Chapter Text
Alfred hated Latin. Or well, he hated his latin tutor. The man always forced him to take lessons in the main library instead of the greenhouse as Alfred preferred, citing some bollocks study about how long exposure to the sun would damage a young man’s vitality. Not like his tutor still had any, the man was 45 and unwed, he had no right to tell Alfred what gave and depleted vitality.
But of course this tutor was favored by his father, so Alfred kept himself from making too many snide remarks, and took to merely dozing off during his lessons. Today however, he was snapped out of his trance by a group of maids huddled in the library, murmuring loudly about something. They spoke with so much distaste Alfred could only assume their pay had been cut, that was, until a certain someone’s name caught his ear.
“They’re really going to make Prince Matthew marry him?” The maid mumbled, voice dampened slightly by her hand.
Alfred’s eyes shot open. Matthew? His brother Matthew?
“It was to be expected, I suppose. Such things are inevitable aren’t they, with the state things are in. England needs a strong alliance to carry it through this war.”
“But to him? He is hardly a man, much less a proper husband. To make our Prince marry such a brute-”
Alfred’s head snapped up and he thrust his parchment down, rushing over to the maids.
“Prince Alfred we really must resume our lesson-” The tutor stuttered, though Alfred paid him no mind, stumbling over to the gaggle of maids.
“What do you mean? Who is father forcing Matthew to marry?”
The maids looked taken aback and a few even stumbled a bit. They exchanged several nervous glances before one piped up “We have been told not to inform you, your highness.”
“By who?”
“His royal excellence”
Alfred grit his teeth and thrust his palm against his chest. “Then I will go and see the king, tell him I request his audience immediately.”
“Prince Alfred the king is-”
“Too busy to attend to his own son?” Alfred spat, glaring down at the maid’s stunned face.
“Your majesty, the king has many important matters to attend to the war-”
Alfred shot her a very pointed look. “Surely the king can spare a few moments to discuss some pressing matters.”
“Your majesty I-”
“And surely you do not wish to come between such pressing matters.”
The maid fell quiet, curtseying frantically. The other maid seemed to be enlightened from her stupor however as she managed to whisper-“I will inform him.”
Alfred cleared his throat and returned back to his bubbly self, as if nothing had even happened, peering down at the dazed maids. “Lovely.”
He glanced back at the tutor, who bore a similar expression. “If you will excuse me, Lord Elderstein, I suppose we will have to conclude our lesson a little early for today.”
“I have to go see my father”
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“Alfred, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, you look well. what is it that troubles you?”
Sitting up there, so small in his gilded throne, King Arthur almost resembled a caged bird. Despite his father’s evident status Alfred couldn’t remember a time when he had feared the man. Perhaps it was because they had reached an equal stature by the time he had turned 11.
“Father.” He bowed, eyes maintaining a steady glare. “What is this I hear about Matthew getting married?”
The king looked unfazed, despite the pure venom that laced Alfred’s voice.
“This war has been a bloody one, as I’m sure you are well aware-”
“-what does that have to do with marrying Matthew off?”
King Arthur shot Alfred his own glare and Alfred shrunk in on himself like a wilted flower.
After a few moments the king cleared his throat and started once again, his voice steady as if this was all some well practiced speech. As if this was some miniscule political move rather than something that could impact Matthew’s life forever.
“The Czar has offered us immense aid and support in exchange for your brother’s hand.”
Alfred’s mouth fell open. “The Czar? You mean the Czar of Russia? Surely you jest father.”
“I do not, this alliance will grant us victory against the french.”
“Do you value an easy victory over your son’s happiness?”
“No-” he returned his gaze to Alfred, “I value the lives of my people, as does Matthew. He knows it is his duty to do what he must for his kingdom. You should follow his example, he had none of the ire you do now and he’s the one getting married.”
Alfred grit his teeth. “This isn’t over father.”
“I assure you it is.” He quipped back calmly.
Alfred stomped back towards the gate, hands clenched in fists.
“And Alfred?”
He turned his head back to meet the king’s gaze, eyes fiery.
“Don’t be petulant and try and pull one of your tricks, Alfred. This marriage will happen whether you like it or not.”
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“I don’t know Al.. what if he can tell?”
Alfred rolled his eyes. “Based on one portrait?”
“You’re tanner.”
“I’ll tell him I spent some time in the south.”
“Your eyes are blue, mine are violet.”
“So I’ll tell him the artist took some creative liberties- look Mattie. I’ve got this handled.”
Seeing as the Czar was nearly 50 years his senior, Alfred would wager the old fart Matthew was set to marry couldn't tell a goose from a horse much less differentiate between two brothers. At least he hoped he couldn’t.
Although he and Matthew were of equal status, if the Czar wanted Matthew, the delicate and refined prince, with his fair skin and golden hair, he’d be more than a little disappointed to have Alfred.
Alfred was nothing like his brother personality wise, brash and often unintentionally abrasive. He was utterly unfit to help rule a nation, and sincerely hoped that would not be expected of him in his marriage.
But he could at the very least mimic his brother in appearance, as he had already begun to do, massaging a thick off white paste onto his cheeks every morning in hopes of lightening his complexion. The paste itched dreadfully, but it was working to some extent, so perhaps it was worth it.
“You don’t have to do this for me Al. Really. I can tough it out, you know I can.”
“I don’t want you to have to ‘tough it out,’ Matt, not when you already have Jan. You have someone to lose, I don’t.” Alfred shrugged, slightly amused at the way his brother’s cheeks lit up at the thought of his suitor.
Jan hailed from a minor Dutch house that had only just gained recognition after his victories against the French came to light. Once he came back from war, he may be significant enough to bargain with their father for Matthew’s hand, but until then Matthew would not be able to turn away a marriage request from a major house, much less from the Czar himself.
“He’s a horrid man Alfred, it’s cruel to condemn you to that fate.”
“Please, he’ll be dead within the decade. There’s no fate to be condemned to. You want to be here when Jan returns from war don”t you? Or would you rather your beau return and find out his love is languishing with the aging Czar?”
Matthew bit his lip, peering down at his lap. “I suppose not.”
He paused before shaking his head. “No, I could not do that to Jan, but I can’t do this to you either.”
“Matthew.”
“No, I can’t. What kind of older brother would that make me?”
“One that can see reason?” Alfred ventured although Matthew seemed largely unmoved. Alfred could understand now why one of Matthew’s many names was the immovable prince, although the nickname referred to his fencing prowess, it also seemed to ring true in regards to just how stubborn he could be.
“Look, Matthew, you trust me right?”
Matthew sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes but-“
“Then let me do this for you. It’s the least I can do for you after everything.”
Matthew sighed and hung his head. “You really won’t budge on this, will you?”
Alfred gave his brother a satisfied smirk. “Have I ever budged on anything?”
Matthew managed a small smile. “Not as long as I’ve known you, and I’ve known you since you were born. You were stubborn even in infancy.”
Alfred smirked. “And in what manner can an infant even manage to be stubborn.”
“You cried incessantly even when you were satiated. It drove our nanny mad.”
Alfred chuckled, “ You can hardly blame me for that. I was a child.”
“I suppose not, it merely demonstrates your enduring temperament.”
Alfred sighed fondly before glancing over at Matthew once again. His eyes were a bit glazed over with a melancholic glow.
“I suppose I’ll have to reign that in when I’m in Russia.”
“Only for a bit.”
“So we hope.”
“I will pray for you though, every night. As I do for Jan.”
“Your prayers will be wasted on me, I am not going to any war.”
“Not in the literal sense.”
--------------------------------------------------- Alfred spent the weeks leading up to his- or well technically Matthew’s wedding peering down at his future husband's portraits. The Russian envoy had sent the palace quite a few, all wrapped in velvet and tied with rope as if destroying such hideous things would be such a loss.
Alfred could appreciate the craftsmanship of the paintings, he himself dabbled in the arts after all, but his future husband was no subject he’d want to portray.
He had the figure of a toad and the face of one too, except arguably even more unsightly. His skin was tinted gray as if he had caught the death and even the artist's expert strokes could not conceal the man’s aged features. Every time Alfred looked at one of the portraits he felt his stomach turn inside out, only calming when he remembered he was doing this for Matthew. For Matthew he would endure it. Although he heavily considered plucking his eyes from their sockets simply to avoid looking at the man.
He and Matthew talked frequently during the fleeting days before he was set to leave. Matthew assured him he didn’t have to do this, that it was his burden to bear, not Alfred’s, but he was always met with the same responses.
He didn’t stop trying to convince Alfred to change his mind though, not until the day of his departure.
The day came far more quickly than they both would have liked, the hours leading up filling with teary remarks and promises they knew they would be unable to keep. Still these moments were precious, and Alfred knew he would treasure them once he entered the cold, unfeeling wasteland that was Russia, or so he had heard.
As they spoke in hushed tones, nervously awaiting someone to come for Alfred, Matthew’s eyes suddenly lit up with recognition.
“Alfred. I want you to have this.”
Matthew took the necklace he was wearing off and hung it around Alfred’s neck. The piece was made of fine silver, with a chunk of lapis as the pendant. “It was mothers before she left.” Matthew whispered, voice barely above a whisper.
“I will try and write you letters, though they may be intercepted.”
Alfred nodded knowingly. “Of course.”
“I love you. Beyond measure.”
Alfred hugged his brother, feeling his shirt dampen with silent tears.
“I love you too Matt. Take care of yourself ok? Once this senseless war is over and you convince father of his worth, I will come back to see you and Jan wed.”
Matthew looked up at him with a watery smile. “I only wish I could see your wedding.”
“I assure you, you won’t be missing much.”
Matthew giggled slightly under his breath. “Your next wedding then?”
“With any luck that will be soon.”
“Prince Matthew.” A guard called and Matthew almost stepped towards the voice before stopping himself.
“Oh right, you are Prince Matthew for now.” He chuckled under his breath.
“I will never get used to it.”
“You must, for the duration of your soon to be husband's last few years.”
“I’m good at facades.”
“As am I.”
Alfred glanced back at his brother, tugging the hood of his cloak over his face, or more accurately, Matthew’s cloak, one made of blue velvet rather than his usual red.
Matthew did the same.
The guard entered, looking rather perturbed and glanced between the two cloaked princes, too flustered to question either of their state of dress.
“I guess I must be off then, Prince Alfred.”
Matthew smiled cheekily. “Of course Prince Matthew, I wish you good luck on your travels and marriage.”
And then they parted.
Alfred snuck a few glances back at his brother as he was escorted to his carriage, but each glance just made his heart twinge.
“Are you alright, Prince Matthew?”
Alfred almost corrected the guard before reminding himself of his new role and clearing his throat. “Yes. I’m alright.”
He whispered in his best Matthew impersonation. Being a few years younger than his brother, his voice was a tad squeakier, less refined, but it seemed his impression was enough to trick the guard who ushered him into the carriage.
“If you require anything please let us know, we will stop at nightfall to rest and resume our journey at dawn.”
“How long shall the journey take?”
Alfred whispered, still maintaining his faux Matthew voice.
“From here to Russia? We hope for 4 months, should the weather be fair.”
Alfred hummed contemplatively. “Alright, you are dismissed.” He said with a wave of the hand.
He mercifully left, enabling Alfred to take the hood off his head and lean heavily against the plush leather of the carriage. He let out a loud sigh and winced at how unbecoming it sounded. How unlike Matthew he was. He would need to learn to be less crass during the journey. He couldn’t let this facade fail.
He fiddled with the pendant of his lapis necklace, the one Matthew had gifted him, peering down at the way his face reflected in the shine. He could only pray for the best, for his brother, for his nation and for himself.