"A hundred years ago, in the year of our Lord, seventeen hundred and forty-three, a great and bloody war erupted over all the lands of the suits. The ancient kings, driven to madness by their own bloodlust and powers, were forced to have their power stripped by their reluctant war-weary queens. The four queens of Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs, and Spades gathered together and bound the magic of the king's mark to prevent the madness and bloodlust of the king's magic from controlling their minds. Since those times, the queens have ruled and harmony has triumphed. Our land is at peace."
When Alfred F. Jones first heard the Sermon of the Queens Triumph, he was only ten-years-old and barely came up to his father's waist. There was a ceremony once a year in every kingdom to commemorate the day those ancient queens bound the magic of the king's mark and saved the world from destruction. Feasts and fireworks, circuses and sweets, anything and everything could be found in the joyous streets on that day. Alfred was young enough at the time not to understand why his parents made him wear a blue Spade Rose in his hair, or why his feet were wrapped his shoes of silk. He didn't understand why his hair needed to be cut that morning, or why he wore his special holiday suit to the carnival. He didn't understand why his mother gave him two baths that morning or why she insisted he wear his father's cologne. Alfred F. Jones was young and didn't understand that not everyone woke up with a cracking crown etched onto their wrist.
Of all the fanfare that day and all the things he didn't understand, what he remembered most of all was his father. That dazzling blue naval blazer adorned with shiny silver and gold medals. His hands scarred from repeated use of his favored cutlass. His father was the Queen's most trusted captain and ensured Spades' superiority over all the other suits on the large ocean that separated the four kingdoms. The Jones' family was favored over all the other nobles and young Alfred knew it from the looks others threw his family when they passed them in their carriage.
Alfred adored his father.
He trusted the man with his life.
Perhaps that's why he tried to put on a brave face when his big, strong father took his hand and walked him up a deep blue carpet. The crowd parted for them, allowing Alfred and his father to pass without much trouble. The more the crowd parted, though, the easier it became for the short boy to see where they were going. His blue eyes widened in shock as he looked up at his father in confusion.
The new Queen, the sixteen-year-old Prince Arthur, stood at the base of his throne. Spades and thorns outlined in the familiar blue of the kingdom and tipped in bronze glinted in the sunshine from the top of the throne. It looked dangerous, but also called to him. Suddenly, Alfred felt very confused and very upset. Arthur's father, the late Queen, had passed just a few weeks ago, leaving behind the prince to become Queen. Alfred was young and didn't follow politics. He didn't know that Queen Arthur was a fierce and head-strong man who never backed down, but Alfred did know that his best friend's mother worked in the castle, this Queen was said to be quick tempered and cruel in his punishments. Why was he being brought to the Queen? He hadn't done anything wrong! He was a good boy. He even listened to his mother when she forbade him from going outside the play this morning.
Alfred squirmed just a little, trying to get his arm out of his father's grip. The man only tightened his hold and hissed for Alfred to stop making a spectacle of himself. The Queen was watching. He wasn't pleased with what he saw if the frown on his face was any indication. Fear colored Alfred's eyes as he found himself being dragged closer to the Queen, especially when his father lifted him onto the elevated stage. A soft, 'be strong, Alfred', was whispered into his ear as his father pushed him forward and the priest grabbed his arm in a tight grip.
"On this commemoration day, we have a special treat. The Gods have blessed us with finding the new mark so shortly after the late Queen's passing. We'll witness a new reign in the Kirkland line with the binding of the newest monarchs."
Those big words were thrown at Alfred, but they held little meaning to the child. He found his mother in the crowd. He wanted to go to her. Why was she crying? He flinched violently when he was snapped out of his thoughts by a heavy robe being pushed onto his shoulders. There was blood on the sleeve and Alfred suddenly felt sick. What was going on? A sword was given to Queen Arthur, who looked at it with deep appreciation, but Alfred was only given a collar around his neck. It choked him dreadfully as the priest tightened it. He felt so weak with it on. Alfred wanted to curl up and take a nap with his mother.
"The Gods have blessed this great kingdom." The priest called out to the crowds, grinning as they cheered. "With this drink, we bind these two, and Spades will remain superior for the rest of her days."
The goblet was given to Arthur first, who drank deeply, his green eyes fluttering closed at the taste. The priest pushed it to Alfred, tipping his head back when he refused to open his mouth. His mother told him to never drink after anybody, Queen or not. His nose was pinched and he was forced to drink the sweet wine. It made his stomach hurt and his head woozy. His arm, though, the mark on his arm burned intensely, turning a bright blue color before fading again. It ached acutely and Alfred found tears rolling down his chubby cheeks.
The priest turned to the crowd, holding Arthur's hand and jerking Alfred close enough to hold his too. "Long live Queen Arthur! Long live Spades! Long live King Consort Alfred!"
The crowd repeated it, Arthur's chest puffed out as he listened to his people cheer him on. The priest ushered the two newly crown monarchs towards the carriage. It would take them to the castle of Spades, where Alfred would live out the rest of his days as King Consort. The tears didn't stop rolling down his face as he watched his little family become further and further away from him. He sniffled, ignoring the Queen that sat across from him in the carriage. That is, until a gentle hand wiped his tears away with a handkerchief.
"There now, no more tears, lad. I know this is scary, but you'll be fine." The first words Arthur spoke were kinder than Alfred expected. The Queen just clucked his tongue as he dried up those silly tears. "You'll get to live in a big castle and have the best tutors and food around. You're the King Consort. Your entire life will be filled with leisure and happiness."
Alfred just sniffled again, jerking his head back as he refused to look at the Queen. "I want to go home. I don't wanna live at the castle. I want my mother."
Queen Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes as the carriage stopped. He stood up and climbed down without any help from the guards. He turned before he allowed Alfred to get down and grabbed the eight-year-olds chin in a tight grip. "I've tried to be reasonable, but you're trying my patience. You are home now, Alfred. Get used to it." He snapped his fingers in Alfred's face to get his attention, to hone in on what he was saying. Arthur reached down and tugged the collar still on the boy's neck. "This right here marks you as mine. Remember that very well, lad, because I'm not a kind master to those who disobey my orders." Arthur released Alfred and turned on his heel, his robe fluttering behind him. "Take him somewhere, Yao. I have work to do."
Alfred stood in the doorway of the carriage, blue eyes swimming with confused tears. A tall, black haired man sighed as he lifted the young King Consort into his arms. Decorum would frown upon it, but Yao had never been one for stuffy rules away. "Forgive him, your highness; he's under a lot of pressure lately. You and I will just stay on his good side, yes?" He shifted Alfred's weight and carried him further into the castle. "I suppose we haven't been introduced yet, I'm Yao Wang, Jack of Spades. You and I will become good friends, yes? How about we find something for you to eat? The maids will spoil you rotten."
The young King Consort nodded his head despite the sickness in his stomach. His eyes trailed down to the mark still etched into his arm.
The crown continued to crumble.