Chapter I.
Despite having a comfortable life Arthur Kirkland never really did have a happy one. He wasn't ungrateful, just unhappy. He was thankful for a warm bed every night, plenty of food, and he was especially thankful for his books. Part of the problem resided in his brothers. It was a trait of the Kirkland family to fail to show affection, so much so that Arthur soon became convinced his family never really loved him. But the treatment he received from his brothers went too far, they were bullies and ignorant boys. Still, Arthur tried to console himself in the fact that his life could be very much worse. Alfred was a testimony to that.
Arthur's boots padded the stone floor of the kitchen softly, a book tucked safely against his chest. He glanced outside the door leading toward the stables before nicking a fresh apple from a collection of fruit that awaited to become a pie. Assuring himself that the coast was clear, he made his way swiftly across the yard toward the woods beyond. Yet as he passed the stables he couldn't help but indulge the impulse to peek inside. As expected, Alfred was there. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows as he worked, the rough shirt stained from labor. The brown trousers were obviously a secondhand pair and held up by suspenders. Yet the baggy, dirty clothes couldn't diminish how attractive the young man was. Alfred was tall and muscular, his shoulders broad and his skin tanned from the sun. His hair was the color of wheat, a few strands were stuck to his sweat-covered forehead. His lips, which were normally curled in a smile, were pursed as he was whistling a cheerful tune to himself. Arthur watched him work for a moment, finding the sight oddly peaceful. He had grown fond of Alfred since they had met as children, even if he found the enthusiastic boy irritating at times. But he couldn't suppress a wave of sympathy every time he remembered that night many years ago. Arthur was pulled from his thoughts as he heard a voice speak his name.
"Are you going riding today, Arthur?"
He looked up to see Alfred paused in his work, leaning a little against the pitchfork with a casual smile. His blue eyes were focused on Arthur's, which made heat rush through his body in a tidal wave. Arthur quickly looked away, glancing down at his own attire. Today he had decided on a loose white blouse with a simple cravat and forest green vest, a darker green for the tight pants and tall black boots. It was a light outfit which suited Arthur's needs for that day perfectly. But he could understand why Alfred had mistaken his intentions.
"Ah no, not today," he lifted the book in his hand to show Alfred. "I thought I'd just walk to the creek and read."
Alfred's smile spread wider and he nodded. "It's a good day for that. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone where you are," he said cheerfully as he turned back to his previous work. "Mr. Kirkland and your brothers went out for business. They won't be back for a couple of hours."
Arthur sighed in relief. He knew he could trust Alfred to keep his word and he was always grateful for his consideration. Alfred knew how he was treated and sympathized so he let Arthur sneak away whenever he wished to have time to himself. Occasionally Alfred would even join in, grinning and laughing like a misbehaving child. Arthur shook his head as he left the stables and took a bite of the sweet fruit. Alfred was still a boisterous young boy.
It was raining that night, the drops hitting Arthur's bedroom window in a soft tune to lull him to sleep. He was only a child himself, just having turned nine years old a few days before. What aroused him from his dreams that night was the commotion below; the sound of muffled voices and rapid footsteps walking around the house. Arthur wasn't sure was urged him to get up, he could have easily rolled over and gone back to sleep. But he sat up abruptly and threw off his warm covers, shivering at the spring night air as it woke him completely from sleep. He padded softly down the stairs in the dark as he followed the warm light that flooded from the lamps in the kitchen. Arthur froze in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat at the sight he found before him.
A child was huddled on a stool by the fire, his hair dripping and his ragged clothes soaked from rainwater. His eyes were focused on the floor as he shivered and sobbed pitifully. He looked no more than five years old. One of the maids was wrapping a dry blanket around his shoulders as Arthur's father, Mr. Kirkland, knelt before the small boy. Arthur could hear his father's voice rumble across the stone floor of the kitchen, his tone stern but gentle. It shocked him, he had never heard such affection in the man's voice.
The maid caught Arthur a moment later and shooed him off to bed again. Arthur glanced into the kitchen one last time and he stared in surprise as his eyes met sky blue orbs.
Arthur tossed the apple core into a compost pile as he walked back to the Kirkland manor. He knew better than to push his luck and stay out all day. His father wasn't fond of Arthur's habits of running off without a word and Alfred had been kind enough to give a warning as to when the man would return. Arthur entered the house and went up to his room just as the sound of the carriage wheels rattling on the stones in front of the house could be heard. He approached the window cautiously, taking care he couldn't be easily spotted behind the thin sheers.
Two heads of flaming red hair appeared out of the carriage, which Arthur identified as his brothers Allistor and Patrick. Each brother climbed out as servants, Alfred among them, attended to the horses. Arthur watched his third brother, Dylan, appear before his father finally stepped out. The man had ashy blond hair like Arthur with dark bushy eyebrows. But he was tall just as his brothers were tall, ending the similarities between the father and his youngest son. Arthur wasn't like them at all. He didn't want to be.
He turned as he heard a soft knock on his door and his mother entered. Her auburn hair was swept back elegantly into a bun, her face round and gentle, her complexion was as fair as Arthur's. She smiled at him as she stepped beside him at the window.
"Did they leave you behind again?" She asked.
Arthur snorted and placed his book on the nearby desk. "Mother, I could care less where they go as long as they leave me be."
Her green eyes glinted in amusement as she examined her son. "Arthur, you can't spend the rest of your days hiding in the corner with a book. You're a gentleman, you must go out with your brothers and make a name for yourself. Do sports, go to parties, meet some fine ladies your age."
"I don't care for sports or social events," Arthur frowned stubbornly and moved away from the window. "I don't understand why I can't simply make a living for myself if you're concerned for my future."
The lady turned and gently grabbed his hands, stopping his motion. "Your father and I wish you to be happy, we truly do. But you will not go far without our help. We're trying to do what's best for you."
Arthur sighed. He had heard this lecture countless times, the words were practically carved into his brain. He met his mother's eyes, reluctantly acknowledging her words. "I know."
She gently squeezed his hands before releasing them and walking smoothly to the door. "Do freshen up for dinner."
"The search for the next rulers has begun."
Arthur could practically see the heads at the table turn toward the voice who uttered those words even though he kept his own eyes lowered to his dish. His brothers seemed especially attentive at their father's announcement, making Arthur lose interest in the topic quickly.
"Shall we arrange an appointment to be inspected?" His mother asked, daintily patting the corner of her lips with a napkin before she spoke. "It's very likely at least one of the rulers will be an aristocrat."
"Yes, I've already arranged it."
Now Arthur raised his eyes to look at his father seated at the head of the table. Mr. Kirkland sat with a straight back, his expression indifferent despite the momentous news. But something in his posture disturbed Arthur, Mr. Kirkland knew more than he was saying.
Apparently Arthur wasn't the only one to notice this.
"Do you think someone in our family will become one of the next rulers?" Allistor, the eldest son, asked.
"There has yet to be a time where the three rulers of the kingdom wasn't from a family such as ours," Mr. Kirkland stated as he scanned the table. His eyes examined each of his sons critically save for the dismissive glance toward Arthur. "I was told once long ago that one of my children would rise to greatness."
Arthur turned his attention back to his plate and pushed a bit of lamb with his fork across the china. It was a story he hadn't heard his father speak of often. Those with the gift of prophesy were rare and often sought for by all, especially by those who wished to determine future rulers by whatever means. Mr. Kirkland had been very lucky to have simply met such a person, even more so as they had revealed themselves to him. But when asked for more details concerning his encounter Mr. Kirkland would press his lips together tightly and speak no more.
The chances that the prophesy Mr. Kirkland received was actually about the future ruler of the Kingdom of Spades was very high. If Arthur had been in that position he didn't doubt he'd feel the same way. But, as a matter of fact, he didn't believe it. Arthur didn't want to believe that any of his brothers would come into such unrivaled power. The thought alone made his stomach churn uneasily. Allistor was smart and he had some sense of leadership as he was the eldest but he was without tact, in the political game he'd most likely start more wars than solve tensions. Patrick, the second eldest, was unsuited in the most basic of terms. He was far more brash than Allistor was, so much so Arthur didn't even want to consider the possibilities of what would happen if he were to rule. Dylan was milder in character and on first glance he might seem likely. But Arthur knew better. He was far too lax in all regards and he had no ambition except for a simple, quiet life. As for Arthur himself, he didn't want it. He wanted to make his own way in life without the burden of royalty.
Each kingdom had a unique system as to how their rulers were chosen and the Kingdom of Spades was the most irregular of them all. Instead of royalty through birth the rulers were chosen by fate. Or, at least, by some mystical force. No one knew how it was possible but it was rumored the Kingdom itself chose a person who would best fit the needs of the people. Anyone could be chosen at anytime, regardless of gender and class. The only thing that mattered was the subject had to be born into the nation. When the time came a mark would appear on their body, clearly signifying royalty and their position. The King was the most supreme ruler, he or she would have absolute power and command over all. The Queen typically focused on internal issues within the kingdom, presenting the people's needs to the King. The Jack was to be the trusted companion of both rulers, to support and assist wherever and however they were needed. It was a sound system that had led the Spades through many troubled times in the past. But now Arthur was starting to think fate had made a grave mistake if it put its trust in the Kirkland family.
The rest of the conversation at the dinner table was blocked out by Arthur's thoughts, he was vaguely aware of his mother arranging plans and his brothers debating who would be chosen and what they'd do if they were the ones. As the family stood after the meal, Arthur automatically began to turn to make his way to his room for a quiet evening but his father stopped him short.
"I'd like to speak with you, Arthur," Mr. Kirkland brushed past his youngest son as he walked towards his private study.
Arthur felt his spine stiffen as he followed, seeing his mother glance in concern as Patrick smirked. No doubt his brothers could see he was in trouble. It wasn't hard to guess Arthur would receive a stern lecture yet again. Despite the numerous times Mr. Kirkland had spoken with him before, Arthur could never suppress the pain in his chest from his rapidly beating heart. However he forced to keep his head held high. He wasn't a coward and he would keep his composure. If his parents wanted him to be a gentleman then a gentleman they would get.
Mr. Kirkland walked toward the back of the the room before turning to face his son. Arthur closed the heavy door behind him, resisting the overwhelming urge to run. He knew he had to face his father whether or not he wanted to.
"Your mother cannot account for your presence during the hours I was in town today, neither can any of the servants," his father began.
Arthur felt a brief flash of relief and worry for Alfred. Obviously, the boy had kept his word when he promised he wouldn't tell anyone of Arthur sneaking out. But it hadn't occurred to Arthur until now what a high risk it was for Alfred, he could lose his position on the Kirkland manor for lying to his master. Inwardly Arthur rebuked himself for his selfishness before focusing back on the situation at hand.
"I know you ran off on your own again and I'm very displeased with this behavior. Perhaps when you were younger it would be acceptable but you're twenty-three years old, Arthur. It's unsuitable and this habit needs to stop." Mr. Kirkland had been stuffing his pipe with tobacco as he spoke, he paused now to light the weed and take deep puffs. Once smoke began to drift around his head he turned his hard hazel eyes toward Arthur again. His look was so intense Arthur felt physically winded as if he had received a punch in the stomach.
Arthur forced the air back into his lungs and stood taller. "Father, with all respect, I am an adult. I wish to make my own way in the world. If you would let me dictate my own activities then I solemnly promise I will be every part the gentleman."
"Activities?" His father's gaze never wavered, which only made his presence more terrifying to be in. "And pray tell what these activities might be?"
It was a bad idea to reveal his plans so soon and Arthur knew it. But he had been patient all these years and he knew he would have to make a choice eventually. Maybe now was the time to attempt to reason with his parents.
Taking a deep breath he began to speak. "Society is changing and the definitions of what a gentleman is able to do is changing with it. Some manners of trade are no longer a shame for the high class to partake in, in fact it's being encouraged. I'd like to invest in creating my own shop for literature and educational purposes."
"Those people are not respected, our family is known for keeping tradition. You would shame the entire family now and in the future."
Arthur flinched at the bluntness but refused to admit defeat. "Perhaps not. We will never know if you don't give me your blessing and allow me to try."
Mr. Kirkland's hand tightening around his pipe and his thick eyebrows lowered dangerously. "You fool."
Arthur felt his composure being ripped away at those harsh words, he stared vulnerably at the man before him in shock before tightening his jaw.
"Are you really that self-centered to think I'll let these ridiculous ideas continue, let alone encourage them? What you're asking for will degrade the entire family into eternal judgment, never to be respected! You're already dragging us down as it is with your childish behavior!"
Arthur swallowed tightly. "It is not childish, Father. Times are changing, if you just let me-"
"No!" Mr. Kirkland snapped, slamming his fist on the nearest table in frustration. "You have disappointed me countless times! No more! If you do not follow the tradition of this family I will disown you!"
Arthur stared at the opposite wall, biting his tongue until a bitter, metallic taste filled his mouth. He could feel hot tears tickle the corner of his eyes but he forced himself to breathe as steadily as he could. He would not cry. Suddenly he was filled with rage at the injustice of it all. He had been bullied and manipulated his whole life to the point of snapping. Enough was enough.
"You best disown me then. I'm not changing for your ridiculous standards anymore. I'd rather be alone and judged forever than tolerate one more day of being your son!"
Without being dismissed, Arthur turned and stormed out of the room. He could feel his father's anger burn behind him but he no longer found it in himself to care. He didn't make it far before his mother swept into view, her eyes growing wide as she took in Arthur's expression. Before he could protest she gently grabbed his face and made him meet her green eyes.
"I'll talk to him. Stay in your room. Do you understand me, Arthur?"
Arthur nodded numbly and Mrs. Kirkland quickly walked into the room he left. He took a shaky breath before climbing the stairs to his room. Yet again he was confronted but this time by his brother Patrick. The man had a sneer on his face as he stepped in front of Arthur, blocking his path and forcing him to stop short.
"You've done it again, Arthur. You're tearing us apart. You know you could've made Father and Mother proud of you but you're too thick to see that."
"Let me pass," Arthur growled. He felt the anger rise to his head dangerously, the inner beast was far from finished with its destructive wrath.
Instead of taking the warning seriously, Patrick smirked and only leaned closer. "You will never bring happiness to this family, Arthur. You're the black sheep in a field of snowy white. You'll never belong even if you tried."
Blood roared in Arthur's ears, muting everything else out as he threw caution in the wind. As a door creaked open nearby he drew back his fist and promptly punched his brother in the face. Pain filled his knuckles at the contact but he watched through tunneled vision of rage in deep satisfaction as Patrick's head was thrown back, causing the man to stumble from the force of the blow. Arthur felt his lips curl into the ghost of a cruel smile as he hoped he had broken his brother's nose.
"Oi!" Allistor was instantly at his side, pulling him away as he steadied Patrick. "Go to your room before I drag you back to Father. Believe me, letting you go is more mercy than you deserve."
Arthur instantly heeded those words and rushed into his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. The gravity of his situation crashed down on him in an instant and he covered his face in shame. If Mr. Kirkland was angry at him before then he was sure to be livid once he heard of this. Just as furiously and quickly as Arthur's anger had come it was gone, leaving the young gentleman emotionally drained and exhausted. He locked the door to his room before collapsing weakly on the bed, squeezing his burning eyes shut.
Late that night Arthur woke in a cold sweat. He shivered even though a feverish heat flooded his body. He groaned softly in irritation and tossed in his bed as an unpleasant itch formed on the skin of his left hip. The urge to scratch was almost unbearable so he dug his hands into the bed sheets, hoping the discomfort would pass. The sensation only worsened and, when Arthur sat up, nausea and light-headiness swept over him. He lay back down feebly, miserably accepting he had fallen ill. He shut his eyes again and settled on the bed, taking slow breathes. The minutes dragged by as the feeling gradually lost its intensity and he was able to drift back to sleep.
Author's Note:
So I began another story. Wee. It was just totally on impulse and once I started I couldn't stop. I think a story with an actually plot will help motivate me to update more often (and also my girlfriend, who is impatiently waiting for me to continue writing -I love you-).
This is my first Cardverse fanfiction. Apparently USUK cardverse stories are really popular so I figured on a whim to give it a shot. Hopefully it's decent. I also found out that the "marks" of royalty thing was never canon but since I'm not creative I just went with what everyone else was doing...heh heh. But I'll put my own spin on it, don't ya worry.
Just so no one gets confused:
Allistor=Scotland
Patrick=Ireland
Dylan=Wales
I believe that's all I have to say for now. Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, I really appreciate feedback on my writing. I hope y'all stick with me until the next chapter (it gets better, I promise).
