Words: 3894

Ahhh, thank you all so much for the reviews and follows/favorites! Here's the rest of the wedding chapter, featuring Arthur's shitty father and a rather underwhelming but emotionally healthy wedding night. Next chapter should be up Tuesday :)

Arthur had already been feeling in far less than decent condition when the wedding reception started. He'd made it through the reception line alright, and he'd gotten through the cake and dancing. As much as the Queen was dreading the end of the reception (which would mean the beginning of the wedding night), he also hated the reception itself. That was why he found himself leaning up against a wall, drinking champagne and trying not to be seen, when Allistor appeared. Followed immediately by Alfred. And then his other two brothers. Oh god, why are they here? was his first thought.

It was well-known inside the family that Arthur and his brothers did not get along well at all. It was to be expected, his beta mother said often when they were growing up, that three older alpha siblings would pick on a younger omega sibling. His father had ignored the behavior, figuring that just by being an omega Arthur was already coddled too much. In nobility, omegas had little use besides being married off to other nobles. The alphas were the ones that would inherit the money, take over the family business, and keep the family name; Arthur could do none of that. Not that he necessarily wanted to. Arthur was more than happy to move away by himself to attend university. He didn't need his family and his family didn't need him; it worked.

As long as they didn't have to interact. When Arthur had been crowned, his family had been hesitant to embrace the news. It was supposed to be considered the highest honour; they were now families of a Royal! In truth, though, most of them had little hope that Arthur wouldn't make a mess of the whole thing. And they had been right as Arthur, with his argumentative and obstinate personality, quickly became the most hated Queen in Spades' history. It came as no surprise to Arthur that his father did not seem in the mood for a friendly chat now.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked immediately once they were far enough away from the others.

"Pardon?" Arthur asked, caught off guard by the question.

"What are you doing?" his father repeated. "Do you have any idea how much you're hurting this family?"

Arthur gaped at him. "I haven't done anything."

"Bullshit," he said instantly. "What did you do to King Henry?"

"What?" Arthur rarely heard his father cuss, and never out in public like this. And what was he talking about with King Henry?

"Look, it doesn't matter. Just," his father sighed, seemingly exasperated. "Stop. Whatever you're doing, stop it."

"Stop what?" Arthur asked, frustrated. "I told you, I'm not doing anything!"

"You were supposed to be executed," his father said brusquely. Arthur could do nothing but stare at him in shocked silence.

"I don't know how you killed Henry or what sort of witchcraft you've used to get this new King to not execute you, but it needs to stop."

"What are you saying?" Arthur asked weakly.

"Do you have any idea how much your selfish actions are hurting us?" his father asked furiously. "It was bad enough when you became Queen, but now? We were almost out of this whole mess! You've ruined the family name. Allistor can't get promoted at work, Connor's getting harassed at his job, we've practically been shunned by the other nobles!"

"That's not my fault!" Arthur retorted.

"Of course it's your fault! People are paying attention to you now. When you act up, it reflects on the whole family."

"So, what are you saying?" Arthur asked, hurt. "That it'd be better if I was dead?" His father said nothing, and Arthur felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Surely his father wasn't that cruel. "Dad!"

"Be quiet," he said callously. "You're making a scene."

"What do you want me to do," Arthur asked despairingly, "kill myself?"

"I'm not asking for something that drastic," he said impatiently. "I told you, just stop whatever you've been doing. I don't know who you've bribed or tricked to remain Queen, but it needs to stop."

"I haven't bribed or tricked anyone!" Arthur protested. "I didn't choose to be Queen! Do you honestly think I want this!?" He felt tears of frustration well up in his eyes. His father knew he never wanted to be Queen; he had been there when Arthur begged his family to help him get out of the situation. He had ignored his pleas, insisting it was Arthur's duty to the Kingdom and to his family.

"If you really don't want to be Queen," his father now said, "then it should be easy enough to get yourself executed."

"I… Are you serious?" Arthur hated how his voice shook, tears threatening to spill over. "Does my life really mean less to you than the family name?"

"You're hurting all of your brothers doing this," he said, content with his logic.

"Wh-… did you come to my execution?" the Queen asked abruptly.

"What?" his father asked, not expected this question.

"Were you there?" Arthur demanded, the question that had been nagging at him since his failed execution finally out in the open. "Were you going to watch me die?"

His father, obviously flustered, attempted to deflect. "I hardly see how that matt-"

"Were you going to watch me die?" he asked desperately. "Did my brothers show up? Did Mum come to? Were you going to celebrate?" His voice became more frantic and hysterical.

"Don't be so dramatic," he said dismissively.

"Don't be so dramatic!?" Arthur felt something inside him snap at this. "Shut up! How dare you? You vile piece of-" SLAP!

Arthur froze, stunned, before touching his cheek. A sharp, tingling pain spread across his face. Across from him his father, breathing heavily, appeared surprised by his own actions. Arthur watched his expression shift from fury to growing horror as what he did caught up to him. He'd just slapped the Queen.

It was then that the King chose to appear.

"What's going on!?" he asked angrily, astonished by the violence. "Did you just hit him?" he demanded of the father.

"I-" by then his father had gone white with horror. Arthur himself was still shaking; his father had never been physically abusive. He wanted this situation to end, now.

"It's fine," he said, voice wavering. Alfred looked at him in shock.

"Are you serious? He just-"

"I said it's fine," Arthur said sharply, glaring at Alfred. He continued to cover his cheek with his hand as he turned to address his still speechless father.

"Believe it or not, Father, I have as much control over this situation as I ever have. If my position is so damaging to you, then change your name and move," he said coldly.

"But-" his father protested, unused to losing control of the conversation.

"I suggest you leave." Arthur's tone left no room for argument.

Arthur ignored the King following him as he walked briskly from the room.

"What happened?" Alfred demanded. "Why did he do that? Should we have him arrested?"

"Leave it," the Queen said dismissively.

"What?" Alfred asked indignantly. "He just hit you! He can't just get away with that!"

"I said leave it," Arthur said harshly. He was not in the mood to deal with Alfred's foolish notions of justice. "There's no need to cause a scene."

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked as he followed Arthur into a washroom. Arthur took a jar of powder out of his robes and began to dab it over his face, covering the rapidly forming bruise.

"I'm covering this up." He checked himself in the mirror again before turning to face Alfred, who was watching him with wide eyes. "Can you see it?"

"No. You can do that? Do you carry that stuff with you everywhere?" Arthur bristled, feeling judged.

"It's useful, isn't it?" he asked severely.

"Well, yeah, but…" Alfred seemed disturbed by something. "Do you use it a lot?" Arthur frowned, the implication of the question clear. Do you cover up injuries a lot?

"I use it when I have to," he said finally. Alfred didn't seem too happy with that answer, but they had more urgent matters to attend to.

"We're going to go back to the reception," Arthur said decidedly. "I don't think many people saw it, and if we act like nothing happened then they won't mention it. They'll be leaving in a few hours and then we can put this whole mess behind us."

Alfred didn't argue as he followed his Queen back to the reception hall. He put on a smile and talked with a few more people, no longer in the mood to socialize. He wanted to ask Arthur about his father and brothers, but he got the feeling Arthur wouldn't tell him anything. He was kind of disappointed; he'd gotten along well with Arthur's brothers and had sort of been enjoying himself. Oh well, he thought, it doesn't matter. The night's almost over.

The thing about Alfred was that he was very good at forgetting things he didn't want to remember. This is how he ended up standing in front of the King and Queen's joint chambers, the giggling of the maids behind him making it clear in no uncertain terms that the night was far from over.

Alfred was blushing so badly that he couldn't even look Arthur in the face. How had he forgotten about this? In all the excitement preparing for the actual ceremony, the castle had failed to prepare him for this. Consummating the marriage. Like every other potential Royal, Alfred had learned about how his relationship with the Queen was supposed to work. They would get married and the King would be in charge of both the Kingdom and the marriage. Alfred had thought it was a bit unfair at the time, but he'd had issues with many things regarding Royalty. The instructors had glossed over the whole thing anyway, saying that as King there was nothing to worry about. The King had complete control over the situation.

Now, standing in front of this bedroom, Alfred had never felt less in control of his life. He was completely unprepared; it was supposed to be instinctual. Sexual activity, while obviously common, was a bit of a taboo subject. It made both students and instructors uncomfortable, so everyone was happy enough to ignore the topic. It was common for parents to explain the basics of such things, but Alfred's parents had never got around to it. It also didn't help that Alfred was a bit inexperienced.

Okay, so technically he was a virgin. A never-got-any-farther-than-a-quick-kiss-on-the-lips-virgin at that. It wasn't that he wasn't interested, he'd just never found the time. He'd been so busy trying to balance school work, the extra Royal classes, and sports and activities that he'd never found time for a serious long-term relationship. And then he went to the military. Omegas weren't allowed to serve since it was too dangerous, and relatively few betas joined, so there weren't a lot of opportunities. It hadn't bothered Alfred at the time because he was more than happy to let things happen naturally and wait until he found someone special, but now it seemed he wouldn't get to wait.

Then something else occurred to him. Oh my god, he thought, Arthur's not a virgin. For Alfred, that wasn't a problem in and of itself. The problem laid in the fact that Arthur wasn't a virgin and Alfred very much was. Which meant that not only did Alfred have no idea what he was doing, but Arthur knew exactly what he was supposed to be doing and how he was doing it wrong. Plus, Arthur had been mated to King Henry. A King. How was Alfred supposed to compete with a King? He was 19, for heaven's sake!

Wait, I am a King, he thought, calming slightly. It's okay, I can do this, he reassured himself as the doors to the bedroom were opened and the King and Queen entered. The room was as lavishly furnished as the King's and Queen's individual chambers, but with an even larger bed in the center. The lighting had been dimmed and there was an extremely conspicuous bottle of lube on the bedside table. Alfred could feel his heart trying to punch its way out of his chest. He stared blankly at the bed, stomach churning in terror, as the maids wished them well and excuse themselves. Fuck, I can't do this. What had he been thinking? He wasn't ready to lose his virginity yet! He wasn't even ready to be married! He was trying to figure out what to say to Arthur, or to at least remember how to breathe, when Arthur spoke first:

"I'm going to the washroom," the Queen said dully.

"Uh," the King squeaked, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat, "Yeah. Okay, yeah." He smiled shakily at the Queen who refused to look at him. Arthur went into the washroom, leaving Alfred standing in the middle of the empty room and trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing.

Arthur stood in front of the basin, washing his face in his hands and trying to forget the memory of that room. He felt that he had lost the ability to think in words or have lucid thoughts. All that ran through his mind were memories, senses overloading with them: nervousness, butterflies in his stomach as he was laid down on the bed, shyness as smooth hands disrobed him, embarrassment as he explained that he had never done anything like this before, and pride when the King had been pleased at the news.

He remembered the feel of the soft silk sheets clenched in his hands, the pathetic whimpering and whining noises that escaped him as he pleaded with the King to go just a bit slower, that he wasn't ready yet. He remembered the pain, burning inside of him, over and over, in and out, and he thought it would never stop. He remembered the scent of the alpha mingling with his own, merging as they mated. He remembered continuing to cry even after it was over, as Henry fell asleep curled around him, holding him. Arthur wasn't sure if it was meant to be a comforting gesture, but he only felt trapped. He failed to sleep at all that night, pain and fear keeping him company as his blood stained the sheets and the King easily slumbered.

He stared at the mirror now, dead green eyes staring back at him. The Queen was not the same man he had been on the day of his first marriage only a couple of years ago. He had dealt with plenty of such treatment since then and doubted that the new King could be any rougher than Henry had. Still, it hurt. He was meant to be done with all of this. He was meant to be dead. 'You were supposed to be executed' 'Do you have any idea how much your selfish actions are hurting us?' 'We were almost out of this whole mess'. Arthur stared miserably into the mirror. He had no energy left to cry. Fishing in his pocket, he found the pills Afonso had given him and swallowed them without a second thought.

Alfred paced the room nervously. What was he supposed to be doing? What was Arthur doing? Should he wash up to? There was only one washroom. I should've thought about this before. How was he supposed to do this? He had a vague idea of what was supposed to go on, and he'd seen his fair shares of pictures (hey, he was a teenage alpha), but he had no idea how to start. He had no idea how to even talk to Arthur about this, and Arthur was the one he was supposed to be mating!

Okay, deep breath, keep your cool, he told himself. Maybe Arthur's too sick to do this tonight? He's looked awful all night, and he's been in the bathroom a while… Just as Alfred was thinking this, Arthur exited the washroom. He still looked pale and sickly, and Alfred wondered if his face still hurt from where he was slapped, but the Queen now held a certain confidence about him. Alfred swallowed nervously.

"Uh," he began, still having no idea what to say. The Queen looked at him steadily for a few moments before walking over to the bed and lying down on his back in the center. Alfred gave a decidedly unalpha-y squeak and stared.

He waited a few more moments for Arthur to say something, hoping for some sort of guidance. When none came he sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Arthur. The Queen still refused to meet his eyes.

"Um, Arthur?" the King asked nervously. Arthur continued staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for Alfred to make a move or for the drugs to kick in.

"Yes?" he replied blandly. He had no idea why Alfred was so nervous, but the boy was fairly young. Perhaps he didn't have much experience.

"Uh, do you… do you want to have sex?" Alfred asked hesitantly. This certainly caught Arthur's attention. He paused before turning to stare at the King, brows furrowed; what sort of question was that?

"Does it matter?" he asked finally. "We're married. You're an alpha. I'm your mate."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur was surprised to find that Alfred actually seemed hurt, and very offended. He rolled his eyes, nerves returning to him. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go.

"It means that we're married now. You're supposed to claim me," he said.

"What if I don't want to claim you?" the King retorted. Arthur froze. Don't want to claim me?, he thought nervously. What was that supposed to mean? Was he really so awful an omega that his own alpha wouldn't mate him? But then what would happen? Surely the King wouldn't keep a Queen that he didn't want to mate with.

"It's up to you," he said eventually, voice shaking slightly. It wasn't like it mattered; either way Arthur would be asleep in a few minutes, and then he wouldn't have to deal with any of this until the morning.

"That's not what I-" Alfred's voice was strained as he struggled to put his feelings into words. "What do you want to do?" he finally asked, frustrated.

"I told you, it doesn't matter," Arthur said.

"It matters to me."

Arthur glared at the King. Who did he think he was, to say such things? He was obviously just toying with Arthur. But why? He'd already trapped him in marriage.

"Look, I just… I don't want to have sex with you," Alfred said bluntly. At the look on Arthur's face, he quickly backtracked. "N-No offense! It's just," he took a deep breath, "I don't know you. We barely know each other. Can't we wait?"

Arthur looked at him evenly for a few moments, considering the proposal. "The marriage isn't valid if it isn't consummated," he said. He wasn't sure why he told Alfred this; he didn't want to consummate it. But he was the Queen and everything he'd done the last two years had supposedly been for the Kingdom. He didn't know how to feel about this new King that was so quick to break such an old tradition.

"But they won't know!" Alfred said brightly, spurred on by a lack of an immediate dismissal. "It's not like they're watching, right? And you've looked kind of sick all day, so it totally makes sense that we couldn't tonight!"

"I'm not sick," Arthur snapped. "And my health doesn't matter. If you're really so set on this, then fine: you're right, I don't want to have sex with you. Happy?" To his surprise, Alfred did actually look relieved.

"I knew it! So, we'll wait?" They both knew that they would have to mate eventually. Come Arthur's next heat, Alfred would be locked in a room with him until it was over, as was expected of mated couples. The raging pheromones would be impossible to resist for the both of them. But for one night, it seemed they had escaped the inevitable.

"We'll wait."

After that, Arthur had curled up on his side near the edge of the bed, wrapped securely in a cocoon of blankets. Alfred had started off on his own side of the bed also on his side, but had soon ended up sprawled across the center of the bed. Arthur had fallen asleep quickly with the aid of medication, and after the exhaustion of the day Alfred soon followed him.

The next morning the maids were concerned to find the Royals sleeping apart from each other, still fully clothed. Those that had been there for the first wedding remembered going to wake the Royal couple the next day: the King had been holding his Queen, both naked in a mess of tangled limbs. The King seemed perfectly happy and satisfied, and blood on the sheets proved the success of the consummation. This time the Queen was curled up by himself, away from the King that was snoring lightly. Had they not consummated the marriage? That could be grounds for annulment.

They gently woke the pair, who still had work to do the day after their wedding. The King was an unusually heavy sleeper for someone fresh from the military, but Queen too was slow waking that morning. Perhaps their assumptions were incorrect.

"Your Majesties?" a maid asked gently as the King slowly roused from his sleep.

"Nggh…" he moaned, "What time is it?"

"It's eleven o'clock, Your Majesty."

"Hmm…?" The King blinked hazily, becoming more alert as he noticed the large crowd of maids that had come to wake him that morning. Then he remembered. The wedding. Arthur.

"Uh." He blindly reached over, shaking Arthur. Arthur groaned.

"Fuck off," he mumbled sleepily.

"Arthur," Alfred said apprehensively, "you really need to wake up now." Did the maids know what happened? Or rather, what didn't happen?

"What?" Arthur asked with annoyance. He then noticed the crowd as well, sleep fading quickly from his mind.

"Er, good morning, Your Majesties," one of the maids said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Did you have a nice night?" Alfred chewed his lip anxiously, trying to come up with an excuse. It turned out he didn't need to; Arthur answered immediately.

"It was fine," the Queen said coolly. "The marriage has been consummated. The wedding is complete. Right, Alfred?" he asked, giving the King a sideways look.

"Uh, right," Alfred said nervously. He'd never been a very good liar. "Yeah, totally. Everything's great. We totally had sex last night, it was awesome!" He laughed nervously, but the maids seemed content with that answer.

They smiled at the couple and offered to wash the sheets, leaving the pair to return to their own rooms to get dressed. Aside from the wedding night and heats it didn't matter where the couple slept, so it wasn't like they had to share a room from then on. In their own rooms, the King and Queen both let out a sigh. They had gotten through their wedding. They both decided it went better than they'd hoped.

A/N Did you know some places take blood on the sheets to as a sign of a successful virgin wedding? It's kind of disturbing. Also, I'm so sorry for the lack of smut in this chapter. I just couldn't fit it in yet based on the development of their relationship. There will be smut eventually though, I promise!