Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.
Summary: Concerned about the long war's developments, King Alfred of Spades consults with the white haired Joker who, in turn, suggests the fortune telling game of Clock.
Clock
Deep in the kingdom of Spades, there was a castle surrounded by a bustling city. The colors of deep navies and indigos painted the architecture and smeared against the landscape. The full scale of color variation was most evident in the royal garden which sprung to life at the outer edges of the castle's northwest side. The Queen and Jack enjoyed taking tea in the afternoon at the wrought iron table and listening to the flora and fauna. The King, on the other hand, never took the time to enjoy nature's splendor that lay close to his bedside. He was too busy leading the Kingdom of Spades through war.
The four, different countries were always belligerent—Spades more than most. The history books frequently referenced long stretches of times varying between war and peace. Sometimes monarchies were incomplete due to premature death, but it was never questioned—never necessary to point out. There were some subjects—very few—scattered about the kingdom who claimed history had always repeated. It was almost as if (they claimed) everything fit together perfectly like a puzzle. Of course, these were also the same people that claimed with the right set of cards and the correct amount of Shuffles, you could know your future and your passions. The game was called Solitaire. Children played it with a dirty, ratty deck. Sometimes cards went missing, and so they'd never win. It was fine, though; it was a "what-if" game. "What if" you could save everyone in all the cities in all the countries in all the worlds?
Everyone knew the game.
Some knew variations. The variations that determined Life and Death.
King Alfred of Spades had arranged a much needed meeting with one of the world-builders—one of the Jokers. The man clad in blue stood in the private garden's doorway. He saw the white haired Joker lounging back in one of the wrought iron chairs, and he saw the deck of cards on the table. His stomach swayed, troubled, as he walked over and took a seat across from the Joker. "Gilbert," He greeted, "have you…done it, yet?"
It was no secret that Spades had suffered casualties in the war—this war. Things were progressing rapidly to the point where the King feared for his subjects and for his fellow monarchs.
The Joker, Gilbert, pulled his lingering gaze from the garden untouched by battle, and allowed it to rest on the nerve-wracked king who sat before him. "No," he answered with a perplexed expression. "I can't do anything unless you're here." Gilbert nodded down at the table. "Get to it, Your Highness. All faced north."
Alfred looked down at the deck. Despite the Joker's informal behavior, he had placed the cards in the direct center of the table, making sure the bold pattern on the back faced the Dealer—the King. "Some magician you are," Alfred huffed more out of nervousness than fake amusement. He picked up the cards and made sure all the patterns faced the same way. "All the cards are ordered?"
"Of course. Otherwise it wouldn't work," Gilbert answered, adjusting himself in his seat. "Overhand shuffle four times, riffle shuffle, overhand shuffle four times, riffle shuffle, overhand shuffle four times, riffle shuffle, overhand shuffle four times—"
"Riffle shuffle?" Alfred raised an eyebrow as if to challenge the absurdity of exact shuffling and its symbolism.
"Ha, ha. Yeah." It was a sarcastic laugh, ironically enough. "Have to get it all good and mixed to account for all the universe's plans. Now, do you want to know who dies, how your supplies are doing, how your strategies will go, what exactly you're made of…?" Gilbert tilted his head and tried to read the King for whatever he could have fun with later.
The King, in question, stared down at the deck as he shuffled. "I want… I want to know who I can save."
"Not what you're made of?"
"No."
"Not a bit?"
Alfred took in a heavy breath and answered curtly, "Not even a little bit. Thanks. This war's gone on for a long time, and…and I want to know who can be spared—who will be spared. Gilbert, you have to tell me." He smacked the newly shuffled deck on the table with urgency rushing through his veins.
The Joker lifted his chin and looked down at the deck again, tapping a finger against the table. "You're gonna have to do that yourself, Alfred. We. Are going to play Clock." There was a pause. "By 'we,' I mean 'you.' Pick up that deck and deal. Place twelve cards in a circle—but start from one!"
The King carefully placed down the cards as he was instructed. He was about to place a card over the 'one' pile before Gilbert let out a sudden, "NO." In reaction, the King flinched and kept his hand (and the card) shaking in the air. "No. Put that thirteenth card in the center. A deck has fifty-two cards. You divide that by four, and you have thirteen piles. Where're you going to put your last four cards if you stack them like you're doing? Thirteenth in the center."
After rolling his eyes, Alfred placed the thirteenth card in the center of the clock, and then he proceeded to deal the piles' second card (starting from the 'one' space, of course). Once he was finished, he looked to Gilbert for guidance. "Alright, what now? They're all dealt."
"Draw from the center pile. The King pile. The thirteenth pile." Gilbert willed himself not to touch the cards; if he touched them, the fortune would be ruined.
Cautiously, Alfred drew from the thirteenth pile. He hesitated to turn the card. Suddenly, he turned it and viewed the Ace of Clubs immediately. "It's the, uh, the Ace of Clubs. What does that mean?"
The Joker shook his head. "We just want to know who you can save, right? Ace of Clubs is saved and, by extension, the Clubs' capital city. Place that underneath the 'one' pile. Slip it underneath. Turn it so it's faced correctly." The King did as he was told. "Alright… Now, draw from the 'one' pile."
Alfred did so. "The Jack of Hearts," He mumbled. "He's saved, too?"
Gilbert nodded, "Yeah. Slip the Jack of Hearts underneath the 'eleven' pile. I'm sure you can guess queens go under the twelfth pile, and if you draw any numbers, they go in their corresponding piles. You continue until you draw all four kings."
"What does that mean if I draw kings? Are they all saved?" Alfred asked, concerned and wary.
The Joker met the King's gaze and shook his head grimly. "No. For everyone saved, there's a sacrifice. You'll determine which kings die on the trail to peace. Any card you're unable to flip over and place in their corresponding piles in time will die. This is how you find out who you can save." Gilbert kept his eyes locked on Alfred. "… Are you sure you want to continue? Maybe you don't want to know the future and the costs."
Alfred shook his head quickly and slipped the Jack of Hearts underneath the eleventh pile. "No," He placed a finger on the 'eleven' pile. "I need to know what happens. To make preparations."
Gilbert nodded and looked down at the card clock on the table. "Alright. Proceed with caution, Alfred."
After drawing a few number cards, Alfred asked, "What does it mean to overturn number cards?"
"You're saving cities." There was a pause. "Well, you're seeing which cities will bounce back."
Nodding, the King drew a card from the tenth pile and gasped. His hand trembled as he found he held the King of Hearts. "Ludwig…" He spoke softly and viewed Gilbert through pained eyes. "Ludwig falls?"
Gilbert continued to stare at the cards. He gulped lightly before taking in a breath. "Keep going, Alfred. Place the King of Hearts under the thirteenth pile."
The King nodded and reluctantly slid the King of Hearts under the thirteenth pile. At this point, he was unsure if he wanted to go on, but he had to know. This way nothing would surprise him. He could account for all the deaths. He drew cards and slipped them under their respective places. Alfred began to smile at the cities' future resilience. He drew a card from the tenth pile.
His heart briefly seized.
And he threw the card down on the table, choosing to stand and storm to his bed chamber's doorway. The King halted halfway inside, and his breathing was uneven.
Gilbert peered down to see which card it was that caused Alfred's fit. He closed his eyes in understanding. "The King of Spades," he whispered.
Alfred said nothing in response.
Opening his eyes again, the Joker spoke up, "Are you sure you want to go on? You won't live to see anything after this."
It took a moment, but Alfred took a seat across from Gilbert once again, still determined to structure a plan for his kingdom and for the world.
The card glared up at him, defying his efforts.
"… Alfred, you don't know when it'll happen."
"It'll happen after Ludwig." His voice cracked, and then he cleared his throat. "Just. Forget it. Forget it. I'm finishing this." Alfred slipped his card underneath the thirteenth pile and kept drawing. He let out a pained sound when he plucked he King of Clubs from the fourth pile. He gripped the card and reluctantly slid it underneath the dreaded thirteenth pile. "…Francis is our only hope now. Hopefully… He can do it. With the other monarchs, he can do it."
Gilbert chose not to speak.
After a moment of silence, Alfred ventured onward. He drew a few cards and placed them. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that he had saved the eighth city and the Queen of Clubs. "Elizabeta survives." Alfred leaned back, allowing himself this small victory for the heavy sacrifice of three kings.
He then slipped Elizabeta under the twelfth pile and drew more, intent on saving more monarchs and cities. He drew a six. He drew a ten. Then he grinned upon drawing the Queen of Spades from the tenth pile. "Arthur. He lives on." Alfred sent a bright smile to Gilbert. It wasn't all bad. Between Arthur and Elizabeta, they could keep Cards in balance. There was no doubt in his mind. He did not relax too much, however. There were still nine cities that needed saving.
For every familiar face he drew, Alfred grew more at ease. With these people and places surviving, he felt his worry dwindle down. Alfred had saved the seventh district, the fourth district, and then the tenth— His eyes widened when he drew the card from the tenth deck. "Francis," His voice shook.
Gilbert's frown deepened, and he viewed the Clock. Only four cities would make it through the war unscathed. He plucked the King of Diamonds from Alfred's hand, and slipped it under the thirteenth pile. With that, the fortune was over. He picked up the cards from the twelfth and eleventh piles to read off who would be saved. "As far as Jacks go, Feliciano, Roderich, and Basch survive. Yao, I'm sure, fights honorably and is not lost in vain. As for Queens, Elizabeta and Arthur put up a strong fight. Kiku and Lili not strong enough."
There was an air of silence, filled only with the distant sounds of birds and the fountain.
"…The Kings sacrifice their lives in war, and the cities tear each other apart until the remaining monarchs find a way towards peace." The Joker continued, recognizing but not resonating with Alfred's crushing realizations. "… I suggest, Alfred, that you make your preparations very fast to give them their best chance."
The King of Spades nodded softly and stood. "Thank you for giving me your time, Gilbert. I'll be a busy man until my final moments. Please watch over the Queens, Jacks, and cities that need help rebuilding."
"Yeah. I can do that. Get some sleep, Alfred. And." He stood as well and gripped Alfred's shoulder. "Don't go telling people who's going to survive. Make your final peace, but for all that's good, don't clue people in on what you know."
Alfred met Gilbert's gaze. "… Yeah, thanks. I'll keep it secret. You can leave when you want." With that, he gave the Joker a respectful nod, brushed off his hand, and headed back inside to somehow manipulate the universe into giving the kingdoms all the luck in the world.
The Joker looked down at the cards. "…This Path to Peace is going to be one of the bloodier ones. Maybe in fifty-two years, the next War will be kinder."