthew fast enough. It was awkward, trying to balance on a hay bale while holding a boy curled up into a ball, but they managed somehow. Matthew shook a little and tried to say something else, but Arthur shushed him until he relaxed.

Soon, Matthew was wiggling his way out of Arthur's grasp and wiping his face on his sleeves.

"Thanks," he said sheepishly, still not quite meeting Arthur's gaze.

"Thank you for telling me. And I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything, but I am."

Matthew's lips twitched into what might have been a smile, but he looked too exhausted to do so properly, face splotchy and red.

"What's wrong with you?"

The pair looked up above their heads to the top of the hay bale pile where Alfred had apparently been playing, none the wiser to the emotional dialogue that had just taken place.

"Why are your eyes all puffy, Matt?"

"Ummm... I was just..."

Arthur came to his rescue. "The hay makes his eyes itch. He's allergic. Come along, Alfred, we'd better go before it gets any worse."

Alfred grumbled as he climbed down, his cat following gingerly in his wake. The walk back was eerily quiet and Alfred soon grew bored of Matthew and Arthur, preferring to run ahead.

The pair of friends took their time as they approached the main facilities of the stables, both having much to say, but no idea how to say it. It turns out words weren't necessary at all when they drew closer together, hands and arms bumping every now and then. Soon bumping turned into purposeful contact, and Arthur found his heart in his throat when Matthew finally grabbed his hand in his own and held it there for the rest of the way.

Alfred had somehow convinced his maid to let him stay up late, yet again. Arriving in his pyjamas as Arthur had just gotten settled and propped up in his own bed to read until he fell asleep, Alfred had had no qualms about climbing in beside him and demanding a bedtime story.

Tonight, they were dissolving into a fit of giggles over a collection of fables. Alfred was in stitches over the voices Arthur had given each character, especially when he pitched his voice high to impersonate the foolish rich lady in the story. Arthur was sure that Alfred's maid or Anne would come in any moment from the other room and reprimand them for being so rambunctious, but he could hear their own conversation and laughter bleed through the door every now and then.

As the climax of the fable approached, Alfred had calmed down considerably, and Arthur assumed it was in eager anticipation of the ending. He finished the story and closed the book in his lap, turning to ask Alfred what he'd thought of it, only to find the boy asleep and curled into a ball on top of Arthur's blankets. Arthur reached out a hand and shook his shoulder gently, but Alfred only responded with a whine and rolled over onto his stomach.

Anne and the other maid came into the room, ready to put the boys to bed until they saw Alfred sprawled out.

"Oh my, it seems we've left that one too long", Alfred's maid whispered. "I'll just get him out of your hair, then." She bent to wake Alfred, calling his name a few times and patting him on the back. "Wake up, now, your Highness. You've fallen asleep in the wrong bed!" Still he would not wake up, though a quiet "nooooooo" escaped his sleepy lips.

"Just leave him, then, Sarah. He's doing no harm! You don't mind, do you Arthur?" Anne drew the covers up over Alfred after some delicate manoeuvring.

Arthur eyed the wide gulf in the bed between them. It wasn't as if there wasn't plenty of room and he doubted Alfred would be too pleasant if he was woken and made to walk down the long corridors to his own quarters.

"No. It's alright, I suppose."

Both women smiled at the sight of the two boys curled up in beds and Arthur could have sworn he'd heard Anne say "little angels" or some other such sugary rot as she blew out the lamps in the room.

Arthur was relaxed enough to shut his eyes and drift off for a few hours, no disturbances from the other side of the bed to be had. It wasn't until early morning, when the light was still grey and fuzzy that he woke in discomfort, sticky with sweat despite the chill in the air. He tried to move around and get comfortable, but he found his legs and his middle considerably weighted down.

He lifted the covers up and peered inside. Alfred had apparently shifted in his sleep to laying almost completely across Arthur's stomach, his hands clenched in Arthur's night shirt, but body relaxed and heavy. Arthur wiggled until he was free of the vice-like grip, and Alfred moaned softly, roused by all of the movement. He rubbed his eyed moodily and crawled out of the blankets to grimace at Arthur.

"Why are you in my bed?" he demanded groggily.

"I'm not. You're in my bed. You fell asleep here when I was reading to you and Anne and Sarah couldn't move you."

"Oh." Alfred flopped back down onto his stomach, a comfortable distance away. "I had a strange dream."

"What about?" Arthur rolled onto his side, hands pillowing under his cheek.

"Faeries! I dreamt that we went for a walk and the garden was full of them! All colours and they kept singing and bringing us presents."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes! It was so lovely! I'm sad that it isn't real, though." Alfred yawned again and rubbed his face against the pillow. "Wouldn't it be fun if they were real, Arthur?"

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, unsure if he should reveal the truth to Alfred. He so desperately wanted someone to understand his love of the faeries and that it was so much more than just stories- it was an entire world. He knew that sometimes young children could see spirits and other beings until a certain age. Perhaps Alfred could help him find them in the palace and he could return to playing with the faeries like he had at home.

"Alfred, can I tell you something?"

"Is it a secret?"

"Well no, not really. I don't often tell people, but it isn't a secret."

"What is it?"

"They are real."

"What are?"

"The faeries! I can see them. And other sprites and spirits and things, too! They lived in my garden at home and they would talk to me and I could talk back. I didn't think there were any living here, but maybe you can help me find them and I'll show you!"

Alfred lifted his head off the pillow and stared down at Arthur as if he had sprouted another head. Then he broke out with a huge smile and rolled his eyes.

"You're silly Arthur! I know you're just making things up now."

"But I'm not, I promise! They are real and if you help me find them, I can show you!"

Shifting so he was laying with his back to Arthur, Alfred laughed again. "Yeah right! That would be so weird. Faeries aren't real, and even if they were and you could see them, that would make you a freak, Arthur. You aren't fooling me."

The insult washed over Arthur and left him feeling cold and small. A freak. Alfred would think he was a freak. Someone who was supposed to be his friend couldn't even accept his Gift, something that was so important to Arthur and his identity. Arthur was hurt and opened his mouth to respond, but Alfred's shallow, wet breathing indicated that he had already fallen back asleep.

Arthur rolled onto his back, blinking back tears as he stared at the blue canopy overhead. Would Matthew think he was a freak if he told him about the Gift? Arthur didn't think he could bear it if he did, but then he felt silly for even thinking it. Matthew was sweet and gentle; he wasn't brash and obnoxious like Alfred. Matthew would understand.

Closing his eyes to try to will himself back to sleep, Arthur clenched his fists in the blankets, fighting off the creeping feeling of loneliness once again, this time armed with the knowledge that there was someone who wouldn't judge him, but would like him just as he was.

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Those of you who have given feedback have been such a great help and inspiration, and I'm grateful for every single reader, whether we've talked or not!