It was a quiet night. A quiet December night, only a week from Christmas, it was still inside the small cottage outside the kingdom of spades. A chilling wind had brought this very family into despair, yet they were not aware of it at the time. Two young boys came running up to the cottage home. The first one held a bear, his name was Matthew Williams; he wore an old tan coat that had patches everywhere from being worn often. His scarf was too long and flew behind him in the wind. "A-Al!" He panted, trying to catch up with his brother. "Slo-Slow down!" Matthew was short handsome boy, blonde hair, with a very long (and unusual) curl. His eyes were a bluish-violet color.

The other brother was named Alfred F. Jones. He was a year younger than Matthew; who was his half-brother. He too wore old, worn out clothes. His jacket was fluffy and brown with blue patches; that was the only cloth mother had left over. He was a fine, handsome young boy like Matthew, had sky blue eyes, sandy blonde hair with a little cowlick in the front of his head. "We have to hurry or Mother will kill us!" He panted, avoiding tripping over the snow. His face was flushed from the freezing air, which nipped at their noses. Matthew grabbed Alfred's small hand with his own. "Alfred, I'm cold though…" he whimpered. Alfred stopped and looked over. "That's why we need to hurry, Mattie!" he said firmly, pulling Matthew along. The door of their cottage opened, only to reveal their mother. "Alfred! Matthew! Get your butts over here or I'll drag you by your ears!"

"Geh-!" Matthew gulped, stumbling forward. "Coming mother!" he cried. Alfred was about to follow when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. A person was watching him from the shadows. When Alfred blinked, the person was gone.

"Alfred!" Mother's cry rang out as she nudged Matthew in the house. Alfred snapped his head forward. "Coming!" he called back. Then with one final glance, he raced up to the house. The door closed with a soft click.

"Arthur, aru! Get up!"

A young boy, about 12 years old with big green eyes, messy blonde hair, and thick eyebrows, slowly opened his eyes groggy. "Mmm..." He mumbled.

A Chinese teen, 15 years old, stood there wearing a long blue shirt that had covered his arms, a white cloth stretched from his shirt, which made it look a bit like a dress, yet there were pants below his shirt. His hair was tied back in a long ponytail. "Your father wishes to speak to you, aru!" he puffed, pulling on the prince's arm.

Arthur slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Fine, Yao…" He had a British accent, which was cloaked in sleep. "I'll get ready soon…" He jumped out of his large bed, only wearing a big white shirt, no pants. He looked a Yao, a stubborn look across his face. "Tell Father I'll meet him in the dining room soon. " he ordered to the Jack. Yao nodded slightly, then turned, walking out of the young prince's bedroom.

Arthur walked over to where his blue clothes laid. On the front was a small emblem, a spade. He glanced over at his large mirror, staring at his reflection with a bored look. "Another day, I guess Father wishes to lecture me." he grumbled, quickly changing.

Arthur opened up the dining room door. He was wearing a blue shirt made from expensive silk and white pants. On his head, a spade hat. Patriotic reasons, he guessed. "Father?" he whispered slightly, holding the door knob. An older man sat at the end of the table. He had blonde, graying hair and pale greenish eyes. "Ah, took you long enough, Arthur. Excuse my rudeness, come here boy, I wish to give you something." He smiled a bit, beckoning for his some to come nearer.

Arthur bit his tongue, trying not to scowl as he made his way over to his father. "What is it?" he asked, standing beside him.

Father looked up at Arthur, pulling something from his jacket pocket. When he could get good look it, it was a medium sized clock shaped as a spade. A gold chain slithered after. "It has been passed down from generations of our family. Now I wish to give it to you." He smiled.

Arthur watched Father place the clock in his hand. The chain slipped through his fingers like a ripple in water, and he stared at the ticking hand. When he looked up again, his Father was dead, smiling peacefully.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and then stepped back, holding in a cry. He held the gold object to his heart. "Thank you, father." he whispered. "If you knew you were going to die, why did you waste it on me?" he choked out, feeling tears well up in his eyes. Then, he turned, racing through the chambers.