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Here's another chapter! Enjoy~

THE MAFIA KING

CHAPTER THREE-DON'T TRUST UNCLE IVAN

Today was the day. Alfred's father was giving him a tour of all of New York or, as Berwald put it, his kingdom. Not just New York City, the whole state. He was so excited that he woke up before sun rise and stomped into his fathers' room like he had years previous.

"DAAAAD!" he called, rushing to the bed and nudging his father awake. Berwald groaned and rolled over with a small smile at his child.

"Give me five minutes," he mumbled, sleepily.

Alfred huffed but obliged. Berwald sighed inwardly as the door to his room closed and rolled over for a couple more seconds of sleep. But right as he was about to fall asleep again, Tino pushed him.

"Get up," he ordered. "You promised our son you would."

Berwald heaved another sigh before getting up from the comfy bed and onto the cold floor. He quickly changed into his normal attire for days in New York: black suit with a loose black tie, badass sunglasses (you know the ones), and a wave of don't-fuck-with-me-asshole-because-I-run-the-mafia aura. Picking up his two favorite guns and expertly hiding them in his outfit, he walked out the door and into the kitchen where his son sat eating Fruit Loops.

"Hey," Berwald said, grabbing a bowl, spoon, and the Fruit Loops.

Alfred beamed over at him, a small trickle of milk sliding down his chin. His father rolled his eyes as he poured the milk into his cereal. His appearance wasn't exactly screaming "THE KING OF THE MAFIA OVER HERE EVERYBODY!" as he ate some of the colorful circles.

"Dad," Alfred said with another smile, "are you really going to show me all of New York?" His father nodded between eating. Alfred's eyes widened and he stopped chewing for a second. "How are we going to do that?"

"Well, if I drove like Matthias, we'd be able to do it in one day," Berwald explained. "But since I don't, we'll find a hotel somewhere." He paused to eat another spoon full. "We've only toured the palace, haven't we?" Since New York was the kingdom in Berwald's mind, he called New York City "the palace".

"Yes."

"Alright, no need to do that again." He looked over at Alfred. "Where do you want to go first?"

Alfred thought about this while he ate. He hadn't gone out of New York City, but he knew everywhere else in the state as well, not only from school, but from his parents and their business. Matthias would always complain about some of the jobs for a moment before he was shushed and reminded about the bugs. And there were plenty of maps lying around the house.

"Can we go to St. Lawrence first?"

Berwald cringed a little, but eventually said with a smile, "Sure, but that's a long drive. It's on the top half of the state and we're at the bottom."

"It's okay, I don't care about the drive," Alfred commented with a flick of his wrist holding the spoon, flinging milk on the table. "Besides, we'd have to go there eventually, so why not now?"

"Fine." His dad shrugged and lifted the bowl to his lips before downing the milk. "Now finish up your cereal, we have a long day ahead of us." Alfred grinned and ate fast.

After making a stop somewhere around Fulton and Montgomery for lunch, they drove with the aroma of McDonald's swirling around them and Bon Jovi's You Give Love a Bad Name was pouring through the speakers. Every now and then Berwald would point a place out or stop for them to see it, places he felt he needed to point out because of what they were.

"Dad?" Alfred began, but stopped. His father glanced over expectantly. "Why does Uncle Ivan never come over?" His father turned back to the road, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

"Because he's an evil son of-" Berwald stopped what he was saying abruptly. His child didn't need to know the bond between the brothers was a very, very bad one. He took a moment to take a drink of his soda and think before answering. "Well, your uncle likes to be by himself."

"But doesn't he have people with him?"

"Yes, but that's his part of the mob," Berwald answered slowly.

"He's part of the mob?"

"He's not part of our mob," he blurted. "He, um, he does his own business with his own customers. I allow it only because he's my brother or else he'd either be part of my mob or dead." And because mother told me not to kill him, he thought, but kept that to himself.

"Oh," Alfred said, sounding a little disappointed. "Well, that's too bad. Why be by himself when he could be with the best mafia king ever?" Berwald grinned and bit into one of his fries, pointing it at Alfred.

"You better believe it," he chuckled. Alfred beamed, fixed his glasses, and started to eat his lunch. "Oh and Alfred? Uncle Ivan isn't very trustworthy. Just remember that, alright?" Alfred nodded, continuing to slurp his Pepsi.

Well, by the time they got there-they stopped a lot to see things by the way- it was around five. Berwald showed him around the top part of New York, getting closer to where they stopped for lunch as they went. As they finished with about half of the state, Alfred started to doze off. Checking the time, Berwald sighed and found the closest and nicest hotel. He checked in, persuading (read threatening) the man at the desk it would be lovely if they got a room (read "If we don't get a room right now, you might not have a life. Put the phone down, the police won't save you from the fucking mafia."). When the man timidly gave Berwald a key, he smiled and thanked him before leading his child upstairs. Alfred was barely awake and collapsed onto the bed once they got to the room.

Berwald leaned against the wall and checked his phone. Three messages and a voice mail. He checked the messages: one about Matthias losing a couple hundred bucks while doing his part (i.e. jacking a car), a customer refusing to pay up, and Matthias breaking the table in the kitchen again. He sighed and thought about how to make the dumbass sorry about losing money and breaking the table. He was why the mafia couldn't have nice things. Onto the voicemail. It was from Tino.

"Hey, I already made Matthias sorry, so don't worry…" Berwald smirked. "Also, can you make sure the newer guys know that prostitutes are only in their rooms for the night, not the week?" He suppressed a chuckle at his "wife's" tone. "I mean, goddamnit! I'm tired of hearing what they do and seeing the whores in barely anything in the living room! I prefer it to be clean and free of stupid bitches that basically sex it up any chance they get! For fuck's sake," he heard a noise and Tino's voice get muffled, "what do you want?" There was a pause before the voice returned. "Gotta' go, there's business I need to take care of. Have fun baby cakes."

Berwald chuckled at the name and put his phone away. He glanced at the sound asleep Alfred and smiled. He went over to the bed and laid down for some sleep.

As they drove through a completely abandoned town of no real importance the next day, the Imperil March sounded from the iPhone in the cup holder. Alfred glanced at it and turned to his father who was already reaching for it, not taking his eyes off the road. He gazed at who it was before answering, putting it on speaker phone, and setting it back in the cup holder.

"What is it, Ludwig?" Berwald sighed.

"Just keeping you updated," the slightly staticky voice of Ludwig answered.

"Alright, I'll call back in a second." He hung up, pulled over on the empty street, and got out, followed by Alfred. "Have I taught you how to shoot yet, Al?"

"No," Alfred answered with excitement.

Berwald smiled and walked over to an abandoned building, holding the door open for his son. Inside the building was dark and dusty. His father crossed to one side of the room and pulled something out of his pocket. He hung it onto the wall and walked back to his son. There was a picture of Ludwig pinned to the wall.

"Now, before we shoot our favorite chaperone," Berwald stated and Alfred laughed, "we need to go over gun safety and such." He pulled out a shiny black gun, engraved with the family's sigil. Alfred's eyes widened as he reached out to touch it before getting his hand swatted away. "No, no. This is my gun. This," he pulled out a smaller gun that shined not as bright as his dad's, "is yours."

Alfred grabbed the gun and smiled at it. Yes, it was smaller, but not by much and even though it didn't shine nearly as bright, at least it was shining. It had the same sigil and Alfred ran his hand over it. He wrapped a hand around the grip and laid a finger cautiously over the trigger. He looked up at his dad and beamed.

"Alright, first rule of gun safety," Berwald began with a smirk, "don't piss me off."

They quickly went over gun safety, how to use the gun, and reviewed everything in ten minutes before Berwald called Ludwig back on face time. He answered immediately and was surprised as a gunshot rung out before any words.

"Hi," Berwald said.

"What are you doing?" the German asked. Berwald spun the phone to Alfred who was pointing a gun at the picture on the wall. "Is he shooting a picture of me?"

"I'm teaching my son how to shoot and yes it is," Berwald answered and didn't turn the phone around as Alfred shot one more time, making Ludwig wince as the bullet hit the picture in the forehead. "As you were saying earlier…"

The phone turned and his father made a motion for Alfred to stop. He shot once more before putting the gun by his side. The two spoke for a while and Alfred idly ran his hands over the gun, sighing. Berwald glanced over and smiled.

"Hey," he whispered, not drawing the attention of Ludwig, who rambled about some business drama.

Alfred looked up. Berwald motioned for him to shoot. His son grinned and pulled the gun up. Aiming straight between the eyes, he pulled the trigger and the sound filled the room. Ludwig jumped and looked around the place he was in before staring at a highly amused Berwald and his sniggering son.

"If you weren't my boss…"

The two were both laughing now and giving high-fives. Ludwig rolled his eyes at them.

"C'mon, Luddy," Alfred snickered. "That was funny, admit it!" Ludwig sighed and turned from the two to speak with someone else.

"Nice job, Alfred," Berwald complimented, making Alfred beam. "Next time, you shoul-"

"Berwald!" an alarmed tone called. He whipped his head back to the phone and saw Tino in the screen, pushing Ludwig back. "Bad Touch! In the palace!"

Berwald went completely serious. "Get someone to come here immediately for Al." Tino nodded and went off the screen. "Somebody in the area?"

"No, sire, they're all out on business," Ludwig responded. "Closest is Matt."

"How far?" Ludwig turned and talked with Tino for a second before answering.

"Two, maybe three, blocks away."

"Alright," Berwald answered and turned to Alfred. "I have to go kick some ass. Wait here for Matt." Alfred pouted and looked up at his dad with puppy-dog eyes.

"Can't I come with?"

"No, son," he said. "Stay here. Bye." He sprinted out of the door with his gun and phone.

Alfred plopped onto the dusty floor with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. Of course he couldn't come. He never went anywhere with his father due to business and such. He glared back at the picture and raised his gun. He shot straight in one of the eyes. Then the other. Then his mouth. And his shoulder. And his chest.

He was out of bullets now and bitter.

The door opened up and Matthias came rushing in. He watched the sullen boy for a moment before sitting next to him and taking the gun from him.

"What's wrong?" he asked with concern in his voice. Alfred looked up with his lower lip jutted out.

"I never get to go anywhere."

Matthias smiled, flipping the gun over in his hand before handing it back. He patted Alfred's head before standing and helping the younger up as well. They walked out of the door and into Matthais's new Nissan that was obviously stolen.

"Alfred," he said as he started up the engine. The boy looked over with the same pout. "One day you'll be king then you can shoot those idiotic, mangy, stupid failures from dawn until dusk." Alfred smiled lightly. "Now, let's drive!"

When they arrived home, no one was there except them. Matthias still had some business to attend to and left. Alfred lay around for a while before getting up and walking out on the streets. Then he had an idea. Even though Ivan didn't come over, they went to Ivan's every once in a while. So he changed direction and started walking that way.

As he did, he felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out and saw it was a text from his father. Sorry I had to leave early. We'll continue soon. Anyway, let's talk about something I forgot to mention. Everywhere in New York is our kingdom. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

All Alfred could think of was Wow so that's what he sent.

Yes. A king's time as ruler rises and falls like the sun. One day, the sun will set on my time and rise with you as the new king. You need to know everything and I'll explain it all.

Even though that text was a little depressing, Alfred smiled. And al of NY will b mine?

Yes everything.

Everything. He paused and glanced around. He knew better than anyone where everything was. He was in the Bronx now. Had he been walking that long? Wait a moment. None of them ever did business here. Wat about th Bronx?

That's Ivan's place. Never go there alone. Alfred raised an eyebrow. What's so bad about it?

But i thot a king cod do watever he want.

There's more to being a king than getting your way all the time.

Thers more?

Of course, what do you think I do all day? Alfred was about to respond when he got another text. I have to go. I'm almost there.

He sighed and tucked his phone into his pocket. Why must his dad always be busy? It wasn't fair. He swung a left onto the semi-familiar street. Always dark and mysterious, shouting don't-come-here, it was definitely his uncle's street. A large house with black paint and scarcely any windows was apparent in the center. He walked up and rang the doorbell. There was shouting before the door opened to reveal Ivan. He looked down and smiled.

"Oh, Alfred," he greeted in his Russian accent. "What pleasure. Hold on." He turned back around. "Get rid of it now or I get rid of you!"

"FINE!" various voices answered at once.

He grabbed Alfred's shoulder and pushed him inside. A bunch of men rushed by, carrying something and snickering. Ivan shot them a glare as cold as his country's winter. They stopped laughing. Ivan led Alfred into a spacious living room.

"Hey, Uncle Ivan!" Alfred shouted with a smile. Ivan looked down at his nephew. "Guess what!"

"I despise guessing games," Ivan droned.

"I'm going to be king of New York!" he continued. Ivan rolled his eyes. As if this was news to him.

"Oh goody." The amount of sarcasm in that sentence wasn't noticed by Alfred, who was staring into the streets. He turned back to his uncle with a bigger smile.

"My dad just showed me most of the kingdom," Ivan hid his sneer at the term Berwald used when discussing New York that he thrust down to his child, "and I'm gonna' rule it all." He giggled.

"Yes, well, forgive me for not leaping with joy, da?"

Ivan flopped down on his couch, rolling into the cushions and away from Alfred. His nephew hadn't gotten the idea, though. He jumped onto his uncle and it took all his control not to break the kid's neck.

"Hey, Uncle Ivan, when I'm king, what'll that make you?" he asked. Ivan rolled over, pushing Alfred onto the floor.

"A monkey's uncle," he griped. Alfred chuckled and stood up.

"You're so weird."

"You have no idea." He propped himself up on his elbows and stared at the boy. "So, your father showed you whole kingdom, did he?"

Alfred nodded. "Everywhere."

"He didn't show you Bronx, right?" Alfred paused with a disappointed look on his face.

"Well, no…" He sighed and looked at his uncle. "He says I can't go here alone."

"And he's absolutely right. It's far too dangerous, da? Only bravest of children go here, or, more specifically, one of coolest and most dangerous place," Ivan said with a smirk. Alfred frowned. Is that really why his father said that? Or was it really because of Ivan?

"Well, I'm brave," Alfred announced. "What's he-"

"No, I'm sorry, Alfred, I just can't tell you," Ivan interrupted.

"Why not?" He was pouting again.

"Alfred, Alfred, I'm only looking out for well-being of my favorite nephew." He leaned over and patted Alfred's head. The boy snorted and ducked his head away.

"I'm your only nephew," he pointed out. Ivan smiled.

"All more reason for me to be protective. A haunted graveyard is no place for a young prince." In mock surprise and concern, he lifted a hand to his mouth. "Oops!"

"A haunted what? Whoa…" This was why his father didn't like him being alone here, obviously. He didn't want him freaked out. Guess what Dad. I won't be freaked out.

"Oh dear, I've said too much," Ivan exaggerated, putting a hand on his forehead. He turned to the giddy Alfred and smirked. It was too easy. "Well, I suppose you'd have found out sooner or later, you being so clever and all." He pulled Alfred close and whispered to him. "Oh, just do me one favor- promise me you'll never visit dreadful place."

Alfred paused to think. He would visit there, but Uncle Ivan didn't need to know that. Smiling, thinking he was so clever, he lied. "No problem, Uncle Ivan."

"There's good lad. You run along now and have fun. And remember," Alfred turned from where the doorway, "it's our little secret."

Ivan winked and Alfred smiled with a thumbs up before closing the door. He watched to make sure the kid was gone. He rolled onto his back and giggled manically with that creepy smile. It was that easy. He would soon watch the king fall. He opened his phone and sent a quick text to his lackies before continuing his maddening laughter.

Back here now. I have an assignment that will bring down the king. Be prepared.

Yay, another chapter! Sorry it took so long, but I'm alternating between writing Birdie and the Beast and this (also I'm a fucking procrastinator). Anyway, review, tell me shit that you think. Until next time~