Author's Note- Yes, it's a USUK fic. Yes, it's about Spades. Ugggggggh just like all the others, man! But! I'm pleased to announce that other characters that are supposed to be a part of the royal court are in there, doing royal things, too! Yay for Yao and Mattie! The real MVPs. Anyway. Enjoy.

"Your highness, you have a visitor."

"Again?"

"Again. Apologies, my Queen. He insists."

A sigh from one of two throne chairs, "Bring him in."

The doors to the Spadian Palace swung open, and two guards stormed inside, towing a young blond man to the thrones; one of which occupied the Queen, the other, empty. He rose, green eyes turning to steel as he approached the disturbance.

He was wearing the 'sexy boots' again. Yes.

The guards tossed the young man to the floor, before the Queen's glorious presence. He picked up his head, flashing a cheeky grin, and cooed, "Hey, gorgeous."

"Have I not told you that you aren't welcome here?"

"Have I told you that you have beautiful eyes? Like, the most beautiful eyes ever."

A few snickers rose from the guards. A sharp look shut them right up. The Queen accused, "You don't think I don't have better things to do, rather than worry about some peasant waltzing in here like he owns the place!"

A shy fingertip traced the lines of the tiled floor as this 'disturbance' pouted at the Queen's boots, "I just wanted to see you-"

"I don't care what you want. I have more pressing matters to attend to, sort of like running a Kingdom?" A step forward. The peasant's breath caught in his throat as the Queen leaned forward to sneer, "If I see you step foot on royal property one more time, I will personally drag you into our dungeon."

The young man could not fight a smile. "You promise?"

"I promise."

"So, it is true. You do have a Royal Dungeon!"

"Ugh!" The Queen turned heel and swished a hand at one of the guards. "Get him out of here, and make sure he stays out this time, would you?!"

The Knights immediately swept 'Disturbance' from the floor.

The Queen plopped in one of the throne chairs with a heavy sigh. "Yao! Call the kitchen. I need some tea for this dreadful headache."

The Jack of Spades observed everything with an amused smile on his aged face. "Of course, your highness."

"Aw, come on!" 'Disturbance' whined as the guards, Knights, whatever they're called, put his arms behind his back with unnecessarily force. They ignored his wriggling and pouts as he tossed a last glance over his shoulder. The Queen turned his head away, toward rare sunlight streaming through a wall of windows. The other throne chair remained empty.

The palace doors shut, and he could not get the sight out of his mind.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"Alfred! Where were you?"

Not even a chance to breathe. Alfred made a show to turn around and close the gate to their farm and flicking the latch into place, before facing his brother, who must have dashed out of their cottage to see him. "Oh, you know, just taking a walk."

His brother scoffed, crossing his arms. "You were at the palace again, weren't you?"

Alfred shook his head.

"Don't lie!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"I can see it on your face!"

Alfred swiped a palm over his cheek and pushed by, "Mattie, I didn't even get in the door yet!"

"Seriously, Alfred!" Quiet, but persistent scorn, "I told you to stay away from there. What if they get the wrong idea and throw you in the dungeon? Or cut off one of your hands? Or cut off one of your hands and throw you in the dungeon?!"

"Matthew!" Alfred yelled, kicking off his boots beside the door. "Relax! See? Two hands!"

Matthew mumbled, "So far."

Alfred sighed and followed the smell of dinner drifting from the kitchen. "How is everyone?"

Everyone being the chickens, the cow, and their pig, of course.

"Fine. They missed you."

Matthew missed him. He didn't need to say it.

Alfred flashed him a grateful smile as he lifted the lid to the pot on the stove. All of those animals out back, and Matthew made vegetable soup. "Aw, come on, man, I need meat!"

"You should have got some when you were...out."

"Yeah," Alfred muttered, "maybe."

"So? What happened? Get me a bowl."

"I was going to." Alfred helped himself to enough soup for three men. "What do you mean 'what happened?'"

"Hey, not so much! That needs to last all week!" Matthew snatched his empty bowl and gave his brother a scrunched face. "You eat more now, you have less later. And I know you went up to the Spadian Palace."

"Yeah." It was all over Alfred's face, after all. "I just..." He abruptly turned from the stove and plunked himself at the tiny dining table right in the same room. "I just had to see him again."

Matthew's pissy judging eased into soft sympathy, "Oh, Al."

Yep, Alfred was tossed out. Literally. His simple shirt sported a big drag-mark of dirt and grass on one of the elbows. Matthew did not need to say it. He said it the last time they tossed Alfred out, and the time before that-

His heart would get him into trouble.

It kept going back to the first time Alfred saw the Queen, perched on an open carriage during some kind of fancy parade, alone, the center piece, staring with a vaguely curious expression against the crowd of Spadians cheering and jeering and clamoring for his attention. So close. Alfred could reach out and press his hand to the carriage. So magical. Strength flowed from his presence. When his eyes ran through all of them, Al swore they lingered on his own for a moment longer.

Alfred was doomed to have that sight in his mind for eternity.

"Well? How is our Queen doing?"

Surprise. Alfred ducked his head from the mischievous twinkle in his twin's eyes. "Uh, he's fine. Angry. All brows." He whistled. "Handsome."

Matthew guessed, "Sexy boots?"

"Sexy boots."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Alfred!"

"What?! I already filled the troughs!"

"Yeah? Out where?"

"A walk! Step off!"

"A walk, huh? A walk to the Spadian Palace, am I right?"

"Mattie, quit it!"

"Quit being right?!"

"Yeah!"

Matthew shouted as Alfred closed the front door, "Alfred! You better not-"

Oh, Alfred better have. It was such a beautiful, rare sunny day from the constant clouds over Spades. The flowers were full for the short summer, and he had been blooming a brilliant plan to get that big-browed grump - oops, the Queen - to turn that sour eye. A great idea, indeed.

A couple of Knights stood before a gated path at the foot of the tallest mountain in all of Spades, the one that housed the palace. It was a walk all the way across town from the farm, but now, with those guards eying up Alfred like that, he would have to go around and up the mountain. Past all of those sappy pine trees, up all of those rocks...

Alfred could do it. Totally. He could climb mountains, since the easy way was closed off all of a sudden. Hm. He lugged around whole bales of hay all day. Irritated, but determined, he squared his shoulders, and marched away, to find a less conspicuous path to love, but he swore he heard the guards snicker as he put his back to them.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Whoever had the idea to plunk the Spadian Palace right in the side of a mountain needed to rethink their life choices. Alfred lost track how many times he stubbed his poor toes and scraped his poor palms on loose rock and sediment. Bad enough that he looked like he just left the farm (which he did), but now he looked like a farmer that rolled up the mountain...with his face!

But he was a farmer; wrangling loose chickens and slinging buckets of apples was second nature. Just like slinging himself up mountains should be second nature. Surely the Queen would get one look and be enamored how hard Alfred worked to get there, and possibly how hard he would work to...do whatever royals do.

Alfred slipped. The rocks were smooth. Too smooth. He flattened his belly against the mountainside, begging his fingers not to detach from sharp wind whipping his clothes like it wanted them for itself. He slowly craned his head back, blinking at some sort of ledge jutting into the sky.

What did he know! Thick vines and leaves drooped from the railing, and he eagerly latched on, begging himself not to look down.

Alfred heaved over the stone railing, and tumbled onto cold marble. He groaned, rolling onto his back and panting at the achy sensations running through his arms and legs. "I made it," he announced. "I freaking made it."

He picked up his head, squinting at so much green surrounding the balcony. Down the railings, through the yard, all the way to the rear of the Spadian Palace, a smooth blue-gray masterpiece gazing and leveled to the horizon. He smiled from the sight, always a marvel, even though he appreciated the sight of his cozy farm cottage, too...when the shutters haven't fell from the last thunderstorm.

Alfred peeled himself from the cold marble. Wide blooms of reds, pinks, white, all sorts dotted the bushes overtaking the back garden. A clear cut path led to the back doors of the palace, and he took a step toward it, eyes wide and entranced.

No. He shouldn't. Not so soon after last time. Alfred needed to butter up the Royals first, before they would see his face again.

Roses. Roses upon roses. So many roses. Alfred guessed someone in there likes roses. Maybe the Queen did. Why else would there be almost no other plant infesting the back yard?

Alfred decided he liked the roses, too.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

The rear doors to the palace snapped shut, sending an echo down the walkway. Alfred cussed and scrambled up a nearby tree, scattering petals onto the ground. Footsteps crunched on the gravel. He tried to wiggle and get a good view, but the leaves shook and tattled of their intruder, so he had to bunker down and hope for the best. It might have been just a Knight making rounds.

What if that Knight saw Alfred's art work and got the wrong idea? Alfred would have wooed a guard of the palace! He pressed his fingertips to his eyes, catching the heavy scent of roses on his own skin.

Those footsteps stopped. He twitched. Turned his head.

Yep. The Queen.

Yep! He had the sexy boots on.

Oh, thank the Gods, it wasn't a Knight. Sure, Alfred would go for the head of all Spades, but a Knight? That's like shooting for the stars and deciding to stay in the clouds.

Alfred forced himself to still as a break in the leaves shown his majesty taking a step forward. The Queen's eyes were wide, mouth hung open at the carefully (and lovingly) scattered petals leading up to the ledge, where a bouquet half his size waited for his beautiful eyes to sink into it.

Arranging bouquets was child's play next to tying bales. Just saying.

The Queen stopped. Took another step. Stopped again.

Alfred twitched again, resisting the urge to leap from the tree and into his arms.

On the move again. Fast. The Queen powered down the walkway, stirring the rose petals in his gallant stride until he stood before the plethora of flowers. It was obvious he was floored (even though he was still standing) as he gaped at the colors.

A nervous glance around the garden, perhaps to ask who could have done such a thing. For him. Alfred grinned, and let himself somewhat quietly drop out of his hiding spot with one more bundle in hand. The Queen had turned back to the center piece, taking in a deep breath, taking in the soft scents.

"Who. Did. This. To my roses?!"

Alfred froze as his foot snapped a stray twig. The Queen whipped around, face contorted in fury, and Al was standing there with a much smaller bunch of roses. No need for guessing games when the evidence was right in his arms. "Uh..."

Taken back from the sight of floral arrangement? Check. Alfred sneaking up with a last surprise in hand? Check! Obvious surprise on the Queen's face? Check! The Queen leaping from the balcony to run into his arms? Uh...

Alfred quickly licked his lips as said Queen approached, and he squeaked curiously, "Queen Arthur?" Nobody dared to utter his name. It was always, 'Your highness,' or 'My Queen,' or 'Oh, great leader in all of Spades...' but Alfred did. Yes, he did.

Arthur raised his hand, and snapped. Metal glinted in the late Sun, and a blade emerged from thin air.

Oh, oh, oh. Yep. Definitely murderous intent right there.

Alfred shrieked, dropping his bouquet and ducked, nearly into a prickly (and now flowerless) rose bush as the Queen lashed for his head.

The sword met wood, and Arthur snarled in Alfred's direction, "You. I should have expected it to be you!"

Alfred locked onto green fury, trapped like bug in a spider's web, and blurted, "You were expecting me?"

"Argh!" A rough tug. The sword came out of the tree. Alfred knew he should start running at that point. The Queen roared at his backside, "I'll carve your lungs out! You destroyed my garden!"

Alfred twisted around, almost tripping backwards up the balcony's steps, as he did not want to take his eyes off of the now-hostile Royal. "Wait, wait! I wasn't trying to destroy anything!"

Tossing an arm to the petals strewed along the path, to the deflowered rose bushes, "Then what's this?!"

"I wanted to surprise you and make everything all pretty-"

"Everything was already pretty! Argh!" Arthur charged, thrusting his blade forward. Alfred leaped backwards, back pressing to the railing. He gasped, tossing an eye to pebbles tumbling down the mountain. Another yell. The sword came again. He shrieked and dove to the side.

Arthur yelled incoherently and he yanked on his blade, which was now embedded into the rocky railing. Alfred marveled at sheer Spadian strength. Arthur turned his frustrated glower onto him, and he started to scoot away. "No. Stay still, and I will be done with you forever and from now on!"

"But I just-" Alfred scrambled on the marble as the sword wiggled, coming loose. "Oh, shit!" Sword was free now. He skittered on the petals he laid out to get away as the Queen rebounded, but caught nothing as he turfed down the stairs leading back to the garden.

Alfred's butt went into the air, over his head, and he flopped quite ungracefully on the gravel. He grabbed at his elbow, wincing. The Queen's steps were too close. He gasped, and twisted onto his back to flee for his pathetic life and maybe come back to fight (or not to fight) another day.

Arthur was already upon him. He lifted a leg and sank his heel into Alfred's chest, snarling, "If you want to keep breathing, you will stop moving now!"

Some sort of magic paralyzed Alfred, as he stuck his hands, palms out, along both sides of his head. Maybe it was just the Queen's super Queenly and manly voice doing it. "Hey! Hey. See? I don't have anything-"

"Quiet! Now!"

Alfred reflexively grabbed the Queen's ankle, letting out a teeny gasp as he stepped down a bit more.

"How many times. How many times have you came here and we chased you away? Why. Why?!" Before Alfred could explain himself, Arthur leaned forward, glaring down with the fury of a thousand Suns (and just as hot, too). "You a Diamond spy? Huh? And a very shitty one at that? Well?!"

"N-no! I'm not a spy!"

Sword point to Alfred's throat. "I don't believe you!"

"Then why'd you ask?!" Alfred bit back a whimper of delight as the Queen pressed down a little harder.

"First, you show up to the palace uninvited. Unknown. A peasant! To the Spadian Palace!"

Oh, Gods, Arthur put a hand on his hip. That jacket dipped to the back of his knees quite nicely. The slice of skin between his dress shorts and boots attracted eyes as ears were chewed apart. Alfred gulped, probably about to get his throat cut out into fours, but it was a nice view while it lasted.

"Then you proceed to pester us, disrupt precious processes, and steal time from us from doing, oh, I don't know...important royal things?! That! That I can deal with." Queen Arthur shook his sword in the air, chuckling darkly. "Maybe you're bored. You're a thief."

"I'm not!"

Arthur jabbed his weapon at Alfred's face. "I said. Quiet. All of that? Fine. Fine! Whatever! But you!" He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to roll his jaw. "But my garden. You welcome yourself to my safe haven and desecrated it. Do you know how long I have worked to make everything just right?! Now, the winter is going to set in before they can bloom again, no thanks to you!"

"Your highness!"

Arthur looked up.

Alfred tilted his head back, eyes going wishy-washy as Knights sprinted down the walkway, automatically grabbing their hilts as they zoned on him. It was hard to get a good amount of air in his lungs that the Queen promised to carve out. How nice.

"We heard you yell-"

Arthur held up his hand, "What, a whole minute ago, you mean?"

The men and women exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"Anything more than a peasant, and what could have happened?" Arthur snorted, and relinquished his foothold from Alfred.

Alfred whined once he was united with sweet oxygen, "I'm a farmer-"

"Peasant!" The Queen spat. Goose bumps tackled Alfred's skin. The guards started to move on him, but Arthur gestured, "No." Gazing down at Alfred, a smirk crept up one side of his face, "Didn't I tell you that the last time you decided to pay us a little visit..." Dramatic pause, "I would personally toss you in the dungeon?"

Alfred stared.

"Did I, or did I not?!"

"Uh, y-yeah!" Alfred tried coherent words, "You did!"

"Good. Maybe you're not as stupid as you make yourself out to be, farmboy. So, you know what's going to happen now?"

"You're going to put your hands on me?"

Whatever Arthur was getting off on this, crumpled into a sour expression. "Ugh!"

"Your highness?" One of the guards took a step forward. "Would you like for us-"

"No. I said I will do it. On your feet. Now!"

Everyone stared, posing over Alfred. He really did not have a choice. He pushed himself to stand, groaning from the forming aches and bruises from scaling up a mountain, and almost stumbled, right on top of the Queen. Maybe he should have let himself. Maybe then the guards would skewer him for doing so. Hm, maybe not.

So close to the Queen, Alfred could almost nestle his face into his sunny blond mess-for-hair, but then it dawned on him how broad and taller he was than him, than most of the guards! Their hands never left the handles of their weapons.

Only Arthur seemed undaunted, giving him a once-over before jutting out his chin and grinning like a fox. If foxes could grin. Given the situation, Alfred knew that wasn't good, but it felt so good at the same time. "If I told you to march your arse straight to the dungeons, you would, wouldn't you?"

"Sure," Alfred said. "If I knew where they were."

The Queen scoffed. Alfred wondered if he wanted to hear something else. More groveling, perhaps. Arthur grasped his bicep, really hard, actually, and yanked him forward. A yelp of pleasant surprise came out of Alfred's mouth. Right in front of the royal guards.

They didn't seem as delighted.

"Your highness, wait! You do not need to do that!"

"Oh, please!" Arthur tutted as they marched down the walkway. Alfred was going to see more of the palace! The freaking Spadian Palace. If his brother could see him now! Wait, that would be a bad thing. Oh, crud. This was a bad idea. "I can handle a lowly peasant just fine."

Was it really a bad idea, though, since it felt like an honor for the Queen of Spades to step on him? A painful honor, but an honor, none the less.

Alfred whistled, giving his chest a rub, and nonchalantly hovered closer to his so-called captor. Their sides brushed, and he got shot full of feel-good tingles, and a dirty look as the Queen shirked away, like he had lice or something. "You call me low?"

One of the Knights barked behind him, "Don't you dare speak to the Queen so freely, peasant!"

"Why?" Alfred tipped his head back and unleashed a cackle as the grand doors swung open. "You're going to arrest me? I'm already going to jail!"

"Yeah?" A lady-Knight sneered, "I bet one week, and you'll be bawling for your mummy, farmboy."

"Um, my mom's dead, but thanks."

"Oh." The guard blinked stupidly. "Your father."

"Dead, too."

"Ugh!"

Alfred looked up, marveling at an enormous chandelier illuminating the rear entrance way. That thing alone must have been worth more than his house! Decorated frames dotted the walls, faces of people, maybe old Kings and Queens glimpsing by as they hustled to who-knows-where. They stopped, and Arthur jerked his head for one of the Knights to open this real big, and by the sound of it, heavy door. A figure stopped at the other end of the corridor as cool, stale air hit their faces. Basement air. Oh, no.

"...Arthur? Your highness!" Somebody approached the group. The Knights backed away. The newcomer stopped, even shorter than the Queen, and furrowed his eyebrows at Alfred. "My Queen, who is this?"

"Don't worry about it, Yao. You won't see him again."

"Hey!" Alfred grinned and held out a hand. The guards found their weapons again.

One hissed, "I knew we should have cuffed him!"

"Like, on the back of his head, or cuff his hands together?"

The man in the long robes seemed unfazed as Alfred asked, "Aren't you the Jack? Nice to meet you!"

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. Yao turned to him and appraised, "Usually prisoners do not have manners."

"Surprise, surprise," Arthur harrumphed and yanked Alfred forward. Al really did not want to go down that creepy hallway. "This lollygagger," he spat the words, "has been in my garden making a mess out of the damn place! He's going to the dungeon. I'm not arguing with you about it."

Yao gave Alfred a blank look. Almost sympathetic. "Neither will I."

"Good. Let's go!"

Alfred let out something a little unmanly from his throat. Did the candles really have to flicker to life just as they walked by? Yao went along for the ride, or whatever Jacks do. Al looked to his hovering presence, disturbed as the Jack steadily stared at him like he was a shiny bauble on a shopkeeper's counter. Or maybe he was planning for dinner tonight, and Alfred was on the menu. Yikes. "Um...yeah?"

"This must be exciting for you."

"Exciting?" Alfred unleashed a short laugh that echoed through the corridor. He looked to Arthur, and a smile took over his face. "You know what? Yeah, seeing the Queen working up close and personal is awesome."

Arthur audibly gritted his teeth. "I'll show you awesome."

Yao asked, "Would you mind telling us why you were trampling in the Queen's garden? Usually you come through the front doors. Or a window."

The Jack of Spades was completely calm about everything! "I wouldn't call it 'trampling,'" Alfred said. He grinned down the Queen's steady glare. "I just couldn't seem to stay away."

"Oh, shut up, with your groveling! You're still going to the dungeon!"

"I know that!" Alfred whined as two Knights stationed by a medieval-styled door made way, "I just wanted you to know that."

"What," the Queen sneered, pulling an unwilling Alfred toward a steep staircase. Stairs were worse than mountains. "Before you're thrown with the rats for all eternity?"

"Ew, you guys have rats?"

"Get down there! And try not to break a leg. Don't want you getting an infection and dying so soon, after all."

Yao sighed, like he was weary, "Your highness..."

"What?! The little maggot deserves it, after all he has done!"

The Jack opened his mouth, perhaps to dissent, but brightened as he looked to Alfred's pout. "Yes, of course. How about I take him the rest of the way? You should find somewhere quiet and rest."

Arthur immediately withdrew from the group and swiped his hand on his waistcoat. "You're absolutely right." Resonating sharply down the steps, "Be gone!"

The guards rumbled in amusement as Alfred rolled his eyes. "Bye, your highness!" He stretched his neck to call over heads as they forced him down stairs, "You look as beautiful from behind!"

The Queen held up a crude, non-Queenly gesture without looking back.

The door shut, and Alfred grinned the rest of the way.