a/n: Hey there! Alright, so I know it's been forever since the last update, but I've been writing, i swear! Well, maybe not all the time, but I've scrapped 4 other versions of this chapter, and I think I've finally got it. Juicy stuff happens in chapter 4, and it's already in the works.
Hope you like this one too!
Chapter 3
It must've been around midnight, Alfred decided, when he finally allowed his eyes to shoot open after hours of tossing and turning in the impossibly soft mattress he was assigned.
He couldn't sleep. For the first time in a long time, Alfred couldn't sleep. This, he thought, was peculiar. The last time he found himself unable to drift into peaceful slumber was the first night he was separated from his twin brother, Matthew, who had been adopted by a young couple who'd opted to leave Alfred out. It broke his heart, but he couldn't beg the parents to take him or beg Matthew to stay; it was simply better for Matthew to leave, even if that meant Alfred would be alone.
But now Alfred was the King of Spades, an over-privileged seven-year-old lying in the softest mattress in the world, belly full with warm roast meals and buttery deserts. And yet he found himself awake, with the old, sickening feeling of isolation churning around with the remains of his dinner.
Alfred groaned and turned on his side. Maybe the feeling had to do with room?
It was big, three times bigger than the old bunker-rooms. The ceiling was so, so impossibly high that Alfred could bring the old apple tree into the place and it wouldn't even reach the top. On his side, Alfred could look out the magnificent window, its velvet curtains drawn open, and then further out into the palace gardens that was now a field of moving and shifting shadow, sprinkled with slivers of white where moonlight caught on marble statues.
If Alfred listened closely, he could hear the leaves sway and rustle in the cold evening air, almost like a distant ocean whose waves crumbled gently over a rocky shore. And above that he could hear soft, even snores, muffled by the mount of blankets and cushions that lay across the room from his feet.
Arthur was under there, sleeping away, the only evidence of which was the steady rising and falling of his cocoon of sheets.
Alfred wondered about him. He wondered about the boy's stubbornness, his anger, especially his anger towards Alfred. He could've sworn Arthur was already warming up to him, but for some reason because of the universe's sudden announcement that they were the official Monarchs of Spades, Arthur would do everything he could to avoid looking at him. Hell, he'd probably never touch him again after the hand-mark fiasco.
But no one was like that by default, Alfred argued. Perhaps it was all the change. Yes, that must be it. Arthur had gone from his home, gods know what happened to his parents, to an orphanage, to another one, and then scarcely a week later, was declared the Queen of the Kingdom and told that the giant palace that was always looming over the city was now his home.
The poor guy probably didn't even know what to call home anymore. He must have been dragged around from place to place and felt that nothing was permanent.
It was sort of like when Alfred was assigned a different cot bed with Matthew each night and he wasn't sure whether they would gain a permanent cot bed ever again, but they found one eventually, and they rested easy for a solid year.
So he would just have to let Arthur know that they could rest easy, and they'll be having it for way over a year.
Arthur had been basking in the morning light long before Alfred had, but he remained on the edge of his own grand bed, and had been staring at the younger boy for a solid five minutes when tiny blue eyes finally cracked open, to find Arthur up and the room flooded with light.
After a small session of yawning and stretching, Alfred, voice cracking from sleep, thought to ask, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I was just thinking, you know," Arthur blinked, and tilted his head. "About how unfair this is."
Alfred sat up and raised a brow. "Unfair? Uh, did you want to have my bed…?"
"No," Arthur sighed, and finally looked away. His green eyes were still squinty from sleep as he stared off into the now brighter palace grounds. "I think it's unfair that we're forced to be king and queen all of a sudden. We're just kids. We can't handle this responsibility." He looked at Alfred then, eyes narrowing with distaste. "You can't handle this," he spat.
It was then that Alfred jumped awake, flared up by a sudden defiance. Instead of going off on his statement about how they were young and would be trained, yadda yadda, he piped up with an irritated, "How come?" He knew he said it like a challenge, but when Arthur pointed that glare at him, he immediately wanted to back down.
"Because you are a young, naïve fool. You will never take responsibility. You will never take any of this seriously," Arthur said coldly.
"And you will?"
He paused, gaze faltered. Then, it just as quickly hardened to stone. "Maybe I won't," Arthur said in defiance. "That's why the both of us are better off on those streets than we are running this place. The only difference is that I know that truth and you do not."
The older boy stood and walked out of the room, leaving Alfred a shaking mess of fear and anger in his own grand bed.
The dining hall was ten times larger than the bedroom in every conceivable way. Massive windows flooded the place with sunlight, tapestries depicting all the previous monarchs decorating the spaces in between. And the grand centerpiece of the hall was the long oaken dining table that could fit up to over half a hundred people, surrounded by five other tables of smaller size.
The two young monarchs sat at that immaculate table in the front center, gaping at an array of scrumptious breakfast foods laid out before them. The eggs alone came in so many different varieties that Alfred couldn't even name them all; devilled eggs, sunny-side up, poached, boiled—all hot and ready and mouth-watering.
But it was still kind of lonely. A hall that could feed over two hundred people serving only two, and the only other guest present wouldn't even look at Alfred.
The sounds of clinking metal was the only thing that filled the room, bouncing up and away towards the ceiling to remind Alfred of how the previous night's dinner had been just as empty. At least then he had Yao to speak to.
Then, as if by magic, at Alfred's thought the heavy double doors glided open and in stepped the Jack of Spades, dressed in a pristine blue suit that did not match the weary smile he wore on his face.
"Alfred, Arthur!" The young adult greeted, approaching the boys with so much enthusiasm Alfred couldn't bother to comment on his tired frame.
He took the seat at the head of the table, right between the two children, and proceeded to shovel a hefty helping of toast and eggs onto his plate. "Boy, you two wouldn't believe the morning I had!" Yao laughed.
"It's—well, only half past eight," said Arthur timidly.
Yao gave him a knowing look as he shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth. "Exactly, my dear boy." He winked.
"Hey, Yao, are you doing anything later?" Alfred asked through a mouthful of omelet.
Yao peered at down at him with a curious look that was punctuated with a small grin on his lips. He swallowed, then brought a glass of fruit juice to his mouth. "Why is my King asking?" He chuckled before gulping the drink down.
"I wanted to know if you can hang out with me and Arthur again. We haven't seen much of the palace and I'm sure we'd get lost if we tried to explore on our own, you know?"
Across the table, Arthur looked like he was going to object to something, but Yao interrupted with the loud thump of his empty glass slamming onto the wooden surface.
"Well," said the Jack, shoveling another helping of food onto his plate. "I've been awake for four hours and am very caffeinated, so I suppose I can go for a little adventure before I collapse after lunch. Does that sound good, Alfred?"
Alfred hummed. "Sounds awesome!" Although he had no idea what caffeinated meant.
Again, Arthur had sat up to seemingly object, but Yao turned to him with a softer smile. Any words of protest died on the boy's tongue, and he closed his mouth.
"Arthur," the Jack began, turning in his seat to face him. "I know you've been through a lot I don't know about lately, and are probably confused and afraid and are over-thinking this whole monarchy thing, yeah? What I want you to do is to stop thinking about that for now. Don't think about being King and Queen, don't think about 'responsibility'. Maybe Alfred here has the right idea—think about this place as your cool new home with cool new stuff. It's a place you can adventure through and explore at your own leisure, you know? You said it yourself, you're just a kid. So enjoy this place like a kid would."
Arthur didn't meet Yao's eyes. He nodded quietly in his seat, hands folded in his lap. "I'll… do my best."
Yao nodded, despite the boy's obvious uncertainty.
"Alright, I've cooked up a plan in my head for you guys today. I've heard they'll be starting their training out back in a few minutes, so how about I let you guys check out the Royal Guard in action?"
Yao decided to take them through the scenic route. They waltzed out the front doors of the palace and began walking around the gardens. Alfred gaped at the topiary depicting images of valiant knights on horses, majestic bird-like animals, and most popular of all, the symbol of the Spade. It was in elegant white statues and carved into pillars. Some stone paths were chunks of blue rock carved into the prominent symbol.
Butterflies fluttered around bushes here and there, and all about grew a curious vine that sprouted bright blue flowers that, when Alfred watched Arthur pluck one up, was in the very shape of a Spade as well. He almost giggled about how the palace was so patriotic that even the plants were in line with the Kingdom's emblem.
Finally, after perhaps a quarter of an hour skipping around the bright garden, they arrived at a high stone wall split in the center by a pair of heavy wooden doors. Beyond the wall Alfred could hear rhythmic shouting and clanking of metal.
His heartbeat sped up, and blood rushed to his ears. This was actually happening. He was going to see soldiers fighting with real swords and spears, not like the cardboard swords they played with back in the orphanage. Alfred had always wanted to be a real knight, and now he was going to see a whole army!
At Yao's word, two guards stationed by the doors pulled them open and Alfred was thrust into an open field of lush green grass. All over it were hundreds of grown men and women wielding swords, spears, bows and arrows, sparring with one another, hacking at dummies, and shooting at targets. Vibrant laughter and gasped conversation mingled in between the practiced yells of those soldiers to create the buzz of noise that hovered over the field.
They moved with such practiced ease, such agile grace, athletic bodies seemingly not breaking a sweat with every turn of their weapon and quick maneuvering of their bodies.
Turning to Arthur, Alfred saw, for the very first time, something other than fear and contempt gleaming in his companion's bright green eyes. In that look was the same feeling that Alfred had bubbling up in his chest—a strange mix of wonder and excitement that resulted in a sort of euphoric agitation. Both of them were in awe at the sight, seemingly caught in a trance. And then a woman spoke up.
"Cease at once! Pay respect to your Majesties, the King and Queen of Spades!"
At the first word all movement stopped, heads snapping in the direction of the doors. And then suddenly, weapons were dropped, swords stabbed into the ground in dramatic fashion, every soldier who'd previously been so occupied now ground to a halt to kneel and bow their heads, mumbling some variation of acknowledgement to the two young royals.
In that moment Alfred felt exactly like he did when Miss Amelia had put him on the spot to give a birthday speech in front of all the other orphans. He was looking at them and they were looking at him, all expectant, and finding he himself was expectant of them. He could only stutter and wait for a reaction until the words came to him.
But now he wasn't sure if there even was a need for words. He was about to turn to Yao to ask him what to do, but then he saw Arthur by his side, shoulders stiff and eyes wide with silent panic.
He was terrified. Alfred had no idea why, but Arthur was terrified.
In a rush to do something quick, Alfred slid his tiny palm into Arthur's trembling hand, squeezing reassuringly. What he expected was for the older boy to snap back into himself and withdraw his hand with a scowl, but instead Arthur squeezed back, and his shoulders slowly lost their stiffness.
Yao had likely noticed the exchange, as well as Arthur's current panicked state, and dutifully barked out an order for the guards to return to their positions.
"Forgive me, your majesties," Yao said, attempting a joking smile. "Captain Herdevary is simply one for grand entrances and great dramatics. Don't mind her. She's just flamboyant."
"Flamboyant, huh?"
Calmly walking through the ranks of sparring soldiers was a long-haired brunet woman dressed in leather gear, wielding a sword which she slung casually over her back. Alfred recognized her as the same woman who had announced their titles earlier, and instinctively moved closer to Arthur, who seemed to be grateful for his touch. He didn't shy away at all, and in fact took a tiny step closer.
"You scared them, Lizabeth," Yao said disapprovingly. She arrived to a stop in front of the trio and was peering down at Arthur and Alfred curiously, but also smiling apologetically.
She hummed, and lowered her sword, so the hilt was about level with Alfred's chin. He kind of wanted to touch it.
"Forgive me your majesties, but I've trained my soldiers to give respect and discipline wherever it is due, and addressing the monarchy is quite the higher forms of due respect." She straightened up and held out a hand. "Captain Elizabeta Herdevary of the Royal Guard, your majesties. Sworn to protect the kingdom and sworn to protect you."
Though her smile was welcoming and warm, Arthur only retreated further behind Alfred. Not wanting to be rude, Alfred shook the hand, despite having to stretch up quite the ways to reach it.
Elizabeta chuckled lightly. "Alright, so it looks to me you two came over here to have some fun! Come with me, and I'll show you around the field. You know, you guys are going to be trained to use these weapons too, and you can eventually pick out which ones you'd like to specialize in."
She began to walk back into the organized chaos of soldiers and Alfred moved to follow, but Arthur tugged on his hand, not budging from his spot. When Elizabeta turned to find the boys haven't moved, she offered another apologetic smile and knelt in front of Arthur, gently nudging Alfred aside with another sheepish grin.
"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier. Probably made you uneasy about the whole royalty thing, right? I won't do that again, that's a promise. I'm just a little too grandiose for my own good." She laughed again. "In all seriousness, I'm sorry, my queen. How about I give you a little apology tour, yeah? It'll be fun."
Alfred gave Arthur's hand another squeeze. "Yeah, come on, Art. It'll be great," he said.
Green eyes turned to him, uncertain, and briefly glanced over the captain who crouched in front of him.
"Alright," he mumbled finally, and allowed Alfred to tug him enthusiastically behind the equally cheerful captain of the guard.
