Sometimes you just need to let sleeping dogs rest. Don't screw with things you don't know, because even if your hands are blood free, they'll be covered with red in a matter of minutes.

Alfred F. Jones didn't give a shit about sleeping dogs at the moment. You want somebody who wanted to know about that past? Talk to his Queen, who spent most of his days with his head stuck in history books; reciting dates and names.

'So if the books are lost, somebody will have the knowledge' Arthur had told him, one night, 'I'll be more valuable than I already am.'

Alfred couldn't tell if Arthur really cared about the history; or more about his popularity.

Popularity can be kind of like an addiction that spread to everybody around you. You're tongue tingles when you taste it, and it makes your heart thump just a bit faster. Your hands and feet go numb, as you look into the eyes of those who adore you.

Who wouldn't give up everything for that?

Those people will never get close enough to you, to see the whites of your eyes, but they still kneel at your feet when you walk by.

Neither Alfred nor Arthur knew how long this would last; but that's one thing that they had. Time, wasn't a problem for them.

"Which era is it, this time?" Alfred murmured, sitting down easily on the loveseat across from the warm fire that licked at the sides of the bricks in the fireplace.

"Before the kingdoms…" Arthur murmured, his choppy blonde head tilted over the pages of a book.

"I don't get why you spend all your time on that crap." Alfred mumbled, crossing his ankles, and leaning back happily, "You're the queen, you could have anybody read it for you."

Arthur looked up slowly, with narrowed eyes, "Then I'd forget how to read."

"That's what other people are for." Alfred said, and gives a goofy smile, "We're king and queen Arthur, and you can have anything you want."

Arthur closed his eyes, letting of the binding of the pages with his right hand. He rubbed at his forehead, taking a deep breath, "How many times have we had this discussion? Every time you give something to yourself, it takes away from our people."

"I know, I know." Alfred grumbled, and his hands went behind his head, "Thanks for saying that for the millionth time since we were two years old."

"Seven, actually."

Alfred turned his eyes on Arthur, looking at him with pure blue irises.

"Thanks." Alfred grumbled, sarcastically. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose, "You remember though, when we were kids?"

"Of course I do, I was there too." Arthur mumbled, letting his book rest against his stomach, "What about it?"

"I mean we always knew what we were going to do, didn't we? You and I, we knew we were going to have to be together."

"We were born for this." Arthur said, gazing evenly back with pure green eyes, "They checked very child for the mark of the Spades."

"I know." Alfred said, and Arthur went back to reading his book; while Alfred pondered the possibility of whom exactly he was.

You see, popularity can also be like a disease. It makes you think of what you would be without it, and without the responsibilities that come with everything. You wonder how you would be looked at, if you were the one begging on the streets in the early morning for a small slice of bread. How the others would gaze at you, walking over your skeleton like body with a distasteful twist to their lips

"I miss them…" Alfred whispered, tilting his head down; so his hair covered his face.

Arthur glanced up, pursing his lips slightly. He could read words for hours, but it took him several minutes to string up a good sentence for the other.

Something that wouldn't cut into the others heart when it was spoken.

"I do too." Arthur whispered, eventually. Three lonely words, which spoke a world in less than three seconds.

-Three Days Prior-

"Don't move."

The minute you told Alfred F. Jones not to move, he was going to feel the need to squirm in his seat.

"Dammit Alfred, I said don't move!"

"Just get it off Arthur." Alfred whined, his hands clenching on the velvet stretched across his seats armrest.

"Well if you move, it's going to also, so stop!" Arthur snapped, standing to the back of the other. He had leather riding gloves on, a broom, and a tissue.

"Get it off!" Alfred whispered, shifting around again, the seat creaking as he moved his rear around on it, anxiously.

"I am, I am! Give me a moment, this isn't fun for me either!" Arthur snapped, reaching forward very slowly, his gloved hand open with the tissue resting easily on it.

The grumbly English man stared at the others shoulder, and eight little pairs of eyes gazed back at him.

Well, figuratively. He doubted the spider was actually looking at him all at once. After all, spiders are mostly blind by nature.

"Did you know spiders are actually pretty blind?" Arthur said, still reaching forward very slowly.

"Yes, and so am I, what does that have to do with anything?!" Alfred gasped, wiggling again in his seat.

"It means it's probably just as scared as you are." Arthur said, and snapped his hand forward, clenching the tissue paper around the spider with a 'crunching' sound.

"I-I'm not scared of anything, you're the one scared of it." Alfred gasped, and flew out of the seat the moment he felt Arthur's hand on his shoulder. He wrinkled his nose up at the tissue, glancing up at his companions face.

"Sure, sure." Arthur said, smirking and wrapping the tissue around the dead spider, making sure not to loose any of it, "Says the one who let out the most bloody loud scream I've ever heard when one fell on you."

"That was just initial shock." Alfred said, reaching behind him to rub at his shoulder; secretly brushing away any figments of the spider away, "That and I had to warn my damsel in distress!"

Arthur's narrowed eyes landed on him. "Pray tell, who would that be?"

"Arthur Kirkland of course." Alfred said, and took off running away from the other.

"I told you not to call me that!" Arthur screamed, taking off after the other, with the wadded up tissue in one hand, "I swear to Spades, I'll throw this dead creature on you!"

"That's not even right!" Alfred screamed back, "You're evil, you know that?"

"Good, maybe it'll teach you something!" Arthur snapped, and slammed into the back of the other, who had stopped suddenly.

"Al?" Arthur asked, pulling away from the others black jacket, and following the others gaze. His head bobbed, as he swallowed hard.

"Hello, your highnesses." The guard Alfred had stopped in front of, bowed so low Arthur could have sworn his nose touched the ground, "Mr. Stanley wishes to speak to the both of you."

"What?" Alfred asked, stepping back slightly, and in front of Arthur; who had begun to shake.

"Mr. Stanley of Spades higher up class ranking 65, wishes to speak to the new—"

"That's enough, Dudley." A gruff voice echoed down the hall and Arthur's hand rested against Alfred's back, his fingertips brushing against the familiar fabric, that smelled just like the boisterous blonde.

"Mr. Stanley." Dudley murmured, and bowed again, this time a grim smile on his face, "I will leave you to explain."

With those words, the grim faced guard was gone, stomping back down the hallway that he had come from. Even though the floor was carpeted, his footsteps still echoed in the dark and suddenly very empty space.

All except for the two eighteen year olds, and an older man standing there; whose eyes were sadder than Alfred or Arthur had ever seen.

"Mr. Jones and Mr. Kirkland." Stanley said, his voice softening, "We've some matters to discuss."

Alfred frowned at the other; looking down at the hand that Stanley had suddenly offered him. He took it very slowly, feeling suddenly very young and small. Not at all like the adult he had turned into a month and a half ago on his birthday.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, stepping out from behind Alfred, and straightening his hair with his free hand, "Does the King and Queen want us?"

"Arthur," Stanley started, taking a deep breath before continuing, "There has been an accident… You and Alfred are the King and Queen now."

Arthur stared at the other, feeling Alfred start to tremble himself under the hand that was resting against his back. The new Queen's fingers unclenched around a tissue, and it fell to the golden carpet soundlessly.