Comfort, it was something that Arthur had never experienced in his recent years. Be it stressing over the new ruler, or stressing over the protection of his Kingdom: Arthur had never felt a sense of relaxation.
Now, was no different.
His hand wrapped around the clear glass that was filled to the midsection with whisky. Quickly swirling the ice around the liquid, he would take one chug of the whisky before cringing as the liquor touched the back of his throat. To think that he would not be used to such a treatment was increasingly concerning - especially as he took the beverage most nights before slumber.
Gently placing the beverage upon the bedside table, Arthur was about to blow out the candle that would be the only source of light - aside from the moon outside. Yet, as the Queen was already tucked into bed, a nightgown draped over his body. The only form of nightwear that the Kingdom of Diamonds had to offer. It was deplorable.
As he moved to turn out the light; a movement at the window startled him. The blond was faced with a predicament, close the window and get up from his comfy position, or perhaps be killed by an intruder. Actually, the latter didn't seem too horrible at this moment in time.
However, something seemed off about the figure that clambered into the room. The silhouette had flowing hair, and even the stubble of some beard had made its appearance on the shadow. Evidently, it was not a hard guess as to whom it could be.
"Why are you here?" Arthur would question, crossing his arms and glaring at his fellow Royal with a spark of pure curiosity. Perhaps, one may even argue anger.
"Now now, how harsh," Francis' voice would sing, walking over to the male and being brought into the dim light of the candle,"I'm merely here to ask you a few things."
"Go on then, I'm tired and you're annoying right now."
Sitting at the end of the bed, Francis would turn to stare at Arthur with unforgiving eyes. It was the kind of glare that made the Queen want to punch the man in his face. To rip away the skin that he had left and create an elegy with his screams. Those dastardly thoughts would permeate in his mind and yet, he merely stared.
"Arthur, when was the last time you ever fell in love?"
What even was that question? Did the King finally go mad?
"Oh Lord here we go. You haven't been drinking have you? I know what you're like."
"No it's nothing of the sort, I'm just curious."
"Well considering I was engaged."
Taking his comment in mind, Francis would scoff slightly, moving his hand over Arthur's: causing the Queen to blush with his touch. His hands were as warm as the last time they had met, even up to the point that they had left each other; they were still warm.
"You were engaged but were you in love? Or were you merely following the natural order of things? A Queen must marry their King."
Upon those words being uttered, a sudden pang of guilt rang though Arthur. Perhaps he was merely following the natural order of things when he accepted Alfred's proposal? Or perhaps he was being honest? He did in fact love the man. The two of them had been inseparable ever since Alfred came bearing the seal of the King. Arthur had flocked to his side, raising him into the man he was now. Then, when his mother departed the world and he became Queen, Alfred took his rightful place as King. The two, were always alongside one another.
"I was in love. I still am." Arthur would answer, causing a guilty expression to appear on Francis' face. It was evident that the male was unwilling to mutter the words that came next.
"Then the proposal my court has come too will be annoying to you." The King would explain, piquing Arthur's interest greatly.
"What is it?"
Taking a breath, Francis would ask one final question. "How far are you willing to go to protect your people?"
Instantly, without a second thought, Arthur had replied. "Is that a joke? I am willing to give up everything to make sure that they're all safe."
That was confirmation enough for Francis. It was evident that no matter what he said now, Arthur would feel guilted into choosing it. It was a situation that the King of Diamonds didn't want to push the other into, yet, he knew what Arthur was like.
"Our two Kingdoms are missing a monarch each. My Queen and your King. My court has decided that in order to join the two Kingdom's we should be married next week."
Arthur stayed silent. His eyes scanned the face of the other before he knew that this was to have occurred. Simultaneously, he cursed his mother for giving him such advice as asking the Kingdom of Diamonds for help. He was a puppet to his court, and Arthur was merely a slave to his people.
Two men with a similar background, and are enchained by two separate things.
Yet, as Francis' hand drifted upwards from Arthur's own hand to the soft cheek. Arthur would once more be reminded of why he was in this situation. The pain that he was going through was too much. Now, he was thrown an offer that would mean backtracking on the love that he had so built upon.
Tears began to drift down his cheek. Their release was a mixture of the Whisky and the tiredness that had been allowed to fester in the man. As the tears collected on Francis' hand, the King did not let go.
He knew that this was hard for the two of them. He also knew what Arthur was like, growing up together had prepared him many a time for this moment. So as the man was to break out into a harsh sob, Francis would move to pull him into a hug. They may have bickered. They may have hated each other. They may have always been on opposite ends. That didn't mean that Francis didn't see Arthur as a friend, even a lover at points. Their history ran deeper than two envoys of two separate Kingdoms. They had grown up together, shared dreams, hopes, aspirations.
That was why, when Arthur felt the arms come around his body, he allowed his guard to be down at least this one time.
Gripping onto Francis' shirt the male would allow himself to cry into the garment. It had seemed that the act of having to marry someone else had gotten to Arthur - especially when he knew that Alfred would not have approved.
"Arthur," Francis would soothe, pressing his hand over the male's hair, "if you don't want to get married I'll protect you in my Kingdom."
Sniffling, the male would detract himself from the hold. "No, it's fine." He would reassure, trying to compose himself after that. "If it is for the good of my people, I will do anything."
"Understandable, I will not force love on you." Francis would reassure, brushing his hand over the covers. "We may be married but it would just be for political reasons mon canard." The King had reassured, making sure that Arthur knew he wouldn't force him into any situation that wasn't instigated.
Of course, upon pulling away: Arthur found himself moving to pull the other back. "Don't go." He ordered, his voice returning to its angered state. It seemed almost condescending; the male grabbing for the other, while his words spoke in such a hateful tone. "We haven't caught up in ages. When was the last time we had any sort of time to talk?"
Understanding what Arthur was trying to suggest, Francis laughed. Always predictable, always indifferent, always Arthur.
Removing his boots, the King would take it upon himself to sit cross-legged facing Arthur. The two sitting like this was something that they were both used to: their nights would be spent like so in the sweltering summertime.
"Did you read my letter? I'll have you know I put a lot of hours into it." Francis would boast, causing Arthur to realise his mistake. He truly hadn't read the letter whatsoever. It was a horrible mistake on his part.
"Oh did you? I hadn't had the chance to-"
Reaching out to grab the letter from the desk, Francis would stop him. "Don't read it now, it's something that's better experienced alone."
Taking his words into consideration, the still shaken Queen would simply nod. At this point in time he didn't have the mental strength to place a front up.
Placing his hands in front of him. The two would end up talking once more: their chats drifting into a heated debate in which one was the better orator. That soon turned into a debate as to which one could kiss the best, and after a demonstration from Francis - Arthur would sadly have to hang up his belt.
As these talks drifted into the early hours of the morning: Arthur found himself at dismay. He had laid back, tried from the chatting and pointless theories of succession, where they had come from and where they were going. It was then, that he finally fell asleep, his eyes shutting and finally not replying to Francis' - to his ears - croaky voice.
Comfort. It was something that Arthur hadn't experienced in years; until that night.