Words: 3294

Thank you guys so much for the reviews. I'm gonna keep writing this story, but I might go back and rewrite parts of the first chapter if I can figure out what to write without affecting the rest of the story.

Oh, and this is about half-way through the story, for anyone wondering about the length. I'll try to post the next chapter soon, but I'm gonna be really busy soon with school and such.

So, this chapter is bonding time! Finally, they start to get to know each other. This is my fluffy filler chapter before the overwrought yet quickly resolved angst.

Alfred decided that the first step to helping Arthur was getting to know him. In all honesty, it was long overdue seeing as they'd been married for over a month now.

And, truthfully, it wasn't a completely selfless desire on Alfred's part to want to know the frigid Queen. Sure, he wanted to help Arthur, but he also kind of just wanted a friend.

As King, Alfred was treated with a certain amount of… respect. A sort of fearful respect, where most were too afraid to speak their minds. Aside from that, almost everything in Alfred's life felt business-related nowadays. He had no time to relax or hang out with friends; he had no time to make friends, in fact, which was a downside he hadn't really considered when he'd been chosen as King.

At any rate, Alfred had decided that Arthur was the perfect candidate for friendship. After all, he, Alfred, and Yao were pretty much equals. Yao was kind of a workaholic though, and didn't seem very interested in being friends with Alfred. Of course, neither did Arthur, but Alfred still felt he at least had a chance with him.

The first step to being friends, Alfred decided, was to find out more about Arthur's interests. He already knew that the Queen enjoyed cooking, embroidery, reading, and gardening. Alfred liked eating, but had no real interest in cooking. He also didn't know anything about embroidery or gardening, and didn't have much patience for reading. Since he had just witnessed some of Arthur's cooking, he decided to cross that one off the list. Out of the three remaining interests, Alfred unenthusiastically decided to start reading.

The castle library was a large, intimidating room with hundreds upon hundreds of books. By now the King had well traversed the geography section, out of necessity, and the physics section, out of genuine interest. Now, he wandered the unexplored aisles, scanning book titles. What sort of thing would Arthur read?

He figured he could have asked the librarian, but that felt kind of like a cop out. He was on a mission, after all. A couple wasted hours later, Alfred stumbled upon a section with a few books missing. The shelves throughout the library were stuffed with books, so he quickly deduced that someone must have taken them out of the library. Alfred looked at the section he was in, triumph quickly replaced by icy dread: Magic & the Paranormal.

Alright, nothing to freak out about, he thought. Honestly, the King had no idea why the library had such a section. He scanned some of the titles: 'A Complete Guide to Trolls,' 'Fairies and the Other Realm,' 'A Treatise on Unicorns'. Alfred frowned; he really wasn't interested in reading fairytales. After a bit more searching, however, the King discovered a book that at least sounded interesting: 'True Ghost Hauntings of the Spades Kingdom'.

Several hours later, long after most of the castle had gone to bed, Alfred put the book back on the shelf carefully and headed towards his room. The long, dark hallways seemed to taunt him, images of ghosts dancing in his head. One unidentified creaking sound later, and Alfred burst into a sprint down the halls, in desperate search of another living soul.

He soon found himself in front of the Queen's chambers.

Arthur was awoken by the sound of his bedroom door creaking open slowly. His sleep-clouded mind cleared quickly as he gripped his blankets tighter.

"…Arthur?" a small voice asked into the darkness. Arthur didn't say anything, paralyzed by fear and indecision. He's changed his mind, he'd sick of waiting, he wants-

"Arthur? Are you awake?" The Queen heard hesitant footsteps pad across the carpet as the bedroom door clicked shut. Maybe if I pretend I'm asleep he'll leave me alone, he thought.

"Arthur?" Alfred's voice was wavering slightly as he approached the Queen. Arthur screwed his eyes shut and attempted to control his breathing.

"If you're a ghost pretending to be Arthur, then I'm not buying it," Alfred said shakily. Arthur's eyes flew open in surprise. "A-And don't think I'm afraid of you or anything. I can still punch you, even if you are a ghost."

"A ghost?" Arthur asked incredulously. Alfred nearly jumped a foot in the air at Arthur's voice.

"Y-You're awake!?"

"Well I am now," Arthur said, familiar annoyance beginning to creep in. "It's sort of hard to sleep when someone's standing next to you accusing you of being dead." He saw the shadowy outline of the King bristle defensively.

"Well, you weren't answering! You could've been a ghost impersonating you!"

"Where the bloody hell did you get that idea?"

Alfred paused for a moment, shifting uncomfortably. "I… might have read a few ghost stories," he said, embarrassed.

"Ghost stories? Why?"

"Because I felt like it!" he said petulantly.

"Are you afraid of ghosts?" Arthur asked, amusement beginning to creep in. Just what sort of alpha was this?

"Of course I am! Ghosts are terrifying," the King said, "And the book said this castle's super haunted!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asked. Truthfully, he hadn't seen many ghosts around the castle. The dead are the only ones that have escaped this prison. Why would they stick around?

Alfred paused again as if considering something. "…Can I sleep with you tonight?" he asked, apparently swallowing his pride.

Arthur felt his hackles raise, once again on edge. The request was seemingly innocent enough, and technically he had no right to refuse the King's wishes. But he'd asked, and Arthur didn't really want to if he could help it.

"No. What good would that do?" he asked, fishing for a good excuse. "What do you expect me to do if ghosts show up?"

"I don't know!" Alfred said, distressed. "But at least if I'm sleeping with you I know someone in the castle isn't a ghost."

"Just what sort of ghost stories have you been reading!?"

"C'mon, Artie! Please?" he pleaded.

"My names not Artie; it's Arthur."

"Please, Arthur?"

And, damn him, even in the darkness lit only by moonlight filtering in, Arthur could clearly see the puppy dog eyes Alfred was giving him. Such a damn child. He sighed.

"Fine," he said grudgingly, "But only because it would inconvenience me if you stayed up all night and were exhausted tomorrow."

"Really!?" Alfred's face lit up. "You're the best, Artie! Don't worry, if any ghosts do show up, I'll do my best to fight them off."

"What a relief," Arthur said sarcastically, turning away from Alfred as the King flopped onto the bed. They laid in silence for a few moments before Alfred spoke again.

"Arthur?"

"Hm?" Arthur asked, already dozing.

"What's your favourite colour?"

"…What?" Arthur heard Alfred shift, rolling to face him.

"You know, your favourite colour. Do you have one?"

Arthur thought for a moment, mostly about what a childish conversation this was. "Red," he said finally.

"Red? Really?" Alfred sounded surprised. "But that's Hearts' colour!"

"So? What's your favourite colour then, blue?" he asked, annoyed.

"Yeah," Alfred said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur half-turned to look at him in disbelief.

"How cliché." He could practically hear Alfred pout. "Why are you asking about my favourite colour?" he asked curiously.

"To get to know you!" Alfred said brightly. Arthur frowned. "Me and my brother used have sleepovers all the time. Since we lived together, you know. It's easier to talk about things at night, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," Arthur said dismissively, unnerved by Alfred's interest in him. "And it doesn't count as a sleepover if you live together."

"Sure it does! What's your favourite flavor of ice cream?"

"Pardon?"

"Mine's chocolate. And sometimes strawberry."

"…Mint, I suppose."

Alfred laughed. "Really? Awesome, I thought you were gonna say something boring like vanilla."

Arthur bristled. "There's nothing wrong with vanilla."

"Sure, sure. What's your favourite food?"

"Scones."

"… Aren't you gonna ask me mine?"

"I assumed you would tell me regardless."

"… It's hamburgers."

"Of course it is," Arthur said, trying to hide the amusement in his voice. He absolutely refused to find his boy's antics cute.

Alfred thought for a few moments, then asked, "Hey, how old are you?"

Arthur frowned. It hadn't occurred to him that he didn't know Alfred's age. That seemed like a very simple fact he should've known. "I'm 23. And you?"

"19. You're old," Alfred said with a smirk. Arthur, surprised, let out a bark of laughter.

"I would hardly call that old."

"What's your favourite animal?"

"You do realize we have a meeting tomorrow."

"We should skip," Alfred said dismissively. Arthur snorted.

"Sure. You explain to Yao why we missed the meeting."

He heard Alfred huff in annoyance. "Whatever." After a few moments of silence, Alfred asked another question.

"Hey, you like gardening, right?" Arthur was surprised. This question seemed much more personal than the others.

"…Yes," he said cautiously.

"Did you plant the flowers in the garden?" Alfred asked, referring to the castle garden Arthur spent much of his time in.

"I planted some of them. Many were there before I came." Arthur hesitated for a moment. "If you'd like, I can show you around the garden tomorrow. I'm guessing no one bothered to give you a tour of that area."

Gardens were simply seen as decorations to most, especially inside the castle. Alphas especially typically failed to appreciate the importance of gardens. Arthur had never given anyone a tour of what he now considered to be his garden; but then, no one had shown interest before.

He expected Alfred to make up some excuse and decline. He had certainly not expected Alfred to beam at him with excitement. And he most definitely hadn't expected Alfred to suggest they tour the garden tomorrow, after the meeting.

Arthur thought the greatest surprise of all, though, was that he agreed.

Gardens were boring.

That was the extent Alfred had ever thought about gardens previously. Now, as he stood in the center of the castle garden, he tried to see what Arthur saw. To Alfred, the garden was cute. There were flowers of every shape, size, and colour. There were cobblestone walking paths and little water fountains and statues and figurines scattered throughout the garden. It was all very… charming. I wonder if there's a playground around here, Alfred thought hopefully. At least there were things to do at a playground.

The best part of the garden by far, in Alfred's opinion, was the Queen. Arthur glided through the garden, just as ethereal as ever, as though he were a part of it. He seemed perfectly at peace among the flowers, and the environment seemed to bend to his will, entirely compliant to the Queen. After spending so long surrounded by cold castle walls, there was something nearly magical about the garden. With Arthur there, at least.

"These are the flowers I planted," Arthur said, gesturing to a random plot of flowers.

"Yeah?" Alfred asked, examining the flowers. He couldn't tell them apart from the rest of the flowers in the garden, but he wasn't sure that he was supposed to, either.

"Yes. Although I also take care of the rest of the garden as well."

"Aren't there housekeepers for that?" Alfred asked with confusion. Arthur nodded.

"There are, but I prefer to take over the gardening. I enjoy it," he said simply. Alfred understood that, at least. It could get fairly boring in the castle with maids to do practically everything.

"Alfred, do you know the language of flowers?" Arthur asked randomly.

"Language of flowers?" Alfred asked with confusion. "What, like roses mean love?"

"Yes, that's probably the most well-known one," Arthur said with a half-smile. "Although for flowers as common as roses, it gets a bit more complex. Different numbers of roses and different colours mean different things."

"Oh. So, twelve red roses means love?"

"Yes. Red roses in general means romantic love. And one dozen roses is commonly used, but other numbers can have different meanings. For example, two roses means mutual affection while six speak of the need to be loved; then it's seven for infatuation, nine for eternal love; eleven to assure someone that they are truly and deeply loved, and fifteen to say sorry-"

"Those all sound the same," Alfred interrupted.

"Pardon?"

"They all mean love. I was right," Alfred said triumphantly. "Well, except for the sorry one, but all the rest are the same." Arthur frowned in irritation.

"They do not all mean the same thing. The differences are nuanced, though. I wouldn't expect an alpha like you to understand." Alfred pouted, and was ready to start arguing, when Arthur continued.

"The colours are a bit more straightforward in their differences. Red, as you said is romantic. Yellow roses represent friendship and joy, although in some places they mean jealousy. And pink roses mean admiration and sympathy or appreciation and gratitude, depending on the shade."

Alfred was nonplussed. This whole gardening interest was way more complicated than he had accounted for. "Do these flowers have meanings?" he asked, looking around the garden. He didn't see any roses.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Almost every flower has a meaning associated with it. Like this," he said, gesturing to a group of spiky white flowers. "Angrec. It means royalty."

"Yeah?" Alfred examined the flowers closely. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why does it mean royalty?"

"I don't know. I didn't come up with the meanings."

"Well, why doesn't that one," Alfred gestured to some purple flowers, "mean royalty?"

"A lot of these flowers have stories behind them. From mythology and the like," Arthur said dismissively. "I can't remember the exact story, but they all have their meanings for a reason."

"Okay. Seems kind of arbitrary, though," Alfred said, unconvinced. "What's this mean?" he asked, pointing to some drooping blue flowers hanging off a large stem.

"That's aconite. It means, er… misanthropy. Hate and mistrust."

Alfred blinked in surprise. That seemed kind of dark for some flowers. "Hate and mistrust? Really?" He scrutinized the flowers more closely. "Huh. They look nice enough."

"All flowers look nice," Arthur said with vague amusement.

"That's one of the ones you planted, right?" Alfred asked, continuing to look at the aconite in Arthur's section of the garden.

"Yes."

"What do all these other flowers mean?" he asked, pointing to the other flowers Arthur had planted. Arthur looked at them for a moment and began pointing.

"This is lavender, for devotion, silence, and caution. Lobelia, for malevolence. Marigolds, for pain and grief."

"Wait, those are marigolds?" Alfred interrupted. "I've heard of marigolds! They do not mean pain and grief."

"I assure you, they do," Arthur said. Alfred frowned. Marigolds sounded like the brightest flowers ever.

"Well, are there any flowers in here that aren't depressing?" he asked, discouraged.

"Of course," Arthur said immediately. "And many flowers, you know, have multiple meanings. Like this," he said, touching what looked like a fluffy blue flower. "Hydrangea. It can mean gratitude for being understood, or it can mean frigidity and heartlessness."

"No," Alfred said, deadpan.

"Excuse me?"

"No. Those are fluffy blue flowers. Who the hell looks at those and thinks 'frigidity and heartlessness'!?" he exclaimed in exasperation.

"Someone obviously did," Arthur said. At Alfred's downtrodden expression, he hurried to point to another flower. This one was bright yellow with red around the center. "This one is coreopsis." There were some gardening tools next to it, and the dirt was freshly laid. Alfred decided it must have been planted recently. "It means always cheerful," Arthur said with a clandestine glance towards Alfred.

"Always cheerful? Those are my new favorite flowers," Alfred said decidedly. Then he pointed at another bunch of flowers excitedly. "Hey, I recognize those!"

"Hm?" Arthur glanced to where Alfred was pointing. "Oh, yes, those are daffodils. They represent-"

"I swear to god, Arthur, if you're about to say they mean death and despair or something, I'm gonna-"

"They represent new beginnings. That's all," Arthur said with a small smile. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh. Okay. You kinda ruined marigolds for me, but at least the daffodils are safe." He paused for a moment, looking around the garden before asking, "Hey, do all of these flowers have meaning then?"

"All of the ones in this garden do. Although, some flowers mean different things in different places. Like this," he pointed to some pinkish white flowers. "Anemone. It was a gift from Queen Kiku. In the Hearts Kingdom, he's says they mean truth and sincerity. In other places, they're seen as good luck charms, because fairies like to sleep in their petals." Fairies like to sleep in their petals? Alfred didn't see anything particularly special about the petals, but what did he know about flowers and fairies?

"What do they mean here?" he asked.

"Here? They mean…" Arthur paused, hesitant. "Anticipation, fading hope, or despair."

"Fading hope and despair, of course," Alfred muttered under his breath unhappily. Louder, he said, "Where did you learn all of this anyway?"

Arthur paused again. "In school."

"School? What kind of school did you go to where you had to learn about flowers?"

"Royal school," Arthur said with what sounded like annoyance. "It was an omega class. One of the few I actually went to."

"What?" Alfred asked. How did Arthur get out of classes?

"I went to the classes that mattered," he said brusquely. "Most of the omega classes were shit. Things like homemaking and childrearing and such. Things I thought I wouldn't need," he said more quietly at the end.

"Huh." Alfred thought for a moment. Was this that rebel phase Francis and Arthur's brothers had mentioned? "So you just skipped them?"

"Some of them. I went to some classes. That's were I learned embroidery, along with sewing and knitting. I also took a lot of literature classes." Arthur smirked. "And I sneaked into some of the alpha classes, to learn things like economics and war strategy." Alfred smiled. He knew there was a reason he liked this omega. "The class on flowers was interesting, though. It was like learning a secret language."

"Secret?"

"Yes. Not many people know the language."

"But there's a whole class on it."

"True. But… maybe it's more like, only certain people know the language." Alfred gave him a confused look. "As I said," Arthur elaborated, "it was an omega class. The language of flowers is rather… subtle. There are so many different flowers, with so many different meanings, that entire conversations can be held with them. Historically, it allowed omegas to communicate to each other right under the noses of the alphas."

"Really?" Alfred asked, both nervous and intrigued. He didn't like the idea of people talking about him behind his back, but it was really interesting to think that a whole nature could have their own language.

"Really. Not many alphas consider it worth their time to notice such frivolous things as flowers."

"You can understand why," Alfred said with a slightly defensive chuckle. "This stuff is confusing as heck. So, do these flowers tell a story?" he asked, waving at the whole garden.

"What?"

"You said flowers could be used for conversations. And all these flowers mean something. Are they planted in a specific way? Do they tell a story?" he asked, thinking. Devotion, silence, and caution; malevolence; pain and grief. If they did it would be a fairly depressing story. But the last flowers planted meant always cheerful, so that was something. And there were the daffodils, for new beginnings.

Arthur paused, looking around his garden as if seeing it for the first time. "No," he said finally. "Sometimes flowers are just flowers. Sometimes they don't mean anything."

A/N The next two chapters will be shorter, under 3000 words. It's Alfred's turn for character development! Sort of! I mean, there's still a lot of focus on Arthur, but it's hard when he's got such a tragic backstory and Alfred is so stupidly happy all the time. Oh, but after those chapters comes Arthur's heat o.O