Words and phrases marked with asterisks (*) have factoids/explanations that go with them, and will be listed at the bottom of the work. Enjoy!

"Should we weave the Forget-Me-Nots in, or is that too dismal for a wedding?"

"I think it should be fine, just use a small amount. Make sure they don't overpower the roses."

Arthur was once-again at the mercy of a flurry of hands, needles and thread surrounding him from all sides. The final decorations were being applied to his wedding outfit, and the current task was the crisp arrangement of flowers that sat on his chest in dewy, just-picked freshness.

He knew none of the women who were modifying his current outfit, all Royal tailors whom he was introduced to with barely any acknowledgement. They all bowed deeply at him, of course, more intensely than any other servant or helper ever had before; but there was no eye contact, no words. Arthur felt more like a statue than a person, the women almost on their knees at his presence but unable to speak.

He found comfort in his closest friend who stood behind him, Lila, his lady-in-waiting for as many years as he could remember. She had been the daughter of Arthur's Nanny, and being around the same age, they bonded immediately in the restricted access of Noble life. Rarely was Arthur around other children his age, and while it made him famously literate and comfortable speaking with those much older than him, it also lead to a private loneliness that all Nobles eventually encountered.

Her familiar fingers were working through Arthur's hair, making the blonde strands soft and lustrous. She smiled as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat while the onslaught of sharp objects swirled around him.

"Would you like some flowers in your hair, Arthur?" The other women froze at her use of the Kirkland's first name, but continued on without paying her any mind, whispering to themselves. Arthur reached up to feel at his hair, truly lost at if such a thing would be proper.

"I'm not sure…" Lila giggled at Arthur's pouty voice, backing away to search for any decorations she could weave into his hair. She carefully observed all of the recently cut flowers laying on the nearby table, an entire blue garden wasted just on this one event, over half most likely not going to be used.

At Arthur's feet, his younger brother Peter sat, watching the entire process with wide, childish eyes. Arthur glared at him, resisting kicking him with his foot as it would jeopardize the other work being done.

"You've been staring at me like a dead fish for the past hour, what is it?" The blonde watched as Peter shuffled closer, pushing a tailor out of the way with foolish impoliteness. The woman did not dare rebuke him as he deserved, only making room for the tiny Lord.

"It's just…. Are you really getting married today, Brother?" Peter stared up with a vigilant gaze, even as the older sibling fell into silence at the question.

"Of course I am," Arthur finally answered, astutely aware that everyone had stopped talking to listen in on this buzzworthy conversation.

"But… we've never even met the King. How can you marry someone you don't know?" Peter's naive insight was exactly what Arthur did not need right now, his own fears now laid bare and unavoidable. Ignoring your thoughts was one thing, but ignoring an inquisitive child was another, almost impossible task.

"Idiot, of course I don't know the King. It's only proper, I should not know him well until our wedding day," when in doubt, rely on tradition, and the etiquette lesson coming from his frighteningly formal older brother was enough to quell Peter into a discontented silence.

"But-" The silence was short-lived, and Arthur shot him a venomous look of familiar, familial annoyance before Lila interrupted the pair. She slid a flower into Arthur's hair, tucking the stem behind his ear with a satisfied 'There!'

Arthur pat at it lightly, the velvety petals tiny and silky against his fingers. He turned his head slightly, careful not to disturb the work, and saw her smiling down at him.

"What is it?" Arthur inquired, and she held up a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots, their petite shape matching the one Arthur had felt on his head.

"Forget-Me-Nots, so you remember me," Lila smelled the sweet flowers to hide her sad smile, and Arthur felt the overwhelming urge to take hold of her hands. He remained seated, however, and softly felt the flower she had placed again carefully, sure his appreciation would reach her no matter what.

The preparations were complete after that, and the women helped Arthur stand, attentively making sure nothing was disrupted as his first movements tested the work they had painstakingly put into the beautiful outfit. They all let out light laughs and soft cheers as everything remained perfectly in place while Arthur made his way to the nearby mirror, two even hugging each other while the blonde had his back to them.

When Arthur saw himself in his wedding outfit, he supposed he should have seen the future Queen of Spades. A Queen of noble birth, one who had wit, tact, and a fierce loyalty to his country and King in his heart. This was all to be Arthur, who Arthur was to become, who he was.

But he just saw himself, with eyebrows too wide and arms still too thin to fill out the bell sleeves they tailored him into. After this day, Arthur would no longer be what he used to be, but for now, he remained the Kirkland boy with a foul attitude and a mess of wild blonde hair that they still were not able to tame.

Even if everyone else viewed him differently, Arthur wondered if he would still see the same face in the mirror.

"You're thinking too deeply about something, you have that look on your face," Lila came up behind him and met his blank gaze in the mirror, still wearing her reassuring smile.

"I'm getting married to the King of Spades, what do I have to not think about?" Arthur fixed the stiff collar of lace that was beginning to itch against his neck, averting his eyes from hers to inspect the heavy coat of quilted blue that trailed behind him.

"Are you not excited?" She asked, and Arthur did not respond, instead turning slowly to view the impressive train of flowers that adorned the back of his outfit.

"It is about time we made our way to the chapel, Your Majesty," the oldest of the women in charge of his care spoke, curtsying as she did. She kept her head tilted down, staring more at Arthur's shoes than his face, and the blonde nodded.

"Peter, let's go take our seats with your Mother," Lila reached a hand out for Peter to hold, the small boy grabbing on tightly.

"Hey Arthur, make sure you don't fall!" Peter stuck his tongue out at his nervous older brother, receiving a fuming look in return. He giggled wickedly, barely acknowledging the sharp tug Lila gave him in reprimand.

"Will I be seeing you at the banquet after?" Arthur kept his words calm, but the tightness in his throat was already beginning, the palms of his hands getting clammier with every minute that passed.

"Arthur, I hardly have the noble rank to make an appearance at a Royal ball," Arthur heard the hidden sadness in her words, though she had done her best to keep the appearance of happiness around him, to offset his tension. This would be the last time they ever spoke to each other.

"Oh, yes." How could he forget? There was a second of silence, before she threw her arms around him, the normally outwardly frigid boy returning her hug faintly, doing his best to keep any semblance of protocol at the already inappropriate action.

When she backed away, there were tears in her eyes, and Arthur held his own back while he brushed away as the ones that rolled down her cheeks.

"Your companionship has brought me the greatest joys of my life," he dropped his hands from her face and she grabbed onto them, Arthur feeling for the first time how her own palms had perspired like his. Lila smiled once again, laughing her simple, calming laugh, before backing away, her presence gone from his life in a sudden moment.

Pivoting on his heels, he squared his shoulders at the door before him, feeling the women grab the train of his coat and lift it gently off the ground. There was no more time for things such as emotions or words, it was time he left his old life behind and fulfilled the role destiny gave him.

It was a long and winding path from the opposite end of the castle to the chapel, the group taking hidden passages and blocked hallways to ensure no one saw the bride before he was revealed. Each door that opened before him reminded Arthur he was one room closer to the ceremony, each stride bringing a heightened realization he would be meeting the King of his country, and his partner for the rest of his life.

There was no room for thoughts of if they would truly fall in love, or if he would treat him kindly, not when Arthur was going over each step and movement he was expected to make in front of the eyes of every living Royal and Noble. As they finally waited behind the last, intricate door to the church, the women took to excited chattering, their words and final finishes to his clothing a background noise that filled the space between every deafening beat of this heart.

Inside, the music began to play, and Arthur could hear the shuffling of every person standing at attention, waiting for him. Once at all sides of him, the ladies attending backed away, camouflaging themselves against the walls as the doors began to open. Never was there a time where he wished so desperately for a familiar hand to hold, or a kind word of encouragement, but he knew this was his time to rely on no one other than himself.

When the doors were fully swung open, the bright light of the afternoon sun struck Arthur in a brilliance of colors. The magnificent stained glass above the alter scattered blues, reds, and yellows across the rows of pews, momentarily blinding the unprepared boy. Each lavish pane told the well-known story of the founding of the Spades Kingdom, the tale unfolding across every wall of the church.

Arthur made sure he did not squint in the light, acutely aware of the sea of eyes now focused completely on him. There were a few gasps, slight murmurs, and even one or two claps from the more dedicated Nobles in the crowd as he stepped out onto the deep blue carpet. Their faces were only a blur as Arthur focused his attention completely forward, the music rising around him and reaching a crescendo with his movements.

And below the dazzling colors of the alter and glass, the infamous Alfred stood, turned to face his bride with full regard. On his head sat a crown of sapphire and ruby, having been officially crowned before Arthur was to appear. He had an almost silly smile on his lips, one the approaching blonde had not expected to see, and the full handsomeness of his features truly hit Arthur as he got closer.

His heart seemed to jump and miss a beat, surely from the pressure he was under, surely.

In the frontmost pew he saw his mother and brother, Lila behind them with a supportive smile on her face, sending the concentrated boy as many blessings as she could. He passed them without so much as a twitch, and reached the steps to the altar.

Alfred had reached out his hand, waiting for Arthur to grab on so he could assist him up the steps. Immediately, Arthur realized the King would be able to feel the anxious sweat that had accumulated on his hands, and he began to internally panic.

Alfred's shoulders seemed to shake in a suppressed laughter, and Arthur felt the once complementary blush on his face burst into a vibrant red. He was sure he had not made a single external reaction to his minor dread. This made him even more dismayed, and possibly a bit annoyed, but he kept the surface of his face utterly serene.

He set his hand in Alfred's, and instead of looking up in his eyes as the gap between them closed, Arthur kept his head bent, watching his feet make the ascent up the small stairs. Alfred's hands were rough and tan, a far cry from Arthur's complete pallor and blemish-free skin, but they were not unpleasant.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he looked up to make eye contact with the priest who was officiating the ceremony, curtsying when he nodded. There was a silence as everyone positioned themselves to listen closely to the exciting ritual about to unfold. Many of them, unless they were riddled with wrinkles, had not seen a crowning or royal marriage once in their lives, and the enthusiasm was a hum in the air.

"Arthur Kirkland, do you swear to uphold your duties as the Queen of Spades, in devotion to your King and the peoples, thinking only of the perseverance and prosperity of our great Kingdom?" His voice was a boom of authority, and Arthur felt the expectation sit on his shoulders like the weight of one million diamonds set in gold.

"I do swear, with the wholeness of my heart," Arthur's voice rang clear, thankfully without any quiver or sign of doubt. The priest nodded, and moved to lift the Queen's crown from its plush pillow, thousands of years of history in his frail hands.

Arthur pulled his hand away from Alfred and kneeled, head bowed in complete reverence to the object being placed upon his head. It was smaller than the King's crown, with jewels cut in tinier facets, but it held no less presence or power.

It was weighty, but Arthur's neck did not buckle, holding the precious decoration on his head carefully. When it was fully placed upon him, only one thought resonated in his brain,

'God, please give me strength, for I am too young to rule.'

When he stood, he looked to his right at Alfred, closer now than they ever had been. He had lifted his hand once more, wearing the same lopsided smile as Arthur placed his hand back where it had been. The two held an unreadable glance, Arthur mostly taking the precious moment to map out the features of a face he only just came to know, but would now see intimately for every remaining day of his life.

"The vow between the King and the Queen is to be held as highly as the Crown, their love essential to the success of our Kingdom. From this day forward, you are one together, and each decision made will not be that of two, separate people, but of one Sovereign," As the lengthy ceremony dragged on, Arthur became embarrassed by the words, doing his best to keep the eye contact he had initiated with Alfred.

Out of nowhere, Alfred brought his free hand up to Arthur's face, making the other blink and retreat his head only slightly. His fingers continued on, unfazed, pressing against his hair to feel the small flower that sat tucked behind his ear, one Arthur had forgotten about wholly up until this point.

Arthur's face erupted into a blush again, something about the lack of words spoken between them making the affectionate gesture all the more difficult for him to bear. Alfred laughed at his reaction, and the script being spoken over their public interaction ended as his lips came together in a smile.

Now was the time for them to cement their bond to each other with a kiss, and Arthur found himself in no place ready to kiss this man before him. It was his first kiss, and nothing about this ceremony made him any more sure about their marriage, or the role he was to take. Of course, the reality of him becoming Queen made his heart swell to the point of bursting, but being the pessimist he naturally was, it only caused the anxiety in his brain reach a climactic vibration that buzzed unbearably in his thoughts.

He turned to face Alfred completely, the train of his jacket wrapping around his feet and cascading down the stairs. Initiating the kiss would be much too presumptuous on his part, even ignoring the fact that he could never find the audacity to do it. Luckily, Alfred was quick to act, moving his face closer toward him, but not leaning down to cause their lips to meet. Instead, he simply placed a chaste kiss against Arthur's forehead, holding onto either side of his head gently with his hands. It was quick enough that Arthur had no time to react, and by the time he blinked in surprise, the kiss was over and Alfred had pulled back.

The reaction was instant, a cacophonous roar of voices exploding when the two of them separated. Every person in attendance burst into applause, their voices together louder than anything Arthur had ever been enveloped by. Arthur glanced to the front to see his mother clapping in a composed fashion, while Lila covered her face as the tears fell freely from her eyes, their noises blending in with the clamor around them.

Flowers rained down on the couple as they made their trip back down the aisle, together this time. Roses, bellflowers, anemones, and more were being plucked and tossed at the pair, petals landing at their feet and in their hair, some settling on their crowns next to the vibrant gems.

Alfred still had a hold of Arthur's hand, guiding him as they slowly made their way between the people grasped out for them. Alfred smiled at every person he passed, even reaching out for some to touch their hands. It was entirely inappropriate, but no one seemed alarmed, the lack of protocol clearly his charming point to all of those that adored him.

When the men finally made their way past the doors and the noise was shut behind it, they were immediately separated, the tailors surrounding Arthur once more and the advisors pulling Alfred to the side. Arthur glanced over at his husband when their hands separated, and saw him receiving handshakes with one of the brightest smiles had ever witnessed a person wear. Alfred caught sight of him staring before Arthur could turn away, and dropped his grin into a small, gentle smirk. He approached the blonde, and all of the women around him backed away, bowing in an ordered line, even more rigid than they had been with Arthur.

"Arthur, did you enjoy the ceremony?" It was an odd question, and Arthur quirked his eyebrows a bit at it, but saved any retort in favor of politeness. This was his husband, after all.

"It was very beautiful, Your Majesty," he probably should not have called him that, he realized instantly after saying it, because Alfred burst into laughter. Arthur's face turned red, cursing the fact that his politeness had somehow caused him trouble for once.

"You don't have to act so stuffy, Alfred is fine," Alfred was smirking down at him, and Arthur found himself extremely annoyed, wanting to land a jab in his side to make him stop. Just a small one, nothing too damaging.

"I'll see you at the banquet then, My Queen," Alfred smiled at the ladies behind him, all of them giggling while keeping their faces hidden. He bowed as he backed away, walking off with his advisors clamoring at his sides. Arthur watched him go, feeling utterly miffed, his body flushed at the aggravating interaction, and the proximity of his newly-wed spouse.

When Alfred disappeared, the ladies went to work, humbly reaching for the crown on his head, explaining it needed to be returned to its protective glass box. Arthur bent his knees, letting two sets of hands remove the ancient heirloom from atop his hair. Petals fell from it as it was cautiously inched away, Arthur watching the gleaming stones settle onto a cushy pillow, before it was whisked out of his line of sight.

The ladies bundled up his train, shaking all the excess flowers from it while the younger women ran about picking them up from the ground. Arthur watched them all scatter about, preparing to move as they now needed to change him into his outfit for the traditional reception.

Arthur thought it was wasteful, having two, equally lavish outfits for one day, but he was not one to question custom. They finally all moved in unison when they were ready, a low chatter emitting from the still-blushing girls as they discussed the 'ever so romantic' ceremony from behind Arthur's back.

Sure, to the untrained eye it was absolutely romantic, the flowers, the kiss on the forehead, it was a fairytale in the making. But it all became bare in the face of the truth that Arthur did not know this man at all, and handsome as he might be, he was still a stranger that suddenly he was meant to share a bed with for the rest of his life.

Arthur was still as they re-dressed him, and he remained silent this time, without a friend to speak to. His outfit for the evening was darker, and thankfully less cumbersome, the train of his jacket this time only reaching to the floor. A small blue hat was placed on his head in the place of a crown, pinned on with flowers and tiny crystals, making it twinkle in the now low-light of evening.

He twisted while looking at himself in the mirror, watching the quilted fabric slide across the floor. Yes, even now that he was officially a Queen, he looked frighteningly the same, not a single thing different about himself. Whether that was good or bad, Arthur did not know.

When they finished, the ladies followed behind him, the oldest in front guiding him through the castle silently, to the grand ballroom. The hallways were empty, and less nervous this time, Arthur took the opportunity to admire the stylish, yet antique interior of the castle. It was truly a place of splendor, walls and walls of paintings and glistening chandeliers speaking to wealth insurmountable. Arthur was used to living in homes that functioned more as museums than comforting residences, but a palace was truly on another level.

As the doors to the ballroom approached, the leading woman curtsied, stopping Arthur in his tracks.

"Now, we will part. I hope we have served you to the fullest of your needs, Your Majesty," she glanced over at the rest of the girls, all of them scrambling to bow themselves as she did. Arthur looked at the large group, unsure how to address someone he would likely never see again, but one who deserved respect either way.

"Your work was remarkable. I will always be in your debt for making my wedding so memorable," Arthur nodded, and all of the young women gasped, turning to each other to let out unrestrained grins. This was the power he had now as Queen, a single compliment, even one made out of politeness, could light up an entire person's world. They would tell this story to their children, how the Queen of Spades had actually praised their work, and it would live on in their family as the ultimate word-of-mouth tale for generations.

"We are not deserving of your praise, Your Majesty," the old woman motioned at the other girls to stop their chattering and bow respectfully, and Arthur only smiled slightly, wishing his work for the day was finished alongside them. Their attitudes had changed from deathly serious to now exuberant, all of their meticulous work finally paying off, the only thing to worry about now the session of story-telling and babbling that would fill their night. Everyone would have a different version of how Alfred kissed his Queen, only a few eyes able to see through the crack in the large door during the lengthy ceremony. They would argue and gossip, discussing who the Queen had clearly favored, and whose work had been the most prominent. A simple existence when put in comparison to the night Arthur had ahead of him.

From behind the thrilled girls, a group of young men appeared, all rowdily whooping and shoving into each other roughly with their shoulders. In the center of them was Alfred, attempting to hold off their celebratory punches with his hands. When one of them noticed the women, and Arthur, ahead, they pointed, all straightening up, but keeping their lax, careless attitude about them.

"Madams," Alfred addressed them all, and they bowed, but did not make an effort to conceal their giggles. His friends made sure to greet each of the blushing flowers before them, while Alfred turned to Arthur, approaching close enough that Arthur had to, annoyingly, crane his neck backward to look up at him.

"Arthur," he stuck his hand out, palm up, and Arthur lightly laid his own hand on top of it, watching him bring it up to his mouth, and kiss it, but not let it go. "Are you ready for our first dance?"

"I've practiced well enough, I believe," Arthur did not mention how he had to completely relearn every dance in the 'female' position, now assumed to take the following role as a Queen much smaller than his King. Alfred found the veiled confidence amusing, laughing in Arthur's face while the shorter man brought his eyebrows together at his offbeat response.

"Well, I hope you can keep up then," Alfred whispered as he pulled Arthur to the door, ignoring the scoff that came from his husband as they positioned themselves side-by-side. The excitement in the room was rising, the mingling groups behind them flirting and laughing with each other at ease, even as the older woman attempted to corral her girls and keep them in line. Everyone in the room was young, and enthusiastic, ready to spend the night dancing, drinking, and chatting, the formality of the wedding ceremony now tossed aside in favor for the merrymaking of a ball.

That was, everyone except for the happy couple standing hand-in-hand, who were still not permitted to be ease. They still had hours of rigidly studied dance and formal introductions to take part in. Arthur glanced up at Alfred, seeing no sign of worry or nervousness on his face. The blonde turned his head to glance at his friends when they called his name, face breaking out into a grin as they waved for him.

"We'll be out on the town while you enjoy the company of powdered, old women, Your Majesty," one bowed in mockery, the other men erupting in laughter, along with Alfred. The tailors were all taken-aback by the harsh speech, and the sarcastic tone of his words, looking around with fading smiles. This man could be killed, right here and now, for such insolent words to a newly-crowned King.

But Alfred only continued snickering, flashing them a thumbs-up, clearly taking no offense from the joke. Arthur watched the preposterous scene, the laughter ceasing when his eyes passed over the group, all of them bowing sincerely now. So, the King was easy to pick on, but the Queen was the one to face with total seriousness and gravity? Was that not… slightly backwards?

Of course, it was not uncommon for Arthur to be told he was stuffy, and even fear-inducing to those who were beneath him, and did not know him. Once they did become close to him, however, all of those feelings seemed to disappear. He had always had mixed feelings about that.

Absentmindedly, he wondered what Alfred thought of him, whether he was scared, unimpressed, or possibly intrigued? Based on the way he acted, from the ceremony to his brusque friends, it did not seem Alfred was fearful of many things, especially how he was being perceived. Arthur had heard stories and rumors of course, about his uncharacteristic love of physical sports and rather eccentric attitude, but it paled in comparison to the true… 'splendor' of the King.

"Your friends won't be attending the ball?" Arthur questioned, as the crowd of people began to leave, the forward boys attempting to convince the women to accompany them for a night in the pub. Alfred shook his head, still holding Arthur's hand levitated between them.

"Most of them aren't of noble blood," he said, and Arthur could not contain the unbelieving noise that left his mouth. He attempted to cover it with a cough into his gloved hand, sensing Alfred's amusement at his response.

"So, you brought your commoner friends into the castle, on your wedding day?" Arthur should have politely covered the distaste and disbelief in his words, but having known Alfred for only the small amount of time he did, he knew it would not matter.

"Yes, I did bring my friends to celebrate my wedding day," the way he said it, it made it matter-of-fact, and completely sane. But there were protocols and precedents to follow, and this type of behavior was, well, Arthur could not imagine a King doing such a thing.

"You Nobles love to idealize the rules and regulations of the Royalty, but haven't a clue that everything functions exactly how I want it to," Alfred's words were so prideful, but his tone typical, exactly the way a Monarch should speak. "If I want my 'commoner' friends in the castle, at any time, they will be there. That is Royal life, Arthur, and I hope you can start to want things like a normal person. My Queen will have anything he asks for."

"L-Like a 'normal person'?!" Arthur couldn't contain his enraged response, the last statement putting a blush on his face, though he was convinced it was easily covered by his other reactions. The doors before the pair creaked to signal their opening, and while Arthur wanted to continue to make it clear how angered he was at the inappropriate comment, he knew if the party guests were to see a Queen berating his newlywed husband of a few hours, the rest of the night, and the next 100 years, would not go smoothly.

Arthur turned his face away from Alfred, focusing forward and adjusting his stance to perfect straightness. When the doors swung open, they were surrounded on all sides, everyone leaning in with unmasked eagerness to get a glimpse of the couple. People were standing on their toes, and those on the other end of the Grand Ballroom used their decorated Opera glasses to magnify their sight.

There was a clear path for them to follow, barely wide enough to fit through side by side with all of the impatient leaning and shoving that was happening. Fearlessly, Alfred took the first step, lightly tugging on Arthur's hand to force him out, feeling slightly like a parent pulling a child in a temper tantrum out of their room.

Arthur did not resist much, only enough for Alfred to notice, but not so strongly that it was visible to the hundreds of people watching. As they traveled from the lowly lit hallway to the chandeliered brightness of the ballroom, Arthur kept his expression demure, pretending he could not hear the whispers that surrounded him.

"The Queen's outfit is just marvelous!"

"It's a new design modeled in the Capital you know, they say the longer tailcoat will catch on in everyday fashion."

"Pay attention, the King is looking this way! Smile now…"

"They truly make the most wonderful couple I have ever seen."

At the central axis of the room, there was an open circle, everyone closing in behind the Royal couple once they reached it. They were completely locked in, the expectant gazes and quickly flitting fans functioning as walls on all sides.

Separating, they turned to each other, backing away a few steps in perfect unison. Stopping in time together, they took their bows, Arthur curtsying first, while Alfred followed him with an uncommonly, but ceremoniously, large bow.

The music began, the wigged orchestra taking to playing the traditional Waltz of the Spades Kingdom. The pair approached, lifting their hands until they touched vertically, beginning to circle each other in time with the cellos notes.

Everyone on the outside became a blur, and Arthur found his sight limited only to the pair of hands hovering closely, and his husband's face. Alfred was smiling at him, but Arthur found it neither charming nor attractive. Well, it was attractive, the man was annoyingly attractive to the point where any face he made was aesthetically pleasing, but personality wise he was already on Arthur's last nerve.

Alfred was blissfully unaware to the fact that he had already managed to antagonize his new Queen, or simply did not care, because when their slow circling ended, he wasted no time in pulling Arthur to his chest for the remainder of their dance. Arthur let out a small, barely audible gasp when Alfred wrapped his arm around his waist, their hands interlocking out of practiced experience.

That was certainly not how the dance was supposed to go, the swift, vulgar movements taking away all of the restraint and beauty the waltz should hold. They should have backed away from each other first, then approached for their connected dance, but Alfred had bypassed the movements all together and taken to leading Arthur around the floor in a twirling waltz.

Alfred was a strong lead, and Arthur could have lifted his feet from the ground with it all ending the same. He did not, however, and used his own steps as a sort of silent resistance to the skilled movements of his partner. He was still irritated, and Alfred needed to know.

Honestly, Arthur would have assumed Alfred was a blunder when it came to dancing, probably too childish to learn the specifically timed steps. He was though, surprisingly, talented, his rhythm clearly coming from within as he traversed the floor with accurate timing. It had taken Arthur years to perfect that sort of skill, having no rhythm himself, but years of experience put them on the same page.

It was a magical dance, one that never ceased to amaze those that watched, the twirling and precisely measured steps creating a beautiful scene that seemed to glide across the floor. The younger women were fanning their flushed faces rapidly, attempting to pay attention, all while the King captured their hearts with his movements. Even the older members of the audience were mesmerized, the youth and vitality of a young King and Queen seeming to renew everyone's spirit for the Monarchy.

The whirling pair slowed at the center of their floor, finally coming to a halt with the music, still in each other's arms. There was a brief moment where the last, ringing note of the song played out, and there was no other sound, just the two of them, faces close enough that the heat of their breath mingled.

Arthur had a difficult time keeping a straight face, unable to, but wishing he could at least cover the blush raging across his cheeks. Alfred's face seemed to have gotten rather red as well, catching Arthur off guard, as it could not have been from any sort of physical stress. He had felt the muscles the man had built himself.

Alfred backed away first, another surprise as well, bowing as the crowd erupted into applause around them. Some were dabbing at the tears that had formed in their eyes, and others were clapping so intensely that the jewels of their bracelets were clacking together audibly.

Arthur took to his curtsy, holding onto the sides of his heavy overcoat as he went down. The cheering continued as the couple reunited, hands elevated again with Arthur's gloved one sitting on the top. They waited silently for the crowd to tire of their ovation, but it never seemed to come, everyone in attendance still applauding as vehemently as they had when they began for over two minutes.

Alfred finally took a step forward, the clapping only lessening slightly as he led Arthur toward a specific person in the circle. Arthur took the moment to glance up at Alfred's face, a small smirk on his lips.

"How was that for keeping up?" Spitefulness was Arthur's worst trait, well one of them, according to his mother, and if she had heard what he said to the King, Arthur was not sure he could guarantee the safety of his own life. She was not within hearing range though, so Arthur took the time to delight in his snide remark.

Completely out of character, Alfred did not respond, or even look down at Arthur, moving as if he had not heard the comment at all. Arthur was sure nothing could have been worse than the King's infuriating remarks, but his silence was even more deadly. Could it be… Arthur's breath smelled? They had just been so close to each other, could it have possibly been so offending even Alfred was appalled?

Arthur coughed into his gloved hand quickly, cursing internally when he smelled nothing as he did. He could not spend any more time worrying about it, as it would become noticeable to everyone watching, and he instead focused his attention forward when Alfred stopped moving.

Before Alfred stood his twin brother, Matthew, who was now officially the Prince of Spades. While he and Alfred stood at the same height, Matthew was noticeably of a smaller build, his long hair further setting him apart from his broad older brother. He had kind eyes, the type that seemed as if they told you they would do anything you asked of them, just with a small sparkle.

Arthur was sure he must have met Matthew during the previous time he had met Alfred, but for some reason, had absolutely no memory of the man at all, child or not. It was utterly embarrassing, but Arthur was sure he would be able to hide it well.

Alfred's typical smile finally returned when Matthew bowed at the Royal couple, lowering himself to a respectful stance, but not entirely, as he was a Royal himself. The woman next to him curtsiedcurtsied as well, the wide expanse of her skirts forcing her to bend forward somewhat, the buxomness of her chest spilling out from her top.

Arthur knew it was entirely inappropriate to stare at a woman's chest, and frankly he had no interest in such things, but the sheer size of her… assets was enough to capture even his attention. Not in appreciation or objectification, of course, but in actual awe. He had never in his life seen a person with such large breasts, and they bordered on looking uncomfortable.

He hastily pulled his eyes away when the pair turned to him, lowering themselves once again in the presence of the Queen. It was not necessary for Arthur to return with a curtsy, given his status was now above them and it was his wedding day, but he still gave them a small, introductory bow, earning receptive praise from the throngs of guests observing the Royal interaction.

Without a word, the woman turned to her attendant, carefully taking two crowns of flowers from her hands. They were weaved with four leaf clovers and various azure flowers, the petals crisp and fragrant even from a few feet away. She approached Alfred, lifting her hands to set the first wreath on his head. Alfred bent his head lightly, his height making it almost impossible for her to reach the top of his head on her own. When the crown was securely on his head, the pair hugged firmly, Alfred even lifting the woman off of the ground for a second, causing her to giggle.

When she was safely on her feet again, she pinched Alfred's cheek in a motherly manner, before turning to Arthur. It was not necessary for Arthur to tilt his head, as he did not stand much taller than her, but he did anyway, as a signal that she could place the flowers on his head. She rested it on his hair gently, careful not to upset the petite hat pinned there, letting out a small 'Ah!' when she succeeded.

Arthur nodded at her in thanks when she backed away, but felt the air leave his body in a surprised huff when she threw her arms around him. Arthur was bad enough at hugging and emotional displays with those he was close with, but to have a random woman embrace him so tightly in front of hundreds of people was really putting his ineptitude on display.

Well, she was not some 'random woman', Arthur knew exactly who she was. She was Yekaterina Braginskaya, a former Princess of the Club Kingdom, and now Princess of Spades. During the Eastern War, she had been married to Matthew, cementing an alliance between the two most powerful kingdoms, who would have been at odds, had it not been for her diplomatic nuptial.

In short, as long as she remained alive, peace would be guaranteed between the often-antagonistic Clubs and Spades kingdoms.

Arthur was also aware he owed her his thanks, more than he owed anyone else in the hall. In the Spades Kingdom, a Queen could be traditionally male or female, as long as they could fulfill their duties to their whole ability. However, unless there was a female of Royal lineage able to produce an heir to the throne, someone like Arthur would never have been able to assume the role, with no way to offer a Royal heir. That made male Queens rare, but not completely unheard of, though it had been quite some time since one had been granted permission to the throne.

So, without Yekaterina in the position to give the illustrious family a healthy successor, Arthur could have never become Queen, and he could not have become the unprecedently anticipated ruler he was expected to be.

Arthur pat her back awkwardly, hoping it would convince her to release her vice grip on his body. Keeping her hands on his shoulders, she pulled away marginally, only to be able to look him in the eyes. There were actual tears caught on her long eyelashes, and Arthur was at a loss for words as her ample chest pressed against his flat one.

"I am so glad to have a sister finally, Your Majesty!" She leaned in to hug Arthur again, and the man blinked in bewilderment. A sister? He was the Queen but… he was not a woman. Nevertheless, he gave her back a comforting pat again with his hands, feeling her squeeze him tighter in response.

Laughs and 'awe's surrounded them until finally she backed away, still using her hands to attempt to wipe away the large droplets of tears that kept spilling from her eyes. Clearly, everyone was aware of the Princess' bizarre emotional displays, everyone except Arthur, who was still reeling from the unexpected interaction.

"H-Here," Arthur shook himself from his astounded state by reaching into his chest pocket to procure an embroidered handkerchief, holding it out for her to take. She paused her crying as Arthur extended his arm, before beginning to sob again, taking the soft fabric from his hands gently.

"Oh, thank you so much!" She used the cloth to dry her eyes, but tears only seemed to continue to fall, her shoulders shaking in sobs of happiness. Arthur glanced over at Alfred, seeing the amused expression displayed across his face, and the taller man looked over, catching Arthur's eyes. There was a breathless silence between the pair, lasting only seconds before Matthew called for their attention, softly speaking Arthur's name.

"Arthur, it is so wonderful to see you again," he reached out, and Arthur set his fingers in his grip, the man leaning down to place a single kiss on his gloved hand.

Oh, no. Arthur kept a calm countenance, but his response was admittedly lackluster, only a small laugh able to escape him. Matthew continued speaking, covering up the blonde's embarrassment with, thankfully oblivious, conversation.

"We were only children then, but we got on so well. What, with Alfred running around like a wild dog during a funeral, we were barely able to catch him," Laughter erupted from the crowd, everyone enjoying reminiscing at the King's lively childhood. Even Alfred chuckled, but was sure to reach out and flick Matthew's forehead, the heavy rings of sapphire glittering from each of his fingers.

Matthew was able to dodge it at the last second, but made sure to glare at his brother for the tasteless act. Alfred continued laughing, everyone along with him, covering their mouths properly with their fans, but making sure they were heard. Arthur, however, was not able to join in, as he was unfortunately without any memories of the events Matthew was describing.

"My husband has told me about you, Your Majesty. And I can see that his kind words were more than true," Yekaterina seemed to have collected herself, though she kept the handkerchief tightly in her grip as if she expected more tears.

"W-Well, I-" Arthur blinked at the kind couple, "I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart for such a kind welcome."

Matthew placed a hand on his wife's back, the woman excitedly turning to share a pleased smile with him. The pair were endearing, if Arthur was honest, but almost a bit too cordial in his mind. Arthur preferred rigid formality and strict expectations, he found that he functioned better when the rules were clear and the loving words were to a minimum. He had expected a certain austerity, and while the castle itself and the wedding ceremony did deliver that, the Court that Alfred had sculpted was far off from his predictions.

It was just as he had said, everything seemed to function in whatever way he, and perhaps his brother, wished it. Balls here were already shaping up to be nowhere near as strict as the ones his mother had threw, and Arthur was coming to dread that he was going to be the laughing-stock of the event, with his overly stringent disposition on obvious display.

He had no idea if Court was so loose simply because it was a young King steering the guidelines, or if it had always been this way, and Arthur was just one of the many Noble's that had overestimated Royal life, like Alfred had accused him of being.

Someone had attempted to get the attention of Matthew, reaching out to whisper in his ear. The man nodded, turning to his brother with a smile that indicated he would be forcing the man into something his free-spirited self would not enjoy.

"Brother, the Duke of Lambbard and the Count de Bourbon wish to present you with your ascension gifts before any others, if you would allow," there was a small, sadistic smirk in his speech, one that those with siblings would recognize, both entirely harmless and infuriating to the recipient at once.

Alfred sighed audibly, rolling his eyes at the beginning of his official duties for the night. No one other than those directly next to him would have seen the action, but Arthur still found it childish enough for him to give his arm a light slap with the back of his hand. He had done it without thinking, a learned habit from his upbringing, and Alfred looked over at him with eyes wide in disbelief.

Matthew was chuckling under his breath, hand blocking the smile that spread across his face. Alfred let out a small scoff, and before he could open his mouth, Matthew grabbed onto his arm, pulling him away from his small Queen.

The pair disappeared into the crowd, without officially addressing the onlookers, and Arthur was left seemingly with the duty of dismissing them to their reveling. He turned to face them all, their eyes expectant and their whispers audible.

"I-In honor of the King and Queen, let us spend the night in spirited celebrations at their glorious reign," before Arthur could even think of the words to speak, the Count of Delafontaine appeared at his side, voice bouncing off the tall walls of the ballroom. "To the King and Queen!"

The man lifted a glass of champagne in his hands, and every person around scrambled to find their own, pulling them off of tables and from trays held by servants. Excitedly, the throng of shimmering glasses were extended into the air, their wide brims catching the glare from candles and shining it across the circle.

"To the King and Queen!" Everyone roared, clinking glasses and eagerly drinking down the alcohol. The Delafontaine turned to Arthur and bowed before sipping from his glass, Arthur nodding first at him, then at the entire crowd.

Arthur thanked the endless onslaught of congratulations and compliments that whirled past him as the once frozen guests began to move around the ballroom freely. Everyone wanted a chance to be close to him, their eyes wandering over his outfit, over his face, both criticizing and admiring every detail they could find about the young, fresh-faced Queen.

"You faced that situation with the utmost grace, Your Majesty," The Count of Delafontaine spoke out of the side of his mouth, as to not be heard by the people whirling past Arthur. After thanking an elderly woman, who reached out to clasp his hands tightly, Arthur let out a light scoff, peering to the side at the man next to him.

"You hardly gave me a chance to face it at all," Arthur nodded at two young women who curtsiedcurtsied before him, the pair scuttling off as they giggled and grinned at each other.

"I- I apologize, Your Majesty," The Count moved to bow in apology, but Arthur raised his hand, signaling it was not necessary. "I have been watching over both of those boys for so long, cleaning up their messes is merely an instinct."

With a moment of reprieve, Arthur turned his head to look at the man, the flowers framing his head creating a halo of royal blooms.

"And now the King's messes are mine."

Away from the center of the crowd, as the attendants circled like sharks around the defenseless Queen, Alfred and Matthew escaped from the occupied eyes without trouble. It was a skill honed through years of practice, as capturing some needed solitude was nearly impossible when you were the heirs to the Spades throne, and the pair had years of experience of hiding from nannies and escaping from Royal receptions. Hastily making their way across the room, Alfred made sure to keep his gaze forward and strong, while his brother leaned in to whisper close to him.

"That was a bold move you pulled during the waltz," Matthew made sure his words did not sound appreciative, not wishing to stroke his brother's already substantial ego. "But, well…"

"What?" Alfred shot a look over at the blonde as he began to laugh, hand holding his glasses steady as the bouncing of his laughter knocked them down his nose.

"Well, it's just," Matthew calmed himself, meeting the King's irritated eyes, "Arthur is the first person I've seen able to handle your recklessness with such ease."

Alfred made no comment, instead turning away to hide whatever expression painted his face. He was not sure how he looked himself, having rarely experienced the discomfort of whatever it was he felt, but he made sure Matthew caught no sight of it.

Arthur did seem to be a gifted dance partner, his light weight and small frame made him easy to move with, but his steady feet were even more alluring. While he may not have had a natural talent for dance, he certainly had a knack for challenging his partner, and it was the first time Alfred had ever experienced a person willing to step to his haughty display.

On top of that, well…

He smelled wonderful. Like a garden of flowers, but one that held no plants with too obnoxious a scent or flamboyant an appearance. Like a path filled solely with daisies, or a simple swimming pond of hyacinths. It was different and clean, a far cry from the perfumed men and women of the Court, who seemed to rely solely on the overload of the senses to display their best qualities.

He had not noticed it at all until they had been so close in their waltz, the incense of the chapel masking all aromas before. Alfred remained smooth on his feet, but with each spin and twist, Arthur both confronted him and caught his attention, until Alfred could ignore it no longer.

This was ridiculous, what was he even thinking about? This was a night for wine and dancing, not to be stuck thinking about a formal interaction that carried with it only the weight of its ritualistic necessity. While it might not be appropriate for even Alfred to dance with other women tonight, he was sure he would find companionship in others who would offer better conversation than his stodgy husband. Arthur was already proving to be no fun whatsoever, and Alfred knew he could find more invigorating interaction with others, who would actually laugh at his jokes and agree with his statements, regardless of what he said.

Stopping unexpectedly on his toes, he reached for a glass of champagne from a passing caterer, finishing the entire drink in one gulp. The startled servant bowed reverently as he set the glass back on the tray, taking another along with him for good measure.

Matthew watched with exasperation, attempting to remind the King that alongside merrymaking, he had many other official obligations to tend to tonight. But when Alfred finished the second glass casually, it became even clearer he would be just as stubbornly careless tonight as he was any other.

While Alfred moved on to be taken into the hands of his advisors and admirers, Arthur was finally at a rest, seeming to have entertained everyone at least once until they were satisfied with breaking off into their groups of conversations. He let out a short breath of air, only able to relax inwardly for a few seconds as suddenly his arm was pulled into the voluptuous chest of his sister-in-law.

"Shall we take part in the next dance, Your Majesty?" Her blue-green eyes were wide and awaiting, and while Arthur found her sudden physical contact to be unnerving, he knew that her company and dance would keep him distracted from being the object of everyone's curious attention. Plus, it was simply bad manners to turn down a woman's invitation.

"I would be honored, Yekaterina," the woman giggled at the mention of her name, waving her hand in front of her face in dismissal.

"Oh, please call me Katyusha, it is what all of my family calls me," Arthur watched her face closely before concurring, lifting his arm in the air.

"Well, then, please call me Arthur."

Katyusha paused, seeming to contemplate if she ever could call the Queen by his name, before nodding, wrapping her arm around Arthur's with a smile.

"Of course, Your-… Arthur."

The pair shared laughs as the current song ended, those dancing turning to each other to bow in completion. As the next composition was being prepared, Arthur and Katyusha made their way onto the floor, causing a stir as they did.

When the Queen entered the dance floor, so did everyone else, both young and old scrambling to acquire a spot closest to the Royal duo. While a circle of respect was left around them, as to avoid any unsightly collisions of elbows with the imperial couple, all of the lucky dancers made sure they could keep their eyes on them, eager to see how the Queen would act in a more lax, informal dance.

An Allemande* was about to be played, and as the first notes were being bowed, the dancers all clapped and shuffled into lines, stretching on either side of Arthur and Katyusha. Of course, the pair did not connect themselves with either, sharing the dance only with themselves, as was appropriate, separate from the rest.

The men on one side bowed to their partners, Arthur swinging his arm in front of him in a grand motion. The women responded with a curtsy, lowering themselves as their skirts ballooned around them.

When the violins began, the pairs approached each other, stepping in time in small circles, twisting around once before their hands came together. Katyusha took the first spin, arm held in the air as Arthur created a bridge beneath their interconnected hands for her to twirl under, the wideness of her grand dress causing only slight discomfort as she passed beneath. She was smiling when she faced Arthur again, and he found himself smiling as well when he copied her movements and spun under her arm.

As the intricate dance unfolded, partners were traded and changed down the line, every person finding themselves confronted with a new face with each step taken. Laughs and cheers emanated with each surprise, the carefree prancing masking an undercurrent of precise steps and hops.

Arthur and Katyusha remained in their single partnership, but did not find boredom at the repetition of their dancing. They performed rosettes with their hands intertwined, before separating to glide around each other, Katyusha jumping and seeming to elude Arthur as he sashayed just steps behind her, the dance illustrating the chase and catch of courtship.

The pair found themselves truly having fun. While Katyusha was not particularly skilled at dance, tripping over her heels occasionally and seeming to fumble steps, her concentrated faces penetrated by friendly smiles when she caught Arthur's gaze kept the man easily entertained.

When the melody ended, the pair remained on the floor to continue their dancing, moving through minuets* together without ever leaving the center of the ballroom. They easily caught the attention of those around, every person turning immediately to them to applaud at the completion of each dance.

Such amusing and casual dances were rarely ever allowed at Kirkland receptions, only in the wee hours of the morning, after all of the wine had been consumed and the children were put to bed. Naturally, Arthur was never allowed to participate, but as he grew, he was taught the steps in case he should need them at any point in his life.

And now, he was using them with vigor, genuinely enjoying himself as he promenaded around with Katyusha as his partner. And to think, he had not consumed any alcohol.

They bowed at each other for the sixth time, and Arthur was entirely ready to proceed into the next dance, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was still attempting to catch his breath when he turned to see Matthew looking down at him, his violet eyes bright behind his glasses.

"I apologize for the interruption," his hand moved to Arthur's arm as he bent down to whisper in his ear, "The time's come to prepare the Royal bed."

Arthur froze, looking down at his shoes, before up at Katyusha, her perplexed gaze giving him no solace. Nodding, he backed away from Matthew, his hand falling from his arm as Arthur took a few unsure steps to the side.

He had barely got to enjoy the reception, let alone drink anything, and now he was… Well now, he was about to head into something that frightened him even more than any of his newly assumed duties.

Now, he was expected to consummate his marriage.

"I-I fear our time has come to an end," he took Katyusha's hand and kissed her fingers respectfully, the quiver in his voice annoyingly audible. The woman took both of his hands into hers, the tiny drops of sweat that had formed around her hairline dotting her face.

"Already? We barely got to enjoy the dancing! Oh, and you haven't tried the pastries that were prepared-"

"Unfortunately, Arthur must prepare to go to bed," Matthew attempted to quiet his clearly unaware wife, an uncomfortable expression on his face. She looked between the two for a brief second, before gasping, her hands flying to her face to cover the shocked position of her mouth. Quickly, she reached out for Arthur's hands again, squeezing them harder this time, a determined look on her face.

"Arthur…" her eyes were burning with almost maternal support, her mouth pulled into a resolute tremor. "Good luck."

Arthur nodded, already feeling a heat crawl up his back, covering his once smiling face with a vibrant redness. Two women approached him, curtsying before reaching for his arms, holding onto them in case he should faint in fear or shock. In a small fit of irritation, he shook them away, unable to handle the feeling of their hands on him.

"I-I'm fine," they lowered their heads in concession, instead opting to lead him from the floor and to a secret door opened at the edge of the room. Only a few had noticed the interaction, most thankfully taking the moment of rest taken by the orchestra to refresh themselves with champagne and sweets, keeping the man from further public humiliation.

As Arthur retreated from the floor against his will, he glanced over his shoulder to see Katyusha locking arms with Matthew, her once serious face now melted into a perky grin. The pair made their way out of his sight, and Arthur let his final view of the banquet fade away into candle-lit darkness as he entered the hidden hallway he was to take in concealment to the Royal bedroom.

More women awaited him in the darkness, each offering apologies as they plucked different pieces of clothing from his body. One reached for his crown of flowers, while another pulled the gloves from his hand, more hands reaching up from behind him to unpin the dainty hat from his head. By the time they had finished their shuffling march through the dark obscurity, Arthur emerged from the other side missing all of his accessories, and the heavy overcoat that had once sat on his shoulders.

He entered into a steamy room containing merely a claw-footed tub, and a chemise draped across a golden chair. Only two women remained in the room, the rest ducking back into the hallway and disappearing with the clink of the door settling back into the wall.

Arthur had been bathed and cleansed by others his entire life, so he did not resist when they reached for his garments to remove them all from his body. Of course, being that they were unfamiliar people, he felt naturally self-conscious, but being Queen more than assured that the secrets of his body would never be spoken off.

Arthur moved through the subsequent undressing and bath in a disconnected haze, half uncomfortable at being so revealed to random strangers, half pleading for the moment to never end. With every button they undid, and every fold of his clothing, the time lurched forward, moving him closer to the true apex of the night.

The wedding had wracked his nerves, meeting Alfred had given him slight stress, but the consummation of the marriage, that made every single hair on his body stand on end.

As he sat in the heated water, the sleeves of his bathing robe bloated around him, rising to the surface in their white innocence. He wished to stay submerged for as long as he could, but eventually the time came for his legs to be shaved, and he sat up in a poor attempt to give the women better access.

Before he could even move to fix the mistake he had made, the door he had walked through popped open from the wall again, his stomach falling out of his body at the entry of the person who ducked through it.

"M-Mother?" Arthur immediately threw his hands around his shoulders, before they then splashed underwater, unsure how to cover himself in front of the unwelcome visitor. The woman surveyed the room slowly, before she set her eyes on Arthur, no amusement crossing her face.

"Oh, I gave birth to you, I've seen everything you're trying to hide," that statement did not prove to be calming in any sense, and Arthur still tried to cover himself to the best of his ability.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur was far past masking the unhappiness in his voice, his mother ignoring him and instead favoring to sit in the chair. She waved her hands at the attendants, both backing away with heads bowed to leave the two to speak.

"My friends who stood close at the banquet says it appeared you were being disagreeable to the King," Arthur frowned at her words, slipping back into the water that still floated warm around his body. "Are you trying to destroy everything we have worked for?"

"I was not being disagreeable, the man is juvenile," Arthur's lips were close to the water, and he sunk deeper when he finished his sentence, it rising up to his nose.

"No, you are the one being juvenile," the older woman continued her chiding as Arthur filled his ears with water, scented petals floating around his head while her words garbled. "Have you learned nothing from your mistakes?"

No, he had not. Even if he had, she would say he had not, so regardless of the truth, that was what it would be. Her scolding lasted over ten more minutes, before her lips finally came together in a settled position, and Arthur lifted his head from underneath the water, the ends of his hair dripping against his skin.

"You are a worrisome child, but you are not dull. I trust you know what comes next?" Arthur looked away from her, unable to meet his mother's eyes when she eluded to such a thing. "When I was married to your father, during our first bedding, I-"

"Ew! Mother, please! I don't need to hear that!" Arthur threw his hands up to cover his ears, splashing water from the bathtub onto the marble floors. His mother flinched as some flew past her, before sighing, her hands smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt.

"Arthur, you have no experience whatsoever in romance, and keeping the attention of a man as powerful as the King is no easy task," the cracks between Arthur's fingers let her words into his ears, causing him to swallow roughly, "I do not regret teaching you the importance of purity, but I am afraid I have failed to prepare you for the realities of married life.

"Your position here is never certain, as you do not possess the ability to give the King a child. While you have the intellect and grace to preform Queenly duties with more decorum than any other woman at Court, the truth is that those obligations fall short in comparison to your need to entertain and please the King."

"I never asked for this," Arthur spoke when she took a moment of pause, the harshness of his words surprising even the speaker. He had not meant to say that, but in the onslaught of uncomfortable truths, the sentence had slipped out.

His mother took a minute to stand, pushing herself up with assistance from the back of the chair. The servants rushed to her side in an effort to support her, but she gestured them away, pulling herself together on her own. Approaching the bathtub, she gazed down at Arthur, the blonde sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, not looking up.

"You took vows during your wedding, do you not remember?" She did not wait for his response, instead reaching out to run a hand through his damp hair. "You vowed to value the love you would share with your King just as much as you would your duty to your kingdom. Those words were not said only in show."

Arthur pulled himself together even tighter, his chin sitting on his knees as he listened to her words. He knew what he had vowed to, he did not take such an action lightly. But, devotion and sex… He had never associated the two. Devotion to his King and devotion to his land, he had always had those, it was never a question of if he did not.

But going from never having kissed another person, to sharing his body with the King of Spades, it was one colossal leap to make in a day. And his mother seemed to have realized this, as she continued her calming massage of his head, before pinching his chin so he would look up at her finally.

"Life is not always flowers and finery, but being a Kirkland has never been about believing that it was. You have worked for your position, as has our family from the beginning of its roots. The sacrifices you make, and the risks you take, it is all for the future of your children, and their children, until the day this great monarchy ends and the stars fall," Arthur's eyes were wide and childlike, and she rubbed her thumb across his cheek in affection at the familiar sight.

After a few more seconds, she backed away, leaving Arthur to soak in the water and her words. Without another comment, she turned to leave the room, exiting through the same door she entered. When her presence was almost gone, she stuck her head back into the room, causing Arthur to jump.

"And, if at any time, should the King seem dispirited, or lacking enthusiasm, it could be fixed by taking your finger and-"

"Okay, Mother! That's enough!" Arthur once again plugged his ears, the woman sighing before leaving for good, the door settling shut behind her.

Arthur could not meet the eyes of the attendants as they returned to his side, this time reaching for his legs on their own. He was silent as they lathered his skin, before carefully bringing the fine blade of the razor down his leg, leaving them looking almost child-like in their smoothness.

His bath was finished after that, and thankfully so, as the water was now lukewarm and chilling, driving him out of its comfort. When he stood, the women removed his sopping wet chemise, before replacing it with a dry one, seeming to have been warmed in anticipation for his chilliness.

A perfume of fresh flowers was spread onto his skin, almost making his eyes water at the strong scent, and his hair was brushed and softened, curling somewhat at the ends from their previous wetness. As a soft lotion was massaged across his arms, Arthur realized why exactly he had been forced out of the celebrations so early, the preparation for the night taking much longer than he could have expected.

Honestly, did it really matter if every crack of his body smelled like a freshly pruned rose? It was unnatural, and he personally would have found it off-putting. But he had no idea, perhaps Alfred was a fan of all of the feminine splendor.

He forced himself to not think about Alfred, as any thought of him would likely send the chattering nervousness in his body into overdrive. Alfred was handsome, and well-built, but the appreciation ended there. Arthur did not wish to sleep with him, or kiss him, and if he had a choice, Arthur would be an unmarried man right now, without a care in the world. The blessing of being Queen was humbling and a gift he could not compare, but being Queen also meant being married. And being married meant sharing a bed, among… Other things.

In truth, when their faces had been merely inches from each other after their waltz, Arthur had felt something. A small bubbling in the deepest part of his body, that spread through his limbs in some-sort of euphoria. It could have been anything, nervousness, exhaustion, even the beginnings of a slight cold, but it was certainly not attraction. There was no way it could be attraction, most definitely not.

When the preparations were complete, once again Arthur was eased through the back hallways, shrouded in darkness, this time frozen in his mere sheet of an outfit. His teeth were chattering with every step, the fur slippers on his feet only succeeding in keeping his toes warm, while the rest of his body suffered.

As such, he felt a wave of relief upon entering the Royal bedchamber, the walls covered in lit candles, casting their light and heat across the room. The bed looked both opulent but welcoming, the curtains surrounding it pulled back to reveal a downy collection of blankets that Arthur could have easily thrown himself under.

However, he waited for the wordless servants to pull them down, climbing in as they assisted in covering his bare legs. They placed the heavy canopy in the golden rungs on either side of the bed, clearly signaling sleep was not the main goal of this bedtime ritual.

One woman sat the candle in her hands easily on the nightstand, before backing away, seeming to have an indecisive look on her face. She opened her mouth, before closing it in hesitance, then finally looking up at Arthur as he sat dwarfed under the piles of blankets.

"I-I think you look very lovely, Your Majesty," she jumped when the other woman reached for her arm, squeezing it in reproach.

"Sarah!" She chided, but failed in stopping her from continuing her speech.

"I think His Majesty would be dense if he did not find you exciting," her words could have easily earned her plenty of punishment, but Arthur only stared at her, his noble countenance completely gone in the face of his tension.

He watched as she was dragged from the room, stumbling over he feet while the older woman forced her into the hallway, doing so to protect her. The pair left without a proper exit, but Arthur was far from being offended, still focused on nothing but the nervous shaking of his fingers.

He attempted to pull the covers up further, but his hands could not still, and all strength had left his body. The blonde sat totally still in the gigantic bed, swallowed by the sheer size of it, feeling even smaller in reference to the grand room.

If there were ever a place to perfectly encapsulate the lavishness of the monarchy, it would be the Royal bedroom. Every furnishing was coated in gold, and every decoration was padded in blue velvet, creating an atmosphere that seemed more like a scene worth admiring, than sleeping in.

Arthur felt alien, and afraid, sitting in complete silence while the candle's wax melted, trying to succeed in convincing himself that Alfred would not come. It worked, up until the intricately carved main door creaked open, causing him to jump and look over.

Alfred peaked around the painted wood, before entering, letting the door close haphazardly behind him. Arthur watched the man take a few steps into the room, before he kicked his legs out from underneath the duvet, displaying their glossy smoothness, his attempt at what he assumed was seduction.

"D-Did you enjoy the rest of the banquet?" Arthur's voice was meek, and not attractive at all, his face already heating up at his ineptitude. Alfred looked at him with furrowed brows, before bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck indifferently.

"It was okay," he walked over to the vanity near the tall windows in the front of the room, removing each of his rings to set them in a jewelry box trimmed in gold and crystal. Both men sat in silence, before Arthur again spoke up, hands curled into the soft sheets.

"Will you be coming to bed?"

Alfred did not turn to look at him, and took a minute to close the bright box. When he did, he made the movement swift, facing Arthur with an unconcerned smile on his face.

"I'll be leaving for a hunting trip tonight. I'll return by tomorrow evening," he approached the bed in brisk strides, and gave Arthur no time to prepare before he leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of his head. He smiled down at the stunned man, turning on his heels and leaving the room without another word.

When the door closed behind him, Alfred brought a hand up to his face, blocking his mouth from sight. Of course, no one was around, but he felt it was necessary to hide the blush on his cheeks, his own skin hot against his fingertips.

That man… Alfred knew he would be in the bed when he returned, but he did not expect him to make any effort at all in the way he did. Alfred had imagined he would be asleep already, with his back turned and a heavy flannel robe on, or his nose in a book.

Instead, he had let the embroidered edges of his chemise rise up and show off the pale expanse of his thighs, the large collar slipping off of his shoulder and showing the unmarked skin there. And with that voice, he had said "Will you be coming to bed?".

Alfred let his hands slip under his glasses to rub his eyes, forcing the image burned into his sight from his mind. This was bad, very bad. No person had a right to be that stupidly attractive, but infuriatingly irritating at the same time. If Alfred had known Arthur in any other way, he would have incessantly made fun of him, he was easy prey. He was quick to get a heated response from, and seemed to cherish all of the dying customs that Alfred loved to ignore. The simple antithesis of their personalities should have been enough to keep them far away from each other, but something under neither of their control brought them together. And now, Alfred had to deal with "Will you be coming to bed?" and pretty shaved legs and that sweet, clean smell… All while being subjected to his unattractive spite and conventionalism too.

Pushing himself up from leaning on the door, Alfred took off in a brisk walk down the hall, knowing his horse was saddled and waiting for him just outside the castle. He was going to ride, and hunt, and forget about "Will you be coming to bed?" for the night, hoping that it would somehow all be gone by the time he returned. Because ignoring his problems was much easier than facing the fact that he was the King of the most powerful kingdom in the West, and despite all of the power and influence he held, he was still reduced to some blushing mess by an inept, angry, blonde boy.

Arthur sat in complete shock when Alfred left, arms limp at his side, legs chilled from being out of the cocoon of blankets for so long. He remained motionless there, watching the first candle in the room extinguish, knowing the rest would follow, but still unable to force himself to move.

Was he really that unattractive? Even after all of the pimping and preening, he was still so undesirable that he was left in bed in favor for hunting? Finally, the blonde laid down, the feathery pillows cradling him as he slowly rolled onto his side.

Outside, the celebrational fireworks had begun, a cacophony of bangs and rumbling, littering white glares across the sky. On the ground, in the center of the lake within the gardens, were two giant A's, both brightly lit and shimmering, separated by a single spade between them. For Alfred and Arthur, it was all for them.

But Arthur could not accept the gesture, nor could he accept the love and devotion his subjects had showered upon him through the entire night. He had failed, he had failed his mother and his country, unable to fulfill even the first duty he was given as a Queen, to make the King love him. The tears pooled in the spaces next to his eyes, overflowing and falling onto the white sheets with unrestrained anguish. It was exhausting, all of it was exhausting, and Arthur began to audibly sob as he brought his hands to his face, cries sounding hollow against his palm.

The noisy explosions covered his cries, until even he could not hear them. Lights rained across the sky, showering the great castle in a brilliant display of wealth and festivity. Arthur sobbed through the entire display, missing the finale, and the general grandness of it all.

And he continued crying, he cried for over an hour, until every candle in the palace had burned to a stub, and the King was long gone, miles away with his back turned to the bed he left half-empty.

And that was how the Queen of Spades fell asleep, not from weariness, but from complete fatigue, body going limp against the sheets spun of silk. His first night in the palace was complete, and the many more that stretched before him in expectation melted away into a welcoming oblivion, all of his emotions fading into only the small sounds of slumber.

*Allemande - An Allemande is a type of court dance popular in the 1700's. There are many types of Allemande's, and some were meant to be preformed with a group while others were more commonly made for just a couple. The type of Allemande I am describing, where the hands are intertwined and rosettes are being preformed, was still considered a bit too forward, as the hands were remaining connected for long periods of time, but it was still danced, especially later in the century. You can watch a video of a segment of it being preformed in costume on youtube here! youtube . com - watch?v=c3ay1kAK0YA

*Minuet - A Minuet is another type of court dance that was the most popular dance of its time in Noble circles. They are very elaborate dances meant to be preformed by couples in front of many observers.

Hello, and thanks for reading the second chapter of my fic! I hope you can see why having the first chapter attached to this one would have made it much too long.

Before anyone attacks me, yes I am aware the waltz is not historically accurate for the Rococo/Baroque time period. The waltz was actually considered unrefined and offensive by the Nobility, since the era was all about restraint and the physical touching of the waltz was seen as crude. But, like I said, I was going to take artistic liberties, and I absolutely love waltzing and think its the most romantic form of coupled dance. So... enjoy the dancing, not the details!

I'll actually be discussing a couple forms of dance that we don't necessarily use in our modern day, and it might be hard to visualize if you've never seen them preformed before. Case in point, the Allemande, which I placed an asterisk next to so you could see a video of it being preformed!

Honestly, writing Arthur and Alfred falling in love is borderline painful for me. They both have that level of tsundere that just destroys any chance of an actual conversation discussing feelings taking place. It is just the beginning, however, and they are young in a situation that young people should never be placed in. Alfred will man up some day soon ;)

Well, that's all I have to say for now! I really hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please leave some kudos and a comment, I love responding to people and discussing your thoughts and interpretations on things. I will be back soon with the next chapter!

Much love.