Once upon a time, a young man, around the age of nineteen, made his way down the dirt road, passing many houses and farms on his way to his destination. He had short, sunshine blonde hair that covered his forehead, with an odd cowlick defying gravity atop his head. The irises in his eyes looked as if they reflected a clear blue sky on a nice summer day and were framed by long, curling blond lashes – it was a shame he wore glasses. His jaw was strong, his nose straight, he clearly had two eyebrows that were not shaped, but, besides his eyes, the real treasure of his face was his smile. His teeth were not the whitest, nor the straightest, and his pale pink lips were not full. In fact, his top lip was thinner than his bottom lip, however, the slight crookedness of the smile that stretched across his face added character; not to mention, his smile conveyed all of the confidence in the world along with the biggest heart imaginable. As it was early in the day, he was clean. He was strong, for his muscles were slightly prominent underneath his white shirt and brown pants. Due to the fact that he was a peasant, just like the rest of the town, that white shirt was not going to be white much longer. But just by looking at him, one could tell he was trustworthy and kind.
And so, the young man continued down the dirt road. Some of the farms he passed were already alive with the families who owned and worked them. He waved good morning to them, to which they returned. In this small village in which this young man lived, everyone knew each other. Nothing was secret and almost all of them had the same opinions, whether it be for political matters of private. So, naturally, all of the people he passed knew exactly where he was going so early in the morning. In fact, he went there every morning, without fail; the only exceptions were sleep overs. It only made sense that they were not surprised at seeing him, even if he is known to be a bit lazy. Still, as the farms were quite big, he had two more farms to pass until he got where he needed to be.
Finally, he got to the house he had set out for. This house was like his second home, his home away from home. Inside this house lived his best friend. He knocked on the wood door and instantly it opened. Inside was the nineteen year old magical beauty who had been the young man's best friend for nearly eleven years. Arthur was the beauty's name.
Arthur had straw blond hair that stuck up in every which way it wanted - much to the boy's displeasure - but the young man found the untamable hair charming. His eyebrows were things of which he detested – for one, they were a darker blond than his hair and they were horribly bushy, much too thick for a normal person to believe they are real (on more than one occasion, merchants passing through the town asked if they were some sort of disease and/or mistook them to be bugs). However, the young man found the eyebrows adorable and could not imagine an Arthur without them. His nose was small and pug-like, but Arthur thought it was girlish, although the young man always thought it suited Arthur, especially when he was angry and it scrunched up. His smile was rare in company other than the young man's, his family, or another friend who looked remarkably like aforementioned blue-eyed boy. When that dashing smile was shown, it was without the white, crooked teeth behind the chapped, rose pink lips of his. But the young man did not mind; it was Arthur's smile, and no smile could be prettier than his. His chin was well defined and pointed with a small cleft in it. Across his cheeks were a smattering of freckles, all of which the young man had memorized the exact placement of.
But, out of all the physical features that made Arthur Arthur, it was his eyes. The blond eyelashes were not long, nor curled, but they still made a wonderful frame for the vibrant irises. If the young man had to pin point the exact shade of green that was his favorite, it would be the color of Arthur's eyes. They were the color of emeralds, twinkling in the sunlight. They were the color of healthy, green grass, never ceasing to turn away from the world. They were the color of green grapes, conveying a sweetness that could not be compared to even sugar, but at the same time, sourness not found in lemon. They were the color of pine tree pricks, making you extremely happy even if they might hurt you. They had flecks of sea foam in them, letting one know that, if hit hard enough, he will bite back with frothy vengeance. They had flecks of jade in them, portraying a slight boringness that came from a person who hardly took chances. They had flecks of moss in them, an organic richness that made the young man marvel at the wonders of nature. So many shades of green, it was a wonder that they all had come together to make the perfect shade of green that were known to few as Arthur's eyes. But the young man forever blessed the day he first got to see them and, every time he saw them, he thanked the Cards he got to. He thanked the Cards they were real and alive. He thanked the Cards for Arthur.
"Hey, Arthur," the young man greeted, smiling at Arthur per usual. He looked down half an inch into those beautiful green eyes, trying to convey his emotions by just a stare. He never was very good at voicing his inner most thoughts.
Arthur gazed up into the blue eyes and smiled back. "Good morning to you, too, Al."
Al Freddison Wilder is the young man's name. He was the adopted son of Freddison and Sophia Wilder, peasant farmers who lovingly opened their door to an eight year old blond boy they had found one day in the middle of a road, unconscious. When he had awoken, all he could remember was his age, but not his birthday, and that his name started with "Al." Beyond that, all of his memories included his new parents, new friends, new home, and the small village. No one had come back to the town to claim him and he had never recovered any of his previous memories. And so, Al F. Wilder came into being.
Three days into living with the Wilders, who were very happy to have him as they could not have children of their own, he had met Arthur. From that day on, the two were best friends. A year later, a new family moved into town with another boy their age. He looked remarkably like Al, but there were significant differences. Matthew completed their trio and there could not have been better best friends than them. Al was a very happy young man.
Arthur stepped aside to let Al in. He walked into the familiar home, heading straight for the kitchen down the main hall where he knew breakfast was waiting for him. He did not need to look around to know that everything was more or less in the same place it was yesterday. Al entered the kitchen and immediately sat down at the four-person seating table there, smiling happily at the food Mrs. Kirkland had made, victoriously noting Arthur had not made anything (for the love of the Jokers, that boy could not cook to save his life). Arthur sat down next to him as Al remembered to greet Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland, who sat across from them. With a quick prayer to the Cards, the four began to eat their plain oatmeal, buttered toast, and bacon, downing it all with a glass of cold milk. They ate silently; there was no need for much conversation since they already knew everything about each other, what with seeing each other every day.
After breakfast, though, Al had to go back to his own home to work. He did not want to be stuck doing his chores during midday, as midday's temperature was that of Hell's. He bid farewell to the Kirklands with a promise to return later to hang out with Arthur like he did every day. He then went on his merry way until he arrived to his home. "Mom, Dad, I'm home," he yelled so that they could hear him from out back. When he made it outside to the backyard, which really was a farm, he said hello to his parents once more and then proceeded to do his chores as quickly as possible.
Many weeds and brow wipes later, Al found himself walking to Arthur's house once more. I wonder what we'll do today, Al thought. He said something about going to the market today, I think. But then again, I was eating so he could have said he had to go to the next town over. But that's dumb so I think it was the market. Yeah. Market. I can do that. And then afterwards, we can do whatever! I bet I can get him to go stargazing with me again. I like that. It just feels so romantic and stargazing is fun…. Maybe I'll finally get my courage up today and confess to him. But… what will I say? Um….
However, Al had no more time to ponder as he arrived at his destination. He did not even have to knock because Arthur opened the door just as he arrived. Wow. Seriously, when did we get this synchronized? Eh. We aren't best buds for nothing. That thought soured his mood a bit – he really did need to get around to confessing."Hey, Artie," Al said. "What're we doing today?"
Arthur rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him. "I already told you, you twit. Thanks for paying attention. But, if you must know, we are going to market." He started down the lane, not bothering to see if he was being followed, but Al trailed behind like a good friend.
"Ah, that's cool," Al replied. "What d'you have to get?" He paused, then added, "Can I get some candy there?"
Arthur smirked at his friend. "Only if you pay for them yourself." His response was a loud groan and an extra harsh stomp of the foot. Arthur laughed at this. "I'll buy you one sweet, Al, just one. But I also need some fruit, a slab of meat, and a few eggs." Al smiled brightly and Arthur instantly regretted being nice.
The two arrived at the market, which was filled with the other townspeople walking from little shop to little shop, buying what they needed. They waved to Al and Arthur, and Al and Arthur waved back. Sure, they might have not been from the same village, but they came together in the same town. Peasants like them stayed together, were friends with each other, depended on each other, and had to deal with the drowning economy of Spades and the rising tensions with Clubs together.
While their King was a kind man, he was old. He was nearing seventy-eight and had no successor. His son, who was supposed to be the next king, had been assassinated with his wife over a decade ago and their son, the King's grandson, had gotten lost in the frenzy. He had never been found and was assumed dead. So now, King Alfred Jones I stood as a figure, mostly, while the Jack did most of the work. The Spadian people urged the King to pick a successor, but he refused. He still believed his grandson would return. Every year, the King threw a feast to remember his lost son, daughter-in-law, and grandson, always hoping his grandson would show up and eat. In Al's opinion, the King was more stubborn than Arthur, and that was saying something.
A little ways down, the two spotted their friend Matthew. "Hey, dude," Al called, waving his hand above his head so their friend would find them from across the street (even if 'across the street' was a few feet away). Upon seeing the two, Matthew smiled a bit – he wasn't one for big smiles, seeing as he was shy, for people did not notice him often. However, Al always took pride that he was one of the reasons people smiled, even if it was someone as familiar as Matthew. Besides, when Matthew did smile as big as Al did, he looked a lot like Al.
Matthew Williams had two hair tones – a dark blond on top and a kind of orange color on the bottom. His wavy hair almost reached his shoulders and there was a wild curl coming off the top of his head that, for some weird reason, he could not cut off. His facial and body structure were remarkably like Al's – he had a straight nose, strong jaw, and some nice muscles on him. His eyes were hiding behind frames, but their color was one to be disputed over. Some people said his eyes were blue, other claimed they were purple. In the end, Matthew insisted they were indigo; Al, however, joked that they were Spades color, as Spades main two colors were blue and purple. Whenever Al said this, people would just politely smile and inwardly think that he was obnoxious. And soon, the Spades-colored-eyed boy was standing before his two friends. "Good afternoon, Al, Arthur," he greeted in his usual soft voice. "How are you today?"
"Same as always," Al said.
"Splendid," Arthur answered. "Thank you for asking, Matthew. And how are you?"
Matthew's smile grew bigger. "Fine, thank you. I was actually signing up for the hockey tournament today when you guys showed up." Al chuckled at that. Matthew had wanted to be a professional hockey player ever since he had learned how to play, which was at age six. From then on, he got better and better until the entire town – town not village – acknowledged him as the single most impressive player and decided that if anyone from their small town had a chance at going professional, it was Matthew. Even if Matthew himself did not see how he was that great.
Arthur ignored Al's chuckling and said, "I'm sure you'll do a terrific job and win."
"Pfft! He's gonna kick their asses!" Frowning, Arthur elbowed the taller blond in the guts. "Hey!"
Turning back to the other, Arthur continued, "Al and I will be there to cheer you on."
"Hell yeah we will!" Al clapped a hand on the hockey player's shoulder. "But first, dude, Artie and I gotta go and get some things."
Matthew nodded. "I understand. The tournament isn't even starting until another two hours, so I can go with you guys." So, the three best friends headed off to buy what Arthur needed.
All was well – they got the meat which Arthur charmed with his magic to keep cold, they got the fruit which Arthur charmed to not go bad too quickly, and eggs which Arthur charmed to not crack. Of course, after using magic, Arthur felt kind of weak, but he was used to this low level magic so it was not as bad. But when they stepped into the bakery, they encountered a problem.
"Arthur, I was kidding when I asked for a candy."
Green eyes rolled. "I don't care, Al. I said I'd buy you a sweet and, by the Cards, I will."
"No, you really don't halfta."
"Be quiet and pick your sweet."
"I don't want one." Strong arms crossed over a broad chest.
"I'm buying you a sweet of my own free will for an act of kindness so just pick something, damnit!"
"Crazy eights!"
A soft giggle emerged from a third party. "You guys are funny."
The third party went ignored. "Have you picked one yet?"
"… Can I get a fairy puff?"
A smirk. "What are you, a little girl?"
"You asked me what I wanted and that's what I want, you Club!" A yelp of pain as a shoulder was smacked.
"Fine, you may get a fairy puff, you princess."
"… I would hit you, but you're buying it. So I'll just say I hate you."
"The feeling is mutual, love."
Al felt a shiver run down his spine as Arthur called him "love." Dear Cards, he adored when Arthur called him that and wished Arthur would call him that every time he addressed him. It made Al feel like he should really get around to confessing to Arthur really soon just to hear the cute nicknames Arthur would give him. Confessing would be so worthwhile, but how would he do it? How do you just say you like a person without worrying that they will laugh in your face? But the Cards knew he wanted to do it, to tell Arthur how much he thought about him, how much he wanted to hold him forever, to run his hands through his hair over and over again, to kiss him until they were both breathless, to simply love him for everything he is and know Arthur loved him back just as much. Al was a coward, though. He had no idea how you gathered enough courage to express one's love for another.
Meanwhile, Arthur had bought the fairy puff and was waving it in front of Al's face. It took a few more waves for Al to finally notice it. "Oh, sorry!" He grabbed it, smiling at it widely. Then he looked at Arthur, giving him a (what he hoped) loving grin. "Thanks, Artie." With that, he took a bite of the puff.
Arthur returned the grin. "Cheers. Now," he looked at Matthew, "I do believe we have a hockey tournament to attend." Matthew nodded, grinning along with his friends. They must have looked like grinning idiots to everyone else.
Once at the tournament, Al and Arthur took a seat in the stands, trying to be as close as possible to the players. As they were not the first, or second, people there, they were forced to sit in the third row. Thankfully, though, this arena had enough funding for a Magic Zoom screen; people in the back row would have little difficulty seeing everything going on with the players. Forty-five minutes later, with all the spectators and players in the arena, the games could begin.
Each player was announced (twenty-four in all), their respective friends and family cheering for them. Then, the players found out who they would be playing against first. And so, the twelve matches began. Immediately, cards were being dealt, and then used, and then came the first breakaways, the second or the canceling of them, and then the goals and other breakaways. This continued for three periods, and two games went overtime. Afterwards, six advanced – Matthew included. The process was repeated. When it came down to the final three (Matthew included), Matthew had to play against a ginger, the ginger played against a brunette, then the brunette played against Matthew. Matthew won against the ginger, the ginger lost against the brunette, and the brunette lost against Matthew. The ginger was out, so Matthew and the brunette dealt the cards again.
It was an insanely intense match. Matthew had dealt first, so the brunette had the first play. Neither went easy on each other. By the second period, neither had scored. During the second quarter, though, the brunette scored. Matthew cursed – Al could tell, even though he could not hear him – but was otherwise silent. In the third quarter, Matthew scored. There were no further goals in the second period, nor the third, and the game went into overtime. Everyone had thought the two would tie, but then it happened – 2-1, Matthew, in the last quarter with only one more play until they would have been forced to tie. The crowd went wild. Al was screaming his head off, "Yeah, Mattie! I knew you could do it! WHOOHOOOOOOO!", while Arthur was yelling beside him, "Way to go, lad, you won!" in a quieter tone.
Matthew, of course, looked like he found out he was going to be Spades' next king and was going to have his coronation the next day. He seriously looked like the happiest guy on the planet. "Congratulations, Matthew Williams," the announcer roared over the screams of the crowd. "You have won this month's hockey tournament for the eighth consecutive time – how are you feeling?"
Matthew gave the widest grin he could and said, "Like a king."
"Yeah, Matt!" Al cried. "You're the Hockey King! Hoc-key King! Hoc-key King!" Arthur joined in with his chanting and, soon, the entire crowd was shouting along, too. "Hoc-key King! Hoc-key King! Hoc-key King!"
"Well, Mr. Williams," the announcer continued, "you have just earned yourself seventy-five silver pieces!"
Al's jaw and just about everyone else's jaw went slack. Seventy-five silver pieces? Seventy-five? That was twenty-five short of a gold piece! Those twenty-five pieces were the average wage for the peasants and Matthew had just gotten three months' worth of payment – three months of not having to break his back over vegetables. And the winner usually got fifty! They were giving away seventy-five? The Cards were shining down on Matthew today.
After an unusually long congratulatory line for Matthew, the three friends were allowed to leave in peace. The hockey player continued to sport an ecstatic smile, while his doppelganger had a dopey grin plastered to his face, and the magic man beamed ever so whimsically. The friends all but skipped down the road.
"So, Matt," Al drawled, "whatcha gonna do with-" He abruptly stopped – it would not do for everyone on the street to know how much money Matthew had obtained. "-your prize?"
"Hmm…" Matthew pondered. "Oh!" He quickly looked at his buddies. "I'm going to buy you guys souvenirs from Cyan!"
Arthur blinked. "You're going to Cyan soon?" Cyan was the capitol of Spades and the biggest city located just three days away.
Matthew nodded excitedly. "Yup! My parents bought tickets to the feast. 'Course, we're nowhere near close to the King, but we get awesome food nonetheless."
"Dude, that's so cool!" Al stepped out onto the street and began walking backwards to see his friends better – Arthur was lagging like the slowpoke he was, though. "Like, I remember that one time we all went that one year; that was so fun!"
Arthur smiled. "Yes, that wa-"
"Watch out!" a voice shouted.
The three friends turned their heads, standing still in the middle of the road, watching a racing carriage heading their way, clearly aiming for Arthur. They stood there gaping for a second, apparently waiting for their imminent death. Then, Al jumped into action, pushing Matthew forwards to where he had been standing a moment before, and moved to Arthur, hitting him just in time. Matthew and Arthur were saved, Al, however, could feel his right shoulder dislocated, upper arm broken, and forearm fractured from missing the horses by a meter, but being slammed by the actual carriage instead. At least it stopped, Al thought.
Arthur got up as quickly as he could. "Al, are you okay?!" He rushed over and crouched down next to his friend in obvious pain. "Al?"
"Oh my Cards, Al, are you stupid," Matthew asked, kneeling down and helping his friend to a sitting position.
"Yes, are you all right," a new voice asked.
Al looked up to see a… very girlish looking man. He knew it was a man because the voice that belonged to him was obviously male, but his appearance was telling otherwise. He had raven-black hair pulled into a tight ponytail that reached down to his waist; his hips were a bit wider than most mens', and his tiny waist did not help. He was a few inches shorter than Al, but looked older. His eyes had short, curled eyelashes, his eyebrows were shaped, and his irises were a peculiar shade of amber. However, the most astonishing part about this man was that he was way over dressed for the village he was in. And he was definitely dressed like a Chinaman (people who hailed from the District of China located on the eastern side of Spades). His clothes were finely made, probably made of silk, and were a very rich blue. He had several layers of clothing on, too, which was kind of dumb since American weather was exceedingly warm during June. Al figured he was a noble or noble's son traveling to Cyan for the feast.
And then Al realized this Chinaman's carriage had almost run him over.
"Um," the man said when Al had not responded. "Are you not all right, aru?" Aru? The man seemed to realize this extra word (?), too. "I mean, all right?"
"Huh?" Al blinked, moving his arm a little, trying to not let the pain get to him. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine." He pushed his shoulder back into place with an overly audible snap, causing everyone within a yard to flinch.
The man's eyes widened. "Oh my goodness, do you need a doctor?" He took Al's arm and inspected it. Al flinched when he prodded where his arm was broken. "It's broken; let me take you to a doctor." He made to stand up and take Al with him.
Al, instead of following, pulled his arm back to his side, the pain in it dulling. "I don't need no doctor." He rolled his shoulder, extended his arm, and shook it. He winced at first, but after a few more good shakes everything was okay. "See? All healed." He held his arm for the Chinaman to inspect.
When the man finished poking and prodding, he looked Al hard in the face. "How did you do that?"
Al chuckled, finally standing. "Easy," he responded. "But it's rude to tell ya before I introduce myself. My name's Al. Al F. Wilder. And I suggest we get out of the street 'cause we're holding up traffic." He smiled at the Chinaman and waited for him to make a move.
"Oh, right, of course." The man looked around for a moment, and then told his driver to park the carriage somewhere. "Let us get out of the street, Mr. Wilder."
'Mr. Wilder' snickered. "Call me 'Al,'" he ordered as they stepped onto the sidewalk. "I'm just nineteen. And I still don't know your name."
"Oh!" The Chinaman stuck out his hand. "Wang Yao." Al shook Wang Yao's hand. "As I almost ran you over, you may be improper with me and call me by my first name."
Wang is his first name, right, Al thought. But he's Chinese, so maybe it's Yao. "Right, okay." Al said, deciding not to say a name in case he got it wrong. "Well, these are my two best buds Matt and Artie." He gestured to where they were standing, which was right on either side of him.
"Arthur Kirkland," Arthur corrected, sticking out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wang." So Wang is his last name.
When Arthur and Yao finished shaking hands, Matthew held out his own. "Matthew Williams. Nice to meet you." He and Al smiled when they saw Yao's eyes flickered from face to face, trying to figure out if they were related or not. "Before you ask, Al and I have no blood ties. We just look alike."
"Ah, sorry," Yao said, looking embarrassed. His eyes strayed from their gazes. "I did not mean to be rude, aru." A second, a shake of the head, and a "I mean, rude." Then, he mumbled something that sounded like "I must break that habit!"
He's kind of loony in the head, Al thought; who has a weird habit like saying 'aru' at the end of sentences, anyway? "Well," he voiced, "I do believe I owe you an explanation." He thought about that. "Okay, so I don't really owe it. You did kinda almost run me over, but still you asked and I shall answer." He flashed a smile at Yao, who appeared to look grim when he mentioned the near-death experience he went through. "So, the reason I healed so fast is because I am such an awesome hero!"
The two blonds to either side of Al promptly smacked the shoulder they were closest to.
"Ow! Jeez, fine, I'll tell him the truth." His response was two smug smirks. Al rolled his eyes at them and turned to Yao to give him an honest response. "I healed so fast 'cause of Artie here." He bumped shoulders with said Artie. "He made me, Matt, his family, and himself a healing potion. He doesn't want to see any of us hurt, dontcha, Arthur?"
"No," Arthur said with a blush. "I don't, so I hope you're grateful for all the magic I used up on it."
"'Course we are!"
"Yes, we are, Arthur."
"So," Yao cut in, looking back and forth between Al and Arthur, eyes not even straying far enough left to see Matthew, "you are a magic man?" Arthur nodded in confirmative. Yao digested the information, eyeing Arthur up and down. "You don't look like the educated man you are," he finally noted. Arthur flushed, eyes widening. "If I were born magical, I would dress to impress every day and show off my social standing. I would also move closer to Cyan – the King needs as many educated Mages as he can get around him." Mage? Arthur was no Mage. And he, Matthew, and Al had about as much schooling as the next guy in town. What was Yao talking about? Were magic people actually taught by others about their powers? "An important aging man such as himself needs to be healed as soon as possible," the Chinaman continued, "especially since he does not have an heir. Of course, I am assuming that this potion you had made was powerful if it had healed this boy so fast." Al started at 'boy.' He was the same age as Artie! Okay, a little bit younger, but close enough!
As it was apparent the wealthiest man there had finished speaking, Arthur floundered for a bit, trying to form a coherent word. "I!" he managed to say. "I-I- a Mage! No, Mr. Wang, no, I'm not a-a-" Arthur stuttered a bit, trying to wrap his head around the thought that someone thought he was a Mage. "I'm not a Mage," he got out after a few more tries, blushing from just the mere idea of being someone of such prestige. "I'm a farmer, like everyone else in my village, like most people in this town, Mr. Wang."
Yao looked beyond shocked. "You… are not a Mage, aru?" A second later, he corrected himself. "A-A Mage?" He gazed at Arthur with all the surprise and wonder in the world. "But you are a magic man! Surely you were taught magic – you even claimed to make a healing potion!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait," Al cut in. "You're taught magic?" He whirled to stare at his friend. "Who taught you, Artie?"
"I did make a healing potion," Arthur said. "But I had no teacher. I mostly taught myself; the fairies helped a little, though. And, before you ask, Mr. Wang, it was the most powerful potion I know – it heals nearly everything. Everything but checkmate poison." Al hadn't known the potion was strong enough to heal everything, sans checkmate poison. But checkmate poison was the deadliest poison there was – no one survived that. It killed you within minutes and you only needed a drop to do so. It was rare to find (thank the Cards) and what had been found was impossible to obtain. "The best it can do with checkmate poison is erasing it completely from your body. However, once you're out, you're out. You don't wake up unless your true love kisses you." Needless to say, the two blonds and Chinaman stared at Arthur for that statement. "Don't stare at me like that! It's a fairy potion and fairies love dealing with those types of things." They continued staring at him like he was crazy.
"Right, well, I should be going," Yao announced. "I am very sorry to break your arm, Mr. Jones, and whatever compensation you may wish to have, I will have to put off until after the feast. I hope you accept this condition and I will be off. Good-bye." He swiftly turned around and started for where his driver had parked the carriage.
"Hey, wait!" Al called. Yao turned. "All I want to know is your social standing for compensation." He smiled for good measure.
Once again, the Chinaman found himself surprised. It was so simple! "Ah, I am a scholar. My father is the Duke of China."
Al's smile grew wider. "Really? Cool! Well, it was nice to meet you, Yao!"
"You, too, aru." He waved and the American waved back. He never bothered to correct the end of sentence, either.
"That was interesting," Matthew commented once Wang Yao's carriage was back to moving along the street. "I also didn't know you loved us that much, Arthur."
"Neither did I. Thanks, Artie."
"Belt up, you two."
After their encounter with the Duke of China's scholarly son, the three had an early dinner of hamburgers, even if hamburgers were not Arthur's food of choice. Throughout the meal, they conversed about the feast in three days. After they were finished, Matthew bid them farewell and Arthur and Al were left to their own devices. Sadly, there was at least another hour before the sun set; meaning stargazing would have to be put off for an hour or two, much to Al's displeasure. Curse summer and its long days, the blue-eyed boy thought. What're we gonna do for a whole hour?
He didn't have to think so much, though, for Arthur said, "Al, let's go see the fairies. It's been a while since I spoke with them." Al went with the idea – fairies were usually in the best spot to see stars at night. Besides, he never got tired of watching Arthur around the fairies. Arthur's eyes always glowed as bright as the fairies when he communicated with them. He had always loved the fairies and the fairies loved him. Al thought that the fairies had loved him a bit when he was younger, but they only liked him because he was friends with Arthur. He didn't mind though – those silly flying people pulled a lot pranks on him, but not Arthur. The Jokers forbid they play a prank on Arthur. They didn't even like it when Al teased him!
Through the town the boys went until the woods came into sight, and then into the woods they went. Al quite liked the woods. There were trees and rocks and rocks and trees. But, of course, that wasn't what made the woods awesome. Nope. Not only did the woods have trees and rocks and rocks and trees, it had dirt, too!… No, but in all seriousness, the woods were really pretty. The tree leaves were always a vibrant green in summer and spring (they were an array of oranges, reds, and yellows in autumn, and were bare in winter), the bark was always the richest brown around, and everything just teemed with life, even in winter. And while the whole place was nice, the small meadow where the fairies hung around was even nicer.
Soon, they reached their destination with Arthur leading the way. And what a sight it was. Fairies of all colors and shapes and sizes flew about with wings unique to each individual. Like snowflakes, Al thought dumbly each time he saw them. The zooming stopped, however, when the fairies realized Arthur had come back. Soon, Al lost sight of Arthur underneath the colors of the rainbow because of the swarming fairies. All the while Arthur was saying, "Yes, yes, I'm back. I missed you, too. How have you bee- oh, I've been fine, thanks. For your information, I actually like him an- what'd'you mean why? So what if he's given me a bit of an accent! He's my friend and I ask you kindly to not play too nasty of a prank on h- you already have?" And as soon as that was said, Al felt a tremendously cold wave of water wash over him. The fairies had doused him in cold water, the sun was setting, and he was freezing. "Al!" And Arthur was suddenly by his shivering side. "I'm so sorry." He turned back to the fairies. "That wasn't very nice. Apologize." He didn't wait for them to. "Oh, gosh, Al, you must be freezing!" Arthur wrapped his arms around Al in what Al had thought to be a comforting way to heat him up but had actually been to dry him off with magic. "There. Is that better?"
Al smiled at Arthur, who smiled back. "Yeah, thanks, Artie." And then in his own mind: It would have been better if there was more feeling behind it. Don't you love me like I love you? "I don't mind, really. I saw it comin'. 'Member last time?"
Arthur's eyes darkened. "They tripped you and you fell on a rock and nearly cracked your skull open."
Al laughed to lighten the mood. "All in the name of a good prank."
"But you were the one pranked!"
"Yeah, but I've pranked 'em back!"
"How?"
The American stopped short. He hadn't meant to say that. How do you say "Oh, the joke's on them 'cause I got you and they don't. I like to laugh at their jealousy 'cause you're with me and not them. It may sound totally selfish and hurtful, but there is no one else I love more in the world than you and they know it and can't do anything about it. So, ha."? Yeah, he couldn't do that. Instead, he said, "One time I set a leaf to swat them when they flew by." Lie. And the fairies knew it, too. They didn't do anything about it, though, because Arthur would do something.
Do something he did. He smacked Al hard on the shoulder. "Al Wilder, don't do things like that! You could have seriously hurt them – what if the leaf hit their wings? Then they could have been damaged and maybe broken and you can't fix a wing if it's broken which means the poor fairy would have been grounded, don't you know, which is serious, Al, I can't believe you. Poor thing. You're lucky no one got hurt." All through this, he had continued smacking Al and relishing in the 'justice' it brought each time Al winced.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, ow, stop it, Arthur," Al said in return. Once, Arthur stopped, Al rubbed his shoulder in an attempt to make the pain evaporate. It didn't work to well. "Jeez, Artie, when'd'ya get so strong? That hurt."
"Serves you right," the green-eyed boy shot back. He then turned to speak with a particularly pink fairy. "Linnea," he addressed, "Al and I need to pass the time until the stars come out. Do you have any stories you could tell us?" Linnea made a confirmative sound.
Al had to grin excitedly at that. Sure, he himself couldn't understand fairy language like Arthur could, but fairies told stories with magic, not words. Al would have no problem understanding the story and they were quite entertaining.
With a pat on each of their heads, Linnea "instructed" they lay down and get comfortable for the story she and a few other fairies were about to tell. After three bursts of light (pink, gold, and green respectively for the fairies telling the story), Al and Arthur began to see the unknown story come to life.
Long ago, before the four kingdoms came into being, there were two empires that ruled all lands. They were called the Black and White Empires. Constantly, these two empires were at war with each other. The people were riotous, rebelling their emperors in tumultuous uprisings lasting for days before the very people fighting for their freedom from the war were forcefully sent away to battle against the other side who had also been forcefully put into military uniforms. Everything was in a continuous loop of mayhem and chaos. There were everlasting food shortages, there was barely enough clean water for one child's mouthful, and starvation and dehydration killed more people than swords and arrows.
Amidst all of this discord, there was a White citizen who would give anything for his children to not live through this unneeded war. He wanted nothing more than peace for his children who were not yet born, his children who were still in the confines of his own mind. What absurdity it was that a little twelve-year-old boy wanted tranquility for his children when he was still a child himself!
Amidst all of this havoc, there was a Black citizen who had utterly given up on living the nice life he wanted due to this unwanted war. He wanted nothing more than his own death and the death of many people, the end of so many lives just to bring the world back to beauty. How ridiculous it was for someone to want the extinction of all mankind for the sake of a beautiful and harmonious Earth!
Amidst all this pandemonium, the Peace-Dreamer and the Death-Wisher became insanely inseparable companions because of this unpopular war. They wanted nothing more than to have fun for once in their life, to not have to worry about what the morrow might bring from them. It was preposterous for them to think all of their cares and faults would go away after one glorious day of play instead of on the war front!
Yes, outrageous as it was, the two were the ultimate reason for serenity on all lands. It was they who brought the beginning of the four kingdoms. Friendship was the reason for the calm in which the world is engulfed in now. However, this is only part of the story. One might never suggest, nor ever believe, that it was these two who had created a poison so potent that it would kill with one drop. The two war-enders had made the toxin checkmate.
It had been simple fun. It had all been in jest. Merely, the friends had wanted to taste sweet intoxication before they never could again. To the pot, the Peace-Dreamer brought any and all brandy he could find, he brought starshine made by the few Fae left alive during these hard times, and he brought a bronze coin – a rarity – that he had found on the battleground. To the pot, the Death-Wisher brought a bucket of tree sap, he brought a powder-like substance that many soldiers put in their water to give it an edge that allowed them to forget themselves for a few hours, and he brought liquid fire. They poured and dropped what they had brought into the pot and stirred it together with a stick, asking the old lord Time to place a blessing upon their concoction. They asked him to allow this drink to bring them into a state unlike any other, to bring them to a state where there was no war at all.
The old lord Time was merciful. He heard their prayers and he granted them. He blessed their drink to take them to another state with one sip. And with that, the companions took a gulp each.
If they were to describe the feeling that overran their entire being at that moment, they would say "pain." A burning as hot as any massive bonfire raced through their veins, lighting them on fire, then a cold tidal wave washed through after, leaving a numbing sensation throughout their body. By that time, though, they could no longer feel much of anything.
When they opened their eyes again, they saw each other, but the backdrop was pitch black.
"Where are we," asked the Peace-Dreamer. The Death-Wisher did not know. "Why are we here?" Again, he did not know. "When are we going home?" Before an answer could come, a loud and commanding voice boomed around the space.
"When you realize just what you have accomplished," it said. A figure then stepped forth from the shadows. It was cloaked in tangible numbers, its face morphed from smooth and flat to wrinkly and rigid fluidly, and it was easily recognizable as the old lord Time. "You have brought peace to the world; come see." He directed the two friends over to a basin that had popped from the ground like a mushroom. He leaned over it to look inside and the Peace-Dreamer and Death-Wisher followed suit.
Inside, they witnessed people finding their poisonous drink, watched them spread it around, saw how little drops of it appeared out of nowhere like wildfire, witnessed people drinking the liquid, watched their faces contort into agony as the burning sensation coursed through their veins, and saw them appear into the blackness. Then, the old lord Time waved his hand over the basin and every little splash of what was left of the concoction was brought together into a well located in a place long since forgotten.
To the friends, the old lord Time said, "As the saviors of the world, you will be worshipped just as I am. From now on, you two will be known and praised by the calling of the Jokers." To the fifty-two people who had died from the drink, the old lord Time said, "As the helpers of the saviors of the world, you will all be worshipped just as I and the Jokers are. From now on, you will be known and praised by the calling of the Cards."
Alas, this was how the Jokers and the Cards came to be – by death of checkmate poison! As the people still living on Earth realized just how terrible chaos can be, the White and Black Empires came to an agreement. Thus, they split each empire in two. The White Empire became the Kingdoms of Spades and Diamonds, respectively. The Black Empire became the Kingdoms of Clubs and Hearts, respectively. These four kingdoms prospered peacefully, never once has conflict come up in their continuous history, for no one wishes to have a war that brings many a death to human life again. Nor do any of the kingdoms want another poison that has no cure, a poison so potent that it kills almost instantly with one drop.
With the peaceful times, however, the Jokers destroyed information from human minds. Information such as the location of the checkmate poison has been lost – even the information of the Black and White Empires was taken. Only in times of dire need did the Jokers and Cards see fit as giving back the stolen knowledge to help the human race progress and keep away from mayhem – a time, indeed, they never yearned to see.
There were flashes of pink, gold, and green as the story came to a close. Al and Arthur sat were they were for a while, completely silent, gazing at the full moon with apparent wonder. However, Arthur was not one for beating around the bush for long and so his English accented voice cut through the quiet of the lovely night, exclaiming, "What the hell?"
Al jumped, looking over at him, the dark night sky shining with bright stars and a beautiful moon seemingly forgotten. "My freaking thoughts exactly," the blue-eyed boy announced.
Arthur sat pin straight and gazed evenly at the fairies in front of him. "Just what in the bleeding hell? Is that all true? That can't be true, can it?" His face began to distort in torn expression of shock, horror, and hysteria. "Will you get in trouble for telling us that? That the Jokers were actually people who screwed up for the greater good?! Oh, my Cards-" There was a sharp intake of crisp night air as he realized what he said. "The Cards," Arthur exhaled and then continued on, not missing a beat as his voice climbed higher in befuddlement. "The Cards that we praise were people, too! How the- who the- why? Are you kidding me?"
Al wrapped an arm around his friends shoulder, shushing him, trying to get him to calm down. "Artie, stop, let's think about this rationally."
"Rationally," Arthur screeched in return. "They just told us one of the biggest secrets – scratch that – the biggest secret of all time and you want to 'think about this rationally.'" He fisted his hands into Al's shirt and resisted the urge to shake him.
Al nodded his head, reaching to remove Arthur's hands from his shirt. "Yeah," he replied simply. "Or completely forget about it to watch the stars like we came here to do." Arthur stared into Al's eyes like he was crazy, but Al didn't mind much. The green was mesmerizing in the moonlight. Gosh, Al loved those eyes.
Unfortunately, those eyes turned to the fairies. "You won't get in trouble, will you?"
The faires fluttered about in a negative way.
So the emotions rolled off of the Brit gradually and onto the forest floor until only relaxation remained. Surprise turned into normalcy, horror changed to tolerance, and hysteria left for stillness to take its place. With a subdued Arthur and a still-in-denial Al, stargazing commenced.
Al wasn't exactly sure what made stars shine, but he really liked it. Stargazing had always been a favorite past time of his – he was certain that he even liked it during the eight years he could not remember. That was how much he enjoyed it. The stories that went along with constellations were ones he knew by heart. So, yes, Al was enjoying himself; he was calm, quiet, and still slightly in shock.
And then Arthur spoke, which was A-OK for Al (he adored the sound of Arthur's voice). "What do you suppose the first King of Spades felt when he became king?"
The American blinked; he had honestly never thought about that before even though the first Kings, Queens, and Jacks of the four kingdoms each had their own constellations. How indeed had the man felt? He could have felt any number of things, really. Happy, accomplished, proud, strong, powerful, elated… but there were so few things about the first royals; nobody even knew their names! No one knew where they had actually come from; the stories from the constellations were mostly myth and were about the times after they became royal.
Al bit his lip before giving his most honest answer of, "I dunno. But I do know that if I were the King of Spades, I'd be grateful to rule a country filled with humble and pleasant people." He smiled at Arthur. "And of course you'd be my Queen, Artie." Once the words were out of his mouth, he froze. He had not meant to say that. Fumbling, he continued, trying to look anywhere but Arthur's shocked face, "'Cause you're my best friend, you know? And Queens can be, you know, m-married to their Kings or be best friends. And you're my best friend and, I mean, Matthew could be my Queen, too, but he wants to be a hockey player and he's not magical and Queen's have to be magical, so you'd be my Queen, and, uh, yeah." He could feel the very bright blush on his face, knowing his ears were bright red also. This was so awkward and it wasn't until he heard the fairies laughing at him did he realize that he could have totally confessed to Arthur right then and there. You'd be my Queen because I am in love with you, Arthur. That would have been so simple! It would have still been awkward, but it was the perfect opportunity and he completely missed it! Al mentally face-palmed.
"Eh, right, well, um," was Arthur's eloquent response. Al didn't dare face him. That was so embarrassing. "I – oh, look! A shooting star!" Al looked up for that and, sure enough, there was a star shooting across the sky. Thank you, Jokers, for a subject change.
Al smiled. "Make a wish." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, thought about what to wish for, and, with all his might, wished upon the star: I wish that I could be King so I can give Arthur everything he wants.
The End
A/N: This was going to be a multichaptered fic, but I finished this first chapter on New Year's Eve and after writing the first three thousand words of the second chapter I thought "What's the point? This is going to be sitting here for the rest of my life at the rate I'm going." So, I bring to you a little Cardverse of my own design. :)