A/N: A request thing from tumblr. Finally thought to post it here on FF so I won't forget to update.
Alfred is 19, mind.
Most of the time people would think: it must be hard, ruling an entire kingdom on your own. You handle the economy, you hold your people, maintain law and order, then you also had to keep in contact with the other kingdoms so you'll be able to maintain some kind of balance and control with foreign trade and strengthening alliances.
It pisses Alfred off.
Alright, so they were kind of right. Being a King is hard, but he's not the only one who handles it? There's literally the council, which was by the way, is composed of stuffy guys in formal clothes who does nothing but "debate" over some bills and policies as they scream at each other whilst they pound their hands against the table's surface.
Kings may be in the top of the, uh, hierarchy, but that doesn't mean they do all the work. There's a reason the ruling figures were three.
Because they share the work.
The Jack is responsible with anything concerning kingdom-from the policies to handling people civil service exams. If there was anything Alfred needs to know or keep updated with the happenings inside, it's the Jack who answers to him.
The Queen handles anything involving the military. A queen will always be responsible with the kingdom's military prowess. They keep their soldier's spirits and morales up in times of war. They also handle the law, meaning that no policy or bill gets passed without their sign of approval.
That means, no matter which of these guys win, they would still need the queen's approval.
Which was kind of a problem.
It was the problem at the moment, really.
They don't have a queen.
"What are you doing here?"
Yao says, he sounded like he's scolding him, even. Alfred reckons it must be because he almost got hit by a crumpled sheet of paper that was supposed to hit the door but didn't because Yao opened it.
Not that he cares. It was Yao's fault for opening the door.
"It's my office, of course I'm going to be here." He tells Yao, in his a-matter-of-factly voice that he knows will annoy his Jack. It seemed to work just fine, seeing Yao visibly twitch, his shoulders shaking and his hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. He seemed to be only a little ways away from busting a vein in there.
Too bad it was Yao.
Instead of doing what Alfred wanted to see, he breathes through his nose. Inhale, exhale, inhale, and then exhale again. When he exhales for the last time, his shoulders are relaxed and his fists are no more.
"You were supposed to be at the marriage interview." He hisses out, as if anyone could just easily overhear what he said. It was impossible though, since his offices are sound proof. It protects them from eavesdroppers. Can't have tabloids publishing stupid things about their rulers and make the mobs angry now, do they?
It wasn't like Alfred refusing a queen is new. He sits back on his seat, slouching. He shrugs and raises both feet to rest on the surface of his table. He's got enough sense to tidy up before doing so lest important documents get disturbed from their proper places. If he remembers right, he had a court hearing to attend to later this evening. Something about a theft and a homicide.
"And now I'm not." He tells his jack.
Yao's brows furrow in concern. Wow, he's really serious about this marriage thing, wasn't he? "Last time you said she's too funny for her age."
"Twenty-year olds are supposed to be lame, my dude."
He hears Yao sigh, getting angry is draining his energy it seems. He walks towards one of the chairs by the side of Alfred's desk and rests on it. He raises a hand to stroke the lines between his eyebrows. He's so gonna getting wrinkles if he doesn't stop frowning so much. At least he's following Alfred's advise to do something about them, even if the constant worrying doesn't stop.
"And now?" Yao asks tiredly. Alfred knows Yao already knows the answer to that, but if Yao is some closet masochist, then so be it.
He shrugs, "His hair was funny-looking."
When Alfred got up that morning, he groaned. Loudly.
His guts were telling him that this day is going to be the worst thing yet. Aside from it being Monday.
He hated Mondays, see. Also, Mondays are usually the day Yao sets the marriage interviews: another reason to not go to work.
Too bad that he's literally the King, meaning he lives in the Palace where he practically works. There's no way he can lie and call-in sick, unless he manages to bribe the physician who will be checking on him. Too bad the guy lives in the palace too, had known Alfred too well ever since the King was a mere boy.
Too fucking bad.
On his way to the room where he was supposed to meet his "queen-to-be", he made sure to walk very slowly, annoying his Jack who decided to walk with him today to where he's supposed to go. It seems that Yao might just barricade the door once Alfred gets in just to make sure he won't leave before the supposed appointment ends.
God, he wished something big would happen today.
Like clubs declaring war. Ivan looks like the type to do that shit anyway. Creepy bastard.
Oh-but then they'll really need a queen more badly, won't they? Okay, never mind. Scratch that off, bad plan.
So he walks in his slow pace, so slow he knows in himself that Yao might just win from this little race that Alfred made-up in his head. His Jack's physically weak that it hurts how he looks like he's trying to kill himself just to keep the pace with Alfred's usual strides, sometimes.
He was about to reach for the door knob when one of his guards comes running towards them, trying to catch his breath. He must've run quite a distance.
From the looks of it, it was something important too.
More important than Alfred meeting a prospective bride, anyway.
But still! Anything is better than being forced to get married! Yay for this guy! His mind soars with delight, whereas the him on the outside furrows his brows, his face grave as he asks the man what was wrong. His mind was screaming "Yes! Get me outta here!" at the same time.
"A man was found by the docks. He was suspected to be a crew of Titania, Sir."
At this, Alfred and Yao stiffen. Titania. A few days ago, Alfred received news from the navy that they encountered the infamous pirate ship. They tried to negotiate at first, get the crew to give up without risking a fight but as expected, their words were replied with a shot of a canon and a fight ensued.
Titania was reported to have sunk, half of its crew missing along with its elusive captain.
They had what was left of its crew in custody under interrogation but so far none has spoken a word about their captain's whereabouts or even its name or face. They were drawing blanks.
Finding another crew-who could possibly help move the investigation further, would be a big help.
It seems that the marriage interview will have to be postponed, but Alfred does not see anything to be happy or sad about it at the moment. There's a chance that they can get information on the Titania's captain. This man whose tales were told of by fishermen and merchant ships alike. The one they heard that managed to sink the Diamond's armada, of all things. Antonio never stopped cursing him and his ship on days he drowned in ale.
"Take me to him."
When Alfred sees him in the interrogation room, the first thing that comes to mind was, he's clean.
It was a strange thing to think of, because the men that they detained were all filthy. The water that was used to wash them clean came up muddy. It was a given, with them spending most of their days in the sea-bathing was a privilege where clean water is used more for quenching one's thirst.
This man though, he's clean. He heard that he was given new clothes-upon noticing the plain shirt and pants, his feet bare. His skin is scarily pale that it made Alfred wonder if this man really was a crew of Titiania or was just a person who happened to get washed into their docks.
So far, the only ship reported that have sunk in their waters was the Titania, so any doubts about him being anything else but a pirate was out in an instant.
"Has he said anything yet?" He asks the man in charge in the room as he looks at the pirate through the one-way mirror right outside the room he was contained in.
"We have yet to speak to him, Sir."
Alfred takes his time to reply, content to observe the man as he turns his head full of pale hair to turn towards the mirror, right at Alfred's direction as if he heard him. His eyes are big and bright, full of curiosity and innocence that is not befitting of someone of his kind. Alfred had heard of the news, of the people and the ships the pirates had raided. How they take all their supplies and barely leave a barrel of food to last the victims for a few days until they find a port to seek help.
Titania is a name that the sailors have grown to be wary of. To avoid at all costs.
"Let me," Alfred says, his expression hard, making him appear older. He couldn't let people like him do this anymore. It's not right.
He gets escorted towards the room, where he sees the pirate stare at the mirror, staring at his own reflection it seems, with the way the turns his head left and right, touching his cheek and ruffling his hair. It makes Alfred feel uneasy. Something about this feels off.
"You, sit properly." His escort tells the pirate. The pirate turns his attention away from the mirror to look at them, his eyes lingering for a moment at each of them, taking their appearances in. Alfred wasn't wearing his coat, the only clothing people use to recognise him as their King, aside from the pocket watch that would usually reside in his chest pocket. It was going to be impossible for this man to know that he's a monarch.
The man before them gives them a wary look, his brows furrowed and his jaw set. He would probably growl if it wasn't for the men behind Alfred carrying rifles. He raises both his legs and wraps his arms around them, using them as shield from the threats in front of him by trying to make himself appear smaller. Weaker.
Once Alfred is seated, he asks, "Do you know why you are here?"
The man's brows remained furrowed, his lips set into a frown and his chin tucked behind his knees. He shakes his head weakly.
"Do you remember what happened before they found you?" He shakes his head again.
"Can you speak?" At this, the man opens his mouth and croaks. He clears his throat, then tries again, "…yes." His voice was weak, a sign that he hasn't spoken since he was detained-maybe for even longer. Alfred is starting to frown again, something really wasn't right. He asks again, just to confirm his thoughts.
"Do you," he feels himself hesitating, but he has to know. He has the right to, he remembers. This is an interrogation. "Know who you are?"
At this, the man turns away. His eyes focused of his toes, fingers wriggling against the cool steel they were resting on. His hands tighten from where they grip at his legs and he looked troubled.
"No." He says, with finality.