A Joker, An Ace and the Queen

I haven't done a chaptered work in ages, it's sort of ridiculous how much I write one shots. Anyways, this is my new work I very much fell in love with. It's based on my take of the Cardtalia designs - the Hetalia trading cards in which the main set all had new 'card' themed designs. If you're not sure what they are, message me and I can hit you up otherwise Google it. ;)

Hope you enjoy, I don't own anything at all.

He had a watch. The boy wasn't old, nor was he practiced enough to read the hands as they traveled in lazy circles, never stopping. Young enough his parents still tucked him in and left wet impressions of kisses on his temple.

The city they lived in wasn't big, a small farming village nestled amongst fields of crops and Mom 'n' Pop corner stores. He didn't need to know the time – he came home for dinner when the man next door brought his sheep over the hill and slept until Father got up for work, awakening him with a stern but loving tussle of his hair.

Peter Väinämöinen had no need for that watch, really. But every night, it was tucked into bed alongside him beneath his pillow and held gingerly during the day for fear it would suddenly not be with him anymore. Pressed to his chest when he was running as not to be lost from bouncing pockets and carried by the chain from his dirty fingers when climbing up trees. The watch was a part of him as much as he was a part of it.

Little did the boy know that his favored time keeper was to bring him into an odyssey beyond him and then create a new completely around him.

He hastily ran up the incline, breathing hard as the sun pounded down on him as it set. His watch bounced faithfully along with him, ticking at the same pace it always did despite the growing rush to get home. The blond haired boy hopped the fence, stepping around Tino's garden and bounding through the swinging back door on a single breath. Peter found both of his parents in their common room – Father reading, Papa tuned into fixing his other pants he'd tracked a hole in earlier that day. Exhaling, he smiled, proud of his feat as Tino chuckled.

"Cutting it close today?" he asked softly, not really minding the time of arrival – he was actually early today, but it eased his worry to have him in the house so not as if he was going to mention that. Peter smiled at him, kicking off his shoes and wandering over the arm rest of his Papa's chair, watching as he sewed off the hem.

"Mr. Carriedo let me play with the new baby sheep!" he explained giddily, following his parent as he put away the sewing supplies and then trailed into his adoptive son's room. Peter's mouth ran as Tino folded the newly repaired pants, putting them away into their drawer before taking the child's shirt off for him and then helping with the rest of his clothes. His feet were dirty and the blue eyed boy laughed as the large thumb ran over his heel.

"That was nice of him, did you remember say thank you?"

"Yup! He said to ask Father if he'd help repair his fence before the winter so they won't stray out on him," he continued, wiggling into his night shirt, watch balled into his right fist as he attempted to poke his arms through the tricky holes.

Tino tugged the garment down for him, smiling as Peter transitioned from active mode to night time mode and moved into bed without being asked. He pulled the covers back, a quilted cave just for him and then tucked them around his son. He made an extra effort to bundle him in tight, laughing as he squirmed in sudden panic. "I'll make sure to tell Sve for you, I'm positive he'd love to see those new baby sheep with you too. Now, what story do you want to hear tonight, Peter?"

It was usually a moot question to ask, always so automatically responded to. The child smiled slyly from his place amongst the quilts as the other dragged over the chair from the corner, cradling one of the abandoned stuffed animals in his lap as he seated himself.

"Do you have it?" the man asked softly, stroking the horse's mane even though he always knew the answer. Peter struggled against the blankets and finally emerged, the golden pocket watch in his possession. It glimmered by the light setting through the blinds, golden and polished no matter what hard ships it went through.

"There was a place," Tino began smoothly, his eyes closed in concentration even though he knew every word he needed to say, "where a King and a Queen helped rule a kingdom. This Kingdom was special – built on magic and led by four sets of rulers."

"Like a game of cards, right?" he interrupted, fixing the sheets around his shoulders so he could rest comfortably with the watch beneath his cheek.

"Yes, exactly like that. Their subjects obeyed all of them, but each King and Queen together ruled a fourth of the kingdom. The pairs are always at each other's side, weak as another being when alone but strong enough to overtake the biggest beast when together.

In that world, one of the King and Queen sets ruled over time. They helped to suspend everyone into an everlasting sense of peace and youth. They were considered the top tier of the rulers, the most needed as they held the fabric of the world together. Like how that fence holds Mr. Carriedo's sheep inside, Peter."

"I know," he said tiredly, bright cherub eyes not quite as focused as before. "They needed that King and Queen because everything would get old and crumbly, right?"

"Correct. It is said each and every watch on this world is connected to the power of that King and Queen, for when time stops one of them has perished and needs to be replaced. If you watch the time, you can see whenever a new person is appointed in the other world."

Peter smiled, grinning from ear to ear as Tino tucked him back in again. "So, when my big brother gave me this watch, he wanted me to watch the other world, right Papa? And what about the other ones?"

The older blond laughed, kissing the boy on the temple as he smoothed down his hair. "That would be correct – like you are their little hero from another place. And don't worry about them, I need to save more stories to tell you tomorrow night."

He sighed contently, cozy and warmed. They exchanged soft spoken good nights, the room finally dark as the sun disappeared over the other side of the earth. The door closed with a soft click and with his watch close to mind, pressed against his cheek, Peter fell asleep to the same dreams he always had of a world based on cards and the Kings and Queens who ruled there.

A brother that he hoped to someday see again.

Stomach full on lunch, Peter wandered contently through the grass. He was in no hurry, trying to keep his tummy calm as Papa warned. The insects were out, creating a lively sound around him. He followed the edge of the neighbor's white picket fence, wrapping and unwrapping the watch's linked chain around his wrist.

Tuned mostly into his own imagination, he was startled when the white creature darted in front of him, it's hoofed feet trampling through the grass. Peter blinked, clutching his watch quickly to his chest as he watched the lamb trot off in the other direction. Catching his bearings, he screamed.

"Mr. Carriedo!" Moving quickly up the fence line panicked, he couldn't find the friendly farmer anywhere. Swallowing hard, he turned on his heels and dashed, chasing down the frail creature himself.

Branches snapped under his feet as he ran blindly, pumping his arms as fast as he could. The ferns were parted where the creature had burst through the line dividing the fields from forest and without of thought of the warnings he always heard, he followed it in.

The sun spotted the earth through the canopy of trees, and Peter was so focused on keeping his feet moving he wasn't quite sure where he was taking himself anymore. The lamb was nowhere in sight and everything had stopped looking familiar. Catching his breath he slowed, staring shakily down at the moving hands of his watch. It took a bit for his nauseous feeling to clear and on hesitant legs he pushed a little deeper into the forest.

"Baby sheep!" he called, hopping on top of a fallen trunk and sliding over the other side. It wasn't as loud here, the insects distant the leaves nearly perfectly still. Swallowing with difficulty again, he ran a thumb over the lens of his watch.

His finger struck the inside of his palm instead.

The blond's eyes darted down, patting his pants rapidly as he checked the ground around him. The ground was only of greens and browns , the golden pocket watch nowhere in his proximity. Panic causing tears to sting at his eyes, he dropped onto all fours to pat at the ground. He didn't mind being alone, never truly alone as the clock ticked away, but now, he was utterly lost.

He wasn't sure how long he remained like that, broken and withered despite being an upbeat and strong child. The tears had stopped coming, their rivers still left over his cheeks as they cleared the grime. Peter walked, pushing aside the low hanging hands of trees. The ground was dull and earthen – there was no prizes for a boy who misplaced a cherished toy. Occasionally, he called for the lost lamb that led him out here in the first place, but heartbroken, he kept on moving hoping that eventually he would come out where he was needed and loved.

Wandering, a sound through the forest caught his attention, breaking a smile on his face as his Father's voice broke though. Berwald was strong and silent but loving – he never missed a chance to say hello when he got home from work.

"Sve!" he screamed, using his Papa's favorite pet name for his other father. He ran towards his voice the best he could, the tears starting fresh as the branches caught onto his legs and left spider web lines of cuts.

The golden light from the fields was starting to come into focus, breaking the dim collection of sun from the dark forest's hues.

Tock.

It was louder than he ever remembered it - the hollow sound as the clock whirled drawing all of the boy's attention in one swoop. His eyes widened, mouth parting to stay slightly slack.

Tock.

Peter turned, heart lurching as he approached the grand tree, it's trunk wide and sturdy. He didn't remember passing it. He didn't remembering climbing it either, but his watch dangled on it's golden chain, not even moving as the wind picked up.

Anxious, he swallowed and approached, hopping over the fallen branches that seemed to halo around the grandfather sapling. Inclining on his tiptoes as his father shouted for him one more, the tip of his index finger touched the smooth edge of the round face.

Story begin.

The room was cold, the tile beneath his bare feet causing his toes to curl in search of warmth. Peter felt raw - open and frozen. His clothes felt like feathers drifting around his body. Left in shock and wondrous awe, he couldn't move as the gates opened before him and illuminated the pitch dark room. Life returning to his fingers, he shifted them and was surprised to feel the weight of his watch, dangling as the hands continued to whirl. The blond boy didn't glance down, just moved forward as the voices spoke to him.

You do not fit here - mischief maker.

He wasn't sure what that meant, for when one didn't know where they were it was hard to tell the wrong doings from the right. When up to mischief, Father spoke to you. Moving carefully, he went under the golden arch, craning his head to look for faces as the speaker continued.

We have a name for you mischief makers. A Joker in every sense.

Peter scowled, stopping in his place. He adjusted his grip on his beloved friend, glancing to challenger the falling pieces of dust that were keeping his company.

"I'm not a Joker!" he demanded angrily, but the breath was taken from his lungs and they deflated as all air left him. Feeling as if suffocating, he didn't want this anymore, he wanted home to where his bed time stories and warm kisses were. It had to be supper time with the sheep coming home and Papa would be looking for him soon.

We do not listen to the likes of you, for you bring no good and cannot achieve. Even if you hold the mark of the Spades, you have no spot, not even in the Clubs.

He was trying hard to defend himself, his neck stiff again as his body failed to respond any longer. He could feel the tears returning again and felt weak - he was young but he'd been taught a scratch wouldn't kill and not all dogs bit - but all in all, he was only a boy with a watch.

Possibly something more, but nothing less.

The forest hadn't changed and he knew that for he was back in the spot he began, the hull of the large tree before him, mighty and aged. It had taken a moment for his eyes to flush out the dim light that remained and allow in the setting sun through the canopy. He relaxed, maybe it was all a bad dream and he clutched his watch tighter in his hand, failing to notice as the second's stroke began to quiver.

A branch snapped behind him and giddily he shouted "Father!" as he turned around on his heel.
Berwald had always been tall, but even the shyest acquaintance would know this man was not him.

"Hey, what ya doing carrying around the Spade's watch, baby face?" the odd man asked, walking in a way where his weight sat almost fully on his heels. He was dressed mostly in black - his smile almost as devilish as the insignia on his breast. "Everyone has been lookin' for you, like, man. You should be happy I found you first before someone else did, kiddo."

Peter couldn't breathe again, panicking as he got closer, circling him in lazy steps. His innocent eyes darted about, trying to follow his movements as he paid attention to his watch. Ace's watch? Like Papa always told him? "... W-Who's looking for me?"

The tall devil man snorted, twirling a finger in his silver hair for a moment, twisting a lock around into a crude horn. The boy cringed, tucking his time keeper under the hem of his shirt. He was trying to will himself to be a hero, shout and scream and kick as Papa always said but thin felt curiosity kept him in place.

"Everyone in the kingdom, you're a fuckin' gem right now. The last one to make news like this was me, King o' Clubs going insane aside," he continued to coo, his odd spaded tail bouncing behind him. "An' trust me, News is slow around here. Your jus' lucky us Jokers don't have any suit magic, otherwise they'd be able to track us like hawks."

He squinted, lost. Taking a step backwards, the tree trunk brushed his behind. His watch slipped, dangling and exposed. "Why is everyone calling me a Joker? I'm not a Joker, I'm just Peter. Peter Väinämöinen. Stop calling me that!"

"Well, Peter, I got a little somethin' to learn you then. But we'll start with the basics," the lanky man greeted, finally stopping his pacing to jut out a hand, balancing his elbow on his hip. "I am the awesome, and the one and only awesome. But ya can call me Gilbert, 'ight?"

He stared at the strange man - Gilbert, he guessed he might as well think of him as, wide eyed for a moment. Carefully with his free hand, he shook the other's. It was gentler than he imagined and it made him homesick almost instantly. He held on tight, holding for all that he could now that he had the silver haired Joker's hand. He slowly slid to the leaf littered floor, stranger's fingers stilled locked around his small ones.

With a long sigh through his nose, Gilbert bent over, scarlet eyes laced with a paternal sort of pain as he lifted the blond boy and carried him in his arms. As much as he knew the boy was capable of moving on his own, they didn't have all this time to waste. "Hey, c'mon now cry baby. You're on national news headlines, you don't weep when you're famous."

"Not crying," he affirmed softly, eye lids sinking with sadness. His blond lashes pressed to his cheeks as he shuddered once as he carefully he decided he would allow to give all the trust his naive young heart had. Peter was lost, and his touch was gentle. "I wanna go home, Gilbert."

"Yeah, well bud, don't we all."

When he awoke, the setting had changed. Instead of dull and green, it was of blues and violets. Peter blinked away the sand from his eyes, parting his lips in a small yawn. He moved to pull his knees to his chest and noticed something different. He wasn't in his same clothes anymore, the color different but the texture almost exactly the same. He wouldn't of noticed if he hadn't looked down. It was very similar to what the other Joker wore, the thin spaded tail twisting beside him.

Frowning, he pulled his watch in his lap, tracing the rim with his finger. The home felt tight and claustrophobic, a single person bed across the room across from the kitchen chair he had been seated on. It was solid wood, the features chiseled away by hand it appeared and the cushion was non-existent. A fire was burning but to the lost boy's amazement, it was of a soft blue hue. Before he could touch it to test it, a door opened out of nowhere from the hull of the small fort and Gilbert entered.

"Ah, you hungry pip squeak?" He crossed the room in long strides, almost floating on his steps. Peter shook his head, pulling his feet up onto the chair. The Elder Joker didn't seem to care, instead choosing to pull up a seat in front of the azure fire. The silence engulfed for a moment, the flames making no sound.

"Gilbert, why are we called Jokers?" the small boy asked after a bit, staring at the dial of his watch. He didn't understand how they could be so different in a world that made so little sense.

The albino lifted his head, pausing his chewing for a moment to think. "You know the four card suits, right kiddo?" He nodded, showing his understanding as Tino always retold that story. "Around here, you're born to a suit. They aren't like playing games, each un is a magic."

"Spades is time, right?" he cooed softly, scooting from the hand carved chair and allowing his short legs to carry him to the man's side. "M' Papa told me that."

"Ah, yeah, see you know something." Gilbert extended his arms, opening up as if for a hug. Peter hesitated, fingers moving in motions across the clear cap of his charm. He flicked his wrists again, coaxing him forward and the blond boy laughed as he was suddenly squeezed and held tight, his sides attacked with wandering, tickling fingers. The man seemed proud of himself, a cock eye grin on his face. "But yeah, the Spades can manipulate time, they pretty much run the show around 'ere. You're pretty fucked if you ever get caught alone with one."

Peter frowned at his language, staring up at him with large eyes but he continued to pay no heed.

"Clubs are a bit more nasty though, they are sort of a buff class. They are the Manipulative magics, mainly in strengthening and weakening. It's messy crap, the easiest way to think of it is one second they can't lift a bag of feather and the next, you're getting a whole damned tank chucked at your head. Make sense?"

He nodded, pushing away his hands as the wandered to tickle again.

"Diamonds are the pansies I like to think, they are all frilly outfits and perfect long hair and shit. Mother Nature is what I call 'em, they can talk to any living thing and like, convince plants to grow. A forest is a trap when Diamonds are 'round, remember that, 'ight?" Gilbert poked Peter in the stomach, smiling softly as the fire continued to be the only light in the room. It's soft glow reflecting on the surface brought his attention to the watch in his small companion's lap. "But Jokers, right. We're here 'cause we entered without being born into a suit. You said you entered on accident, but I got 'ere on purpose. Basically, when we enter, we sort of grab all the magic we can."

The blond's eyes widened and he poked to his chest, holding his heart. "What does that mean?"

"That we can do things that none of the suits can," the male explained softly, propping his chin up on a hand. "They call me the Cheshire Joker, I'm pretty good with ducking through walls and creating doors where they shouldn't be, heh. Escape artist 101, the best and awesomest is me. Maybe you'll have something else, pip. They seem to think you do."

Peter watched up into his scarlet eyes as the Joker was watching him so intently. Carefully, new found tail bouncing and winding around him, he climbed from his lap and sat on the animal skin rug beside him. He ran his fingers through the fibers, watching them bend. "... Gilbert, isn't there still one more? The Hearts? Papa always told me about the Hearts. They're the smart ones."

His question met an odd silence, nothing comfortable like the rest of the time he spent with the strange but smart man. Gilbert licked his lips, fending away a dryness that had seemed to set in suddenly. Without answering, he went back to his meal, tearing the meat with his fingers into thin strips as he ate them. Discouraged, Peter reached over to finally eat as well, nibbling on the messy chunks.

"... I came here lookin' for my lil bro, you know. That's how I became a Joker," he practically whispered and the boy only knew those tones from when Papa would cry and Father would be there, holding him tight. "But the Hearts are good with mind reading and that stuff, they can put words into your head that you don't want if they really try."

"Oh," he chirped, eating his meat slowly, unsure of what to do. "My brother gave me my watch," Peter explained after a moment, gesturing to it with a greasy finger, "when I was really little. He's my older one. Papa never told me where to find him, so I just take it where ever I go because he'll know me with it."

Gilbert chuckled suddenly, wiping his hands down the front of his dark patched pants. "Yeah, well, my brother is the freakin' King of Hearts."