"D-dad, don't go," a young boy stood before his father, on his deathbed, tears too afraid to form. "Don't leave me! Mummy already left! Dad, please!"

The father, a young duke, slowly opened his eyes, glancing to his son, and then closed them again. With great effort, his lips formed words. "Son…. do not… worry. Alana will…. take care of …. you. I… love… you, son…" It was getting harder for the man to speak, and with those heart-felt words, the father passed on.

The boy could feel three cold stares from behind him. "It's about time," Aiden quipped. The boy used every power he had to not turn and sock his step-brother. Vorath snickered. That set the boy off.

"You insolent wanker! How dare you!" The boy screamed and punches Vorath, who started to cry, like the pussy he was.

A cold hand grabbed the boy's ear. "You good for nothing brat, you dare hurt my dear again I'll send you to the slaughter house as the meat!" Alana yelled in his ear. "Understand?" The boy nodded his head. "Good. Now stop fawning over that damned man and make me tea."

That was the moment the boy lost all hope for his happy life.

"Arthur! Get me my kilt," came a rude voice at the top of the stairs. "And make it quick! I've gotta go to woo the ladies!" A grumble was his reply.

Arthur Kirkland was currently making his step-mother and her sex-friend— the one she had even before his father died— tea. Sighing, he stepped away from the tea, running to get Aiden's skir— kilt. Oh, who was it kidding? That was definitely a man-skirt. "Well? Where is it," Aiden hollered down.

"Coming, coming," Arthur replied, in a bored tone, already half-way up the stairs with skirt in hand. He was about to knock on his step-brother's door, when it swung open, a seething Scot standing there. Arthur immediately held the skirt as a piece offering, which was grabbed from his hand.

"Better be quicker about it, bastard," Aiden threatened, and then slammed the door in his face. The Brit sighed. This'll be a long day, and it's only ten in morning.

"Arthur! Tea!" Alana barked.

"Yes ma'am!" Arthur replied running down the stairs and to the kitchen, hoping the tea wasn't ruined like most of his culinary … things… he'd made. Luckily, it wasn't. Or at least, it was savable. Arthur quickly took it off the open flame and got it ready to serve.

Walking towards the parlor, Arthur tried bracing himself for what was coming. The overly sprayed perfume, the desperation of love from his step-mother, the wrongness of it. But most of all, the man he knows would be standing there. He could not prepare himself enough.

Heaving a sigh, he walked into the parlor. Instantly he was greeted by a voice. "Ah~, mon cher, Arthur! Thank you for the tea!" Francis Bonnefoy pulled Arthur into a hug, his hands reaching down Arthur's back. "Why~, what a nice ass you have," Francis purred in his ear. In answer Arthur head-butted him.

He set the tea on the table, bowed to Alana without saying a word, and shot a glare at her perverted lover. As he left, he heard her tell Francis, "You have no need talking to that heathen, dear. You only need your eyes on me." Arthur booked it out of there, knowing he'd be hearing more of that if he stuck around, a thing he was pretty sure Francis wouldn't mind, in fact, Arthur thought that pervert would try to turn it into a threesome. He shuddered at the thought.

As if trying to push that picture out of his mind, the doorbell rang. As his duty as the self-proclaimed steward (mostly because he was just an "it" in the house) he answered the door. "Is this the Kirkland residence," a nasally voice said, upon the door opening, he saw that the person at the door was a mail carrier, and in his hand was a thick envelope. Arthur nodded, and the man continued on, his voice droning, as if he'd recited it a hundred times today. "The Kirkland family is cordially invited to Prince Alfred's seventeenth birthday ball. Everyone in the kingdom must attend, as the king plans to make anyone who the prince takes an interest in as his bride. Yay…." Arthur almost expected him to throw confetti when he relayed the "exciting" news. Instead the carrier handed him the envelope and left. He was pretty sure he'd gotten a summarized speech.

Closing the door, he turned the envelope in his hands, staring at it. He had to tell Alana, but not wanting to walk into that, he went to tell the boys upstairs. First, he knocked on Aiden's door, yelling, "A letter from the castle, come quick!" Then did that towards Vorath's door. After a minute or so, a groggy Vorath, came out, then an annoyed Aiden. The latter complaining about how he "needed more time to get ready for the ladies." Arthur almost laughed aloud at the sight of the Scot, wearing the skirt and a matching purse.

"Just what do you want," Vorath complained. He glared over at the Brit. "It better be good or I'll personally knock the fairies and unicorns from your head."

"They haven't shown up once today!" Arthur said hotly. That statement actually made him feel sad; Eva and other fey, Marvin the uni, and Flying Mint Bunny were his only friends. "And, anyways, we got a letter from the royal family inviting everyone in the kingdom to the prince's birthday ball. Anyone who gets the prince's attention—whether it be man or woman—will become his bride. The ball is tomorrow." Arthur waited for a reply, but got none.

After a minute, Aiden grumbled, "Why the hell would me and Vor want to marry a man? We're not a queer like you." Even if Arthur would like to say the insults didn't hurt, it still stung. He had actually let that piece of information slip a few months ago when Alana had tried marry him off to a whore and the backlash to that still stands. "Go tell mother, she'd care more."

Arthur cleared his throat "Um… she's busy…" His step-brothers looked at him as if to say "So?" "Um… she's busy… with Mr. Bonnefoy…" The next look he got was one of idiocy, like they hadn't understood what he was trying to get across. "Um…. There doing that…" At another one of those looks, he blushed and got around the bush. "It. There doing it. Sex, bloody wan—" he cut off, knowing better than to insult them.

Finally, his half-witted step-brothers understood. Even they looked like they were ready to throw up. Old people sex was not pretty. "Yes, well," Aiden started, "Wait a few seconds, and then go tell her." They all understood sex with Francis took under ten minutes… That man was unbelievable. The three of them coughed uncomfortably.

"Well," Arthur said, "I'll go… clean my toothbrush…" He made his way up the stairs, to the attic, searching for his toothbrush. After a few seconds of "searching", he decided Francis had been allotted more than enough time with Alana, so Arthur went to tell her the "good" news. Making his way down the two sets of stairs, he almost ran into Aiden, on his way to woo the ladies, wherever they were.

When he got to the parlor, the Brit decided it'd be best to knock on the now closed door. Alana answered with a clipped "Come in." As he walked in, he saw the slightly angered woman, and, most regrettably, a half-nude Francis. "Well? What was so important that you had to interrupt us?"

Arthur thought to himself, Well, you're not the one who'll have to clean up your "love" and the stains are very hard to get out. He rolled his eyes and started, "The family has been invited to Prince Alfred's ball, everyone must attend, anyone who can win the Prince's attention for more than ten minutes will become his bride—whether it be male or female—et cetera, et cetera. The ball's tomorrow." Arthur could practically see the money signs flashing in Alana's eyes. The gold-digging whore. The only reason she was sleeping with Francis was that he was supposedly the gold at the end of the rainbow. A very sleazy rainbow. "That's all I wanted to say. Here's the invitation." Handing her the invitation he left.

The next day was to say, without a doubt, very hectic. At least on Arthur's half of the deal. Alana had said they would go, if only to make the family look good. Arthur, of course, was excluded. Though, Alana would tell him if he wanted to go, he'd have to finish all his chores along with his requests before the end of the day, oh, and find something suitable to wear.

Arthur was not superhuman. Trying to get his chores done along with the occasional "Arthur, Get such-and-such!" and "Arthur, get that thing I wore that one day!" Even if the Brit was able to get everything done, it wasn't like he actually wanted to go to some snob prince's overly-extravagant birthday party. So, when five-thirty rolled around, he was almost done with his chores, but they were going to leave in a minute; he was so close. Sarcasm was his best friend.

"Oh, well, sorry dear. Be a good boy, Arthur, and watch the house." With those heavily drenched in sarcasm words, his three pests left for the rest of the night. Within ten minutes, Arthur was finished with his chores and lounging on his bed, with no worries of pests demanding him to do things. Oh, heaven, he sighed in content, closing his eyes.

"Oh, you are sooo not, like, going to not go to that, like, party," a very high-pitched male voice nagged from across the room. Arthur's eyes flew open. "Like, you need to totally start your social life; get a boyfriend! Live your, like, life to the max! Let's see… like, what do I have to do…"

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Standing in front of him was a blonde man in a pink, sparkly fairy dress, hands placed on hips in a very girlish way.

"Like, is that any way to be talking to your, like, fairy godsister? And, yeah, I totes mean 'sister', 'cause, there's, like, no way I'll be a godmother. But, like, yeah, I'm Feliks." Arthur gave him a look that said "You came here because…?" The Brit would admit he was not ecstatic to have some cross-dressing boy in his room, bugging him to go to some social event, ruining his heavenly evening.

Feliks didn't seem to get the hint, so Arthur supposed he would have to voice it. "You came here because? I am perfectly fine not living my life 'to the max' or however you put it. Just please let me continue with my evening." If that wasn't blunt enough then he didn't know what he'd say.

"Don't be, like, silly. You're going to the, like, ball. It'll be totally fun! And don't give me that face, Arthur. I've been watching you since you were born, you haven't cried once, save when you were born. Not even when the late Duke Kirkland died, which, like, made me jelly, btw; I was crying my eyes out," the blonde looked a little sad over the memory, but then brightened and continued, albeit more serious. "But along with never crying, you've, like, never have laughed, either. The only, like, emotion I've ever seen you display is, like, anger. I want you to experience more than, like, that. And I totally know you will at the ball tonight!" Feliks smiled brightly, and pulled a wand from thin air. "Ah, where to, like, start… OH! Like, you totally need a means, like, of getting there! I say you should get there in a sparkly limo! A white, like, whimsical limo! Yeah, that'd be totally cool."

Needless to say, after Feliks said crazy weird words the "limo" ended up being a white wire rimmed see-through carriage. "Now, we just, like, need horses to make it, like, move. Arthur, can you, like, call your fairy friends?"

Even though he was surprised Feliks knew about his friends, he called for them, anyways. Within minutes they appeared, bringing with them Marvin and FMB. "You called, Arthur," Eva piped up.

"Like, they're so CUUUUUTE!" Feliks screamed. "Hi, I'm, like, Feliks. Artie's fairy godsister. I'm just gonna use you guys for, like, that totally awesome carriage over there." After ten minutes, all the fey were turned into horses in a manifold of colors, ranging from pink to black to green to white; Flying Mint Bunny was then turned into a horse driver. Marvin, a bit disappointed he didn't get to lead the horses (he was a unicorn, after all), was turned into a rather dashing footman.

"There, like, I'm done. Have fun at the ball, Arthur… WAIT! What was I, like, thinking? You need totally awesome clothes!"

Not wanting to be put into a dress, Arthur struggled for an excuse. "W-what? N-no, I—" Too late, Feliks had started his magic. Arthur blinked and the magic was finished. He found himself in a tuxedo that was a little off from traditional; there was something about the cut of the fabric that hinted modern fashion. The jacket was cut shorter than usual, the waist was pretty much hugging him, a green handkerchief was in the pocket, and the pants. Well, they hugged him in all the right places.

"Gosh, Arthur, you look, like, sexy. If I was single, I'd, like, date you. I'm scarry good with fashion. YES! Well, get in the carriage, and have fun at the ball! OH! And, like, the magic, like, expires at midnight!" Feliks proceeded to disappear in a poof of sparkles, leaving Arthur behind, blushing.

Two seconds later, Feliks popped back and zapped a watch on his wrist, winked, and poof he was gone. Hm, it was a Rolex. An expensive looking Rolex.

He was about to disappear into the house and forget about the whole ordeal, until Marvin took advantage of his new opposable thumbs and dragged him back into the carriage.

Prince Alfred was, put simply, fed up with this whole "let's have a ball to marry you off" thing. His parents could not just kick him out of the castle; he was the first prince after all. When Alfred had approached his parents on the matter of the ball—which he had no say in— they told him they had wanted him to be "happy… with a spouse." Both the king and queen agreed that their son—both their sons, actually— was… into men. Neither one wanted to admit it, but they both supported them.

Matthew at least fell in love with that handsome, albeit annoying, albino prince from Prussia. They had just wanted Alfred to be able to experience what both Matthew and Gilbert, and the queen and king had for each other. They most certainly did not want their son to be lonely. Thus, they planned a ball. Since Alfred has a very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, VERY short attention span, his parents figured anyone that captured his interest for more than ten minutes must be a suitable wife—er, husband.

The maids had had problems the day of the ball trying to get Alfred out of bed, as he was obstinate with his choice of not attending his own ball. When they finally got him dressed and presentable an aura of unhappiness radiated off him. The moment the ballroom flooded with people did his demeanor finally change. He smiled brightly, though his brother could tell it was false; even with the vantage point at the very back of the room standing next to Gilbert. He said hello to almost everyone, and though the citizens were desperate for his undivided attention, he continually flitted from person to person. "Hey, hey, Mattie," Gilbert poked his side.

Matthew snapped out of his reverie and replied, "Yes, Gil?" The albino had a wry smirk on his face.

"Get a load of the controlling freak and her two sons," Gilbert chuckled and pointed to Alana and her uninterested sons. The woman was practically groveling at Alfred's feet, begging for attention she'd never get. Alfred, in fact look quite irritated. Matthew couldn't keep from giggling, too.

It was then that Alfred saw it. A man walked in looking completely irritated and lost with huge—HUGE—eyebrows and my, my, my! That was one fine ass! Whoever dressed Eyebrows had perfect taste. With a start Alfred realized that he was probably there to win his attention. Oh, Alfred was going to have the best time annoying Eyebrows away. Hey, he had annoyed half the people in the room in ten seconds flat; annoying an already irritated (though hot) man should be quick.

He smiled as he made his way towards Eyebrows, who, upon seeing someone walking towards him, stiffened. Alfred thought for a moment then greeted, "Oh my God, dude! There are actually eyes under those caterpillars!" Even if the young prince would never admit, they were actually very pretty emeralds. This is not the time to get lost in the enemies eyes, Alfred! Be the hero and eliminate the enemy, Alfred mentally yelled at himself.

Arthur was not entirely pleased to have received another jest towards his eyebrows; he was already very self-conscience of them, as his two step-brothers constantly bullied him for it. So, not knowing just who the loud blonde man in front of him was, he retorted, "And I suppose you have a decent brain with decent manners under that thick skull?"

"Dude," the blonde yelled. "You're British! That's so cool! Say… um… I know! Say 'wash your winky'! That'd be so funny, man!"

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was dealing with an idiot. "You bloody wanker, I would never say such an insufferable phrase. Also, it's not 'British' it's 'English.' I've no clue what goes on in that thick American—" he said the word like it was poison—"head of yours, but it's certainly not sane."

Alfred decided that this guy was definitely worth his time. No one ever dared insult or disrespect the young prince—ever. That's when the wheels in the American's head started turning. The British dude didn't know who he was! Alfred wanted to keep it that way. The prince grinned and exclaimed, "How cool! British slang is so funny! Heh, heh. 'Bloody wanker.' I like that. I'm A—You can call me Al." The Brit would definitely find out that he was the crown prince if he relayed his name. The nickname would have to do.

"I-it's not funny! It's perfectly reasonable, git. You just don't respect proper English correctly," the Brit glared. "And if you must know, I'm a proper gentlemen, so," he stuck out his hand, "It is a p-pleasure to meet you, Al. You may call me Arthur." Arthur grimaced in defeat.

"Awesome! Nice to meet you, Art," Alfred said, shaking his hand vigorously.

Arthur frowned. "It is Arthur not 'Art.' Don't make the mistake again."

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred brushed it off. "Hey, you wanna dance?" He grabbed Arthur's hand, dragging him to the glossy marble floor where all the couples were dancing.

"It is 'want to' not whatever you just said. You have also ignored the fact that I have not agreed to dance with you," grumbled Arthur as 'Al' put one arm around his waist, lifting the hand he was holding higher in the air. "Why do I have to take the bloody woman's part," Arthur asked, blushing.

"Oh, come on, Artie, it's just one little dance. And you're shorter than me, so 'course you take the woman's part. Any woman taller than you—which would be a lot—would most likely take the lead." Alfred smiled wide, guiding Arthur around the floor as a new song started to play.

"Are you implying that I am weaker than a woman," Arthur replied, begrudgingly putting an arm on Alfred's shoulder, letting him lead him around the room. "It's not 'Artie'! It's Arthur, get it right!"

The Brit's counterpart just laughed, not at all bothered by the stares of the other people in the room. Yes, people were staring. They were all wondering who the hell had caught the young prince's attention for more than five minutes. Another five and they would've lost their chance at wedding—and in some cases bedding—Alfred forever. They were not only wondering if this caterpillar eye-browed man had put a spell on the young prince, but who the man was. Eyebrows did not usually come this sexy. Especially when he blushed, which signified that, yes, indeed, the man did have a teensy bit of a crush on Alfred. On further inspection, it seemed the prince was even more smitten with eyebrows.

"Al, people are staring," Arthur not-whined, while not-blushing. He had to admit, dancing with the overly annoying man was a bit—dare he say it—fun. Feeling a little more daring, the Brit would say he felt a connection to the corresponding person. A very likeably romantic connection. Now if only Al felt the same. …

Looking around, Al's eyes widened, as if just realizing they weren't the only people in the room. "I didn't even notice, dude. You shouldn't worry, either. Just keep you're eyes on me." He smiled that stupid grin that Arthur would have to admit was very cute.

Doing as he was told, Arthur kept his eyes locked on Alfred's; trying to ignore the fact that pretty much everyone was staring at them. Instead, he focused on those deep blue eyes; the type you could get lost in forever. It was like drowning in the ocean or staring at the sky. Beautiful.

To Arthur's great surprise and satisfaction, Al was very skilled at dancing. The Brit had never been one for dance, but the way Al led him around the ballroom gracefully and confidently, he felt like he could do anything.

Both the prince and the pauper were so lost in each other's eyes; they didn't realize the song was over until applauding filled their ears. Alfred smiled down at his counterpart, who had a ghost of a smile himself. Leaning down, he whispered, "Hey, Artie, let's go outside. It's less stuffy."

"It's 'Arthur', you obnoxious twit. How many times do I have to tell you?" The shorter man pointedly glared at the brash man, who held up his hands in mock defeat. "Let's make our way outside, then," Arthur muttered, taking the lead to go outside.

Alfred smiled wider and followed like a puppy. While this went unnoticed by most of the guests, it did not, however, go unnoticed by four people. The king and queen smiled softly to themselves, while the second prince had to cover his lover's mouth before the Prussian could yell anything suggestive. Said Prussian pouted and licked the hand covering his mouth, which brought out a blush for the former.

The two entered the courtyard and Arthur was taken aback at the beauty. The grass was green and freshly clipped, a path of cobblestone weaved itself through blooming rose bushes. Towards the center was a gazebo with more roses lacing their way up the pillars like ivy. A clock tower could be seen in the distance. Needless to say, Arthur had his breath taken away.

Alfred chuckled at his companion's expression, gently taking his hand; the young prince led him toward the gazebo. Arthur, whose voice was still taken away by shock, thought his heart would explode just by Al holding his hand. Oh, this is just bloody great. I'm acting like a blushing teenage girl on her first date with the school jock. Fucking brilliant, Arthur berated himself.

"So, Art, do I have a 'decent' enough brain for you," Al asked, teasingly. The prince walked over to the railing of the gazebo and leaned against it.

Collecting his thoughts, Arthur scrambled to come up with an acceptable retort. "W-well, I guess your brain is acceptable enough," was all the Brit could come up with.

The young prince chuckled, walking closer to Arthur. "You guess? What, Mister Funny Accent is unsure?" Alfred smirked, quirking an eyebrow tauntingly. He stepped closer to the Brit.

Said Brit flushed, barely managing to sputter out, "D-don't call me such unsuitable names! My name is Arthur, and I assure you I don't have a funny accent!" When Arthur tried stepping back, trying to recollect his personal space which Alfred had invaded, the blue-eyed man reached out a hand and wrapped it around Arthur's waist.

He chuckled as Arthur went a few shades redder, pulling the smaller man flush against his chest. Arthur looked up into those blue eyes and felt him heat up even more, especially when his counterpart smiled. "Arthur," the prince murmured, but didn't say more. Arthur wished those eyes would look away; they were too intense, too innocent yet arrogant. He wanted them to just stop their unbearable, constant staring. Who cares if he was gawking as much as they were, he just wanted them to stop.

He blinked and suddenly those eyes weren't there, he barely registered the slight pressure on his lips. When he did, he almost jumped. Al was kissing him. But just as it had come, Al's kiss was gone. Leaning back, the Brit could say the American looked nervous. That was his first kiss! "Um," Arthur said, using perfect English. He was sure he could see a blush spreading around Al's face.

"Oh, um, I—uh, ah—no. What—um, you see—no. It's just—that's not it either. But—" Apparently, the American knew even better English than Arthur, which made him feel better. Finally, he made a legible sentence. "I'm sorry. I mean, you're not gay, right? Shoulda known it was too good to be true. Just forget, 'kay?"

Oh, THANK GOD! Arthur practically jumped the young prince, wrapping his arms around Al's neck and trying to kiss him made a startled sound in surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the Brit's waist. They continued kissing for what seemed like forever, as if their lips were melded together. Al pulled the Brit closer, if that was possible, and deepened the kiss.

Arthur stiffened as Alfred licked his bottom lip slowly, but quickly relaxed, giving the taller man entrance. Lips moving against lips, tongue rubbing against tongue, the Cinderella-man felt a dark blush crossing his face. Just think! He—stuffy, crotchety Arthur Kirkland— was in an unseemly position having a rather steamy make out session with a guy he had met an hour ago! Arthur couldn't believe the way he was acting! He blamed it on the hormones.

Al—the bloody wanker—made a grab for his ass. To the Brit's surprise, Arthur found himself moving closer, grinding his hips upon the younger male, moaning. Okay, that was a little too much sensory overload for him. Hesitantly, regrettably, pulling away, Arthur smiled—actually smiled!—shyly at the prince. A small blush made its way across the American's face. Al cleared his throat awkwardly. As he was about to say something, the large clock in the courtyard started to chime loudly, signaling twelve o'clock. Midnight.

Ring.

"Oh, for the love of God," Arthur yelled. He kissed the young man's cheek. "Sorry, love, it's time for me to go," he said in haste. If he had been paying attention, he would have blushed; he called Al "love". Such an impromptu pet name.

Ring. Ring.

The Brit ran through the ballroom, retracing his steps to get out of the palace. He ignored the odd stares people gave him and vaguely heard Al's voice calling for him in the background.

Ring. Ring.

Running down the stairs that lead from the palace and towards the driveway, Arthur felt his wrist get lighter. Eyes glancing down, he saw the watch on the ground. He would have stooped down and picked it up, but as the time was passing and Alfred getting closer, he decided to leave the watch as forfeit.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

He reached the pseudo-limo-pulled-horse-carriage-thingy and climbed in. It sped away and Arthur caught a disheartened American's face. "Sorry, love," Arthur whispered.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

They had made it quite a ways away from the palace in a matter of seconds before the magic vanished. Catching his breath, the Brit reflected.

What an idiot he was! How did he so easily lose track of time? Especially a few hours! He had gone to that party at eight. What felt like an hour's worth of time spanned across four. How did he manage to get so swept up by a man he had only known for four hours? Granted, Al was… handsome, charming, enchanting, everything he had always wished for. It felt as if he had known Al for forever. But he didn't even know Al's last name! What he did for a living! Where he lived! How to contact him again! Arthur had left so abruptly that… Oh, that's right. He didn't say a proper good-bye. The Brit felt his heart breaking at the memory of the American's face.

I had made Al look like that, Arthur berated himself.

"…thur…Arthur… ARTHUR!" Said Brit snapped out of his reverie. "How was the ball," Eva asked. "Did you have fun? You seem out of it."

"Ah—uh, yes, I suppose," the Brit managed to say. He sat in the middle of the street, dazed, his old clothes on. Marvin came and nudged his shoulder, as if saying "You sure you're fine?" "Yes, I'm fine, Marv. Just a little out of it."

"Well, we best be getting you home, Arthur, before 'they' come home." Eva started off down the road. After a few seconds of flying, she looked back to see Arthur still sitting in the street. "Are you coming?"

He nodded. "C-coming."

The walked silently on, and when almost home, the fairy couldn't help but ask. "So… did you meet anyone," she asked attentively. He was silent, so she tried again. "Did you—"

"Yes, I did," he said quietly, staring at the ground. They reached the front door and Arthur quietly opened it.

"Oh," Eva replied. After a few seconds she asked, "What were they like?"

He didn't answer until they gotten to his room. Stepping inside, he said, rather hesitantly, "He was… amazing. Beautiful. Everything I could ask for. It felt like I had known Al for forever. Though, his manners were less to be desired. He swept me off my feet," Arthur sighed, a blush forming on his face. There was a sort of dream-like gleam in his eyes that his mythical friends had never seen before. "It's just…" he started to add, and then continued, "It's just, I wish I knew how to find him again. I had only given him my first name! If I'm correct he had only given me a nickname! I don't know who he is, where he lives, what he does for a living. He could be a bloody serial killer for all I know."

But he continued, doing a complete one-eighty. "He was just so… lovely. Eva? Marv? Bunny? Is it possible to already be so in love for only knowing him for a few hours? Is it possible for me to already know he's the one I want to spend forever with? Listen to me," he grumbled, "I sound like a bloody school girl in one of those romance novels. You guys should be telling me I'm rushing; it's just the teenage hormones; the setting of this night. Just tell me something that'll make sense to me!"

The mythological creatures stared at Arthur. They didn't care that he was rushing into things or that this was unconventional or cheesy. They were ecstatic. The Brit finally fell in love! But, Eva supposed they had to give him some sort of advice…

"Just sleep it off and see how it is in the morning," was all Eva gave as advice. Truly horrible advice, but it'd have to stick. The teen made his way to bed, following orders, and tried falling asleep. He was out like a light in minutes.

Back at the palace, Alfred had taken ten minutes to stop looking after the carriage that helped the mysterious fellow he had fallen for. Sighing dejectedly, he turned to make his way back into the palace. He spotted the watch the Brit was wearing earlier. Why would he leave such an expensive watch behind?

Picking it up, he noticed its small size. The prince could never fit it on his wrist! Arthur sure had a small wrist. He held it gently, slowly making his way back inside. Matthew was first to reach him.

"Oh, my God, Al," he said in his quiet voice. "What happened? Who was that?" The American stayed silent. "Al?" Matthew shook his counterpart's shoulder. "Al?"

"H-he…" Alfred trailed off, trying to form the words but failing. Finally, one word rolled off his tongue. "Arthur." Though the party was still going on, the young prince didn't feel much up to anything. "Hey, Mattie, I'm just gonna go up to my room, now. See you in the morning?" His brother could only nod.

"Hey…. Al," Matthew started. "You wanna start looking for him?"

"How? I only know his name! He left behind a watch! He left! Left!" Alfred was starting to mope and complain.

"C-can I see the watch? M-maybe we can find the m-maker and see who he sold it to," Matthew suggested quietly. "A-also, do you know anything a-about him?"

"Well, let's see…" Alfred tapped a finger to his chin in deep thought. "He's a dude, for one." He smiled like he hit the jackpot.

"I'm well aware of that, Al," Matthew said, annoyed. "Anything else?"

"He's blonde with the prettiest green eyes… you shoulda seen him, Matt; they were like that freaky alien green, especially when he glares at you, an—"

He was cut off by his brother. "Stay on topic, please. What else? Did he s-say his name at all?"

"Oh, yeah! Said his name was Arthur. What an old man's name; don'tcha think Mattie? I called him Artie!" The blonde showed great exuberance when he talked of the mystery man. "It was so much fun; he didn't even know my name! Not even that I was the prince! How could he not know that?"

"Arthur, eh?" Matthew smiled. Maybe they were actually getting somewhere. "Wait, he didn't know you were you?"

Alfred nodded his head vigorously. "How insane, right?" Matthew nodded his head, distractedly.

"Well, Alfred, I think we can find your Cinderella," Matthew stated. Matthew went over to a footman, signaling for the blonde prince to follow. He exchanged words with the footman and Alfred just stood there confused. The quiet prince turned to his brother, "We'll start at dawn, when everyone has made their way home from the party. We start within the kingdom, and then make our way out. Okay?"

Alfred nodded.

It was at dawn that Arthur was awoken by Alana. She was going off about someone importantly rich coming to each house and asking a question or two or something like that. They were apparently looking for someone; a man, to be exact.

She pushed the Brit to do a quick clean of the house, prepare tea for the guests, and to make herself and the sons she hoped will be able to pass off as the mystery man to look presentable. The stepbrothers were not happy about the notion of marrying them to the prince just for money. They wanted chicks; not dicks. Alana would hear nothing of it.

The rich-men were at the house next door over when Alana turned to Arthur. "No one wants to be in your filthy and rude presence. Off to the kitchens you go!" She tried to sound ever the dignified lady; ever the perfect hostess.

She came off as flamboyant and bitchy.

A knock at the door came and Arthur rushed to the kitchens, rather not wanting to be on Alana's bad side today. The "lady" of the house answered the door.

"Why, your highnesses," she greeted, still trying to sound dignified. "We are honored to be having you in our humble abode. Come in, your graces."

The Brit heard some shuffling and a quiet voice speak. "We would like to ask you and your sons two questions, then, if answered correctly, will be another test. We are searching for the man my brother met last night at the ball. We ask you to be truthful. Do you comply?"

"Why, of course," Alana replied. "Ask away! My boys are more than happy to!"

It was then Arthur heard a voice he thought he would ever hear again. "Great, so, first question: What was the name of the guy I met? All of ya get a guess."

The voice was as obnoxious as he remembered. It also had the same horrible grammar. Arthur held his tongue, trying his best not to go out and correct Al. … But what was he doing here?

"I believe his name was Vorath, Prince Alfred," Alana tried.

Wait… Prince Alfred? She couldn't be possibly be talking about Al, could she? All last night he was with the prince? Oh, God! He made-out with the crown prince! And… Al was searching for him. Warmth spread through his chest, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"It was Aiden," Vorath covered, rather not wanting to go riding into the sunset with another man.

"No, Vorath," Aiden countered, his thoughts along the same wavelength with his brother's.

There was a short silence, like the princes where mulling the answers in their heads. "Okay," the quiet one's soft voice cut in. "There was something that the man dropped on his way out of the castle. What was it?"

"A cufflink," Alana guessed. Arthur smirked; wrong. It was his watch.

"His balls," Aiden cracked, having the gall to laugh at his own joke. There was what sounded like a smack then an "Ow!" Arthur's smirk widened.

"An aglet," Vorath said, stupidly.

"Uh," Al—no, Prince Alfred—replied, "What's an aglet?"

"The small plastic thing at the end of your shoelace," he explained. Arthur could imagine the odd looks he must've been getting.

"Whelp, no, sorry, none of you got any of the right." Al sounded disappointed. "You sure there's no one else here that could possibly know?"

Arthur was torn. He was mad at the fool for not telling him who he was, but he understood why it was kept secret. He wanted to go out and embrace the prince but he had his doubts. What if… what if…

"I assure you, your highness, no one else is here," Alana answered.

Arthur made up his mind.

"Well, if that's so, sorry for intruding," the quiet one said as farewell. There was a sound of the door being opened. Now or never, Arthur.

"Yeah, sor—"

"Wait," Arthur called, coming out of the kitchens, running to catch the guests in the nick of time. "I'm here," he said breathing heavily from his short sprint.

The royals looked surprised, as if not actually expecting another person to be home.

"What are you doing?" Alana screeched. "I thought I told you to stay in the kitchens!"

"Ma'am, it is law that everyone home answers the questions given," Alfred cut in, not taking his eyes off Arthur. In response, the Brit gave him a small smile.

"Your highness," Arthur greeted, turning to a slightly smaller blonde beside Al whom he assumed to be the quiet voice from earlier. "What are the questions?" He had decided to play innocent.

"Huh? Oh, yes," the quiet one said, eloquently. "The man at the ball last night. Guess his name. He dropped something. Guess," he said, bluntly. He probably got tired of embellishing the questions and was most likely losing patience.

"Arthur, I believe." Arthur smirked mischievously at Al. "I am also to believe that you are in possession of a watch of mine. May I have it back?" The small blonde's eyes widened while Alfred smirked back.

"Only if ya pass the last test, Art," he said, mockingly.

"It is 'you' not 'ya', Alfred. Just give me the watch," the Brit corrected, glaring. Alana looked like she was turning blue. Arthur would have to admit that it gave him pleasure to see that. His step-brothers, on the other hand, looked like they were about to poop some rainbows at the thought of them not marrying another man.

Alfred took Arthur's hand in his and gave it a squeeze, pulling out the Rolex. "Awe, call me Al. Alfred's too stuffy!" He snapped the watch on, winking.

"I prefer calling people by their given name, git," Arthur snipped. He tried to pull his hand away from the prince but the stubborn man held on.

"If you like calling people by their 'proper names' then don't call me 'git'," Alfred whined. With a sudden yank, Arthur was in his arms.

After a moment, the Brit returned the hug. "Wanker," he mumbled. Alfred just snorted and smiled, rocking his own Cinderella in his arms. Arthur's cheeks reddened and he buried his face into his love's chest. In turn, Alfred squeezed and kissed the top of the Brit's sandy blonde hair.

It was like they were only people in the room.

Sadly, they weren't. Of course, Alana had to be the one to ruin the moment. "What?" She was like a banshee; the two princes cringed. Arthur and his step-brothers just grumbled and glared, too used to her yelling to actually be bothered by it any longer.

Arthur looked over to her, stepping out of Alfred's embrace. "Hm? I'm not sure what you're asking about exactly," he said, playing innocent. His prince looked confused… and half deaf.

His step-mother looked like she was about to blow a gasket when Alfred stepped forward, setting a hand at the small of Arthur's back. "Do you not agree with my marrying your youngest son, Mrs. Kirkland," he asked, unknown to the bomb he just set off.

Arthur and Alana exploded at the same time. "Do not ever say that that bitch is my mother again, you—"

"I would never have such a useless son, especially a faggot—"

"And who ever said I was to marry you? Wank—"

"Why not marry me instead, your grace? I would surely make an awfully better bride than that bas—"

"My father loved me! It wasn't my bloody fault he died, sl—"

"He hated you, you little snot! You reminded him too much of that whore of a wo—"

"Do not talk of my mother that way! She was twice the woman you are! And who are you to—"

"ENOUGH!" Both jumped at the shout from the seemingly quiet and calm blonde prince in the corner. "If you don't want Arthur, then we'll take him now and we assure you, he won't come back. That is… if Arthur wants to." Alana backed down and Arthur notice that her sons went to their rooms in the midst of the fight.

… Arthur never wanted to get on this prince's bad side.

Alfred smiled and slightly turned to his brother. "Thanks, Matt." So that was his name! Turning to Arthur, he smiled at him softly. "Arthur? Will you come with me? Marry me? I promise you won't be called princess. I promise I'll love you forever."

The Brit felt tears well up in his eyes. No more of this? No more indentured servitude? No more Alana? It sounded too good to be true. His face was warm with stained red cheeks.

The prince's face paled. "Shit; don't cry!" He wiped at the Brit's cheeks. "If you don't want to, I'll leave! I'll leave and I won't come back until you want me to."

Arthur quickly shook his head. "N-no, no, I wanna go with you," he stuttered out, for once forgoing his "proper grammar". He hugged the prince, burying his face in his love's chest again.

Alfred's smile rivaled the sun. "Whoo!" He laughed that boisterous laugh Arthur had almost forgotten about. "Let's go, Art! I've gotta introduce you to my parents!"

"It's Arthur, you git! Also, it's—" They were gone in seconds flat.

Alana grumbled and went to the kitchens to get alcohol.

… "I'm still here, eh."

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

A/N: What be-eth this? Something otherthan PruCan? What? So, uh, yeah, this is written by jojo. This took me a really, really, very, really long time to write this for some odd reason. I literally started writing this last October. Like, a year and one month. Sad, I know. It took me how long to write my prucan? Five, six months? Oh, I'm terrible.

Sorry for any grammar/spelling/whatever mistakes; I'm human.

Thanks for hopefully many future reviews; I love-eth you, too.