Arthur said in the letter that he would be here.

Francis turned over the envelope in his hands once more, tapping his foot impatiently. It had been exactly seven months, two weeks, and four days since he had seen Arthur (not that he was counting), and he didn't want to wait another second. It was already agonizing to wait hours in a party held in his family's honor that he couldn't enjoy because Arthur had a habit of making himself scarce, and then, of course, there was bumping into the Crowned Prince after Francis technically was supposed to be in his room -- really, Alfred was a nice boy and all, but Francis could do without dealing with him -- and now, with bated breath, Francis waited.

He opened the letter again, finally giving into his impatience. Arthur's calligraphy always made Francis's heart beat a little faster, as it reminded him of all the secret letters that they sent each other. The lavender scent still clung onto the paper, courtesy of a little magic on both sides; Arthur's to apply it, and Francis's to make it last. Yes; the corner of the garden, written in charming slanted cursive. Francis didn't need to know which corner of the garden; they both knew.

The one where they first met all those years ago.

Footsteps on lush grass caught Francis's attention, and he backed up behind a tall blue hedge to hide. He listened closely as he gripped the letter in his hands; the footsteps came to a sudden stop, then started again as they became louder and closer--

"You're awfully horrible at hiding."

Francis peeked out from the hedge, his signature smirk on his face. "Could my admirable looks ever hide?" He asked teasingly. "Especially from you?"

Arthur scoffed. "I saw your ego first, it seems." He crossed his arms, thick eyebrows raised. "It's been awhile, frog."

"Must you keep calling me that? You wound me every time," Francis sighed dramatically as he leaned back towards the hedge. Arthur scoffed again. "I thought we were past trivial nicknames."

"And I thought you were the one who would insist we have 'love nicknames'. I'm just doing my part." It was then that Arthur's usual prickly exterior, the one Francis would see during the day, the one that Arthur always employed around the others, fell. "It's good to see you. Never thought we'd have another chance like this."

"Oh?" Francis slid down the hedge, much to Arthur's protest. "Another chance at what? There are many things I'd like to try again if you wouldn't mind. Especially what we did last time."

Much to Francis's delight, Arthur's cheeks flushed a pale pink in the moonlight. He sat down on the grass beside Francis, even moving closer so they were practically leaning on each other. "Is that so?" It was less a question and more of a statement, in Arthur's unique sarcastic tone. "Well. If that is the case..." In one swift movement, Arthur reached over and held Francis's jaw to kiss him. The move startled Francis, for sure; he wasn't quite used to being on the receiving end of surprise kisses, and he didn't expect such a bold move from Arthur of all people. Nonetheless, the both of them soon melted into the kiss, desperate for the love they lacked for months on end.

They knew that they couldn't be together. Francis had already met his future Queen: a pretty young girl by the name of Lili whose brother already served as Jack. Arthur wouldn't confirm it, but they both knew that Alfred had his eye on Arthur for a long while. There was the topic of running away, but Arthur rebuked Francis for the idea the moment it surfaced. They both had their duties, Arthur said. Perhaps in another world, another time, they could truly be together, but not this one.

"Should we... Go to your room?"

Francis snapped open his eyes, jerked from his pleasurable reverie, to see a smirking Arthur glancing down to Francis's hands. They were, to neither one's surprise, already attempting to unbutton Arthur's dress shirt. Francis's own coat laid beside them, discarded.

"They probably wouldn't appreciate their guest of honor and their lowly Ace of Spades going at each other in their gardens, would they," Arthur laughed, taking Francis's hands and clasping them in his own. "Not exactly proper."

"What do you know about proper?"

"Much more than you, and you're the one who's going to be King."

They leaned in for another kiss, and this time they wrapped their arms around the other for warmth and affection. Sneaking to a private bedroom would take too long, they silently agreed. The soft moonlight, the grass underneath, and each other's presence were sufficient.

They didn't want the morning to come; they desperately wished for only the night and peace with the other. How they would survive without the other after tonight, neither Francis nor Arthur knew. And the dire consequences of the moment they were caught weighed in especially on Arthur's mind since his life was at stake. What would their families think of them...