"Arthur! Wait!" Alfred banged on the closed door, jiggling the knob even though he knew it was locked. "Open the door! Arthur! Please!" If he had just been a little faster, he could have caught Arthur before he slipped away. What he would have done after that, he didn't know, but nothing was going to get solved if he couldn't see Arthur face to face.

Alfred didn't know what to think. He wanted so much for it to be true, that Arthur had been there all along not as just some rich student, but as the Queen, his Queen. It would fix everything; Alfred would never have to worry about not loving who he married, he would never have to worry about Arthur leaving and forgetting about him, he would never have to hide his feelings for Arthur. But he remembered every dismissal, every painful rejection and conversation and avoidance and for the first time Alfred realized that his love only got him halfway. If Arthur had known from the beginning that he and Alfred were betrothed, and he was running away from it now, did that mean that he didn't want to be Queen? A swell of something akin to rage rose up into Alfred's chest. Arthur had known. Everyone had known and they'd all been lying to him. Renewing his attack on the door with savage energy, he didn't even waste the effort it would have taken to call out, focusing on his kicking, scratching and punching, as if he could reduce the solid wood to dust just from his sheer need for it to no longer exist. He was vaguely aware that his hands were starting to ache and burn but he didn't stop until a vice-grip pulled him away by the shoulders. Swinging wildly behind at whomever had grabbed him, Alfred snarled and tried to dig his heels into the floor, but the polished marble gave him no purchase.

"Let me go!" Alfred struggled to pull his arms out of his coat and duck away, but then he was being held a whole inch off the floor by his armpits and breathing became difficult. Whining and kicking, Alfred was heaved further down the hall only now becoming aware of the voice begging him to calm down.

"Your Highness! Alfred!" Yao's voice was high and nearly hysterical, but he held a hand out in an attempt at reason. "Please, just stop and we can talk about this!"

"No!" Alfred lunged forward and nearly succeeded in throwing his captor off and running down the hall past Yao, but he was tripped up and hit the ground with a solid thunk.

"Ivan! Was that really necessary!" Yao knelt down and gently turned Alfred's face to see if he was injured.

"You said to make him stop. I made him stop. He is quieter now, is he not?"

Alfred's forearms stung from the impact and he couldn't draw in sufficient breath. He allowed himself to be sat up and then brought to his feet again, a tight feeling turning hot beneath his ribs. Ivan pounded him on the back a few times and Alfred coughed a breath in and out, dizzy and sore. Alfred looked over his shoulder down the hall and leaned away weakly to make another break for it, but Ivan had him firmly by the upper arm and the pinching guidance forced him to stumble miserably back to his own quarters. Yao was still chattering away, asking if Alfred was all right, waiting for Alfred to respond, worrying more and more when he didn't, but it all sounded like buzzing to Alfred's ears. He was forced onto the sofa in his front room, and Ivan hovered defensively over him, waiting to see if he would attempt escape again. Alfred was much too tired to fight anymore; he shook his head at Ivan and flopped morosely onto his side.

"Are you going to be all right for a little while?" Yao peered down into Alfred's face, pursing his lips when the only response he got was a nod of the head. "We will talk about this, I promise. Can someone stay with him? I need to see to Arthur."

"I'll stay. You may need your brute again." Francis leaned casually in the doorway and gestured toward Ivan. If Francis was shocked or excited by the dramatic happenings of the last few minutes, he did not betray as much. Yao thanked him, and hurried from the room, fussing to put his hair back into place after the short altercation, with Ivan following doggedly behind.

Francis shut the door gently, and seated himself on the ottoman in front the sofa. Alfred squirmed under his steady gaze and wished that someone else had volunteered to stay with him. He was foolishly about to say as much when Francis sighed heavily and said, "I've been telling Yao to formerly announce your betrothal for years. Now he reaps what he has sown."

Alfred sat up. "What?"

"This would have been so much easier if you had both grown up with the idea of marriage . Making this ridiculous taboo of the subject has created unnecessary tension and embarrassment for all of us."

"No, I mean, you wanted him to tell me?"

"Of course."

"Why?" Alfred struggled to think of a way to pose his question without offending the King of Diamonds, but could manage nothing but indelicate frankness. "Why would you want the betrothal announced? You- you want Arthur, I mean, you wouldn't have known that before, but now... how can you say it would have been better?"

Francis tossed his hair and shrugged. "Forgive me, but whether or not you had known about the marriage would have had very little impact on my courtship of your dear friend. You should know that at least. Legal bindings have nothing to do with the heart, nor should they. Nothing should rule love, save for itself. Whether or not you care to believe it, I do have your best interests at heart. Perhaps not on a personal level, but we are to be political partners, after all. Domestic squabbling can be an ugly thing to carry over into the realm of business. I think your parents proved that quite well."

Alfred's hands clenched into fists and he had a hard time staying seated. "Don't you dare talk about my parents that way."

"Ah, no." Francis put out placating hand, expression contrite. "I did not mean for that to sound so judgemental. I thought highly of your parents. What I mean to say is that honesty in these types of situations does more good than concealing information in a misguided attempt at protecting the parties involved." He cleared his throat and averted his eyes. "I am not the enemy you have decided I am, Alfred."

"What do you mean?"

"I think this is a conversation better left until after we know the state of your Queen, but I do not know that we will get another chance. I will always fight for love when it is honest. Do you honestly love Arthur?"

Alfred choked on his surprise. He'd never been asked to declare his feelings so directly, not even by the person they were for. They were an army of a million tiny thoughts in his head, something he said to himself, a mantra; "I love you" was easy to say when no one could hear it, it felt true when no one would try to convince you otherwise. He didn't think he had to declare anything, that Arthur would just know somehow and then he'd know when Arthur loved him, too. That's what made love true. Nothing had to be said, it was just felt and no one had to know it except for the two people in love. It might have to be defended against invaders like Francis, but otherwise there wasn't any room for anyone else. He'd always thought that if he kept his love to himself, no one could destroy it, but now he realised that he had to offer it or it did no good.

"I, uh, yes. I do. Love him. I think."

Francis arched an eyebrow. "You think? Or you know?"

Alfred took a deep breath. "I know. But he doesn't, so it doesn't really count does it? It's no good if I do and he never knows, is it?"

"No." Francis sounded sad and he scratched at his cheek distractedly.

"So what do I do?"

"Tell him. Whatever way you can, as soon as you can. You tell him and you never stop."

"But... what about you? You were with him in the garden and-"

"Alfred, you should thank your lucky stars that you will grow to be attractive. It makes your nearly offensive stupidity much easier to bear."

Before he could open his mouth to rebuke the insult, Francis was sitting next to him, patting his knee fondly.

"He rejected me. Kindly, but rejected nonetheless. I think you were very right when you said that he much prefers you, even if it was only a hollow boast at the time."

Alfred felt a rush of relief and hope. He knew Arthur was smarter than to fall for Francis' sweet words. "Do you really think so?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"But what do I do if he doesn't love me either?" It pained Alfred to think of it, and he wrapped his arms around his middle to soothe the ache building there out of excitement and fear.

"You accept and respect his decision. Feelings change, Alfred, but you must deserve his love, not command it. Do you understand?"

It was all so much to take in and Alfred felt overwhelmed. He hadn't anticipated something so seemingly simple as love to be so complicated and dangerous. Alfred had barely had time to process the fact that Arthur was indeed his Queen, hadn't learned the truth of the matter from Yao, and he was already planning to confess his love. He had no idea how he would do it, but it was imperative that he did.

"I understand. Thank you, but why are you helping me?"

Francis laughed kindly, and put a hand over his heart. "I told you, I am always on the side of honest love. Why should I begrudge you something beautiful if you deserve it?"

"I was wrong about you, Francis. I don't like what happened between you and Arthur, but I'm sorry that I was so rude to you."

"I've been hearing that a lot lately."

Alfred was about to ask what he meant by that when there was a sharp rap on the door and Yao returned, looking exhausted and worried. Francis stood and offered Yao his seat, concern for the Jack evident in his gentle handling.

"Thank you, Francis, but I need to speak with Alfred in private now. I appreciate you staying with him."

"Of course. It has been my pleasure." Francis nodded and smiled fondly at Alfred before letting himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Yao let out a pained breath and leaned forward over his knees, rubbing his eyes and face with agitated fingers. "Are you angry still?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"With me?"

Alfred thought about it for a moment, but couldn't arrive at a definitive conclusion. "Did everyone know? The Council, I mean. Were you all just... laughing at me?"

"No! No." Yao groaned into his hands. "I promise you, we all took this very seriously from the start. I didn't want you to find out like this. I'm so sorry."

"How long has Arthur known?"

"Since the beginning. Since he first came here."

That made a little spark of anger fly up despite Alfred's best attempts to stay rational and calm. Arthur had been as good as lying to him for the past six years. His own best friend turned love had been lying to him, as had his Jack, someone who was supposed to be his closest political advisor and mentor.

"Why was he allowed to know, but not me?"

"He was older, I thought he could handle-"

"But I'm older now than he was then!" Alfred shouted and Yao flinched, but still didn't look at him.

"I was just trying to protect you!"

"From what! I know who I have to be Yao, so why keep this from me?" Alfred's voice was strained and loud, but he could do nothing to bring it back to calm. Yao stood abruptly and flung his arms out, hair going loose and wild in his distress.

"Don't you think I wanted to tell you? Don't you think I am tired of acting as Regent? I could have announced this two years ago and Arthur could have been crowned and I could have stepped down and finally stopped being responsible for this Kingdom. I am exhausted, Alfred. Forgive my insensitivity, but I was ruling long before your parents were even dead. Everything was falling apart and I was the only one capable of making a rational decision, all because some feelings got hurt over love and marriage. So excuse me for not wanting to rush into another disaster. You were only a child and still you were spouting off all this garbage about love and devotion and I thought that if I waited long enough you would grow out of it, you would grow up and be able to handle the truth. You don't get a choice, Alfred, none of us do. I was trying to protect you, protect myself, from another generation of heartbreak!"

Alfred had never considered how hard Regency must have been on Yao. He had to take on the role of both King and Queen as well as tutor the future monarchs. Alfred had always taken for granted that Yao was there to serve and help him; he expected it, it was what Jacks did. But Yao had been forced to go beyond his ordinary duty to protect the Kingdom. He had every right to be tired, but even if Alfred knew this, it didn't stop him from being upset.

"Then why bring Arthur so young if you weren't going to tell me?"

"I wanted you to get used to him, Alfred! I wanted you to grow up together so that when the time came, it might not be so difficult for you to wed. Two friends are better than two strangers. Perhaps it is not the kind of love you would have preferred for your marriage, but it was the best I could do for you. I've tried to give you what little normalcy I could, but there is only so much I can bend the rules for you, Alfred. You can't always have what you want, even if it is wonderful."

But he had gotten what he wanted. Alfred did love his Queen. Something stopped him from telling Yao this, though. It was spiteful to keep it from him, vengeful to keep him in agony, but Alfred didn't want to share his feelings. He wanted them justified and returned first, he wanted to be able to prove Yao wrong and say that he was a good King not because of only his pedigree and politics, but because he loved more fiercely than anyone before him.

"I understand," he said neatly. "Is Arthur all right?"

Yao sighed again and ran his hands through his mussed hair and over his face. He paced the room and bit at his nails, and Alfred felt another contrite stab of guilt over the way he had overlooked all Yao had done for him over the years.

"He has made himself sick with nerves again. Anne said he fainted for a few moments, but by the time I saw him he was conscious, if uncommunicative. The physician is seeing to him now."

"When can I see him?"

"Not for a while, and it may be best to wait until he wishes to see you. This secret has been a terrible burden to him and I think he has misunderstood your reaction. He is terrified you will hate him."

"I could never hate him," Alfred mumbled to himself, but Yao heard and smiled down at him. He relaxed considerably and breathed in deeply.

"I am glad. You do not oppose the betrothal then?"

"I don't have a choice, but no, I don't. Arthur is... special to me. I care about him."

"He has become like a brother to you, hasn't he?"

Alfred shifted uncomfortably and shook his head. "No, not like that, not really. But he is my best friend, and like you said, that is better than strangers."

Yao nodded and looked toward the clock on the wall. "It is getting late. If you are feeling uneasy, I can arrange to have your meal brought to you this evening. I know this is all a shock to you still, and I don't want to upset you or the Council any further. Ludwig informed me that Lilli is quite distraught over the whole affair."

"No. I'll join the others. I need to... I need to apologise for my behaviour and I want to speak to Lilli. I don't want her to be worried about this. I'm glad it happened, in a way."

Yao smiled and put a hand on Alfred's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He was about to pull away, but Alfred hugged him around the middle and closed his eyes against the sudden stinging threat of tears. "Thank you, Yao. For everything. I didn't realize how much-"

"Shh, shh, there's no need to say anything. I'm sorry it had to be like this, your Highness, I truly am." Yao returned his embrace, then pulled away, cupping his face between his hands in a rare show of direct tenderness.

Alfred smiled as they left the room to rejoin the Council. As shocking as the afternoon had been, he felt that two of his relationships had strengthened under pressure, and he had a new understanding of his future colleagues. Now he only needed to fix things with his Queen.

"Arthur, if you don't drink it, I'm going to have to give you an injection and I do not think you will like that." The physician showed him the needle and glass tube and Arthur winced. He'd never had an injection before. The technology was fairly new and the thought of that little metal bit going inside his skin terrified him. He nodded nervously and took the teacup from the tray Anne had set on his lap.

His hands hadn't stopped shaking since he had come to. He didn't remember anything after closing the door, but he'd been told he fainted for a moment. Everything was hazy to Arthur, but he remembered Yao saying something to him, apologizing perhaps, and then fetching the physician when Arthur didn't respond. How could he? He throat felt dry and itchy and his head was pounding from his jawing being clenched, the muscles in his neck straining. The physician had had Ivan move him to his bed and taken his pulse, but Arthur didn't need to be told that it was racing. He felt it, felt the sickly, light flutters that left him breathless and burned his chest. His face and hands felt cold and clammy and he couldn't control the tremors. They would stop for a moment, hands lying in his lap like long, white dead things, things that didn't belong to him, that were not attached to him, but then they would start shaking again and Arthur could do nothing but stare down at them in nervous horror.

Lifting the teacup was nearly impossible, liquid spilling over the edges as the bottom clacked against the tray. Arthur half sobbed at his inability to make his hands function properly, and Anne ended up having to hold the teacup for him while he drank. She petted his hair soothingly while he struggled to finish the entire cup. It tasted like warm poison, and Arthur's stomach clenched even further and threatened to heave. The physician made him lie down and breathe slowly.

"This is going to help your nerves, Arthur. You should begin to feel drowsy in a few minutes. I will visit you again tomorrow morning."

Arthur gripped the bedding with his shaking hands and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come fast and stay long. His tongue felt numb and a tingling sensation spread up from his belly out to the very tips of this fingers and toes. His hands unclenched and his breathing slowed, but he wasn't yet asleep, and could hear the physician speaking to Anne.

"The shock is making him sick. I am concerned that if he continues this way, his heart will not be able to handle the stress of nerves. If he doesn't seem any more relaxed upon waking, you may give him another dose of the sedative, but no more than three in one day."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"I don't know. There's nothing physically wrong with him. It's his mind, his emotions that are making him ill. I can do nothing but treat the symptoms; he has to cure himself."

Arthur didn't hear Anne's response, lost to a thick, dreamless, artificial sleep.

He slept through to the next morning, waking with a foul taste in his mouth and an unpleasant deadness in his limbs. Anne brought him a tray of food, but his stomach was in such painful knots that he couldn't manage more than a few bites.

"Are you... are you feeling better, Arthur?"

His hands started shaking again. He remembered the pounding and yelling, imagined the disappointed, angry face running after him, felt the clench of his leg muscles as he fought the urge to run again, and then Anne was touching his face and trying to get him to respond, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but sit in his own panic and try not to drown. More sedative was forced down his throat and he must have been asleep for the physician's visit because when he came around in the late afternoon, he was in his nightclothes and there was a bandage around his wrist from where he'd been bled. What good that would do, he didn't know, but he tried not to think of anything and instead lie still and manage his breathing.

Yao came to see him before the evening meal. He apologised for everything and assured Arthur that he'd spoken with Alfred and everything was going to be fine. Arthur couldn't believe that. He's seen Alfred's face, he'd heard him yelling, and he knew that he hated him. Arthur had ruined it all again, and now he'd lost Alfred, his close friend, his companion, his King. He hadn't realised how much he cared for him until the care he was given was destroyed. The thought of a cold, angry marriage and bitter rule made Arthur panic again and had to be held down while the physician was fetched, and then a painful, freezing prick was spreading down his arm and he was lost once more.

On the third day, he was able to get up and dress himself and walk around his rooms. He still flinched every time he heard footsteps in the hall, or heard a voice in the garden or Anne knocked on his door, and his hands still shook at odd intervals, but the worst of his nervousness had died down to a light, but constant hum instead of a breathless flood. Anne watched him carefully as he paced around the sitting room, attention never held too long by books or embroidery or looking out the balcony window to the garden. He fidgeted on the settee and tried to make his hands lie still, but she interrupted his efforts with a soft clearing of her throat.

"It's Alfred's birthday today."

Arthur flinched at the mention of his name and shook his head. "No. I don't want to go, if that's what you are getting at."

"But it will be the last day with the Council! Don't you want to say goodbye? And I think it would be a marvellous present if you could make up with Alfred! He's been asking every day if he can see you."

"N-no. I can't- I don't want t-"

"Oh, come now, Arthur!" Anne moved to sit next to him and patted his knee in a motherly fashion. "I know that your betrothal was not announced under the best circumstances, but you've known all along. It can't be that much of a shock to you! Besides, you and Alfred get on so well! Surely it's not all bad."

"We do not get on. Not anymore."

"Arthur, what are you talking about? Of course you do!" Anne leaned into him, whispering playfully. "And I've seen you two together. It's very sweet."

Arthur pulled away. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the way he looks at you! You're both young, of course, but I can tell he just adores you."

"Stop."

Anne laughed and lightly pinched Arthur's cheek. "And you. Always so flustered and protective around him."

"I am not!" Arthur's cheeks felt hot and his hands clenched and trembled.

"Oh, it's all right Arthur! It's perfectly natural you should feel that way! You're going to be married after all-"

"Stop!"

"-and it will so nice to have a loving royal pair again!"

"Be quiet!" Arthur leapt up from the settee with a shout. "It's not any of your business, you can't... you can't... you can't talk to me like that! It's not p-proper. You're too familiar, Anne, and I won't have you talking to me like that!"

"Arthur! I didn't mean anyth-"

"No! Y-you are a servant and I... I'm going to be Queen. That's it. There's nothing sweet or personal or loving in any of this and I command you to stop!"

Anne's mouth hung open, her eyes crumpling in devestation. She looked like she might plead with Arthur, but he gave her a hard look and she composed herself.

"I see. I apologise. I will hold my tongue in the future," she murmured coldly, then stood. "I fear you are too upset. I will get your medicine, your Highness." She left the room quickly, brushing tears from her eyes, and Arthur almost reached out for her, but his pride and embarrassment stopped him.

He'd ruined too many relationships in the last few days, with no hope of ever fixing them. What a fine Queen he was turning out to be.

The final day of Council had arrived, and Alfred's birthday along with it. It would be a modest celebration this year; there was too much risk in having a large gathering when the entire Council was present. A lavish affair would be saved for Alfred's coronation, when more planning and security could be put into place.

Alfred took no joy in watching the preparations for his party; the fragrances coming up from the kitchen didn't excite his appetite like they usually would, the prospect of presents did nothing to cheer him up. He didn't want to celebrate anything at all, not if he couldn't be with Arthur.

He'd tried every day to visit him, but Yao and Anne told him that Arthur wasn't ready to see anyone yet. Alfred had hoped that he just needed some time to think for a while and that he would be better after a good night's sleep. He'd made sure to remind Yao to tell Arthur that he wasn't angry and that he wanted to see him, but he was still barred entrance. A sickening thought picked at the back of Alfred's brain: perhaps Arthur was the one who was angry. Arthur could have been disgusted all along by the prospect of marrying Alfred, and that was why he didn't want to see him. But that couldn't be, not when Arthur had accepted his growing signs of affection, not when he had spoken to him so tenderly in the Council room and almost let Alfred kiss him, not when he was so jealous over Lilli. Alfred's mind ran around in circles between being certain that Arthur hated him and being certain that Arthur loved him, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Alfred was quiet through dinner and through the fireworks display. He thanked everyone profusely, but they knew he was not completely present, and the Council took pity on him in one way or another. Elizaveta and Lilli hugged him, the latter tearfully and still apologetic despite Alfred's assurances that he wasn't mad at her. Ludwig clapped him on the back and gave him a knowing half-smile.

"These things are always difficult. My Queen and I did not have an easy start, either. I was too young to appreciate what marriage meant in terms of royalty."

Alfred tried to just offer his thanks, but he couldn't stop himself from saying, "But it's different. You don't love your Queen; you're not with him."

Ludwig looked down awkwardly and almost replied but he just gave Alfred another pat and a curt nod before returning to Feliciano.

Kiku had watched the exchange silently, but came forward and went on tip toe to kiss Alfred's forehead. It was such an odd gesture from the reserved and physically withdrawn Queen of Hearts, and Alfred was so moved by it that he pulled him into a strong hug. Kiku tensed up for a moment but then he was petting Alfred's hair with stilted, but well-meaning, strokes and saying something about fate and being young and having hope. Alfred was too absorbed in being comforted to understand it all, but he felt a little of the weight lift from his heart as they said their goodbyes.

The Council departed slowly, leaving the gardens to prepare for their journeys home the next morning. Soon, only Yao and Gilbert were left both with a hand on Alfred's shoulders.

"I'd like to have a little chat with the birthday boy, if you don't mind, Yao."

Yao nodded his agreement and Alfred found himself being led down the garden path by the Joker.

"Francis told me about what happened."

"Did you know, too?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever... did you ever talk to Arthur about it? I mean, you and he were close and I wonder if-"

"He doesn't hate you, if that's what you're asking."

Alfred bit his lip and crossed his arms over his stomach. "Then why did he run away?"

Gilbert sighed and puffed out his cheeks, combing a hand through his messy hair. "Arthur's never quite adjusted to the idea of all this, I think. He's not like you; he needs time."

"How much, though?"

Gilbert shrugged and stopped walking to turn to Alfred. "Francis also told me about your, uh, feelings. Not that I didn't already know. You're pretty obvious about them."

Alfred was embarrassed, but he nodded. "What can I do, though? I can't see Arthur, and if I can't see him, I can't tell him, and if I don't tell him, he's going to think that I'm angry with him."

"Aren't you, though?"

"Well, yes, but not at him. More like angry at the situation. I- I feel bad that he had to keep this secret for so long, and I wish he hadn't, but I can't be mad at him, not when I..." Alfred trailed off and scratched the back of his neck self-consciously.

"Not when you love him?"

Smiling sheepishly, Alfred nodded. "Yeah. That."

"You kids grow up too fast, you know that?" Gilbert laughed mostly to himself and punched Alfred playfully on the arm. "Well, if you're going to insist on being all adult and sappy about it, you might as well go out and get what you want."

"But what if Arthur doesn't feel the same way? And how am I supposed to see him?"

"That's a risk you have to take, but I wouldn't be too worried about it. Like everything else, Arthur's going to deny and deny until he has nothing left to protect himself with. Love's a scary thing. Go easy on him. Now, as for how you can see him, I suggest some creative problem solving."

"Like what?"

Gilbert gestured vaguely upward and Alfred followed the motion of his hand to see that they were beneath the narrow balcony outside Arthur's room.

"How well do you climb trees?"

Alfred grinned. "Better than I knock down doors."

Alfred waited until after all the lamps in the palace had been extinguished and all the servants had finished cleaning and returned to their quarters. Slipping on his trousers and a loose shirt, he tied laces of his boots together and hung them around his neck. The toes would be too big to fit in the squares of the trellis outside his window, and that was the only way he would be able to climb down into the garden.

The window swung open with a soft snick. Alfred had never been afraid of heights, but, now that his legs were dangling into the open air, his heart was thudding nervously. He scooted his way along the windowsill until he could grab the trellis with one hand and place his right foot onto one of the lattices. Counting to three, he pushed off the sill and scrambled to catch hold completely. The trellis creaked under his weight, and Alfred held his breath. Nothing snapped or broke, so Alfred began his slow descent, mindful of weak lattices and sharp bits of thorn and stem.

Despite the dark, the night was warm and the air was thick and still. Alfred put his boots on clumsily and ran down along the garden wall until he was outside Arthur's window. He took a handful of pebbles from the flower beds and began tossing them one by one at the balcony. Waiting a minute or two in between tosses, countless pebbles clinked against the glass of the windowpane or the stone of the wall.

Alfred tossed one last pebble, and heard a sharp "Ow!" Arthur appeared and leaned over the railing, rubbing his forehead.

"Why are you throwing rocks at me!"

"I'm not throwing them at you, I'm throwing them at your window so you'll come out!"

"Well I'm out! What do you want?"

Alfred shuffled his feet. "Can we talk?"

Arthur shook his head and backed away. "Er, no, I don't think-"

"No! We're talking. Right now!"

"I'm not having a shouting match in the garden in the middle of the night with you, Alfred!"

"Then I'm coming up!"

Ignoring Arthur's protests, Alfred climbed up the tree next to balcony, bark cracking and sticky with sap and nectar from the fleshy white flowers blooming between the leaves. It smelled like a heavy cologne, and Alfred's head was spinning by the time he made it high enough to jump onto the balcony. He lost his footing and tripped upon landing, but Arthur caught him and set him up straight.

"What are you doing! You could have broken your neck!"

"I don't care!" Alfred adjusted his clothing. "I had to see you!"

Arthur made a frightened noise and backed away until his back bumped the railing. The balcony was almost too small for two people, and Alfred tried to block the door back into Arthur's room.

"Alfred, if this is about that happened, then I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but I couldn't and I'll understand if you're upset with me, but please just let me go! I can't bear it!" Arthur was tearing at his own hair, hands shaking.

"Hey, no, I'm not upset, I lo-"

"And you were saying all those things about marriage and love and your Queen and it was me the whole time and I felt so guilty because it's just me, Alfred, I'm all you get and I've lied to you and now you hate me and I-"

"Stop." Alfred grabbed Arthur's flapping hands and gripped them tightly until they stopped shaking. "What do you you're all I get? Arthur, did you honestly think everything I said would stop being true just because you're going to be Queen?"

Arthur didn't understand for a moment, but then he gasped and tried to pull his hands away. "You don't mean that. You don't."

"I'm telling, you right now, that I do. I- I love you, and uh what I'm saying is..." Alfred got down on one knee and looked up into Arthur's panicked face. "What I'm asking is: will you marry me?"

Alfred was expecting there to be more denial and for Arthur to pull away or hit him or cry. He could have handled all those things. He was not expecting Arthur to start laughing, but he was, doubled over so that his forehead was bumping the top of Alfred's head, laughing so hard that he couldn't breath properly, and Alfred had no idea what to do. Arthur pulled up at him desperately, unable to put any force behind the motion because he was so weak from his crowing.

"Alfr-Alfred, you h-have to get up, I can't...I can't look at you l-like this!"

"No!" Alfred pulled Arthur down until he as kneeling on the balcony as well and held Arthur's face between his hands. "I'm being serious!"

Arthur giggled nervously a few more times, but he sobered up as Alfred continued to look at him, and brushed a lock of hair behind Arthur's ear and rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone.

"You're thirteen years old, Alfred, I can't-"

"Fourteen."

"Still, I can't-"

"You don't love me, too? You don't want to get married?"

"I'm not saying that. Oh! I'm not saying I want to, either, I just can't think of you like that right now. I don't know."

Alfred leaned in, still cupping Arthur's face, leaned so close that he could taste Arthur's breath and almost feel the tingle of his lips on his own. Arthur inhaled sharply, but didn't move away, eyes slipping closed instinctively, and as much as Alfred wanted to finish the motion and claim his long-awaited kiss, he held himself back.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you don't think about this, too?"

Arthur let out a tiny groan and Alfred almost lost his mind trying not to kiss him.

"No... I don't know... I just want..." Arthur licked his bottom lip, and Alfred was so close he could just barely feel the wet tongue drag against the hair's breadth between them.

"What do you want?" Alfred had no idea what he was doing, but his voice dropped to a whisper and he tilted his head ever-so-slightly to the side. "Tell me."

Arthur took another shuddering breath, and Alfred thought he was going to kiss him, but then Arthur was holding Alfred's wrists and opening his eyes and pulling away.

"Time. I want time."

"How much?"

"I don't know... a year? Two?"

"But I'll be crowned by then and we'll have to get married soon after!"

Arthur extricated himself fully from Alfred's grasp and sat back on his heels. "It wouldn't be fair to you. I don't feel the same way you do." He looked shyly at Alfred. "Not yet, anyway."

"But you will?" Alfred half-begged hopefully.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore! I don't know, I just-"

"Francis said we should be honest. That honest love is the best kind."

"Francis?"

"Yeah, but forget about him! I just want us to start over."

Arthur shook his head, but reached out and tentatively out his fingers on Alfred's cheek. Alfred fought to not lean into the touch and grin like a fool, knowing he needed to stay serious and focused if they were ever going to make any progress.

"I don't think we can. We've known each other too long, and this has been a secret too long."

"Then let's just start honestly. We don't have to forget everything that happened, but we can try to..."

"Try to fall in love?" Arthur removed his hand and clenched it awkwardly in his lap.

"If you'll let me. If... if you'll let us?"

"You're too young to talk like this. You have no idea what it all means."

"Yeah, well, neither do you, so I guess it doesn't matter, does it?"

If Arthur was offended, he didn't show it, just sighed heavily again, fidgeting fingers starting to shake again. "What do you want to do now?"

"Just this." Alfred stood and took one of Arthur's hands in his own. He bowed showily with a cheeky grin and kissed the back of Arthur's shaking hand. "Hello, name is Alfred and I am going to be the King of Spades. I am delighted you have come to court."

Arthur stared up at Alfred for a moment, then a brilliant smile broke out across his face. He rose to his feet as well, and bowed. Alfred noticed that as he spoke, his hand stopped shaking.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I am going to be the Queen of Spades. Thank you so much for having me."

A/N: Thanks for sticking it out this long. It all gets more mushy from here...