This was written late at night because I had a scene that I just really wanted to use that plays on one of my Cardverse headcanons, and I think some plot managed to worm its way in there (because as hard as I try, I just can't write without it), but who knows. Don't worry if it doesn't make a lot of sense; this is really just part of a broader, grander story arc that's really involved and is not totally thought through yet.

Maybe I'll turn it into a full story one day. Hm.

Ocean Blue

GarryxMrChairFan

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Ocean Blue

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The waters were surprisingly calm for midsummer, the tumultuous waves that typically roared over the oceans of Spades nearly docile as Arthur gazed out at them, leaning with ease against the port beam, arms crossed and eyes thoughtful.

"Still can't get him out of your mind, huh?"

Arthur turned to regard his first mate, rolling his eyes at Gilbert's knowing smirk. "That is none of your business, Beilschmidt," he said firmly, but his voice was still soft as a small crest of water drew his attention, causing a short flash of bright blue behind glinting lenses in his mind. That was what had drawn him, really— they were eyes the color of the ocean, a pure, untamable blue that had his pirate heart stuttering in breathlessness.

He'd always loved the ocean.

Gilbert nodded skeptically as he leant against the beam, propping his pale arms on the wood. "Sure. Because it's totally not a big deal that our captain— the infamous Captain Arthur Kirkland, most feared and ruthless pirate of his time— is completely obsessed with a set of eyes." He paused to choke back a laugh. "Yeah, okay, I guess it's not really that big a deal. Man, you really are pathetic."

If Arthur didn't value his skills in battle or his knowledge in everything else, he was sure he'd have tossed the bastard overboard already. Fortunately for said bastard, he owed him too much to do much more than glare. "You're one to talk, Beilschmidt. Tell me, have you managed to work up the balls to talk to that Jack yet?"

Arthur snickered at his first mate, who pointedly looked away to keep the very obvious blush on his cheeks hidden, but his captain knew him too well. "Shut up," he grumped. "At least I know I don't even have a chance. What's your excuse?"

Arthur fell silent at that, turning his attention back to the waves. Gilbert was right, of course; as far as he knew, the lad was a simple merchant of Spades, not the advisor to the Club monarchs, and other than the fact he was, as Gilbert had said, the most feared pirate, wanted in all four Kingdoms, he really didn't have an excuse to be pining as he was.

Bah. The great Captain Kirkland, pining for a pair of blue eyes.

Oh, how low he had fallen.

Pushing off the beam, Arthur turned to his first mate. "How long until we dock, Beilschmidt?"

"Should be another day," Gilbert replied, pushing off as well. "The current's pretty calm, and as you can tell, the wind's not much more help, either."

Arthur nodded, turning to walk to his quarters. "Very well. Take inventory and make lists as to what we need by way of supplies. Oh," he turned on his heel to face his first mate, "and let the crew know we're staying at least two days. Assuming we don't get caught," he smirked, "count this as a bit of vacation."

Gilbert saluted with two fingers. "Aye, Captain."

Arthur nodded and continued to his room, shrugging out of the long red coat and hanging it over his desk chair, undoing the cravat at his throat and tossing it aside as he slumped down onto his bed. He pulled off his boots with sigh of contentment, laying back on the cool sheets and turning his head to stare out his small window, the sky darkening from the pale blue of afternoon to the warm orange of evening as the sun set over the horizon.

He was once again consumed with the memory of blue eyes with thin framed glasses, and he let his mind wander through that day as he lay there in silence. It had been during the last raid on a port town on the southern side of the Kingdom: he'd been following Carriedo for weeks, hoping to finally catch up to the rogue Captain and show him just who ruled the seas, and on suggestion from Gilbert had stopped to stock up at the nearest place. Their stores had taken severe damage and depletion from the last encounter with the other pirate captain, and Arthur had agreed with Gilbert— he wanted to return the favor to Carriedo tenfold, of course.

Screams had filled the air, and Arthur had chuckled with amusement as he watched the citizens begging for their lives as his crew ravaged their homes and shops, taking what they pleased and what they needed. Of course, he'd made sure no one was injured unfairly— if there was one thing known about Captain Kirkland, it's that he dealt punishment only where it was due, though that never stopped people from fleeing in fear— and as the sun set he'd called his crew to return to the Britannia Angel.

And it was as he was returning, stepping over debris in the cobbled streets, that he saw him: a young lad, tall, with golden hair dimmed with ash and eyes the color of his beloved ocean, staring at him, wide and curious.

Arthur hadn't given himself time to stare long, brushing past the boy in a graceful sweep of coats as he continued back to his ship, his breathing quick and his own eyes wide at the spark of something between them as they'd locked gazes. It was electric, tingling through his veins as he came aboard and barked orders to set off immediately in pursuit of Carriedo. He retired to his room early that night, filled with a sense of longing that he couldn't explain and the image of shining eyes.

Arthur groaned, rolling on his side as he shook his head vigorously to expel the memories and thoughts, burying his face in the fabric of his pillow. It was so stupid to be so obsessed with someone he'd only briefly looked upon, but he couldn't shake the bizarre sense of connection he'd felt as their eyes connected— that he still felt even now, weeks since he'd even stepped on land.

Rolling onto his back once again, Arthur cast all thought from his mind as he closed his eyes, concentrating instead on slowing his breathing and eventually letting himself be taken by sleep.

His dreams were still filled only by ocean blue eyes.

. . .

It was late the next evening, the sun once again setting upon the horizon, when the Britannia Angel pulled into the port town of Lancer on a small peninsula on the west side of Spades. Arthur and his crew had disembarked not long after letting the anchor, and the crew whooped in joy as they dispersed into the town to enjoy their nights off. Most of them made their way to the seaside tavern, intent on downing several mugs of the finest ale they could afford and scoping out beds for the night, whether in the inn or… elsewhere.

Arthur stuck with Gilbert, his first mate taking it upon himself to locate shops with the supplies they were in need of before letting his personal wants take over. The captain was glad for his first mate, really— as laidback as Gilbert was, he was always on top of things, too.

"Well, looks like there's several market shops that'll open tomorrow morning that we can get foodstuffs at," Gilbert was saying, looking at a list in his hands as Arthur listened while looking out at the ocean. "Nothing as good as Diamonds, but it'll do." He snickered.

Arthur turned a quirked eyebrow to him, a smirk pulling at his mouth. It was no secret that the fertile southern Kingdom brought in many from near and far for their exquisite cuisine; along with the luxury items that were the Kingdom's signature, their food was next. The industries of Spades prevented such conditions with the frequent bouts of smog and pollutants, while Hearts and Clubs were simply too far north and therefore lacked the appropriate conditions to truly produce anything as savory.

Not that Arthur would ever admit that he preferred the food of Diamonds; if word got around that he was actually enjoying food produced in the Kingdom of one of his greatest enemies— well, he'd never hear the end of it. Stupid frog Kings.

Gilbert and he continued on their trek to the tavern, intent on spending the night pissed and having a laugh. It was a tradition of theirs, he supposed, to drink themselves into oblivion while enjoying it all the while, simply relaxing and content to be inconspicuous for a few nights instead of the feared raiders that they were.

While many of the crew had found themselves staying in the beds of the barmaids for the night, Arthur and Gilbert both had enough common sense to lay down the coins for a couple of rooms, and they stumbled up, hanging on each other's shoulders as they made their way to the rooms, Arthur collapsing in his bed with a groan. Vaguely, he knew he'd be out helping in the morning to gather the supplies and weapons that were needed, and that he was going to have one hell of a hangover after the ale and shots, but he slipped into unconsciousness quickly as his exhaustion caught up to him.

. . .

Morning came sooner than he wanted, and Arthur was irritated that he'd been right about the hangover, his pounding head making him even more unwilling to get out of bed. But Gilbert was knocking at his door anyway, and that pounding was not helping the one going on behind his eyes, so he griped and dressed and headed out with his first mate to do what they'd come for.

As they headed toward the market, Arthur couldn't help the sneer that formed on his lips as he glanced at the houses and buildings lining the streets. "It's amazing, really," he commented offhandedly, rolling his eyes and turning to his first mate.

Gilbert shot him a look. "What is?"

Arthur gestured to the buildings. "The fact that the monarchs are nearly as wanted as I am," he elaborated.

It was true: on the walls and stalls were posters of the wanted criminals of the Kingdoms, his face smirking at him from nearly every angle as they walked. Next to each of the posters claiming that any information that might help track down the "scum" pirate captain should be reported immediately to the authorities, there were notices of the search for the new King and Queen of Spades.

The previous monarchs had finally passed earlier in the year, the duties of running the Kingdom falling solely to the recently appointed Jack, a young man of Oriental descent named Wang, according to Arthur's source (and, even if reluctantly, he did indeed trust Francis' information to be accurate— he was a bloody King, after all). He seemed to be doing an acceptable job of keeping things in line, Arthur observed, but everyone knew the Council would only be waiting a few more weeks before forcibly searching people for the Marks, whether they'd actually shown up on anyone or not.

Arthur had never approved of the need for Councils, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was a wanted rogue. In fact, the reason he'd done what he'd done to get where he was today was because he felt that the Councils were unnecessary— all they did was exert power where they had none and hurt people, and, despite hurting people himself because of his position and reputation, he wanted it all to stop.

Gilbert glanced over at the posters and snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, at least being wanted as a monarch doesn't get you thrown in jail."

"This is true," Arthur agreed in amusement, following his first mate to the first stall of vendors.

The day moved slowly, Arthur helping Gilbert with the supplies as they wandered the port town, taking a break for lunch and a mug of ale when the sun reached its peak in the sky, lying low as law enforcers made rounds, looking for the wanted crew. Not that they knew Arthur was docked, but he wasn't going to take a chance. He didn't like the run-ins and it would waste valuable time to escape the cell that probably had his name on it.

He supposed they could also be making rounds for those that bore the Marks, but once someone discovered them, they usually came forward— hell, why wouldn't someone immediately announce their newfound power and status? — but there were indeed those who said nothing, either forcibly dragged to the castles to be crowned against their wills or simply reluctant to believe that it could possibly be them that was blessed as a monarch.

Arthur wasn't sure whether to see it as a blessing or curse, really, but he cast the ponderings from his mind as he continued through the town, enjoying the cool breeze from the ocean as he and Gilbert wandered the piers after loading the supplies aboard the Britannia Angel.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur turned to Gilbert, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I'm heading to the tavern," he said, turning toward the road back to the town. "Make sure you round up the crew as you see them."

Gilbert nodded. "Sure thing. You be careful, ya hear?" He gave a pointed look, his red eyes boring into Arthur's. "We've already had a close call once today— we don't need another."

Arthur nodded, thinking briefly of the moment he'd been standing by one of his wanted posters and a child, no more than eight years, pointed him out to his mother and commented that he looked like the picture. He'd quickly turned and headed off, cursing himself for letting his guard down so easily. Gilbert had chastised him when he picked up on the rumors that Captain Kirkland was prowling the streets amongst the civilians, and they'd stayed on the ship after dropping a few crates off to let the whispered words die down a bit before finishing their task.

"I will be," he assured his first mate, heading off. "Come find me once you round everyone up! I want to set out before this evening."

The afternoon was muggy for the beginning of summer, and Arthur had left his coat in his room, wearing only a light cotton shirt as he strolled along the streets, making his way lazily to the tavern for the promised mug of ale. His mind wandered once again to blue eyes, and he gazed out at the calm waves of the ocean, looking to the horizon and smiling faintly at the contrast of the pale baby blue of the sky to the deep azure of the water.

He should have known that once rumors began it would be longer than a few hours for the authorities to let it go. He was wanted in all Kingdoms, and the price on his head was such that it would send any mere commoner instantly into noble status, nearly eligible for a position on the Councils. The fear he had instilled in his years as a pirate made it so that anyone that was not a close friend or trusted confidant of his would gladly point him out, greedy for the reward they were offering.

Arthur had just turned a corner, heading for the tavern at the end of the street, when three men stepped in front of him, blocking his way. They were dressed in the deep blue of Spades, their uniforms pressed to perfection, tight and showing off their ripped figures. Arthur would have given them more attention if he hadn't caught sight of the blunderbusses hanging from their hips— law issued and bearing the seal of Spades.

He met the gaze of the man in front coolly, calmly, hoping the apprehension he felt was hidden behind the confident gaze he was giving him. "May I help you, gentlemen?"

The man in front scoffed. "You're a hard one to catch, Kirkland." His mouth pulled down in a sneer of derision. "But you should've known you couldn't hide forever. They'll be pleased to hear the infamous Captain Arthur Kirkland is finally off the streets and headed to the gallows."

Arthur let a smirk take his lips, feeling his heart beating rapidly in his chest. "Well, I hate to disappoint," he started, shifting his weight slightly, "but I'm afraid I've previous engagements that I simply must see to." He gave the men a two-finger salute before turning and taking off back down the street.

Despite being in fairly good physical shape from all of his fights and raids, Arthur hadn't ever been much of a runner. He'd never had to really push himself, because he was usually on board the Britannia Angel. His forte was swords, not long distance running. And all soldiers were trained in a range of things, one of them being the chasing of criminals like Captain Kirkland.

Gilbert tried his hardest to help, he really did. When Arthur shot past, the yells of the men telling him to stop and give himself in, attempting to get someone— anyone— to get in the pirate's way, Gilbert immediately jumped between his captain and the men, throwing punches and trying to slow them down and throw them off. Arthur couldn't call out his thanks as out of breath as he was, throwing items and crates in his wake as he snaked through the streets, hoping to lose them.

Arthur gave them a run for their money, definitely, and he was fairly proud of his stamina, but it wasn't enough. He felt the ground meet his face with a harsh slap as he was tackled from behind, a heavy form settling on him as he struggled against the stones in the street. He was dragged harshly to his feet, his arms held behind his back so tightly he was almost worried that the man was going to pull them out of his sockets, and he wouldn't have been surprised if that was his goal.

Cheers from the bystanders filled the hot afternoon air as he was led to the town square, in the center of the hustle and bustle of the day's goings on. Arthur flinched away from the rotten rubbish thrown his way by adults and children alike but kept his head forward and high, watching the crowd form around the raised platform that was their destination. On it, two other soldiers stood waiting, faces impassive and one holding a whip. It was custom for a criminal to be lashed before being dragged to jail, as if to add injury to insult.

And Arthur was the criminal above all else.

Forced to his knees on the bloodstained wood of the platform, Arthur gazed out at the sneering faces of the town, catching sight of Gilbert being restrained in cuffs by another two soldiers, waiting for his turn. He gave his first mate a wicked grin, and Gilbert returned it with a smirk of his own; if they were going down, there would be no fear.

"Arthur Kirkland." The two men restraining him forced his head down, and he grit his teeth against the push. "For crimes against the four Kingdoms of Hoyle, including innumerable counts of manslaughter, pillaging, torture of innocents, and treason to the crowns, you are hereby sentenced to the gallows, to be hung until death."

Arthur's arms were pulled out, and he felt the cool press of metal slide under his shirt, the sword pulling against the soft fabric.

"In accordance with the laws of Spades, you shall first be whipped no more, and no less, than two score times before you are brought before this town again beneath the noose." Arthur heard the speaker pause, and he could only assume he was looking at one of the men holding him. "Remove his shirt so that his blood may be spilled in penance for the crimes he has committed."

Arthur heard the crack of the whip as the soldier prepared his swing, and he felt the sword tug upward harshly, the cotton ripping smoothly beneath the sharp edge of the blade, the fabric falling to his sides and sliding down his arms to pool at his restrained wrists. He grimaced at the ground, tensing his muscles for the first of the stinging wounds to come.

Dead silence filled the air for several long moments, the stillness making Arthur struggle to lift his head in hopes of making sense of what was going on. He hadn't heard that they were now making their prisoners anticipate the whippings, as if letting them get comfortable before the pain.

And they called him tortuous.

Arthur finally let out a huff, rolling his eyes around, narrowed as he attempted to look behind himself. "Well? Are you going to whip me or not? I don't have all day, you know."

Suddenly, his arms were released, and he nearly groaned in relief as the strain on his shoulders was no more. He brought his wrists together, rubbing the red marks of the soldiers' fingers where they had been holding him. He finally looked up, bringing himself to his feet slowly, brow furrowed, and he nearly fell back over in shock.

The soldiers were on their knees, bowing their heads low. The one who'd had the whip had tossed it away, his head dipped in respect, though Arthur could still tell there was a scowl on his face. After a moment of staring at the soldiers, he turned to look at the crowd, all of them staring at him as if he had suddenly sprouted wings, and he watched in stunned silence as the people slowly mimicked the soldiers, falling to their knees, though reluctantly.

Spinning on his heels, Arthur searched for Gilbert's face, finding him forced into a kneel and frowning that he couldn't communicate with him. Breathing heavily, he turned back to the soldier who had taken it upon himself to lead the proceeding, hoping to control the mild panic creeping into him. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Why are you all…?"

The soldier raised his head, his features schooled into practiced neutrality, though Arthur could see the utter rage in his eyes. "All hail Arthur Kirkland," he said, looking directly into Arthur's eyes, "Queen of Spades."

Arthur's breath hitched, and he looked down at himself, twisting around to look at his back. He caught sight of his reflection in one of the windows of a shop across the way, and he froze once again, turning his body slowly to bring the dark design on his pale skin into view. Swirls wrapped around his hips, and on his spine sat the Spade, nearly the size of his hand. He couldn't see details, but he was sure it was a deep sapphire color, just as all the Marks were.

"No…" he breathed, staring wide-eyed. "That's not… I can't be…"

He was interrupted from his disbelief by another soldier running up, seeming frantic, his young eyes wide. "Sir! Important news!"

The soldier behind Arthur stood, gesturing for the young man to approach. "We have some as well." He held a hand out to Arthur. "The Queen has been found."

The young man stopped, moving his stunned eyes to the pirate captain. He nearly drew his sword, looking at the pirate with incredulity, before he paused, squinting at him before his eyes widened. He quickly bowed, his head nearly hitting the cobbled stones before standing back up. He looked back to the other soldier. "It is a most blessed day," he said breathlessly.

The other man grunted, and Arthur looked between them with an apprehensive feeling.

"The news I bring is wondrous, sir," the young soldier announced loudly, and the gasps running through the crowd made Arthur's stomach turn uncomfortably. He once again sought Gilbert's face, and his first mate was watching him with an unreadable expression. "The King has been found as well."

It was a whirl of blurred scenery after the announcement, Arthur being led to the palace of Spades by the same soldiers intent on harming and killing him now standing about him protectively. He'd been handed a new shirt, and he'd slid it on in a daze as he was given a horse to mount, letting the soldiers lead the mare along up the long road to the grand building that was home to the Royal Family.

Gilbert rode beside him, on his request, and stared ahead silently, a pensive expression on his face. Arthur was unnerved by the silence of his first mate, as well as all of the attention he was receiving that wasn't out for his life. He kept to himself, unsure what to say in light of the discovery.

He was the Queen of Spades. Arthur hadn't even imagined it was conceivable that the possibility of him being a Royal was something that could happen— but he couldn't deny the Mark now gracing his skin, glinting subtly in the bright sunlight when it caught. He traced it lightly as they arrived at the gates, servants immediately attending him, pulling him into the palace and through the halls in a flurry of squeals, giggles, and mindless babble.

Arthur barely had time to take in the décor, led through large corridors lined with tapestries, carpets of the most royal blues, curtains over the wide windows in deep purples held with gold ties. His breath was swept away, his mind hurrying to process everything as he was brought to a grand room at the far end of one of the many wings.

There was a large bed at the far end of the room, the canopy draped in purple satin. Across the room, a stone fireplace dominated the wall, cleaned and empty in the summer heat. Bookshelves lined the walls around it, the windows to his left giving an amazing view of the balcony leading to the Royal Gardens, a private paradise for only the King and Queen. Wardrobes resided in one corner, and in the adjacent one was a lounge area, plush chairs and a long chaise set around a low coffee table with crystal bowls full of candies.

Arthur was led through the room to another set of doors that he found opened into a bathroom, the tiles shining white. A large tub was set in the corner, one of the maids filling it with steaming water and rose-scented soap, and Arthur immediately felt his nerves settle, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he inhaled the aroma. Next to the ocean, the scent of roses was one that always put him at ease, reminding him of his mother and her garden.

He was stripped once again, settling in the water with a contented sigh as his mind put the events of the day on hold for examining, happy to ignore the meaning of everything until his bath was finished. One of the servants remained behind, running a soft cloth over his pale skin, cleaning it of all the dirt he'd accumulated since his last dip in a body of water, which had been quite a while, now that he thought about it. He didn't make conversation, simply allowing himself to enjoy the warm atmosphere as much as he could before he was pulled out, dried, and led back to the main room.

Dressers and tailors were waiting, fabric piled in their arms as he was instructed to stand on a pedestal and hold his arms out. They pulled and tugged the cloth over his head, and Arthur was pleased at how the cotton of his shirts was still soft and unworn.

The tailors scurried about, adjusting the lengths of his sleeves and the length of his trousers, the brown corduroy hugging his legs tightly but comfortably. He was given a deep purple waistcoat, a length of fabric tied around his neck in a large bow, and he rolled his eyes as he thought about how gift-like it seemed.

The coat was lovely, long, and its color was the deep azure of Spades, complimenting his purple quite nicely. His hair was brushed soothingly before a hat was situated on his blond head. Gloves of a pure white were slid onto his calloused hands, and he stared at his transformed look in the large, body-length mirror set in front of him.

Arthur almost didn't recognize himself, the clean skin, the whole clothes void of frays and bloodstains. His green eyes popped against the dark eyeliner that had been applied despite his half-hearted protests, his blond hair framing his face softly. He held himself straight, his boots polished and shining in the sun falling in the window, the bow making him seem almost innocent.

He looked like royalty, and that surprised him beyond words, his heart clenching as it hit him once again that he was now Queen— the Queen of Spades, Kingdom of Industry and Progress, a force to be reckoned with in times of war.

The doors opened behind him, breaking him out of his trance. He blinked rapidly to clear his thoughts, turning to watch a man with long, dark hair sweep into his quarters, his robe sweeping along the floor along with his graceful movements. Arthur observed his face, his narrowed eyes a warm honey, dark eyebrows arched above, and lips spread in a polite smile.

"Your Highness." He bowed, his arms together in front of him as his hair fell over his shoulder. "I am Yao Wang, Jack of Spades, advisor to the Royal Family."

Arthur inclined his head after a brief pause. "Arthur Kirkland." He wasn't sure what etiquette he was expected to know, and that seemed safest.

The Jack gave him a sly grin. "You have quite the reputation, Captain," he mused, his eyes sparkling as Arthur quirked an eyebrow in unease. "I have yet to hear of such a rogue as yourself ever being given the Mark."

Arthur shifted on the pedestal, finally taking a step down so that he was no longer elevated above everyone. "I hadn't thought it possible that I would even be…" He gestured vaguely to his back. "It's… surreal, honestly."

Yao chuckled. "Indeed. Fate is a funny thing, yes?"

Arthur scoffed. "That's an understatement." He paused, glancing around simply for something to do, tugging on his cuffs. "So, does being Queen really…?"

Yao waited, his head cocked expectantly.

Arthur shuddered through a breath. "I can't bring myself to believe I'm no longer wanted for my crimes," he finally said.

It was true; he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that everything would simply be excused, forgotten simply for the Mark on his back. A ruthless pirate he may have been, but he still had a heart. He'd hurt innocent people for his own gain— how was he supposed to just accept that he was, well…

Free?

He'd lived his life on the ocean, sailing from place to place, Kingdom to Kingdom, doing what he wanted and taking just the same. More blood had been shed than anyone should have to see in a lifetime, and so many lives were on his hands that not even hiding them beneath silk could keep him from seeing the crimson that he washed off almost routinely.

Arthur clenched his fists at his sides, looking out the windows to the Gardens.

The Jack sighed softly, moving to stand next to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If you feel you should, you may atone for your crimes in any way you see fit," he said calmly, and Arthur met his eyes with sad ones of his own. "But only after the coronation crowning you and the new King the rightful rulers of Spades." He dropped his hand, moving away again.

"Spades has been long enough without her King and Queen," he continued. "I've done what I can, but I'm only an advisor. For anything to be done, we need the Royal Family." The Jack looked back at him intensely, eyes holding an unreadable emotion. "You are now a symbol of hope, of peace and prosperity, of leadership and greatness. People are now looking to you and your King to keep them safe, to lead them to victory and into their futures with grace, confidence, and assuredness that all will be well."

Arthur gazed at him, lips set in a thin line of determination as Yao spoke. "How is a former renegade, wanted in all Kingdoms, supposed to lead people with any of that?"

Yao simply gazed back at him. "You are the Queen of Spades, Arthur Kirkland. There is a power within you that no one but you and your King can comprehend, and it has chosen to overlook all of your wrongs and bring you here today."

Arthur shook his head, trying to clear it. "But—"

"You have skills we need, your Highness." Yao's voice raised over his, silencing him. "Knowledge, experience, a will to fight." His honey eyes were dark now, and Arthur nearly stepped back, holding only because it was something he'd done many times before when he faced an enemy. "We need you more than you know, Arthur."

"He's right, Art."

Arthur and Yao turned to the door, watching as Gilbert strutted in, a smirk on his face. Arthur frowned at his first mate, examining the dark clothes he'd apparently been given. Dark jacket, dark pants, dark boots, accented in blood red, and— was that a tail behind him?

"Gilbert?" Arthur was beyond confused, and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "What— what's going on?"

He snickered. "Wish I could say, Captain, but the only thing you need to know is that everything is playing out just as it should." He looked pointedly at Arthur. "In time, it'll all make sense."

"And how does his Highness know he can trust you?" Yao's voice was low, chilled, his eyes narrowed.

Gilbert shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Up to him, ain't it?" His eyes met Arthur's again. "But I'm sure he'll know." With a sniff, Gilbert turned on his heel, his— God, that really was a tail!— swinging lazily behind him. "I'll be seeing you around, Art." He threw a grin over his shoulder. "Make sure you know how to tap into your power, your Highness. You're gonna need it."

"Power?" Arthur was breathing heavily. "What power?"

Gilbert snorted. "What's the symbol of Spades, arschloch? Should be easy to figure out in time." With that, he was gone.

Arthur and Yao stood silently, staring where Gilbert had been for a long moment before the Jack turned back to Arthur. "It is not my place to question the Jokers," he started, and Arthur blinked in shock, "but I do need to know if you know exactly what you're getting yourself into, your Highness. The powers of the Royals are a fairy tale to entertain children, so as your advisor, I ask: what did he mean?"

Arthur stared at him. "I-I don't know," he managed. "I didn't even know the Jokers actually existed." He ran a hand through his hair, careful of his hat. "This is more than I can handle right now, Yao. I don't— I don't know if I can do this."

The doors burst open again before the Jack could respond, a servant coming to a halt before them and bowing low. "Your Highness, Jack, the coronation is to begin shortly. The King is ready."

If he couldn't feel it pounding against his chest, Arthur would have sworn his heart stopped completely. His mind was swimming with all the information, the events, the change his life had made so suddenly. He barely registered being led through the corridors again, this time to a set of grand doors that opened to reveal the throne room, judging by the ornate chairs at the head of the room. Nobles were spread around the room, taking the seats on either side of the aisle leading to the raised floor where an older man, donned in white robes accented in Spades' blue stood waiting, two crown bearers waiting to each of his sides.

He didn't even know he was hyperventilating until Yao rested his hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "Your Highness, you must breathe," he insisted, giving a slight shake to Arthur's shoulders. "You are going to be led in next to your King. You are going to kneel at the step, and let the priest recite the rights, as is tradition of all the Kingdoms."

Arthur's breathing still hadn't slowed, and he was starting to go lightheaded.

Yao shook him again. "You are going to repeat the vows he speaks to you, accepting your rightful place as Queen of Spades, protector of this Kingdom and bearer of the Spades' Clock of Eternity. You will be crowned and presented as Queen, alongside your King, promised to him for the rest of your life."

Tunnel vision was creeping into his sight, his peripherals going fuzzy. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't do this. He couldn't—

What was happening, again?

"Your Highness! Arthur, focus!" Yao's voice was becoming distant, the ringing in his ears building. Was he still being spoken to?

"Your Highness!" The hands left his shoulders, and he felt himself sway. "Someone get him some water— Your Majesty!"

Arthur stumbled forward in his dizziness, vaguely aware of a form in front of him that seemed to be reaching for him, perhaps to steady him. He was too numb to feel surprise or shock as warmth cupped his face, sending sparks over his skin, his hands landing on solid yet soft muscles as his body tried to right itself. He blinked, unable to make the darkness go away.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. I've got ya."

The voice was smooth, settling his nerves almost instantly, pushing back the waves of nausea churning his stomach and clearing his vision of the white spots as Arthur blinked, trying to focus. He could feel soft caresses against his cheeks.

"There you go, just breathe. You're okay. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Focusing on the voice, Arthur managed to regain his breath, the dizziness leaving as quickly as it had come, and after a moment he looked up at the man in front of him, a small grimace on his face.

Ocean blue eyes behind thin lenses, filled with concern and contentment all at once. Golden hair like sunlight, framing a young face with a wide, bright grin.

Arthur stopped breathing altogether.

The young man chuckled, continuing his soft caresses against Arthur's flushed cheeks. "I know it's not every day you wake up Queen of Spades, but it's not that bad, is it?" he joked, his blue eyes sparkling with worry.

It took a moment for Arthur to find his voice again. "N-No, it's not that bad." He still sounded breathless.

The hands cupping his face didn't still or leave him. "That's good. I think it's pretty awesome, really. I mean, me, a lowly clockmaker, King? Who'd've thought it?"

"Yeah…" Arthur shook himself internally, pulling back from the young man slightly and taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry about that. I'm not usually like that."

"Not a problem." His smile warmed Arthur's heart. "This is kinda a big deal, after all. Our coronation— wow." He shook his head with a light laugh, and Arthur found it quite endearing. "So, you ready now?"

Arthur managed a nod, turning to face the entrance to the throne room and throwing a small smile toward Yao, who was standing to the side. "Yes. I'm fine."

With a nod, the Jack turned on his heel, entering the grand room. Everyone became quiet as he stood near the last row of guests and gestured for two servants to head for the monarchs. Arthur and the young man were positioned behind the Jack, and Yao gave them a once-over before turning on his heel and facing forward.

Music sounded from the sides, and Arthur caught the sight of the trumpeters as Yao began a steady pace forward. He jumped slightly as he felt his arm slid through the young man's, and he returned the wide smile with a timid one of his own. With one last deep breath, Arthur tilted his chin up as together he and the young man followed behind the Jack to the thrones where the priest waited.

Arthur saw two pillows rested against the platform, and after the gesture from the robed priest, he knelt on the one to the right, bowing his head and staring at the ground, his heart once again pounding in his ears.

"People of Spades," the priest began, "we are gathered today to witness the crowning of the King and Queen, so chosen by Fate by the royal Marks placed upon them.

"In accordance with the law of all of Hoyle, land of the Four Kingdoms, the Vows of the Monarchs shall now be recited by each the King and Queen." The priest paused, and Arthur could feel him move over to the young man.

"Rise, sir, and repeat after me."

Arthur held his breath again.

"I, Alfred Jones, do swear upon my life to serve and protect the Kingdom of Spades with my life and power, to be just and fair in all decisions, to uphold the values of the Kingdom, to lead the people to greater prosperity, and to always put my people before myself, as is my duty as King."

Arthur listened to the shifting of fabric as something was brought forward, and the priest's voice filled the room again.

"As is your right as King, I present to you, Alfred Jones, the Spades' Watch, symbol of our Kingdom and proof of your status."

There was a pause before the priest spoke again, telling the young man— Alfred— to kneel once again. Arthur sensed one of the crown bearers moving forward.

"By Divine Right, I do hereby place this crown upon your head, officiating your right to rule as King of Spades." Finishing with that, Arthur felt the old priest's presence in front of him.

"Rise, sir." Arthur pushed himself off the ground with all the grace he could muster, facing the gentle eyes of the priest. "Repeat after me."

It was uncanny, and Arthur wasn't sure how he knew, but as the priest gave him the words, Arthur could see them in his mind, reciting with ease.

"I, Arthur Kirkland, do swear upon my life and honor to serve and protect the Kingdom of Spades with my life and power, to be just and fair in all decisions, to uphold the values of the Kingdom, and to lead the people forward to a greater future, forever by my King's side, as is my duty as Queen."

Nodding slightly, the priest turned, waiting as another man brought out a large item, circular and disk-like. The priest took it carefully, turning back to Arthur and holding the clock up before him.

"As is your right as Queen, I present to you, Arthur Kirkland, the Spades' Clock of Eternity, companion to the Watch and proof of your status."

Arthur took the large item gently, feeling a surge of energy flow through him and watching in wonder as the still clock began ticking.

The priest smiled, inclining his head. "Kneel, Arthur."

Arthur fell to his knee once again, and he glanced up under his lashes as the second crown bearer approached. The priest lifted the silvery crown, leaning down gently to remove Arthur's hat and set it aside, before holding up the crown.

"By Divine Right, I do hereby place this crown upon your head, officiating your right to rule as Queen of Spades."

Arthur felt the metal encase his head, resting delicately in his hair as he glanced back up. The priest nodded to the crown bearers and they moved back before he took his place once again in the center of the platform.

"Rise, Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland."

They did as told, Arthur turning to face Alfred, his King, with a small smile on his lips. Alfred held out a hand to him, and shifting the clock to rest by his knee, he slid his easily into it, feeling their fingers slip together effortlessly, a rush of surging and tingling electricity shooting through his veins.

"The Vows have been recited and the symbols received, as decreed by the tradition set forth by the Four Kingdoms. I now present you, people of Spades, with your King and Queen."

Cheers erupted in the room, and Arthur tightened his hold on Alfred's hand as they were congratulated, whistles and hollers sounding from the few merchants allowed to view in the back. Arthur smiled faintly, his mind wandering once again as he was ushered out of the room next to Alfred, both of them led down yet another hall to an even grander room, this one filled with lounge items: tables, sofas, chaises, plush seats, and bookshelves. There were two fireplaces, both empty, and large windows adorned the left and front walls. It seemed to Arthur to be a gathering or receiving room, and he let out a long sigh as he and Alfred were left alone, the servants bowing on their way out.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair again, catching the crown before he knocked it off his head. "Well. That was…"

"Fun," Alfred supplied, smiling at him. "Well, it was for me. I don't know about you."

Arthur just nodded, looking away from the intense gaze of his King. "Yes, I suppose it was."

They fell silent, though it was comfortable, and Arthur eventually made his way to one of the sofas, Alfred following behind, seemingly lost in deep thought as he watched Arthur.

"I never forgot your eyes, you know."

Arthur's head shot up, his eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

Alfred's smile was gentle. "I never forgot your eyes. They were the most stunning shade of emerald I've ever seen— still are, I guess." He paused, tilting his head. "I dreamed about them sometimes. They never left my mind.

"I kept telling myself," Alfred continued, walking over to Arthur and sitting beside him, "that one day I'd find you again, if only to see your eyes." He chuckled, reaching out a hand to stroke along Arthur's cheek. "Funny how Fate works, yeah?"

Arthur choked on air. "Understatement," he breathed, unable to look away from Alfred's eyes. "I couldn't forget yours, either," he admitted after a moment. "I've always loved the ocean— it's been my home so long…" He leant into Alfred's hand on his cheek. "But your eyes— they're the most pure ocean blue I've ever seen."

Alfred chuckled, caressing Arthur's cheek with his thumb again. "Pirate through and through, aren't ya?"

Arthur breathed deeply, a smirk spreading on his lips despite the throb of his heart. "It's in my blood, Alfred. Adventure, danger— it's who I am."

He wasn't going to deny his past— Alfred knew anyway, remembered him as the captain he was, vengeful, fearless, and on top of the world. It was a part of him— the blood, the fights, the crimes he'd committed in hopes that something would change, that he could change it— and as he realized that, a sense of peace came over him, making him relax into Alfred.

He could change it, now. He was the new Queen of Spades, and it was part of his duty to lead his people to a better way of living. Alongside Alfred, he could change things to give the people what they needed and deserved.

Of course, he wasn't a fool; it would be no easy task, and being a former pirate captain wanted throughout Hoyle, he couldn't imagine he had much support in the Council, if any at all, and there were only a few people out there that he might be able to rely on. Briefly, his crew flashed through his mind, and he considered getting back in touch with them— those who worked on the Britannia Angel were loyal men, and he didn't want them to think he was any less of a man simply because he was Queen now.

Gilbert's words played back in his mind, warning him to awaken the power he held inside him and to make ready for what was to come— whatever that was. He had heard the stories of the powers of the Royal Families in the Kingdoms, powers that, at one time, had supposedly been used to protect and defend when the Divine forces came into play. Once the Councils were formed, it was said that the Royals hadn't a need for their powers anymore, and that they eventually went dormant until they ceased to be at all, falling into legend.

But Arthur could feel it in himself, a power too great for anyone but him and Alfred to possibly understand. He knew Alfred could feel it too; the blue in his eyes was like fire, nearly glowing with his unlocked gift as he held Arthur close and stroked his hair, enjoying the calm evening after such a hectic day.

Arthur wondered if Alfred had any idea of the power within him, or if he'd had any contact with the Jokers, but pushed the thoughts aside. For now, they were simply Alfred and Arthur, the new King and Queen of Spades, and the only thing they need worry about was the second tradition of their Kingdom to be followed, which was their marriage and eventual consummation of their bond as the Royal Family of Spades.

Arthur shivered at the thought, smiling up at his King discreetly. Alfred's eyes landed on his, and he smiled wide, leaning down slightly to press a soft kiss— an acknowledgement— to his temple.

Their bond was a strong one, he knew, and Arthur was content to lose himself in the ocean of Alfred's eyes.

He was a pirate at heart, and the ocean was his home.