Arthur hated the word “anniversary.” It had never caused him any problems until now, and if truth be told, it wasn’t the word itself that bothered him. No, it was its connotations. Why a word couldn’t simply mean what its definition declared it to mean was beyond him. He had even consulted the dictionary (Oxford, of course.  He still hadn’t forgiven Noah Webster.) and, sure enough, the definition was perfectly innocuous:

     anniversary (noun) (pl. anniversaries)- the date on which an event took place in a previous year.

     He could hardly believe that his own language had turned against him. He now found himself preparing to declare war on the English language. All attempts to reason with it had failed. Every year so-called “new” words were added to the dictionary. Why was it amassing such great resources if not to attack him? He couldn’t allow it to continue, but if he did manage to take down the English language, what would he put in its –

     Good God, he was turning into Alfred.

     It wasn’t as though this event had snuck up on him. Alfred had been planning it for practically a decade. Arthur agreed to help and even planned some celebrations of his own, but the magnitude of the event took him by surprise. He remembered informing Alfred that the queen would be in attendance. For all of his pretensions about disliking monarchs, Alfred was quite anxious to make a good impression. Arthur lost count of the “queen lessons” he had to give. He also made a point of reminding Alfred that they had gone through this before, so why the hell couldn’t he remember anything?

     Whenever the topic arose, Arthur noted that there were far too many half-concealed smiles and whispers amongst the other nations. As the celebration neared, they became even bolder. And every time – every bloody time – they used that word. Francis was the worst, but that was to be expected. The rest had become very adept at finding ways to weave it into ordinary conversation. "If you could come by my house sometime, we’ll discuss – Oh! But you’re probably busy planning for the Jamestown anniversary celebration, right? We’ll have to meet another time.” How many times had he heard that one? They thought they were so damn clever. Naturally, Alfred continued to exist in a state of happy oblivion. Arthur could feel his face turn beet-red whenever Alfred discussed their plans in public. Often he would arrive early for a meeting just so he could catch Arthur beforehand and go over what was scheduled when, where different events would be held, who had to reschedule, and you’ll never believe who’s coming! After the first few such instances, Arthur noticed everyone began arriving increasing early for meetings. It soon became common knowledge that if the meeting was scheduled for ten, you needed to be there by nine.

     As “simplicity” was not in Alfred’s vocabulary, the celebrations lasted for a total of eighteen months.  Arthur was grateful that most of these preliminary events were separate. As far as he was concerned, that meant fewer smirks, fewer jokes, and significantly fewer headaches.  He even began to enjoy the festivities in spite of himself. That had nothing to do with Alfred, of course. He was just glad to boast about his days as a great naval power.

     Arthur was scheduled to arrive in Virginia in time for the royal visit. However, at the last minute he decided to come a few days in advance.  He didn’t tell Alfred. For the time being, he preferred to be alone. The Tidewater held many memories for him. It was here that he had first met Alfred. Prior to that time, Arthur had only caught fleeting glimpses of the boy.  He had never been able to actually talk to him before. That was the date being celebrated: the anniversary of their first meeting – May 13, 1607.

     Great, now even he was saying it.

     He avoided Jamestown for the time being. Alfred was spending most of his time there now and Arthur didn’t want to see him any sooner than necessary. He would have plenty of time to be bothered later.  Instead, he went to Colonial Williamsburg. It was surreal. Re-enactors in period dress clashed with the contemporary clothing of gawking tourists. Arthur hated it. They destroyed the illusion entirely. He walked all over town, searching for any spot not touched by modernity. After nearly two hours, he slumped down next to an oak tree. He closed his eyes, wondering why on earth he had wasted his time. What had he expected?

     Suddenly he heard two sets of footsteps coming down the road.  One set was fast and light – a child’s run. The other was more akin to shuffling.  Arthur looked up. A young boy ran into view. He was dragging a man behind him, probably his father.  The boy was scolding him.

     “But you said you’d be home tomorrow!”

     “You’re gonna stay this time, right, Arthur?”

     “We haven’t even seen the jail yet!”

     “C’mon! You’ve gotta see this!”

     “Why do you have to go to work anyway?”

     Arthur stood up and brushed himself off. He quickly strode away in the opposite direction. Damn tourists. You couldn’t get away from them.

     “Why do you have to go?”

~~~~~

     Historic Triangle.

     So it was called, but Arthur saw it more as three points connected along a single line. Beginning, middle, end. Childhood, adolescence, adulthood. This was a celebration of beginnings, but now that he thought about it, there had been one exception. Arthur had gotten a play-by-play of every event, whether he wanted it or not. Once, that hadn’t been the case. He knew Alfred did it; it was no secret. Well, he had his own personal exhibitions, so it only made sense that Alfred would do the same. And really, it was just an unfortunate coincidence (although 225 did seem like an odd milestone). Still, it seemed to tie everything together. How strange that the events of nearly 175 years could condense so neatly onto a single peninsula. Here he had met Alfred, and not twenty miles away he had lost him.

     At this rate, Arthur decided he would be a full-fledged philosopher by the end of the week.

~~~~~

     The royal visit was winding to its close. After a visit to the White House, the royal family would return home. Arthur envied them a bit. Alfred was doing better than expected, causing him minimal embarrassment and adapting well to the role of host. Not that he didn’t still have time to screw up. That was always a possibility. Now the other nations watched with almost congenial smiles. Arthur wasn’t sure if he liked the change or not. He couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn he heard Kiku use the word “cute.” It wasn’t cute. It was nothing remotely resembling cute! So they had an alliance. A, er, strong alliance.  What of it? He had alliances with other nations. No one laughed at them. Then again, they didn’t hold year-and-a-half-long anni – commemorative – celebrations.

     Arthur had just arrived at the White House. The actual ceremonies wouldn’t start for an hour or so. For the time being, he was outside double-checking the day’s schedule with Alfred. Besides the initial arrival ceremony, there was a white-tie dinner planned for later in the evening. It wasn’t really necessary to go over the details again. They had been planning this for so long they could recite the schedule in their sleep. Then there was the dress code. What was appropriate? Did everyone know about it? How formal was too formal? The dinner was also meticulously planned. What did the queen like? How many people should the kitchen prepare for? How should the food be prepared? Where there any vegans in attendance? If so, who the hell invited them?  What set of china were they using? Not that one, I just broke a plate. Alfred had once joked, “It feels more like we’re planning a - ”

     Arthur threatened him with severe bodily harm if he finished that sentence.

     “I think we’ve got it,” said Arthur with a sigh of relief. He took a quick glance at his watch. “Sorry, I need to go. The people from the Embassy should be arriving soon.”

     “Wait! I’ve gotta show you this!” Alfred grabbed Arthur’s arm and half-dragged him across the White House lawn. When they finally stopped, Arthur shoved him away.

     “Let go of me, you overgrown  -  !” He froze, mouth agape.

     “So,” Alfred grinned, “what do you think?”

     It was the damndest thing Arthur had ever seen. Arranged along the White House balcony were alternating American and British flags.

     “I know I didn’t tell you, but I figured you’d be okay with it!”

     No response.
     
     “Arthur? Yoo-hoo… Anybody home?” Alfred waved his hand in front of Arthur’s face.
     
     “Ah!” Arthur jolted back to reality. “Fine! It’s fine! Look, I really have to go. I’ll – I’ll see you later!”

     “Right!” nodded Alfred enthusiastically.

     As he crossed back across the lawn, Arthur silently prayed that some terrible misfortune would overcome all of the cameras that day.

~~~~~

     The laughter quickly travelled in from all directions. Again, Alfred appeared deaf, blind, and dumb. Within a day, Arthur received what could only be described as an interesting package from Francis. An attached note declared it to be “the traditional 400th anniversary gift.” Arthur marked the box “return to sender” and was prepared to ship it back (along with an expletive-laden tirade), but stuffed it in the closet at the last minute. Not that he intended to keep it. Postage was just too high.

      One more weekend. Just one more weekend. Then it would all be over. Arthur could go home, Alfred could think up some more ridiculous schemes, and everyone could finally shut up about the whole thing. For all of the hype, he felt that he had actually seen less of Alfred over the past two weeks. Whenever they met, all they ever spoke of was the day’s plans. Arthur chided himself for be so sentimental. This was Alfred, after all. The man was unparalleled in his ability to completely miss the point. But no matter, in three days things would be back to normal.

     When he met up with Alfred on Friday morning, Arthur was surprised to see he was missing “the book.” “The book” was the worn planner Alfred had carried with him from day one. He never parted with it. Arthur assumed he even kept it under his pillow.
     
     “Don’t tell me you forgot the book. My God, how do you think we’re going to get through this without the book?” Arthur felt the beginnings of an acute migraine.

     “Arthur, I - ”

     “Just hurry and get the damn thing or we’re going to be behind schedule. Why I trusted you with planning I’ll never know.” By this point, his patience had been stretched to its limit.

     Alfred sighed. “Will you let me finish? We’re not in charge anymore.”

     Arthur stared at him.

     “What?” he asked.

     “We’re not in charge anymore. I’ve gotten some of my people to take over. They’ll handle everything this weekend.” Alfred explained.

     “And what exactly are we supposed to do?”

     Alfred shrugged, flushing slightly. “Whatever you want. I mean, it seemed kind of weird for us to be in charge of our own…” he trailed off. He knew better than to say it. “Look, I thought that maybe it could be just us this weekend.”

     It took a few seconds for Arthur’s brain to resume functioning. Had he actually…? Surely he hadn’t planned it like this?

     “You’re serious?” he asked, still waiting for the punch line.

     “Yeah. Let somebody else worry about things for a change,” said Alfred. “Is that okay?”

     “Of course! But let me ask you one question.”

     “Shoot.”

     “Did you plan this from the beginning?”

     Alfred looked confused. “Duh. What did you think I was - ”

     He didn’t get to finish that thought, as Arthur had grabbed him by the collar and was now kissing him. He released him after remembering the necessity of air.

     “So, uh, what now?” Alfred stammered, his glasses slightly askew.

     “They won’t miss us today.”

~~~~~

     The two were conspicuously absent for Friday’s events. That meant several amused glances from friends on Saturday, but Arthur was no longer inclined to care. Yes, he thought, it’s exactly what you think and I’m actually surprised I’m able to move at all today. Muscles that I didn’t even know I had ache. He smirked as he imagined their responses. But in all seriousness, Alfred had truly surprised him. Despite appearances, he had actually planned the final weekend with him in mind. In Arthur’s mind, this was further proof that no matter what, Alfred would never make any damn sense.

     For the first time since his visit began, Arthur found himself thinking that time was going by far too quickly. Saturday passed in a blur and before he knew it, Sunday had arrived. That was it. The finale. By Alfred’s reports, there were approximately twenty-five thousand people in attendance. All of the festivities had him practically beaming. By sundown Arthur had to jog just to keep up with him.

     Throughout the day there had been numerous “congratulations.” Most were directed to Alfred, but occasionally Arthur would find someone shaking his hand. However, he was happy to note that when this happened, Alfred turned as red as he did. It didn’t seem to be the teasing that embarrassed Alfred so much as the public well-wishing. He later learned from a royal aide that after receiving such a sentiment from the queen, Alfred had “turned redder than the carpet he laid out for Her Majesty that morning.”

     It was dark now. The orchestra and choir had come back for another performance. Arthur smiled to himself. Earlier that morning, Alfred had told him something interesting. Apparently this was a four-hundred-piece orchestra and a one-thousand-six-hundred-and-seven-voice choir. Only Alfred could think of something like that. The night ended with an enormous fireworks display – red, white, and blue, naturally. Alfred leaned in and kissed him as the last sparks faded.
    
     Somehow, he was gentler than normal. Slower, more tender, perhaps. Arthur had first noticed this on Friday. Granted, it started with all of the tenderness of two rabbits in a cage, but after that initial incident, Alfred had been uncharacteristically gentle. His touches were softer than usual. Arthur remembered Alfred clinging to him, riding out his climax, hissing what sounded like “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.” Arthur felt a bit guilty as he realized just how important this whole event must have been to Alfred.

     “So, are we gonna do this every century?” Alfred asked.

     “I suppose we could. You didn’t do too poorly. We’ll let that comment
about Her Majesty slide,” Arthur smirked.

     “Come on! Don’t make such a big deal out of it! You know, it could’ve been worse!”

     “Oh, I can believe it.”

     Arthur shook his head and embraced Alfred, who had started to pout.

     “You’re an incorrigible idiot, you know that?”

     “And that’s why you love me, right?” teased Alfred, his mood now improved.

     “God knows why that it is,” muttered Arthur.

     “Well, Happy Anniversary to you, too,” Alfred laughed.

     “…You know how I feel about that word.”