"We're lost!"

"Oh, hush. We are not."

"Yes we are! We're lost and no one will ever be able to find us and we'll have to live on worms and berries!"

Arthur stepped up onto a mossy rock and turned around to look down at Alfred, who was flushed and starting to get sweaty. "We've been out here a half dozen times and we've always come back safely."

"Well, yes, but-"

"You don't trust me?"

"I do, but-"

"Then there's nothing to worry about." Arthur nodded matter-of-factly and hopped off the rock, continuing through the woods in the direction he had been going previously. He heard Alfred sigh childishly behind him, and smiled to himself. Alfred had been the one to suggest searching farther from the shoreline of the lake for any trace of magical creatures, but what he had probably imagined to be frolics through the woods had quickly turned tedious when Alfred had to face the hard truth that he had a terrible sense of direction. Arthur, on the other hand, never got them lost, and that was yet another source of irritation for Alfred and his wounded pride.

"Can you at least tell me what you saw out here so that I know what we are searching for?" Alfred was panting and Arthur had to turn around and wait for him again as he peeled off his jacket.

"No. You'll laugh at me."

"I promise I won't! You know I won't!"

It was probably true, but Alfred still wouldn't be of any help even if he did know what Arthur had seen all those years ago. Arthur looked around one last time, then decided it was far enough for the day and shrugged.

"Never mind, let's just go back, then."

It was a testament to how much Alfred truly did not want to be out in the woods in the summer heat that he didn't even argue, but turned right around and started walking back towards the lake. He was going the wrong direction of course, but Arthur didn't want to make him feel worse, so he just trotted after and took a hold of Alfred's hand to casually steer him onto the right path.

"How far do you think we went today?"

"A little more than a mile, perhaps. Not too far."

"Not far! A mile in and a mile out, and then we still have to walk back through the orchard and the garden and-"

"Well, don't come next time if it's so challenging for you!" Arthur wasn't remotely serious or angry with Alfred, knowing that his sense of duty and devotion would never let him stay pent up in the palace while Arthur trudged about in the wilderness by himself. Not that this wilderness was the least bit wild, but Alfred gripped his hand tighter nonetheless.

"No! I can't let you come out here by yourself! It could be dangerous." Alfred started to walk a little faster and looked back and forth between the trees, as if daring something to leap out at them.

"Yes, of course. We wouldn't want me to get savaged by the greenery or, heaven forbid, a rabid bunny."

"I'm being serious! We don't know what's out here, and the farther you go, the greater the possibility that you could get hurt and-"

Arthur patted his arm soothingly to get him to stop rambling. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll ask Yao if anyone ever created a map of this wood. I doubt it's very extensive, considering the proximity to the city, so perhaps there will be a landmark or something we can search." Arthur doubted there would be anything helpful; it wasn't as if there would be a big red X on any map saying faeries found here.

"That might be a good idea, so we don't end up wandering in circles."

"And have to live off worms and berries?" Arthur teased, and Alfred laughed.

"Sorry. I was being ridiculous, wasn't I?"

"No more than usual." Arthur broke their stride to kiss Alfred's cheek, and their walk became much more leisurely.

The hike out of the woods seemed to take less time than the trek in, and before long Arthur could see the faint glimmering of water between the trees. Alfred sped up, encouraged by the cooler, fresher air, but Arthur saw where his feet were headed and pulled him to a stop.

"What's the matter?"

"You can't step there," Arthur insisted, pointing to the circle of mushrooms wide enough to sit in. "It's a faerie ring."

Alfred looked at the ground and adjusted his spectacles. "They're just mushrooms, Arthur."

"That's not what the books say. They're faerie rings, portals to their secret world, or else they make their houses from them and it's bad luck to ruin them."

Alfred was quiet for a moment before he took both of Arthur's hands in his own. "Do you see anything?"

"No."

"Do you feel anything?"

"N-no."

"Have you felt anything the entire time we've been out here?"

"No," Arthur admitted begrudgingly and hung his head. "The farther we go, the closer I feel to feeling something, but it's not the same."

"Then they're just mushrooms, Arthur." Alfred tried to say it gently, but it still hurt and Arthur pulled away and walked the remaining ten yards out of the woods and onto the grassy bank of the lake, giving the faerie ring a wide berth. He didn't bother to watch if Alfred would do the same, and kicked off his shoes and stockings, rolling up his trousers so he could soak his sore feet in the cool of the water.

It wasn't Alfred's fault he couldn't see anything here, if there was anything to be seen, but his immediate reaction of denying the existence of faerie rings was just a reminder that although Alfred believed Arthur had the Gift, he didn't necessarily believe in any of the things Arthur did. Arthur heard splashing, and then Alfred's arms were around his middle, and Alfred's face was pressed into the crook of his neck, so he felt more than heard his apology.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not fine." Alfred hugged him tighter, as if he could squeeze away Arthur's sadness. "We can try again tomorrow, if you'd like."

"It's your birthday. We should be celebrating, not wandering around out here."

"I've already asked Yao not to do anything special, so I don't mind."

Arthur turned around and shook his head, forcing himself to smile and forget the day's failure. "It might be nice to have a break. There's no sense in obsessing over this until we get a map or at least know how far back the wood goes."

Alfred nodded, but he was still wearing a guilty expression and Arthur didn't want to look at it anymore. He swished his feet around in the water, toeing through the fine, loose sand of the lake. Alfred did the same, rolling his trousers up past his knees so he could go even deeper.

"We should go swimming."

"We told Yao we'd be back in a few hours." Arthur would rather sit in the water all day than pore over documents and agendas for Council, but he had important business to address with Yao. Now that he knew he still had his Gift, he wanted more information and after an extensive search of the library had yielded poor results, he realized he would have to ask for it from the other Kingdoms. He wasn't sure how sensitive of a subject it would be, but he had to know more before the rest of his idea could come to fruition.

Alfred bent down and gathered a handful of water, splashing it into the air and letting the droplets fall back down onto his face and arms. "No one's come looking for us! It's not as though we're missed," he whined, with a dog-like shake of his head.

"That's all very well until someone does come looking and finds us naked in the lake!"

"Who said anything about being naked?" Alfred smirked at him and stuck his tongue out between his teeth, which looked ridiculous since his spectacles were spotted with water.

"I meant it figuratively," Arthur amended, and kicked water at Alfred.

"Oh, of course you did. Dainty, proper Arthur would never think of being literally naked," Alfred chirped in sing-song voice and kicked back.

Arthur blushed, but scooped up a handful of water and threw it at Alfred. "I'll show you dainty!"

Not one to take a direct attack lightly, Alfred returned the splash, and a vigorous water battle ensued. Arthur escaped with little more than his jacket and the hem of his trousers wet, but Alfred was not so lucky, and his unprotected shirt was splotched with water and dripping at the cuffs. He put up his hands to call for a ceasefire, and Arthur dropped his joined handful of water, feeling magnanimous in his victory.

"Truce?" Alfred extended a hand, which Arthur promptly shook.

They were both giggly and Arthur felt light-headed, so it caught him off guard when he was yanked forward and manhandled until he was lifted halfway over Alfred's shoulder and could do nothing but kick his feet and squawk indignantly.

"Wha-? Put me down!"

Alfred laughed, but he was struggling noticeably with Arthur's weight and wiggling.

"Say we don't have to go back for a while or I'll dump you right in the water!" He managed to trudge a few paces deeper into the water and Arthur squirmed more desperately.

"You said truce!"

"I lied!"

Arthur got one of his hands free and tried to claw at the arm wrapped firmly around his backside, but that only made Alfred feign dropping him, and he let out an embarrassing screech. "Don't you dare! If you drop me, you're dead!"

"It's only water!"

"Don't!"

"You aren't made of sugar! You won't melt!"

"Alfred!"

"Say we don't have to go back!" Alfred jolted him again, and Arthur swatted at him once before admitting defeat.

"Fine. We can stay out long enough to get dry, and then we'll go back. Now put me down! On land, if you please!"

Alfred cheered and placed Arthur on the damp shore of the lake, not letting him go until Arthur allowed him a quick kiss. Arthur shoved Alfred off of him after that and only half-jokingly punched him in the arm before stomping over to the tree under which they had discarded their shoes and stockings, and Alfred his jacket. He sat down with a huff, back against the cool, rough bark, and crossed his arms.

"How long are you going to pretend to be mad at me?" Alfred wrung out the lower half of his sleeves as he approached.

"Who's pretending?"

"You are. Badly. You're already smiling!"

Arthur felt his lips twitch even farther up, and he tried to clamp down on his faux-anger, sending Alfred what he hoped was a convincing glare.

"If you keep making that face, it may get stuck that way." Alfred nudged at Arthur's left foot with his own, continuing until Arthur's legs were spread in a wide V. "I'd still like you, but Yao might find it upsetting."

Arthur had little choice but to laugh at that and stuck his tongue out, and Alfred did the same before turning around to seat himself between Arthur's legs, slouching with his back against Arthur's chest.

"Ugh! You're too heavy!" Arthur whined and prodded at Alfred's sides until he was twitching and twisting, but he didn't move from his spot.

"I am not!" he whined breathlessly and caught hold of Arthur's hands, pulling at them until Arthur had his arms wrapped low around Alfred's middle. Arthur was loathe to admit that it felt nice to have him close like this, to be the one doing the holding. He was heavy, but it was a pleasant weight, something solid and comforting that Arthur could get addicted to being under. That thought started innocently enough, but he considered it further and made himself a giddy kind of uncomfortable.

"No, you're not. You're just right." Arthur could have kicked himself for being sentimental, but it made Alfred sigh happily and relax against him. It was too warm to be sharing body heat, but Arthur imagined he could gladly be swallowed up in that as well. Contentment came easier now that he'd started putting the past as far behind him as he could. There had been a great sense of closure upon leaving his parents' home and returning to the palace; he could breathe and smile and look forward to Yao's lecturing and Alfred's kisses. He appreciated the life he had been assigned to much more than he had ever thought he would. If his twelve year old self could have seen him, Arthur was sure it would have been more than a shock.

"We're never going to get dry like this," he murmured into Alfred's ear, but laid his cheek against the top of his head because he didn't care.

"Good." Alfred's voice was thick and he yawned and he stroked absentmindedly up and down what he could reach of Arthur's legs. It tickled even through fabric, and Arthur felt a thin shiver dance up his spine.

"Don't fall asleep. We have to go back soon."

"Back, back, back. We always have to go back. Yao probably likes it when we're gone."

Arthur snorted and poked Alfred's belly lightly. "No, he'd probably like me to be crowned so he only had to run after you all day."

"Hmmm." Alfred jumped a little at the poke, then took one of Arthur's hands and laced their fingers together, examining the bumpy result. "Do you think you'll be ready in a year? To rule, I mean?"

"I don't know. That is, I think so, but I don't think I'll ever feel sure," Arthur admitted quietly and gave Alfred's hand a squeeze. "Why? Do you?"

Alfred didn't respond for a while, flexing his fingers between Arthur's, then disentangling them. He moved so he could turn his head and look up at Arthur. "I don't know either."

"Are you... are you worried about it?"

"Sometimes. Yes. I don't know. I don't think Yao would let me rule if I was going to be awful at it, but what if I turn out awful anyway?" Alfred was still looking up at him and Arthur was at a loss for words. It was so unusual for Alfred to profess doubt, especially self-doubt, that Arthur didn't know what he could do to make it better. He was terrible at being reassuring, uncomfortable with the sharing of emotion even if he trusted Alfred. And still Alfred was looking at him for that comfort, that openness that made Arthur want to shove him away and retreat. It wasn't fair. Alfred was asking for something Arthur didn't understand how to give, and Arthur was so afraid of trying and failing and they both knew it.

"You won't be awful. I promise." It was the best he could come up with, but it still made Alfred smile a tiny bit and crane for a kiss. That at least Arthur knew how to do, and he tried to convey how much he believed what he'd said through the tender movement of his mouth and the tightening of his arms around Alfred's middle. Alfred was too good to be awful at anything. He wanted to be good too badly to be awful, and Arthur both admired and was jealous of that. The best he could ever hope for was to not be hated, but Alfred aspired to be loved, and he would be.

Arthur felt Alfred's soft exhale against his cheek, and the parting of his lips as he inhaled, inviting Arthur in. He waited, though, letting Alfred decide to slide his tongue unhurriedly into Arthur's mouth. How Alfred managed to make the kiss unassuming Arthur didn't know, but there was an intolerable sweetness to the feeling of wet muscle moving gently against his own tongue and Arthur felt his belly tightening for want of more. Alfred pulled back and smiled, licking his bottom lip, and Arthur found himself mirroring the action just because it was so hypnotic and tantalizing. A small part of his brain was warning him that something was wrong if this was what they resorted to every time one of them was upset, but the heat in his cheeks burned away any thought that was not pleasure.

Alfred turned around so that he was on his knees between Arthur's legs and had to bend to kiss him again. Arthur didn't move for fear of doing something wrong, instead letting Alfred press closer and kiss deeper.

"You really think I'll be a good King?" Alfred half-mouthed against his ear, and Arthur sluggishly registered that it was question he should answer.

"Yes." The word was barely past his lips before Alfred was devouring it, swallowing it, and Arthur was pushed harder into the tree. He tried to keep his hands pressed to the root-riddled grass but the temptation to touch was too great and he gripped at Alfred's sides. It was appreciated, apparently, and Alfred gasped against his lower lip and chin, one of his hands moving to brace himself against the trunk of the tree by Arthur's head, and other pressing into Arthur's thigh. When he had regained control of himself, Alfred pulled away and made to take off his spectacles, but Arthur shook his head.

"Leave them on." Alfred, blessedly, did not argue. It was just that he looked too young without them, and Arthur already felt a twinge of guilt as he massaged the childish softness of Alfred's abdomen. Even through the heat and shiver of their actions, Arthur couldn't help but to remind himself that Alfred wouldn't even be fifteen until the next day. This could be considered wrong, premature at the very least, but then Alfred's mouth was against his neck, and he wondered when he had become so bold, young or not.

It was different, being kissed there- warmer and more sensitive than the lips, cheek or forehead. And it wasn't just the kiss itself, but Alfred's breath, the brush of his nose and hair, the contrasting metallic coolness of his spectacles; it all made Arthur tremble and groan, which only encouraged Alfred to torture him further.

A few more gentle kisses and nuzzles, and then Arthur felt the damp drag of Alfred's tongue over his pulse. Alfred blew on the wet skin and Arthur shuddered violently, head lolling forward to rest on Alfred's shoulder. It was a terrible angle for Alfred, but Arthur didn't care. One of Alfred's hands was on each of Arthur's thighs now, and the pressure was almost painful, so Arthur retaliated by finding skin beneath Alfred's untucked shirt and digging his fingertips in. Alfred responded with a his own groan, sounding so much deeper and richer because it was right in Arthur's ear, and then Arthur felt the nip of teeth against his neck. He gasped, and his nails raked down Alfred's sides, vaguely aware of how that made his muscles jerk and tense. Alfred bit him again, harder this time, and Arthur bit into his shoulder, mouth full of the fabric of his shirt.

Their breathing was rapid and uneven, Alfred's hot and dewy against Arthur's neck, and Arthur's smothered into Alfred's shoulder. Arthur stroked down Alfred's sides one last time before his hands gripped low on his hips, thumbs tracing the outline of bone and either side of the buttons to his trousers. Alfred didn't seem affected, so Arthur did it again, applying more pressure to the slight give of the slope just above his groin.

Alfred grabbed Arthur's wrists suddenly and didn't move for a moment. Arthur thought he might move his hands somewhere else, somewhere better, but all he did was shove them off and sit back on his heels awkwardly, an almost panicked expression on his face. It was rejection again, Arthur realized and he felt a surge of anger and shame rise from his belly and extinguish any of the pleasure he'd felt before. He pushed Alfred over unkindly and fumbled to put on his stockings and shoes, tripping away with them half on as Alfred scrambled to right himself.

"Arthur! Wait, I-"

"No! Don't, Alfred."

"I'm sorry!" Alfred was trying to dress himself to keep up with Arthur, but stumbled badly onto his hands and knees. "Shit!"

Arthur had his shoes on and was already walking away by the time Alfred caught up with him, jacket still in hand and shirt untucked.

"Arthur, it it's not that I don't want... please, Arthur don't be mad at me!"

He wasn't mad, not at Alfred, but he still balled his fists up as he whirled around. "I'm not mad! I'm just," he struggled for a word that could encompass the hurt and the guilt and the need and came up with nothing better than, "frustrated."

Alfred looked like he might cry, and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "So am I," he said, miserable and soft. He was pleading Arthur with his eyes to understand, but Arthur didn't have the capacity for anything other than his own upset.

"Then why do you always... never mind." It didn't matter why. Rejection was the same no matter the reason. "Let's just go back."

Alfred chewed his bottom lip, then opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately chose to nod and put on his jacket.

The walk back to the palace was long and silent. They parted ways as soon as they were indoors, not saying a word, not even looking at one another. For once Arthur was grateful that Anne was not in his quarters straightening things up or waiting for his orders. He wanted to be as alone as he felt.

Just when Arthur had thought he and Alfred were making progress, he had to do something stupid to remind them both that they had no idea how to maintain a functional romance.

"Oh, will this day never end?" Matthew called into the sky dramatically when he caught sight of Alfred walking between the rows of stalls to speak with him. He had a bruise under his eye, a split and swollen bottom lip and Alfred could see dingy bandages wrapped around two of the fingers on his right hand.

"What do you mean? What happened to you?" Alfred reached for Matthew's hand to inspect the damage, but he was brushed off and Matthew bent to gather a wooden bucket and a coil of rope.

"Arthur's already been down here this morning," Matthew explained, but ignored the second question. "Let's go somewhere else to talk." He didn't wait for Alfred's response nor for him to fall in stride with him, taking off for a storage room to deposit his items.

"Wait! Arthur's already been here? Did he tell you-"

"Yes. He told me, in his stupid roundabout way, but I got enough to know you're both idiots." Alfred was taken aback by Matthew's demeanour. He'd never been particularly tender with Alfred, preferring to deal with him bluntly, but he'd never snapped so viciously either. By the time Matthew had put away his bucket and rope and marched down the path to the hay barn, Alfred was trotting to keep up and running out of breath.

It as warm and dusty in the barn, a sweet, old smell filling the dry air. Matthew hoisted himself up onto one of the higher stacks of bales and didn't say anything while Alfred decided where he would sit. The fat, white cat was lounging belly-up on one of the lower stacks, so Alfred joined him and poked into the long fur with a soft straw of hay, smiling when the cat wiggled and purred. The cat's face was thinning and his dark ruff had streaks of silver in it; he was getting old, and Alfred felt a twinge of sadness knowing that he probably wouldn't be around in a few years' time. He'd grown up seeing the silly cats running around in the garden and occasionally sneaking into the palace and it was strange to think of a day when they wouldn't be there. It was ridiculous, but playing with the ageing cat made Alfred feel old as well, even if he was only fifteen.

"Did you come to play with the cat or did you want something else?" Matthew was rewrapping his fingers none too gently, and the harsh edge was still thick in his voice.

"No, well, uh... if Arthur already told you then-"

"You want to know what you should do." He stared down at Alfred, and Alfred had to look away for a few moments because he felt so uncomfortable.

"Yes. I do. I keep ruining everything but I don't know how to make myself-"

"Stop. Stop right there." Matthew licked his bottom lip and worried the cut while he ran both his hands through his hair. He let his hands fall to his thighs with a loud thud, then leaned forward. "You should not have to make yourself do anything. Stop worrying about what you should be doing and do what you feel like doing. Do you understand?"

Alfred scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "But there's a way all this is supposed to happen. There are normal things, I mean, things that normal couples do when they're courting, aren't there?"

"Maybe, but you and Arthur aren't normal. What do you want to do?"

He tickled the cat again to stall for time while he tried to think of a way to explain himself without being embarrassed by the conversation. Matthew had talked to him about sex before, of course, but none of it had been personal for Alfred. Talking about Arthur, and knowing that Arthur had talked about him, made the entire situation distressing. It seemed even the cat was against him, abandoning Alfred to tackle the orange flop-eared cat when he popped out from behind a bin. They tussled on the packed dirt floor for a while until the flop-eared cat bit his playmate's scruff and they settled to grooming themselves. Alfred looked at his hands for a little while longer, and mercifully Matthew did not press him to answer.

"I want the same things Arthur does," he said, finally. He meant it honestly, even if it made his face heat up and he worried that Matthew would judge him.

"But?"

"But I don't know."

Matthew sighed loudly through his nose and jumped from his perch. He sat down next to Alfred, and out of the corner of his eye, Alfred saw him move as if to put his arm around him, and then think better of it and fold his hands in his lap. "What scares you?"

"I am not scared!" Alfred protested, but Matthew's level look wore him down. "I just don't want to do anything wrong or make mistakes or be terrible at it, all right?"

"Do you really think Arthur would love you any less if you did make a mistake?"

That question made Alfred's stomach do a painful flip. "Does he, though? He never... did he say that to you?"

Matthew shook his head and gave Alfred a pitying smile. "You know Arthur. He'd deny the sky was blue if it somehow saved him embarrassment. He's not as quick to throw his words around as you are. He's cautious, but he's not playing you false, Alfred, I promise."

"I know. It just-"

"Hurts?"

"Sometimes." Alfred drew one of knees up onto the hay bale and rested his chin on it, trying not to pout. It did hurt him that Arthur had a hard time expressing how he felt. Alfred had a hard time with that too, but he was younger and felt like he had an excuse. The difference was he still tried. He didn't feel unloved, or unwanted. In all truthfulness, he'd never felt more loved or more worthy than when Arthur was holding and kissing him, but that feeling was so strong that he had to pull away. Matthew was right; he was terrified. "I know that's just how he is, though. It will get better, won't it?"

"Only if you talk about it." Matthew flexed and fisted his hurt hand repeatedly as he spoke. "You can't expect him to know how you feel anymore than you can know what's going on in his head. Neither of you are mind-readers."

"But we're both idiots." Alfred smiled a little. "So, I'm an idiot for being afraid of what I want, and Arthur's an idiot because...?"

"I'll let him tell you himself. It's not my place to fight your battles for you. I have my own to take care of." His voice trailed off on the last sentence, low and half to himself. Alfred grabbed his wrist, not letting him pull away until he had turned his hand over several times. In addition to the wrapped fingers, there was an ugly swelling across his knuckles, and a cut on his ring finger that looked suspiciously like the indent of a tooth. He'd thrown a punch, a bad one by the looks of it, and then been repaid in kind.

"What happened to you?"

Matthew pulled his hand away gruffly and worried the cut on his lip again. "Nothing. Just a little scrap, that's all."

"That's not like you, though!" Alfred only knew his half-brother to be gentle and friendly and hardworking, not one to get into fights.

"I didn't start it!" He thumbed away a bit of blood he'd accidentally drew on his lip. "I didn't finish it either. I... no, it's nothing don't worry about it."

"If you don't tell me, I'll tell Yao and he'll question everyone and then you'll both get in trouble for fighting."

"You'd rat me out?" Matthew didn't sound offended, just surprised and amused.

Alfred shrugged. "If it meant the other person got punished, too."

Matthew laughed and shook his head. "Very logical of you. I suppose that's about as much brotherly affection as I can expect, all things considered."

"I mean it, though. If you tell me what happened, I can see that someone's punished. You are my brother, Matt." Alfred shifted so he could sit facing Matthew, and put a hand on his shoulder. "You've always helped me, even though you have no reason to, so if there's something I can do for you, tell me. Please."

"You can't do anything. You're not the King yet," Matthew said, and shrugged the hand away.

"But I will be in a year!"

"So you'll wait a year to punish someone for bruising me a little? It's a split lip and some some sore fingers, Alfred, not a mortal wound." He sounded cross again, but Alfred couldn't stop himself from pressing the issue.

"At least tell me what happened! You don't have to tell me names, but if it's something I can stop from happening again I will!"

"Can you stop people from talking? No. It was stupid, all right? One of the other boys was picking on me for something and it struck a nerve and I hit him and he hit back. He's got better aim than I do, that's for certain." Matthew flexed his hand again and shook the tension out.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing that bears repeating."

"But it upset you?"

"No, I hit him because I was happy about it."

Alfred pressed his lips together, and looked down at his lap. "Was it about your mother?"

Matthew was quiet for a while, then snorted and rolled his shoulders. "In a roundabout sort of way, I guess. But don't worry about it. I won't get picked on again, not with the threat of- well, I just don't think they'll do it again?"

"They? It was a group of them?"

"Let it go, Alfred. It's done. You didn't come down here to hear my problems. You wanted to talk about Arthur."

That made all of Alfred's nervousness return, and he crossed his arms over his middle. He glanced sideways at Matthew, who was rubbing his palms over his knees and watching the cats on the floor with a small smile on his face. The orange one was grooming the fat one, giving him nips and warning growls every time he attempted to wiggle away. Eventually the fat one gave up and rolled onto his back again, letting himself be licked chest to chin, swooshing his tail through the dirt and loose straw every now and then. Alfred almost envied the dumb animals; it would be nice to sleep and hunt all day, laying in the sun and chasing a playmate whenever things got too boring. Actually, it wasn't much different than what Alfred got to do as future King, and he felt guilt settle low in his stomach when he thought of how different Matthew's life was. He was sitting next to his brother, asking for his help, but he was so vastly privileged in comparison it seemed absurd that their needs shouldn't be reversed. But Matthew was right- Alfred wasn't King, and he couldn't help, not yet, and Alfred had questions he needed answered in the mean time.

"Does it hurt very much?" he asked quietly, and winced.

"What this?" Matthew held out his hand. "Not really. One of the kitchen girls gave me a crème that numbs everything, so it's not so bad."

Alfred fidgeted and cleared his throat. "No, not that. I meant... I meant making love." He dug his fingernails into his sides and hope his face wasn't too red, but like all the other questions he'd ever asked, Matthew took it in stride.

"It depends," he said bluntly, but spared Alfred the shame of eye contact. "When I was with Kath- I mean, when I was with the girl she did bleed a little. She said it hurt at first, but she didn't cry or anything."

"But that was with a girl. Arthur and I aren't girls, so..."

Again, Matthew didn't balk at the question, though it did take him a little longer to collect his thoughts."It's not so different. Well, it is, but... you do know how-?"

"Yes!" Alfred cut him off. He understood what could happen between two men. King Francis was equally kind about answering his questions, if not significantly more descriptive. It was bad enough on paper, so Alfred didn't need to hear it said out loud. He just need to be reassured that it wouldn't be excruciating or awful.

"It might. It shouldn't, if you're careful and do everything slowly." Matthew shook his head rapidly and rubbed his eyes. "I mean, I don't know anything about it first hand. That's just what I... hear."

"Oh. All right, then." Alfred wasn't sure what else to say, so he waited for any further advice.

"But, Alfred- and don't take this the wrong way- you shouldn't do anything that you can't even discuss without getting embarrassed. You have to talk about it first, and if you can't do that, then you aren't ready. I wasn't much older than you when I did any of this, and I know I wasn't ready at all."

"You weren't?" It was a relief to hear that Matthew had made mistakes and had doubts.

"No, not in hindsight. So don't do anything you feel unsure about, but if you do want something, there are other ways you can share that, other things you can do. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes." Alfred hunched his shoulders up. He knew what other things Matthew was talking about, and while those didn't seem quite as scary, they still made his face feel hot. "I won't do anything without thinking it through or talking to Arthur about it first."

"Just do what your gut tells you. Don't overcomplicate things. If it's right, it will work out." Matthew clapped him awkwardly on the back and was about to pull away, but Alfred hugged him about the neck. It took a few moments for Matthew to stiltedly return the embrace.

"Thank you. I don't know what I would do with out you."

"A lot of stupid things, I suppose. Both of you." Matthew pulled away and shoved Alfred teasingly. "Now get out of here. I have work to do."

Alfred jumped from his seat with a grin, upsetting the cats with the sudden movement, feeling more confident about the situation with Arthur, even if he wasn't completely sure what to do next. He dusted the back of his trouser off and made to leave, waving over his shoulder to Matthew as he did so.

"Oh! And one more thing, Alfred," Matthew called when he was in the doorway of the barn.

"Hmm?"

"Happy birthday."

Arthur hid out in the library all afternoon. He felt cowardly, but he needed time to gather his thoughts after the scolding Matthew had given him. Matthew was right, of course; Arthur was being selfish and impulsive. Whether he realised he was doing it or not, he was pressuring Alfred and being uncommunicative and that would only lead to more trouble. Arthur curled himself into one of the window seats and replayed Matthew's lecture in his head.

He'd been injured, but he wouldn't tell Arthur what had happened. It stung, to not be trusted enough to be let in on Matthew's private hurts. He was probably trying to teach Arthur a lesson, showing him that choosing to be walled off to the people who cared was a mistake. It was rejection all over again, and Arthur was getting sick of it. He owned up to the fact that he needed to be respectful of Alfred's boundaries, but he wasn't too fond of his best friend keeping secrets from him.

When he finally felt he could put it off no longer, Arthur went down to his room to change for supper. He half-expected Alfred to be sitting on his bed, either furious or contrite, but there was nothing but a long box wrapped in ribbon on Arthur's desk. It was Alfred's present; Anne must have wrapped it while Arthur was wallowing, and that made Arthur feel even guiltier for his behaviour. He just couldn't manage to please anyone he came in contact with. All he needed was for Yao to be mad at him and he'd have disappointed everyone he knew in the palace.

Yao didn't seem to care much about him either way when he arrived at the private dining room and took his place at the table. Alfred was already seated as well, but he looked up at Arthur and smiled. It wasn't forced or worried, so Arthur allowed himself a small smile in return and murmured "happy birthday". It was a quiet meal, but not the uncomfortable affair Arthur had been convinced it would be. Yao proposed a brief toast to Alfred's health and well-being in the year before his coronation, allowing Alfred to partake in some wine, and then no one really had the desire to talk as the food was brought out. Arthur's mouth watered from the smell of hot bread, and veal with summer vegetables drenched in butter and rosemary. Unthinkingly, Arthur spooned the tomatoes off of his plate and onto Alfred's, not realising how odd and intimate it looked until he felt Yao's gaze boring into him. He felt his cheeks flush, but if Yao thought it anything other than intriguing he didn't say anything, instead arching his eyebrows briefly before draining the remaining wine in his cup. Alfred hardly noticed the exchange, too focused on eating to see beyond the edges of his plate.

After supper, they were treated to fluffy slices of sponge cake covered in strawberries and drizzled with melted chocolate. Arthur ate only a few bites before he felt full from the richness, but neither Alfred or Yao seemed to have any issues indulging. Yao popped one last strawberry slice into his mouth and savoured the sweetness before he gestured for a servant to hand him a black velvet box the size of a modest book. He laid it gingerly next to Alfred and opened it.

"This was your father's," he said quietly as Alfred lifted out a large silver pocket watch in the shape of a spade. "I was going to wait until your coronation to give it to you, but I thought it might serve better as an inspiration throughout this year. I know you were not always fond of your father's- shall we say- policies, but it is still the mark of a King, and you should have it."

Alfred turned it over in his hands a few times, brushing the intricate scrollwork designs engraved into the silver, and running the chain through his fingers. Arthur could hear the steady pulse and tick of the watch, see the jumping black hands march along the delicately painted number on the face.

"Thank you, Yao. This... this does mean quite a bit to me, and I hope I'm worthy enough to wear it."

That surprised Arthur. He'd expected Alfred to set it back in the box and hide it away somewhere, put off by the fact that the watch had belonged to the very man whose messy relationships had cost Alfred any semblance of normalcy growing up. Alfred had outwardly declared that he wished to be the opposite of his father in many aspects of his life and reign, but he placed it tenderly back in the box with a melancholy grin, admiring the face one last time before he shut it away.

"I'm sure you will be," Yao said, and bowed his head slightly.

"I'm sure you'll hold me to it," Alfred retorted with a laugh.

Arthur cleared his throat, and laid his hands flat on the table. "Alfred? I also have a gift for you. It's not nearly as grand as what Yao has done, but if you'd care to see it?"

Alfred smiled radiantly. "Of course I would!"

"We'll need to set it up in your room," Arthur said sheepishly, hoping that Alfred wouldn't jump to conclusions about what that implicated. He only smiled again and leapt up with an "all right!"

After they were both excused, Arthur retrieved the box from his room and brought it to Alfred's. They rarely spent time in his room, but Arthur had no idea why. It was larger even than Arthur's, with tall windows that opened out over the gardens, overstuffed furniture and a formidable looking writing desk. There was still a trunk in the corner, the one that Arthur knew held some of Alfred's old toys and childhood possessions, and it made him smile to think that the little toy soldiers and painted horses were kept safe even though they were out of sight, replaced by books and maps.

Alfred sat waiting on his bed and that made Arthur nervous. He knew nothing was meant by it, but it was a reminder that they'd have to have an uncomfortable conversation soon.

"I'm sorry for being such a prat earlier. And for not seeing you until supper. And for not wishing you a proper happy birthday. So... happy birthday." Arthur rushed through his apology and contritely held out the box, fumbling because of the weight as he handed it off. Alfred set it on the bed and stood, throwing his arms around Arthur's neck.

"I'm sorry, too! I talked to Matt and he said you did, too, and that we're both being ridiculous and I'm sorry that I made you feel badly about it all. I promise it's not going to be like before."

Arthur placed his hands on Alfred's waist, but shook his head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong! I'm the one that needs to-" He was cut off by a kiss and then Alfred pulled away, smiling and running his fingertips through the hair at the nape of Arthur's neck.

"Let's not argue about this right now. I-"

"I'm not arguing! But we have to-"

"Arthur, it's fine! Now, I want to open my present!" Alfred kissed Arthur's cheek and sat back down on his bed, leaving Arthur feeling uneasy. Maybe it was that simple: they'd both apologized and said they'd work on it and now they could move on. It didn't feel right, though. It didn't feel as if they'd actually talked about anything.

"Whoa! Arthur, this is amazing! Thank you!" He'd opened the box and pushed away the tissue paper inside to reveal the reflective brass of a telescope. Alfred stroked the barrel reverently.

"I can't take credit for the idea. Yao thought you might like it, given your interests." Arthur shrugged and looked at his feet. "I know it's nothing compared to everything you've given me, but..."

"No! It's perfect!" Alfred pulled out a scroll of paper wrapped in more ribbon. "What's this?"

"It's a star chart. So you can tell what you're looking at. There's a stand for the telescope in there as well. If you don't like it, you don't have to pretend-"

"Arthur!" Alfred half-laughed, half-shouted. "Stop worrying. I love it!" He took the box and scroll over to his desk, unrolling the chart delicately and weighing down the corners with inkwells and pens. "This is incredible." He traced a constellation with his pointer finger, bending to read the label beneath it, and mouthing the name to himself. He looked back to Arthur, a childish grin lighting up his eyes in a way that made Arthur's heart sing. "I can't wait to use this! Honestly, it's incredible."

"All right, all right." Arthur shuffled his feet and crossed his arms, but smiled down at the floor. "You don't have keep trying to convince me. I'm... I'm very pleased you like it." He bit his lip and looked Alfred in the eye. He was getting flustered, but if he was going to be more honest about how he felt, he may as well start now. "I didn't really know what to get you, I... well, I'd do anything for you, if it would make you, er, happy." It was difficult to maintain eye-contact when he felt like covering his face to hide his fierce blush, but it was worth it to see the expression on Alfred's face. He was surprised, but happy, happier than Arthur had ever seen him, and it seemed silly that all it had taken was saying something that Arthur thought Alfred already knew.

Alfred was trying to clamp down on his excitement, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and chewing on his lip through his smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but smiled again instead and rubbed the back of his neck. Slowly, he rolled the star chart back up and tied it closed, placing it inside the box with the telescope, folding the tissue paper down and putting the lid on top.

He looked back at Arthur and approached him cautiously, eyes flicking up and down as if he expected Arthur to bolt at any second. It took some gentle prying for Arthur to unfold his arms and take Alfred's hand, but the blood was still rushing in his ears.

"Well, um, you know I feel the same way and if that's the case then can I ask you for something?"

Arthur shivered as Alfred began stroking up and down his wrist, and he hoped he couldn't feel how frantic his pulse had become. He had to swallow several times before he felt like he could speak without his voice cracking, and even then he could only manage two syllables.

"Of course."

Then could you..." Alfred looked equally unsure now, but squared his shoulders. "... could you maybe stay? I mean, stay here with me tonight?"

"We'll get caught." That was the only response Arthur could manage in his nervousness.

"We won't. And if we are, we'll say it was accident. You fell asleep and I let you stay. That used to happen all the time, remember?"

"This won't be the same, Alfred. You know it won't." Arthur could feel disaster looming over them, but it was hard to outright refuse when Alfred was being the instigator for once.

"Good. I don't want it to be the same."

And then Alfred was kissing him and he hadn't been at all prepared, too much sensation and not enough oxygen or reason to make him stand firm in his refusal. Alfred's arms were around his neck again and Arthur was kissing back and that was the end of it.

"So will you stay? Please?"

"Put out the lamps first."

Alfred felt like he was falling even though he was firmly pinned to his bed. It was intoxicating and terrifying to be kissed like this, held close, held down and with barely any space for breath or thought. They'd opened the windows because it was so warm, but it hadn't relieved the heaviness of the air at all. Now it was worse because Alfred could smell the sickly sweet blooms of the vine on the trellis outside his window, viscous and pervasive, and it made him even more light-headed and nauseous than he was from nerves.

They'd both lost their jackets and waistcoats at some point, and Arthur was missing both his stockings. Alfred had only managed to peel one off before he found himself occupied with better things, namely stroking the back of Arthur's bare knee beneath his breeches and remembering to breathe as Arthur hovered above him on all fours.

Arthur stopped kissing him and got upright enough to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Everything was dark and fuzzy, since there was hardly a moon and Alfred had taken off his spectacles when they'd proved to be an obstacle to their fumbling. He couldn't see Arthur's eyes and that bothered him, but he still so desperately wanted the feeling and closeness of it all. It was just as frightening as he'd imagine it would be, but it was vastly more wonderful, and he tugged at the bottom of Arthur's shirt until he bent back down to steal his breath away. They bumped noses painfully, and that set Alfred to giggling. Arthur took it in stride and mouthed across his cheek and down his neck. Alfred shivered and gasped and clung to Arthur's shoulders. He could feel heat spreading from the tips of his ears down to his chest, but a more concerning warmth was growing in his lower belly and groin. Alfred almost had the good sense to be embarrassed until he remembered that it was to be expected in a situation like this, and it was what he had wanted after all.

"What do want me to do?" Arthur breathed wetly, in his ear. His voice was thick and scratchy sounding, and the question wasn't so much sensual as it was genuinely curious.

"I don't know. I don't know." He knew all the things they could do, but couldn't catch a solid thought of what he wanted. He simply wanted more. "I don't know. Just this. I don't know." The words came out half-mouthed and silent, but Arthur seemed to understand.

After a few more moments of frantically holding on to Arthur's shirt, Alfred's hands found his way underneath the fabric and to the small of his back. Arthur jolted and hung his head, making a sound low in his throat. Alfred ran his fingers above the waistband of Arthur's breeches just to watch his reaction, gratified when Arthur's arms shook and he nearly collapsed against him, unable to support himself any longer. There was more graceless fumbling and rearranging until they found a borderline comfortable position on their sides, foreheads bumping and legs tangling in their frenzy to stay close.

The desperate sensation grew rapidly as they inexpertly jostled against one another, and Alfred almost laughed in thinking how silly they must have looked. But he hardly cared when he felt Arthur's palm pressed flat against his stomach beneath his shirt. There was no denying now that he was hard, but if Arthur noticed, he was choosing not to do anything about it. Alfred couldn't help but to rock his hips forward, and Arthur faltered and nipped at his bottom lip in retaliation. The hand between them might have been to tease, a promise of contact where Alfred needed it most, or it could have been a barrier, but Alfred was inclined to think it was the former as the heat of Arthur's hand slipped lower and lower. He stopped right above the opening of Alfred's trousers, the heel of his hand digging in slightly against the soft flesh there.

Alfred groaned loudly and tried to grind against that hand, but had no purchase. The angle was wrong, the position too high, and Alfred was too bashful to simply grab Arthur's hand and move it where he wanted it. He couldn't tell if Arthur was hard yet, and he didn't know how to escalate the situation, or if he even wanted to. Alfred's fidgeting turned into blatant rutting, and Arthur seemed to allow it, pressure building and temperature soaring as Alfred lost track of how long they'd been at it. It could have been moments, or it could have been forever.

All he knew was that suddenly Arthur's hand slipped, or he'd move it on purpose, and it cupped between Alfred's legs. It was too much, too close, and he was too hard and young and frustrated. There was the brief satisfaction of moving against Arthur's hand, and then a horrific flash of pleasure. Alfred's gasp turned into a mangled shout as he realised what was happening, but he could do nothing to stop it. He shivered violently, then lay still, an unpleasant stickiness spreading across his groin.

Arthur froze as well, mouth still half on Alfred's. He inhaled raggedly and pulled away, bracing himself on an elbow. He looked down at Alfred with a concerned and panicked expression, and Alfred could already tell that everything was ruined.

"Did you just...?"

His face felt so hot that he was disappointed he didn't melt away into nothingness, a much better alternative than facing the humiliation of having finished with barely a touch.

"I'm sorry, I-" He could barely speak, voice high and tight. Tears started to blur his vision further and he pushed Arthur away and scrambled off of the bed, barrelling into his bathing room.

Utterly mortified, he avoided his reflection in the mirror and poured some water in the basin, spilling some in his frantic attempt to clean himself off.

"It wasn't... I didn't want... I'm sorry! I couldn't-" Alfred wasn't able to form a thought, feeling the need to apologise and hide and cry and yell all at the same time. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be romantic and passionate and controlled. Alfred wasn't supposed to ruin everything by being too eager and showing just how inexperienced he was.

By the time Alfred returned to his bedroom, Arthur was gone.

A/N: I apologize for the long hiatus. This story is getting near the home-stretch, so I hope there's still an interest.

Please read my profile for information regarding changes I will be making due to the recent story deletions on this site. It will affect updates to all of my stories.