Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Arthur would always prefer the summer season, if only because of his fascination with the shade of blue the sky held throughout the day: a light, calm cerulean, cheerful almost, accented with the pale white of the clouds rolling lazily across it and the bright canary yellow of the sun situated high and making a graceful arc through it. He preferred it because the ocean would reflect it at him as he sailed, surrounding him with a serene sense of peace and tranquility, the warm breeze caressing his face, soft as a lover's touch and just as intimate.

The cooling temperature of the autumn season brought with it a deeper blue, a richer azure that felt content yet serious as it observed the world and turned his beloved ocean dark, unsettled the water and brought with it jumping waves that would batter at his ship, tossing him and his crew about as they searched the seas for a greater purpose.

Autumn was not Arthur's preferred season, but he could not deny his draw to the hue of the darkening sky nonetheless, staring out across the horizon from the balcony of his quarters as the chilling wind of the season nipped at his cheeks, rosy from each brush of air against his skin.

"You're gonna catch a cold standing out here, ya know."

Arthur blinked and turned, placing his gloved hands on the marbled stone of the balustrade as he smiled at the approaching blond, sun-golden hair with the strange cowlick stirring in the languid breeze. He leant back into the warmth of Alfred as arms encircled him, gazing up into his favorite pools of blue, shining contently as they gazed back at him, crinkled in happiness from the wide smile on the lad's lips. Pushing up on his toes, Arthur caught those lips in a chaste, sweet kiss before pulling back with a light chuckle.

"You forget who I am, love," he remarked, turning back to stare out at the sky, the sun falling slowly at the edge of his vision behind the trees at the borders of the Garden. "This is nothing compared to the howling winds during an arctic storm off the coast of Clubs." He turned his head up, looking at Alfred nearly upside down, smirking. "And my coat was not nearly so thick as this one."

Alfred just rolled his eyes, tightening his hold around Arthur and pressing a kiss to his temple. "Fair enough," he conceded, settling his chin on the former pirate's shoulder contently. "But it's gonna suck if you're sick at the wedding. That's in two weeks, by the way," he added cheekily, laughing and nuzzling into his Queen as Arthur elbowed him in his side.

As if Arthur could possibly forget his own wedding.

It had been a tedious two months since the day their Marks were discovered and both Alfred and Arthur were thrust into their roles as King and Queen of Spades, positions they'd found quite suited them despite their previous occupations of simple clockmaker and feared rogue. Yao had been a great form of support for them both, though especially for Arthur who still struggled with coming to terms that he was, well, grudgingly respected as a figure of authority instead of a hunted criminal; it was strange, honestly, that he could now technically take a stroll through the Kingdom— his Kingdom, at that— and not be chased or cornered, and instead those he passed would be expected to bow in his wake.

He couldn't say he disliked it, per se, but was still highly uncomfortable with the power he held over them. And that was just the power that came with the title— it didn't even include the innate power within him, the reason he was chosen as Queen. He still had yet to truly grasp that he had power— true, magical abilities that, according to the mild research he'd been able to do, had something to do with time if he was understanding it all correctly— and that it was something he'd eventually have to learn to use and control.

Controlling time— that was a daunting idea.

Thankfully, he'd been too distracted with the lessons he had to endure on being the Queen and the consequential responsibilities that came with the honor of being in charge of an entire kingdom of people to think on it too much, and therefore avoid yet another panic attack. It was mindless work, nothing more than reciting etiquette rules as he learnt them and committing them to memory, sitting in on Council meetings and giving his input and permission for one thing or another, looking over the laws submitted to them and approving or vetoing alongside his King based on the needs of the people.

When he found himself too caught up in his thoughts of Gilbert's parting words at odd times of the day and night, Arthur would throw himself into overseeing personally the plans for his and Alfred's impending wedding, taking place at the halfway mark of the autumn season when it was convenient for the appropriate guests to attend, namely the other Royal Families.

It was an odd sense of apprehension and anticipation that overcame him whenever he thought of meeting the other Royals, being introduced to them as their equal and knowing he would be interacting with them as much as was needed and expected of him and his King. Odd, because he wasn't sure just exactly what to expect once meeting them, seeing as how he'd committed treason against each and every one of the Kingdoms in his time on the oceans. The picture of his face had been on wanted signs for nearly as long as he'd been Captain Kirkland, and it was unsettling to wonder if any of the Royals actually felt personally offended by his actions.

These thoughts would unfailingly take him to his most favorite enemy, and he couldn't help but scoff and smirk at the thought of seeing Francis' face once again, this time in a position where the frog could do nothing against him if he didn't want to incur a declaration of war from Spades on Diamonds or the feared wrath of Captain Arthur Kirkland, especially now he was a Queen.

Arthur took great pleasure in those musings; pirate at heart, indeed.

Regardless of the feelings he harbored, he was quite content to watch as the servants worked to make the wedding perfect and to the standards of their monarchs. Alfred had immediately informed him that he did not care one bit about the details of the wedding and that he was simply happy with knowing it was Arthur he was marrying, and so had left everything up to his Queen's discretion. Arthur, after a short argument where he was reassured countless times that it was "totally cool that he got what he wanted", proceeded to take complete advantage of his power over the wedding details and had it tailored to exactly what he wanted.

To the majority's surprise, Arthur was not an overly extravagant Queen, as they usually were, and had simply asked that the throne room— where the wedding was to take place— be filled with Midnight Skies, a type of rose unique to the Spades Kingdom. Unlike normal roses, Midnight Skies were the color of their namesake, a deep nearly black indigo that shone with a deep royal blue sheen under the moonlight. Their aroma was a soothing, clean smell, like the air before it rained, and it reminded Arthur of his days out at sea when storms stirred the waters and cleansed his sword of the blood of whatever poor souls had the misfortune of finding themselves on the wrong end of the blade.

Arthur only wanted that same feeling of clean and pure at his wedding. He was no longer the ruthless pirate captain that stained his clothes crimson; he now wore the calm blue of Spades, and he wanted his life with Alfred, his King, to start as peaceful as it could before whatever danger the Joker had warned him of upset his life once again.

That was another thing that occupied his attention, though for a different reason entirely: his future with Alfred, and what was to follow their wedding. It was common knowledge, an expectation, that the night following the ceremony binding the King and Queen of a Kingdom together they would consummate that bond, sharing love and passion as they became one. Thoughts of that nature never failed to bring a flush of excitement and desire to Arthur's face, his heart speeding in his chest and warmth flooding his veins as he imagined Alfred above him, inside him, and finally a part of him like no one had ever been before.

Blinking again, Arthur inhaled deeply as he felt Alfred's arms slide from around his waist, his hands instead heading to rest on his hips as he stood pressed up against his Queen, sending sparks of tingling pleasure up Arthur's spine and burning heat down to other places. "You're thinking really hard there, Artie." His normally bright voice was low, concerned. "You alright?"

Arthur sighed as he leant his head back against his King's shoulder, still gazing out at the horizon as he willed his hot face to cool. The wind continued to nip at his nose as he breathed in the chilled air. "I'm fine, Alfred," he murmured, and he was; he was content standing with his King and future husband in two weeks' time. His lips quirked up at the corners, and he pressed back against Alfred with a deliberate grind of his hips, holding back the snicker wanting to escape at the sharp intake of breath in his ear. "I was simply thinking of our wedding."

Arthur shivered at the predatory growl against the back of his neck as Alfred gripped his hips tighter, and he let out a breathless chuckle when he started pressing hungry kiss to his throat and shoulders beneath his silk shirt. "Just the wedding?" His voice was husky, rough, and the Queen tilted his head to the side to allow Alfred more room.

Arthur moved one hand up, reaching behind himself to tangle it in his King's hair as his other twined his fingers with those on his hip, a smirk on his lips. "Well, more specifically after the wedding…"

The one thing Arthur disliked about this "dead period", so to speak, was that because he and Alfred were not married yet, they could not share quarters, as per tradition of the Kingdoms. Grudgingly, he understood the reasoning; the practice of keeping the King and Queen in separate rooms in adjacent wings of the palace was simply resultant of the rare times that the successors to the current monarchs were practically still children when Marked, and the less rare but still unusual times that the current monarchs were still alive and ruling when the successors were Marked. It simply made for uncomfortable situations between the successors, and it was easier to keep them apart until they were married and had consummated their bond.

It was also a precaution against those who attempted to fake the Marks and therefore protect the virtue of the true monarchs, as there had been instances where someone had come forward claiming to be in possession of a Mark, and it had been found falsified after the coronation, marriage, and consummation. The bond between and King and Queen was a very serious matter, and in those instances it was nearly impossible for the true monarchs to feel worthy of their positions and of each other, though no blame could be placed upon them. Arthur respected the decision, as he knew he would be mortified if he found Alfred was not truly his King, his mate, his bonded.

It did not mean that he had to particularly like the tradition, however, as he could feel it in his soul that he and the man pressed against him currently were truly bound together by a deeper power.

The fact that he was also currently feeling very turned on and wanton— and really, he was still a pirate at heart, dammit! He was not so used to keeping his urges to himself— were not helping matters one bloody bit.

Alfred just grinned against his skin, nipping it lightly and drawing out little whines from his Queen— that Arthur would deny making later— before placing one last tender kiss against Arthur's mouth and pulling back, smiling broadly with such innocence that the repentant renegade in Arthur cringed at the thought of staining that purity with his guilt and plaguing him with his demons.

Pushing the black thoughts from his mind, he returned the smile with a soft one of his own, still breathing heavily as he turned, reaching to cup his King's face and stealing another kiss. "Careful, love," he murmured against plump lips, feeling Alfred laugh against him. "I was known for breaking laws."

Alfred pressed their lips together again. "Is that a threat against your King, Artie?"

The Queen grinned devilishly, pulling back just far enough to gaze directly into the ocean blue eyes he fell in love with. "That's a promise, boy."

. . .

The Jack kept his narrowed, piercing gaze on Arthur in the mirror as servants slipped and pulled garments over his body, his arms held out as the tailors adjusted the cloth against him to fit as it should. It was unnerving to be observed to intensely, and the Queen scowled at him, unamused, in the reflective surface.

"I'm sure there's something for you to do that's more useful than staring at me, Yao." He quirked a large eyebrow at the Oriental man, watching a smile grace his features as he nodded in agreement.

"If there were," he said, eyes still on Arthur, "I would be attending to it, I assure you, your Highness. As it stands, however, the most I have to do right now is stand about and wait."

Arthur scoffed softly, rolling his eyes and looking away from the Jack to the servants bustling about him, watching intently as the white satin of his shirt was tightened to hug his limbs and frame like a glove, the matching white corduroy of his trousers in the final stages of hemming and the dark royal purple waistcoat being buttoned for him. "And you are doing a fine job of it, Yao, but honestly: is the staring necessary?"

The Jack's eyes twinkled at him. "Someone must keep an eye on you, Arthur."

"What exactly do you think I'd do if I weren't being watched?"

Yao simply gazed at him pointedly, his head quirked to the side, and Arthur had to fight the smile wanting to cross his lips. He knew the Jack knew exactly what he'd do if left to his own devices— Alfred was only on the other end of the palace, after all. It wasn't that long of a walk.

"Are you excited for today, your Highness?" Yao asked instead, his smile genuine and pleasant.

Shaking his head fondly at the oh-so-subtle subject change, Arthur turned his attention to his window, looking out into the Gardens. "I've been waiting for today for nearly two and a half months, Yao. I'm just glad it's here, finally." He didn't have to say in so many words that, yes, he was terribly excited for the day— Yao understood perfectly.

Arthur looked back to the mirror in time to see Yao nod and turn away to address a servant needing his assistance, and the former pirate returned his attention to the tailors and dressers, watching as a long white coat was brought towards him, and he took a moment to examine it as it was held before him. It was accented in Spades blue— the lining of the cuffs and lapels, and the design of Spades symbols along the bottom hem— made of a sturdy fabric, allowing fluid movement as it was slid onto his arms and over his shoulders, the collar large and high behind his head, fanned out and curled slightly around his face.

A bit extravagant, but traditional of the Queen of Spades. Arthur would deal.

He held his hands out as a pair of silk gloves of a deep charcoal were slid onto his long fingers, and Arthur was pleased that they were some color against the white; he was pale enough as it was, and he seemed almost ethereal when he looked himself over in the mirror. Dark brown boots that laced up to his knees were also presented to him, bringing warmth against the cool of the purple of his waistcoat and livening the monotone theme of the rest of the ensemble.

As soon as they had finished with his clothes, Arthur was allowed off the pedestal to sit before yet another servant as she combed through his hair, gently removing the slight tangles with slow strokes of the teethed instrument. With great care, she then lifted his crown from its place on the cushioned pillow where it was kept clean and unblemished, setting it delicately atop his head. On his request, she smiled as she brought out three Midnight Skies and threaded them through the silver, adding a bit of decoration to the glinting metal and securing a small half-veil beneath to hang down. Stepping back, she bowed as he rose from the chair and turned to face those attending him, giving them all a faint smile as they inclined their heads respectfully.

He was ready.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur straightened his back and turned to follow Yao out of his chambers, the servants scurrying about to put his rooms back in order as he swept out of the room behind the Jack, walking behind him and through the halls to stand at the top of the grand staircase across the throne room, watching from the behind the banister as the guests trickled in. He could hear the low murmurs of conversation, watching calmly as they filtered into the room below him, and he was amazed at the rush of color now flooding the Spades Palace.

While the cool blues and purples of the Kingdom remained in the décor, the halls were now also filled with people wearing the fiery reds of Hearts, their coats and dresses a deep and intense hue that reminded Arthur of blood. The Kingdom of Hearts was, ironically, the heart of medicine and healing, and the former pirate caught a fleeting glimpse of their travelling banners, the same deep red with the symbol of Hearts embossed in white against it: the Caduceus of Longevity. Hoyle's greatest physicians and doctors were more often than not trained at the renowned academies of medicine and biology, and it was a great honor to bear a degree from the prestigious institutions.

Arthur did not know much about the Royal Family of Hearts, besides the common gossip he would mindlessly listen to when his ship docked along the shores of the Kingdom and he was spending a night or two at an inn— the King was a young man of Spades originally, trained at the military academies and fairly high ranked from what Arthur had heard before discovering his Mark. The Queen was a quiet man of Oriental descent, a native of the Kingdom that had studied medicine until his Mark appeared. The Jack was from a long line of nobility, an old family who had held the position of advisors for centuries, and Arthur had no other knowledge of him than that.

Along with the reds, there was the calming nature tones of Clubs, the dark evergreen cloaks swishing about as the guests conversed on their way into the throne room. Their banner was billowing gently in a light breeze coming through the open doors of the palace, the Evergreen of Life stitched into the fabric.

He knew a bit more of the King of Clubs, though only from rumors spoken only in the silence of night behind closed doors. Supposedly, King Ivan was a fearsome man with a heart nearly as cold as the howling winds that battered the frozen tundra lands of the northernmost Kingdom. Arthur had never met his wrath personally but still chose to avoid the possibility by staying far from the icy waters. The Queen, he'd heard, was just as ironfisted as her King, head of their military which was unusual for a woman who was not a King.

Following his thoughts, Arthur suddenly glanced down over the crowd, searching for a certain head amongst the guests, his eyes drawn to the dark brunet hair with a high bouncing curl, the owner clad in a deep emerald coat and looking bored to death, and the Queen of Spades smirked. Arthur had made fun of his first mate often for his infatuation with the Jack of Clubs, a man by the name of Roderich Edelstein who came from a family of musical prodigies. He could only imagine how Roderich managed to advise his monarchs, and his heart went out to him as he looked upon the admittedly intimidating form of the King of Clubs, sitting pleasantly with a warm smile on his face as he conversed with one of his servants.

Shivering from a sudden chill, Arthur turned his attention back to the flow of guests, sneering when he caught sight of the gaudy orange of a Diamond noble.

Though it pained him, Arthur probably knew more of the tropical Kingdom's Royal Family than he would prefer. The Loom of Luxury seemed to mock him silently as he gazed up at the sunset colored banner, and he stuck his tongue out at it childishly as his thoughts turned to memories best left buried in his mind, at least as far as he was concerned. His past with the Diamondite King was full of arguments and irritation, if only because he couldn't stand the man's idiotic obsession with the idea of "love for all." Not that love was something to scoff at, oh no— Arthur was in love with the idea of love, but he was also realistic and knew that not everything was that simple. The blank faces of his many victims flashed through his mind, and a frown curled on his lips.

No. Love was not so simple for a pirate.

Brushing those thoughts aside, Arthur instead mused on the wellbeing of the lovely Queen of Diamonds, a young woman who was so sweet he was sure she deserved better than his most favorite enemy as her husband, though Arthur knew they did not share the same bond as that of the Spades' monarchs always did— it was a special bond, really, that only the King and Queen of Spades had, as he'd never heard of such devotion and love being shared between monarchs of the other Kingdoms.

The Jack was, curiously enough, the older brother of the Queen, a reserved man who would just as soon shoot someone than have to advise or even simply talk to anyone, and Arthur wondered how they managed from day to day, though however they did, it worked.

"Your Highness seems to be deep in thought." Arthur turned his attention to his Jack, pulling himself out of his musings. Yao watched him with curious eyes.

The Queen shrugged, gazing in at the people filling the throne room, all of them there for him and Alfred. "It's almost odd to see so much color," he finally spoke, making a sweep of the added decorations with his eyes. "I'd become used to nothing but blue and purple."

The Jack nodded in understanding. "It is a rare thing to see as much in one Kingdom at a time."

Arthur hummed in agreement, watching as the last of the guests made their way to the room, feeling his stomach clench as anticipation began settling within his chest. "It's time, isn't it?"

Yao smiled and Arthur took a deep, calming breath as he was urged by the servants attending him to stand at the foot of the staircase, the Jack standing next to him to guide him inside at the proper time.

A royal wedding was similar to a common one in that the Queen was led down the aisle and they and the King traded rings— typically already picked out; Arthur had wanted simple and so had settled with Alfred on plain titanium bands— and vows in front of a priest. The difference was that they would then be asked to recite the crowning Vows once again and presented, formally to the other rulers, as the true and official Royals of the Kingdom.

It seemed a bit tiresome, to Arthur, to have to basically be crowned once again just because the first time was not in front of the other Kings and Queens. He understood the protocol— really, it was to ensure the proper bodies witnessed what needed to be witnessed— but insisting that the crowning take place immediately after finding the successors and not waiting until the wedding in the first place was quite cumbersome and wholly pointless.

Not that Arthur's opinion actually mattered on this subject, so he simply held his tongue in front of the Council and vented about it to Alfred later when they spent time in the Gardens late in the evening.

The soft unintelligible conversation wafting from the open throne room doors silenced completely as a sudden long note sounded from one of the trumpeters Arthur knew were lined along the edges of the room, and he felt his heart speed in his chest as Yao turned to him with sparkling eyes, holding his hand out for the Queen to take. Arthur breathed deeply once more before stepping forward, allowing the Jack to take his arm and stand with him at the entrance to the grand room.

His eyes wandered over the heads of the guests, the room filled beyond even the crowning ceremony, and twice as stuffy. The Midnight Skies hung in beautiful waterfalls of deep, inky blue from the arching supports along the walls and ceiling, as well as from stands at each row of seats along the aisle. A deep purple length of carpet had been laid over the marbled floor tiles, soft under Arthur's boots as he and Yao began the slow trek to the raised platform at the front, his gaze sweeping over the smiling faces of the guests from the Kingdoms. He just managed to hide his sneer towards a certain Diamond King as his eyes travelled up to the front, catching the glinting crimson eyes of a figure standing in the shadows with a friendly smirk, and his breath caught in his throat as he smiled.

Alfred looked about as impatient as he felt, standing with his arms held behind his back as he grinned with love and happiness at his Queen. Arthur let his eyes run his King's figure: he was donned in a coat of deep sapphire, the Spade-shaped buttons glinting a bright silver and hung with delicate chains; his trousers were a dark charcoal, as were his shoes, and when he brought a hand out to wave as subtly as he could, the Queen could see his gloves were a pristine white. A large, thick, and quite regal looking cloak was resting on his broad shoulders, sweeping the ground behind him in a cascade of the same sapphire as his coat. His crown rested neatly in his golden hair, nearly blending with it save for the jewels Arthur could see shining under the sunlight pouring through the large windows behind the thrones.

Arthur's hand tightened its grip on Yao's arm as he forced himself to not simply rush forward and fling himself into his waiting King's arms, the sudden rush of desire and joy in his veins making it impossibly hard to focus on tradition and formal procedure when his love, his bonded was standing right bloody there looking devilishly handsome and fuck, he was seriously considering running anyone through that remained in his way with his sword, because all this waiting was idiotic and stupid and—

The feeling of calm and the sense of peace that came over him as he felt Alfred's hands cupping his flushed cheeks, caressing them softly with his thumbs, made him sigh contentedly as he vaguely registered Yao moving off to the side as they reached the front. Finally, he was standing with Alfred, able to stare into the vastness of blue in his irises as he heard the guests take their seats once again, completely ignoring the lot of them.

"Hey, Artie." His King's voice was just a whisper against his ear as his hands fell to slide into Arthur's, gripping them tightly with a loving, excited squeeze.

"Hello, love," he breathed back, and he felt the corners of his lips pull up as they turned to face the priest from before, his fatherly eyes gentle and his own smile warm.

"You two ready for this?" he whispered excitedly, chuckling softly under his breath as the monarchs nodded, before clearing his throat and raising his voice so that the room could hear.

"People of Hoyle, royal majesties of the Kingdoms, we are gathered here today to bear witness to and observe the crowning and union of the monarchs of the Kingdom of Spades, chosen according to Fate by the Marks placed upon them, a symbol of their power henceforth bestowed by the Divine.

"As tradition of the Four Kingdoms, will the monarchs please kneel?"

Arthur felt his hand squeezed once more as he and Alfred sank before the priest, heads bowed as the elderly man moved to stand before the King, his robes— simple black in color, accented in Spades' azure, as the deep blue was reserved for Alfred and white for Arthur— swishing gently about his ankles.

"Rise, sir, and repeat the Vows set forth by the Kings of our history."

Arthur smiled as he heard Alfred's strong voice once again reciting the Vows, promising to protect his people and perform his duty as King, sighing fondly when the young man knelt beside him again and brushed their fingers together. He stood as he was bid, reciting his own Vows before kneeling once again and awaiting the final step of the "official crowning" process.

Feeling a weight press to his shoulder briefly, Arthur glanced up under his lashes to the scepter in the priest's hand, gold and detailed finely, intricate symbols adorning its sides.

"The Vows have been spoken and tried as honest. Rise, Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland, monarchs of Spades."

Once again, Arthur felt his hand wrapped in the warmth of the man next to him as they stood straight and he felt a smile pulling once again at his lips as he was allowed to turn and face the shining ocean eyes of his King, his heart beating loudly against his ears, the rush of love and tender affection he felt for the man across him overwhelming him as Alfred smiled his soft smile, calm and setting his nerves at ease.

The priest allowed them a final moment before speaking again, "By custom of the Kingdom, will the bearers please step forward and present our monarchs with the rings they have chosen to represent their bond as King and Queen?"

Two young pages scurried up to the priest's sides, each holding a palm-sized, satin-lined pillow on which rested the bands, the metal clouded and engraved with small filigree, glinting under the beams of the noonday sun from the windows. Arthur reached for the one next to him as Alfred mimicked the action, and he turned to smile at his King as they gently held the rings in their hands.

"My King," the priest's voice filled the room again, and Alfred winked at Arthur, "if you would please place the ring on his finger?" As Alfred slid the band onto his hand, the metal cool against his warm skin, the priest recited the timeless promise of the Kings:

"Do you, Alfred Jones, King of Spades, take this man to be your wedded husband, bonded by the power of Fate and the Divine as your Queen and Consort, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in times of peace and prosperity, of war and struggle, to keep by your side and rule with as our true monarchs, for as long as you both shall live?"

Arthur felt the tears starting to trail down his cheeks as Alfred gazed at him steadily, intense and full of passion, desire, love— his voice rang in the former pirate's ears, seeming to caress against him as the promise was bound and sealed by two words that pierced Arthur's heart with the weight of their truth.

"I do."

It was a surreal moment, really, hearing those words. Arthur hadn't thought there was anyone who would ever see him as more than a scoundrel, and here was Alfred— young, sweet, perfect Alfred— promising to love him for the rest of his life, as if it were the easiest, most natural thing in the world. At that moment, Arthur could feel the power thrumming through the bond between them in a rush of exhilaration, filling his mind with a sense of completeness as the priest turned to him, instructing him to place the ring in his hand on Alfred's.

His hand was surprisingly steady for the mess of emotions he was inside as he slid the slim metal ring onto Alfred's calloused hand, worn from his years making clocks, sanding and smoothing and tinkering with the insides to make the most beautiful time keepers Arthur had ever seen. The pirate gazed up at his King, a light flush on his cheeks as he listened to the promise he was to make to Alfred, the promise of the Queens:

"Do you, Arthur Kirkland, Queen of Spades, take this man to be your wedded husband, bonded by the power of Fate and the Divine as your King, promised to him as his Consort, to have and to hold, in sick ness and in health, in times of peace and prosperity, of war and struggle, to stand by his side and rule by as our true monarchs, for as long as you both shall live?"

His answering "I do" was quiet, yet solid and firm, sure in his resolve in the promise, and Alfred's resulting smile melted Arthur, his knees going weak and his heart beating heavily.

He had not ever known this much love, so freely given by his King despite everything about himself being so undesirable, and it was far more than he could have ever hoped for.

The priest nodded, smiling out to the guests before turning back to the monarchs. "By the power of the Divine, and with the whole of Hoyle as represented by the Royal Families of the Four Kingdoms within, I now pronounce you King Alfred and Queen Arthur, bound by your destinies, rightful and true rulers of the Kingdom of Spades."

He paused, inclining his head in respect to his monarchs. "You may now seal the bond with a kiss."

Alfred's hands were immediately cupping his face, his breath ghosting against his cheeks as his thumbs traced feather-lightly against his Queen's chin, sweet caresses as Arthur looked up at him, his gloved hands resting on his King's chest.

"I love you, Arthur," he murmured, grinning as he leant forward, bringing their faces closer together.

"I love you too, Alfred." Arthur's reply was breathless, and his hands moved up to wind around Alfred's neck and pull him down the rest of the way, pressing their lips together harshly, hungrily, hearing in the back of his mind the applause of the guests as they came together.

The kiss was ravenous, months of pent up longing and repressed lust seeping into it as their mouths moved together, lips sliding against the other's as they finally, finally could let themselves be together, their power surging between them as the bond was acknowledged and tied.

Breaking away for much needed air, Arthur grinned up, his joy unbridled and mirrored in Alfred, his husband, and they turned to face the guests, hands clasped tightly, as they stood before them.

"People of Hoyle— lords, ladies, your royal Majesties—" The priest's voiced carried over the din, his smile wide as he gestured to the two monarchs in front of him with a low, sweeping bow. "— the King and Queen of Spades!"

. . .

It was amusing to Arthur that even Kings and Queens had a wedding reception, open to the public, their people free to flow in and out of the palace and its grounds at their pleasure, mingling with staff and guests from the other Kingdoms as if they were all the best of friends. Arthur observed it all from his place at Alfred's side, both of the new monarchs making their ways slowly through the crowd, smiling at the congratulatory exclamations and shaking hand after hand.

As soon as the reception had been deemed officially "in swing", Alfred and Arthur had been approached by Spades' closest allies, the Royal Family of Hearts. Arthur smiled politely as the tall blond King, his eyes a shocking ice blue, bowed formally before extending his hand to Alfred.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt," he introduced himself, his voice deep and resonating. "King of Hearts. My sincerest congratulations on your coronation and wedding." His mouth quirked ever so slightly. "May many years of happiness follow this day for both of you."

Alfred laughed, and Arthur continued grinning. "Thanks, man! It's nice to meet you."

Ludwig nodded in acknowledgement, gesturing to the smaller, dark-haired man at his side, clad in a light red robe with a darker crimson sash. "This my Queen, Kiku Honda."

Kiku bowed deeply, his dark eyes sparkling despite the lack of apparent expression on his face. "It is truly a pleasure." His voice was soft, calm, and Arthur liked him immediately. "We look forward to working for many more years alongside Spades as her ally."

"As do we," Arthur interjected, sliding his arm through Alfred's. "It was very nice to meet you."

Both of the Hearts monarchs inclined their heads. "It will be a pleasure to have you on our side, Captain," Ludwig mused, looking at Arthur. "I hear you're quite capable."

Arthur smirked. "Very."

With another quirk of his lips, Ludwig nodded. "Then we shall take our leave." He glanced over to the tables spread with food, delicacies from all the Kingdoms waiting to be tried. "I'm afraid I need to—" An annoyed eye roll overtook him, and Arthur shared a quirked eyebrow with Alfred. "I'm sorry, my Consort is, well. We'll be seeing you soon."

He bowed his head once more. "Your Majesties." Turning away, he strode off, Kiku shaking his head and trailing off, and Arthur didn't miss the fondly exasperated "Feliciano, put it down!" that was shouted across the room and the resulting yelp and jump of a young man next to the tables, who smiled brightly and threw himself at the approaching King of Hearts.

"It's weird that Spades is the only Kingdom where the Queen is also the Consort," Alfred piped up, wrapping an arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him close.

Arthur hummed in agreement, gazing out over the guests. "Indeed. Even more odd is that Consorts can be of different Kingdoms, don't you think?" His eyes had landed on Yao, speaking softly across the room to the tall form of the King of Clubs, the monarch cupping the Jack's face gently and smiling brightly.

"Yeah, that's like fraternizing with the enemy," Alfred muttered, glaring in the same direction. "I had the displeasure of meeting King Ivan, and let me tell you, the chills last into the next week after walking out." He shuddered involuntarily. "Though, I guess he's not all that bad," he added reluctantly. "I did walk out alive."

"That counts for something, I suppose," Arthur said lightly, grinning when Alfred nudged him in mock offense and turning to place a small kiss on his cheek. "Oh, come now. You're here with me, aren't you?"

Alfred just grinned back cheekily and stole another kiss, hugging his husband and Queen tightly for a moment before perking up. "Oh, hey! Mattie's here!"

Arthur quirked his brow again as he was suddenly being pulled across the room, letting his expression drop into a scowl as he saw the smirking face of the Diamond King watching him and his husband in amusement as they approached. "What? Alfred, who's 'Mattie'?"

"My brother!" Alfred replied happily, and he released Arthur to run and tackle the tall blond man standing next to Francis, who moved aside and towards Arthur to avoid the Spadian King coming his way. "Maaaaattie!"

Arthur watched as the young lad— startlingly identical to the King now hanging around his shoulders— smiled brightly, indigo eyes behind circular frames wide and wondrous as he caught Alfred in the hug.

"Al!"

Arthur crossed his arms, confused but warmed by the display of brotherly affection from his King and the Diamond valet. "They do look quite a bit alike, don't they?" he mused to the monarch next to him, turning to Francis.

The Diamond King smiled warmly at the display. "Indeed. He'd mentioned having a twin, but I hadn't realized they were identical."

"I didn't even know Alfred had a brother, much less a twin." Arthur huffed fondly. "I wish I'd been that close to my brothers."

Francis wisely chose to remain silent when Arthur realized what he'd said, looking away with a set line to his lips. He wasn't going to think about it, and he shook himself before turning back to the brothers. "Alfred," he called finally, gaining the attention of his husband's smiling face. "Are you going to introduce me or not?"

He smirked when Alfred dragged the young man over, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah! Artie, this is Mattie, my brother! Mattie, this is my Artie!"

The boy rolled his eyes, moving away from his brother to stand closer to Francis and bowing his head in Arthur's direction. "I'm Matthew, your Highness. Consort to the King of Diamonds. And I do apologize for the idiot you're stuck with." His smile was smug. "I'm afraid there weren't many brain cells left to spare for him."

Alfred, who'd come back to Arthur's side, pouted like a petulant child, and Arthur couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "Oh, I like you, dear," he chuckled. "Please, call me Arthur, though. All this 'your Highness' stuff is much too formal for family. And he's really no trouble," he added, feeling Alfred's arms around him once again. "I've put up with worse. Now you, on the other hand…" He trailed off, shooting a sneer to his best frenemy.

Matthew chuckled as Francis rolled his eyes, wrapping the young man in an arm and pulling him close. "You are simply jealous that I got the better-looking brother," he quipped, a smirk turning up his lips. "But no matter. I suppose we should introduce them to Lilli and Vash, oui?"

Queen Lilli was a sweetheart, and Arthur truly felt for her having to put up with the frog on a daily basis. She was content, however, and the Jack, Vash— intimidating bugger, but Arthur approved— kept everyone in line; Arthur supposed being able to threaten to shoot everyone was a fair enough deterrent for disputes, and he smiled wistfully as it reminded him of his days doing much the same as he sailed.

There was definitely something to be said about waving guns around, he had to admit.

The sun was beginning to set when Arthur was finally approached by the dark clad figure that had been hovering along the walls, observing from afar. He turned a small smirk to his first mate, receiving a large grin in return as Gilbert sauntered up, hands in his pockets.

"Congratulations, Art," he said, his eyes twinkling playfully. "I see you've gotten over your pining."

Arthur gave him an unimpressed look, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "More than can be said for you, Gilbert," he shot back, glancing pointedly across the room where the dark-headed Jack of Clubs was standing, looking offended by the atmosphere and like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

Gilbert's smile dropped and he looked away, pursing his lips. "We're not all so lucky, I guess." He turned back, holding his hand out to Alfred who shook it, watching the interaction between his husband and the strange man with mild unease.

"You know Artie?" he asked coolly, unsettled by the red of Gilbert's eyes and the paleness of his skin. "You a friend of his?"

Gilbert shrugged, his smirk returning. "First mate, yeah. Sailed with him for nearly six years and had his back the entire time."

Alfred's stance immediately relaxed, and his smile returned in full. "Ah, cool. I've heard stories about some of your 'adventures'."

Gilbert laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, those were great times," he agreed, before taking a deep breath and turning back to his captain, "but more are comin'." He stepped back, turning on his heel and walking away with the swagger of a carefree man, though Arthur could see the tense line of his shoulders.

"You better be prepared, Art," he called over his shoulder. "You and Al both, and the rest of the Royals. Don't know when, but it's coming."

"What's coming?" Arthur called back, suddenly on edge. "Gilbert, what's happening?"

Gilbert turned and shot him a look, more serious than he'd ever seen before. "You've got allies everywhere, Arthur, and those you think are your friends will be the downfall of Hoyle." His eyes shone dangerously, intently, and Arthur pressed himself into Alfred. "Feelings are dangerous things. Keep 'em in check."

Arthur watched as his first mate wandered off, taking a deep breath as Alfred turned him to face him.

"Artie, what was that?" he demanded, eyebrows creased in worry. "What was he talking about?"

"I don't know, Alfred," Arthur replied tiredly. "I'm new to this, and Jokers aren't here to make any sense."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Joker? He was a Joker?" He looked up where Gilbert had disappeared. "I knew I felt something about him, but I hadn't thought they actually existed."

"Neither had I." Arthur shook his head. "Before our coronation, he warned me that we needed to learn our powers, to control them, be able to use them efficiently because something is coming, Alfred. I don't know what, but it… It haunts me, Alfred. The powers of the Royals haven't been used since the creation of the Councils." The last part was bitten out, his tone sour on the last word, as if it were a disease.

"What powers?" Alfred was looking at him curiously.

Arthur shrugged, gazing up at him with a small quirk of his lips. "What's the symbol of Spades?" He repeated Gilbert's parting words to him from the coronation, reaching out to gently touch the Watch hanging from Alfred's coat.

Alfred followed his hand, coving it with his own, and remained silent for a breath. "Oh."

It was still between them for a moment before Alfred's arms wrapped around Arthur, pulling him close, lips pressing soft kisses into his hair as he held his husband tightly.

"We'll be okay, Artie," he soothed. "We'll figure it out, and we'll be okay." He pulled back, and Arthur felt strong hands once again on his face, tilting it up. Alfred's smile warmed him, setting him at ease. "We've got each other, and for now, that's all we need."

Arthur smiled against the lips that caught his in a kiss, letting it linger before pulling back. "I love you."

"Love you too, Artie." Alfred's arms fell to his hips, wrapping around him. "Always."

Arthur remained subdued in thought the rest of the evening, continuing to smile politely at his guests as they came and went around him, conversing quietly with the other monarchs before they took their leave, watching them interacting with each other easily and savoring the peace. He couldn't help but avert his gaze when he caught sight of the dark clothes of his first mate, the longing, desperate look of someone in love and unable to act on it on his features as he caressed gently down Roderich's face, the Jack's expression resigned but yearning.

The reception wound down as night fell, the sky turning inky and the stars twinkling in the dark expanse as the guests were finally ushered out of the palace, the servants beginning clean up as Alfred and Arthur headed to their shared room, finally able to be together alone without interruption.

The room was by far the grandest he'd been in, and Arthur took a moment to look around, Alfred by his side as they gazed in. On the far wall, a large, king-sized canopy bed dominated the center of the room, the curtains a deep sapphire and tied back against the mahogany posters with gold ribbon. The comforter was the same color, the sheets a lighter shade of Spades blue, several pillows piled up at the headboard. On either side of the bed were large windows, giving a lovely view to the Gardens outside.

Drawing his eyes away, Arthur took in the towering bookshelves on either side of the room, fireplaces between each, logs resting in each to prepare for the winter months ahead. To the right, a set of ornate doors led into the bathroom, where the Queen could see a large tub big enough for two. Across on the other side, a lounge area was set up, large plush chairs and two long chaises situated around low tables piled with books and candelabras.

A large fan hung from the center of the ceiling, chandeliers hanging on each side to light up the area with a low, warm glow, intimate and hazy.

Feeling his King's arms slide slowly around his hips, Arthur couldn't help the low breath that escaped him, nor the shudder of pleasure that ran up his spine as Alfred pressed himself against his Queen's back, massaging small circles into Arthur's skin through his clothes. Arthur could feel the heat rushing through him, flushing his cheeks as his husband began placing light kisses against his neck, nipping as he trailed from his chin to his collarbone, his hands tracing around the hem of the dark purple waistcoat his Queen wore.

"A-Alfred…" Arthur bit his lip, feeling his arousal beginning to stir in earnest as he was gathered in his King's arms, pulled tightly to his body. His breaths came in shorter and shorter gasps as Alfred's hands began undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, tenderly caressing his chest through his shirt.

"Mm." Alfred hummed against the skin of his neck, feeling his husband starting to melt at the ministrations and grind back against him. "I want you, Artie," he breathed huskily, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the snow white column of his Queen's throat. His hand found the hem of the shirt once more, pushing it up as he slid it up the smooth expanse of skin of Arthur's abdomen. "You have a promise to keep, you know?"

Arthur writhed against his husband, panting as the tingling sensations of pleasure shot over his nerves everywhere Alfred touched him, all of the lust and desire he felt for his King aching to burst from him, to pour out and mix with that he could feel from Alfred through their bond. He pressed himself more insistently against his husband, tilting his head to allow Alfred more room at his neck, reaching up to tangle his fingers in golden hair as something to hold on to, to anchor himself as he tried not to be swept away by the heat coursing through him, Alfred's voice in his ear making him shiver again.

"Then let me keep it, love," he managed to gasp, turning his lust-glazed eyes to the burning ocean blue of Alfred, their hot breaths mixing against his skin. "Take me, Alfred, and let me keep my promise."

With a hungry growl, Alfred had Arthur's mouth against his, his tongue licking out harshly, and Arthur was of no mind to resist as his lips were parted and invaded, his husband's arms around him and lifting him to carry him across the room, his coat falling to the floor on the way, followed by the waistcoat and shirt. He just registered the coolness of the comforter as his bare flesh hit the bed, his King ridding himself of his cloak and coat quickly before he was over Arthur again, mouthing against his throat and down his collarbone, leaving hot kisses everywhere he passed.

Arthur's fingers tangled into the blond hair, tugging as Alfred devoured him slowly, pressing up against the heat of his husband. His hands trailed down to the thin fabric of Alfred's shirt, over his shoulder blades and down his back as he mindlessly searched for the hem, pulling it up as his King's mouth found his once more. Alfred leant up just long enough to pull his shirt all the way off, Arthur watching with lidded eyes as the muscles rolled under the bronzed skin, his fingers immediately tracing over the sun-kissed chest as their mouths met once again, sloppy and wet and hot.

The sensations through the bond, the stirring power, was enough to make Arthur lightheaded and nearly delirious as he registered his boots and trousers being removed, his arousal hard and straining into the air as his husband paused to hover over him, their breathing heavy and harsh.

Alfred's eyes lingered over his husband, committing the sight of his Queen lying beneath him, lips swollen and red, hair mussed and alabaster skin flushed, arousal wet and dripping between lean legs spread for him— and only him— to memory, leaning back just long enough to kick off his own shoes and pants before settling his bared body against that of Arthur's, groaning as their erections rubbed together and reveling in the feeling of being pressed against his husband, his Queen, his bonded.

His Artie.

Arthur's arms came up around Alfred's neck, holding him close as he brought their lips back together, starved for the taste of his husband on his tongue, his fingers running through Alfred's hair as he rutted up against his King, moaning into his mouth and allowing Alfred to swallow all of the sounds, feeling his cock dripping with precome against his thighs. He shuddered when Alfred moved to place kisses and bites over his shoulders, down his chest, lips caressing his skin as his husband slowly moved lower, lingering just above the aching arousal between his legs.

Alfred looked up at his Queen, watching his chest, lined with faint scars, moving up and down rapidly with his panted gasps for air. His emerald eyes, ones Alfred had been captivated by at first sight, were hazed, unfocused, pupils dilated with want, and the King found it to be one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen. He smiled gently, leaning down to places tender kisses along milky white thighs, nuzzling against the soft, pale skin. "You're gorgeous, Artie," he breathed hotly, feeling his Queen shudder once again beneath him.

"Alfred—" His breath choked off as Alfred suddenly took him in his mouth, his chest arching off the bed as he gasped out, Alfred's tongue running up his cock slowly, curling around him and backing off and teasing along him, bringing him to the edge just to leave him and start it over again.

Oh, and was Alfred talented! Arthur bit his lip as he felt his husband's teeth teasing at his head, pulling on the foreskin gently only to release it and swipe his tongue over it, eliciting small whimpers from the former pirate as heat coiled in his gut at the ministrations, feeling his release approaching just to leave him again when Alfred slowed and pulled back. He writhed against the sheets, wanting so much to thrust up into the warm mouth and find his release, but Alfred held him down gently, his thumbs massaging Arthur's hips in a way that only intensified the sensation, hot sparks shooting through his veins with every caress and bob of Alfred's head.

Arthur was right on the cusp, the coil building to its peak, when Alfred released him, pulling back and staring down at him with dark eyes, breathing raggedly. The Queen could feel his husband's straining erection against his thigh as Alfred moved up to take his lips, and by then he was gone again, lost to the passion as his King teased his lip between his teeth, pulling gently before sliding his tongue against Arthur's and overcame him, his hands wandering over Arthur's form with soft touches, light as air on his skin.

"A-Alfred…" he gasped out, arching into the sweet touches against his sides, his mouth slipping from his husband's as he sucked in a needed breath, tilting his head with a groan as Alfred moved to suck on his throat.

"I love you, Artie." Alfred's voice hummed against the hollow at the base of his throat, causing another low moan as his King placed small kisses over the soft skin. He repeated the phrase between each press of lips, and Arthur felt his heart swell at the absolute adoration running through their bond, filling him with contentedness and peace and love— innocent, pure love.

Overwhelmed by the emotions filling him, Arthur acted on a surge of lust, the heat in him primal and all-consuming as he gripped the strong arms of his husband and pushed, using the surprise of the move to his advantage as he flipped them over, one long leg lifting to shift over Alfred's, seating himself on his King and pinning his hands above his head. Arthur smirked down at his husband's hungry eyes, seeing the smile on his lips, his teeth white against his tanned skin.

"You're such a tease, love," he purred, his voice husky as he leant over to nuzzle against Alfred's cheek. He pressed kisses to the underside of the strong jaw, inhaling the musky scent that wafted from Alfred's sweaty body and licking a line up from his chin to his ear. He exhaled hotly, and grinned at the shiver he felt roll through his King, the speeding of his breaths. He pulled back, looking into the ocean eyes dimmed in the night, the normally bright azure dark as the midnight sky.

"I did make you a promise, though," he continued, seeing Alfred's lips quirk up farther, and he winked. "And a captain always keeps his promises."

With that, Arthur captured Alfred's lips with his, this time allowing his tongue to push its way into his husband's accepting mouth and roam, tracing over each tooth, along the roof, over his cheeks, before tangling with Alfred's, sucking gently as his hands slid down Alfred's arms, mapping out the dips and curves of his muscles, memorizing the feel of him under his fingers as his husband's hands came to rest on his legs, gripping him tightly, and he knew there would be marks later.

He loved the way Alfred tensed beneath him, wriggling to find friction for his turgid cock, biting his lip to hold back small laughs when Arthur's fingers brushed a ticklish patch of skin and gasping against Arthur's mouth, his eyes rolling back, when he brushed against a sensitive area, where he would linger to savor the rush of white-hot pleasure through the bond, letting his own mix and enhance the experience.

He loved seeing his husband in such a mess, whining for him, begging for him to do something, for release of the building heat in his cock, right on the edge but never pushed over, the ocean of his eyes a raging storm the only Arthur could know.

Keeping his eyes on those of his King, Arthur brought a hand to his lips, licking along his first two fingers before slipping them fully into his mouth, letting his tongue wrap around them, coating them in his saliva as he watched Alfred watch him, mesmerized by his Queen's actions and wholly turned on. The former pirate could feel his King's cock perk up further against his thigh, rubbing against his own arousal, and he moaned against his fingers as he sucked on them, wetting them thoroughly before pulling them back out.

Leaning over his husband, Arthur smiled as he brought their lips together, reaching behind himself to tease around the tight ring of muscle, loosening it ever so slightly before inserting the entire finger, flinching into the kiss as Alfred licked into his mouth and massaged against his hips in a bid to distract from the uncomfortable sensation of initial penetration. He lazily swirled his finger around, loosening his hole further until he was relaxed enough for the second, still continuing to rub his hot, leaking cock against his King as their kiss became uncoordinated, slipping and coming back together, their breaths little more than short gasps for air.

His brow furrowed when he started scissoring, stretching the tight muscles out as best he could to accommodate for the impressive girth of his King, and he nearly pushed himself to orgasm at the thought of being filled so completely by Alfred. Finally pulling his fingers from himself, he looked down at his husband, trailing his fingers down the cleft of his chest.

"Do you want me, darling?" Arthur could feel his own arousal throbbing between his legs, rutting and rubbing it against that of his King's teasingly, hissing in a breath at the pleasure it caused. His hands found their way into Alfred's hair, tangling and pulling roughly as he brought their lips together, yet hovering apart, mere inches between them. "Do you want to be in me, filling me up to bursting? Claiming me as yours and only yours?" He brushed his lips across Alfred's chin, nipping where his neck met his jaw.

The sound Alfred made was a mix between a growl and a whine, and Arthur gasped when his husband bucked up under him. "Fuck, Artie! Who's the fucking tease now?"

Arthur yanked his hair, pulling his head back as Alfred hissed and glared up at him with a devilish smirk. The Queen licked his lips. "Answer me clearly, love. Do you want me?"

Alfred's eyes burned like blue fire as he gazed up at Arthur, and Arthur felt the bond flare with a desire and possessiveness laced with lust and adoration so intense it nearly knocked the breath out of him. "Always, Artie."

Shuddering under the intense gaze, Arthur leant down and slotted their lips together, letting the bond fill with his love and passion as he shifted above Alfred, moaning as he felt his husband's hard, wet length slide between his ass, prodding at him when his King rolled his hips up. He slowly allowed himself to sink down, breaking their kiss to gasp as the cock pushed into him, stretching him and filling him inch by slow inch. Arthur grit his teeth, his fingers splayed over Alfred's chest as he balanced himself, before a long, low sigh of pleasure escaped his parted lips when he seated himself fully onto his husband's lap.

It took all of Alfred's concentration to not move, his panting harsh as he threw his head back at the heat encasing his throbbing cock as his Queen sat above him; his hands gripped the pale skin of Arthur's hips, lightly massaging as he allowed his husband to adjust to the feel of being so full, and he could feel his length twitch in anticipation as the emerald gaze bore into him, Arthur's eyes lidded with bliss. He stared back, running a hand up his Queen's side to his neck, cupping his face gently before trailing it back down, repeating the motion to keep help distract him from the urge to roll his hips; it was becoming harder to concentrate on not thrusting up into Arthur, to not roll them over and just pound him into the mattress now.

Alfred was just about to start whining when he felt Arthur's thigh muscles tense, and he gasped as his husband slowly lifted himself up, hovering for a teasing moment before sinking back down, and Alfred could no longer hold himself back, moans falling from his lips as his Queen moved on him, clenching just right as he lifted before slamming back down. Alfred met him with equal thrusts as pleasure clouded his mind, his body working on its own to bring him to orgasm.

Arthur groaned with each thrust, bouncing with increasing speed even as his legs began to burn, angling himself just so as the cock sheathed within him brushed and prodded against his prostate. Tingles raced through his body and spasms twitched through his limbs as he rode his King, his head tossed back as Alfred's hands roamed over his body, touching and caressing as their hips met over and over. Carnal desire was flowing through their bond, making it hard to think, hard to breathe, consuming and commanding.

It was all too much and not enough as Arthur was pulled down and into a fierce kiss, his lips bitten and nipped and their tongues tangling wildly as the rest of their bodies continued to slide together, colliding over and over in a mess of heat. With the press of Alfred's hand against his chest, Arthur allowed his King to push him over and lay him out on the sweat-matted sheets. Their rhythm slowed only briefly as Alfred came to hover over him before he was being filled by hard thrusts. Arthur's legs slid over the back of his husband's, his hands gripping broad shoulders, nails dragging over tanned skin as he rolled his hips back into each snap of his King's hips, fast and hard and deep and so good, he could barely gasp in enough air as he was brought to the edge of ecstasy. They were close, Alfred's thrusts becoming erratic and less precise, and Arthur could feel the coil of heat within him tighten to a peak before it all crashed over him, washing him in warmth.

"Al—Alfred!" Arthur mewled out his husband's name, breaking their kiss to throw his head back against the pillows as Alfred buried himself so deep the Queen could feel his King in every fibre of his being, melded into his soul as he spilled himself in orgasm, every part of his body jerking and trembling against the intensity of pleasure rolling through him.

Alfred groaned, long and low, as his own release overcame him, the sensations he could feel from Arthur causing his eyes to roll back as euphoria washed over his mind, his nerves tingling as his seed shot deep into his Queen, his hips twitching with half-hearted, worn out jerks, milked of everything he had to offer when Arthur subconsciously clenched around him.

The feeling of wholeness, of completeness, settled in the bond between them, and Arthur knew that the sense of "being one" with his King, his bonded, was no exaggeration or symbolic figurative language— his heart and soul now belonged to Alfred, just as he could feel Alfred's heart in him, his husband's soul tied to his in a way that was simply indescribable with the mere words of man.

They panted heavily, gazing at one another as the bliss of orgasm faded, their breathing slowly returning to normal as Arthur stroked his husband's jaw tenderly, reverently, as Alfred slumped over on him, settling against him, nuzzling into the hollow at his throat. Post-coital fatigue was settling in, and Arthur was beyond content to wrap his arms around his King and simply hold him.

This was what he'd longed for, what he'd craved— a body pressed tightly to his, warmth shared between them as they lay tangled together under the black cobalt of the midnight sky— every night on the waves he'd sailed. It was hard to believe he was living it now, wrapped up in Alfred's arms, lazily running his fingers— long, nimble fingers; fingers that knew the feel of a sword gracefully arcing through the air, fingers that wouldn't hesitate on the trigger of his blunderbuss when facing an enemy, fingers that knew how hard it was to wash out crimson bloodstains from skin and fabric alike— through soft, sun-golden hair with a funny little cowlick and across sun-kissed skin that was smooth as satin under his fingertips.

Arthur could feel his heartbeat in his chest, beneath Alfred's ear as his husband laid atop him, smiling against his skin as he drifted off to sleep after placing one last, gentle kiss to Arthur's lips with a soft "I love you, Artie."

He felt it swell with trepidation for what was to come as the conversations with Gilbert flitted through his mind; with the fear that despite his intentions, he didn't deserve his position, his power, his life as it was now; but most of all, he felt it swell with affection— for his husband and for the love his husband held for him, unconditionally and freely, despite knowing who he was and what he'd done.

With a soft press of lips to his King's temple, inhaling the sweet scent in his hair, Arthur smiled faintly, his lips quirked sadly as he laid back and gazed unseeingly at the ceiling, absently stroking his husband's hair, massaging at the nape of his neck as his thoughts rolled through his mind. Arthur knew he didn't deserve any of Alfred, but he was too selfish to ever give him up now that he had him; Alfred was like treasure.

And he was still a pirate at heart, after all.