Hello, everyone! It's nice to finally get back to this story! I actually don't feel as guilty as I should because it was inspired by my seeing Frozen on its release last year but due to Frozen being insanely popular, even more so than it was a year ago, I feel that inspiration is still perfectly valid, haha.

Eternity will be taking over from The Waning for weekly updates - every Wednesday until the end of December - and then hopefully I can finish them both up in the new year. :3 I wanted to update last Wednesday because it was the first Wednesday of December (and also it was my birthday, hahaha) but I didn't get it finished on time. Oh well.

To briefly recap: Alfred, Prince of the Summer, is sent below ground to marry Arthur, Prince of the Winter, who buggers off whenever he feels like it to fuel his mirror-shard habit. King of the Winter Ivan and his consul Yao are used to his hi-jinks but Alfred's having none of it and jumps at the opportunity when King of the Autumn Francis, everyone's favourite busybody Frenchman, appears and agrees to take him to the Edge to find Arthur...

Eternity

III

"You should probably take that crown off," Francis said. "Someone'll steal it right off your skull."

"You think?" Alfred, who had been hanging over the side of the ship watching the deckhands, straightened up. He looked at the King of the Autumn, who was dressed in a brown naval coat with gold piping, his hair tied back with an orange ribbon.

"I know," Francis replied. "The Edge is not a nice place - especially not for lovely young princes like you."

Alfred simply snorted, glancing away.

"I can handle myself," he grumbled.

"Indeed." Francis looked him up and down. "Well, at least Ivan gave you sensible clothing. Typical of him."

Ivan had indeed insisted that Alfred not accompany Francis until he had changed into clothing most unbefitting of his rank: wool and fur in dark greys and murky blues, designed for comfort and warmth. Alfred, who was used to a tropical climate, found the clothes of the Winter Kingdom cumbersome and uncomfortable to say the least, although Ivan had seemed quite certain that he would be glad of it (and admittedly he was, tugging the fur close to his neck).

Francis turned away, striding up the deck, and Alfred followed him, weaving through the crew as they prepared to push off. The sails were hiked, billowing in the frigid wind, and ropes were hauled in raw-red palms, looped into fraying knots. Alfred had never seen anything quite like it and stood at Francis' side, fascinated, as the Jeanne d'Arc drew anchor and heaved away from the port into the stone-grey sea. The sails swelled, a good wind behind them, as they glided away from the Winter Palace, its greenish Gothic spires glinting against the icy sky. Francis hauled on the wheel to bring them neatly into the mouth of a large gulley, guiding them down its winding way. This was lined either side by huge tree, roots buckling out of the earth almost to the first deck; and as it grew darker, the foliage thickening overhead, Alfred realised that they were ascending again. Soon he would know the surface once more, taste the sweet breath of sky.

"I wouldn't get too excited." Francis seemed to read his mind. "The Edge is nothing like the Summer Kingdom."

Alfred glanced at him.

"So what is it like?" he asked. "What exactly is the Edge?"

"Oh, it is nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Non, I mean that it is nothing." Francis looked up at the gnarled branches intertwined overhead. "It is the very edge of our existence, a negative space untouched by time."

"So why isn't it a nice place?" Alfred asked. "You said someone would steal the crown off my head-"

"Ah, yes. It is overrun with pirates and crooks."

"...Pirates?" Alfred arched his eyebrows. "Are those even real?"

"Ah, spoiled little princeling." Francis pinched his cheek. "How sheltered you are."

Alfred pulled away, rubbing at his cheek.

"I'm not spoiled," he growled. "Or sheltered."

Francis smirked.

"If you say so, mon cher. But indeed, there are such things as pirates - and you will be seeing plenty of them." A sly glance. "...Your new husband included."

"Arthur?" Alfred gave an incredulous laugh. "No way, he's got too much of a stick up his ass-"

"I agree," Francis interrupted, "but the facts stand as they are."

"Why are there pirates, anyway? If the Edge is just negative space, why do they congregate there? What could there possibly be of interest?"

"All sorts of treasures wash up on the beach."

"...Like pieces of mirror?"

"Among other things." Francis shrugged. "I personally do not see anything of interest but Arthur is something of a magpie. He has quite the hoard hidden away. Perhaps if you flutter your eyelashes at him, he will show you."

"I doubt it. He doesn't seem to like me much."

"Then we have something in common." Francis sounded rather cheerful about it. "But I would not be too concerned. He is known for his peculiar behaviour. Imagine showing no interest in a lovely thing lke you."

"I bet he wouldn't even notice if I just went back to the Summer Court."

Now Francis' expression became a touch steely.

"I expect not," he agreed, "but I would advise against it. You were sent down to wed him for a reason."

"Well, I wish someone would share that reason with me." Alfred looked at Francis. "Do you know? You said you'd spoken with my brother-"

"I do not know," Francis said. "I am of the Autumn Kingdom. It is none of my business."

"Apparently it's none of mine, either." Alfred folded his arms. "Even Matthew wouldn't say. He just came into my room one day and said I had to go down to the Winter Kingdom and marry some prince. I didn't get any say in it at all."

"I'll bet you threw a tantrum."

"A little one, I guess."

"Just a little one?" Francis raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, a big one," Alfred relented. "I didn't want to. I mean, it's okay for him, isn't it? He's two minutes fifteen seconds older than me and he gets to lord it up on the throne and order me around-"

"Mathieu does not strike me as that sort."

"Well, sure, he usually just lets me do whatever I want - and I mean, I'm not jealous of him being king or anything, he's welcome to it, it looks boring - but he did order me to come down here and marry Arthur. He wouldn't even discuss it. Strange, huh?"

"Very."

"So that's why I agreed to come in the end; you know, after I was finished being angry about having to leave my home. I love the Summer Kingdom, I've never had any intention of leaving... but I got thinking Matthew's behaviour sure was weird and I wondered why. I guess my curiousity got the better of me in the end so I came down without a fuss. I wanted to find out what the big deal with my marrying this Winter Prince was." Alfred gave a snort. "Turns out it's probably just because they can't find anybody else to marry him."

"Are you so certain?" Francis asked. "You show up - and then, on the day that you are married, a shard of the mirror for which Arthur searches appears in your wedding cake. That seems a strange coincidence to me."

Alfred frowned.

"Well, I guess," he agreed. "But Ivan said it's just an old legend. He and Yao only indulge Arthur to keep him busy."

Francis gave a shrug.

"If that is the case," he said, "then Arthur's dedication to his false hope is truly terrifying."


They moored the ship in a crescent-shaped dock crowded with all manner of colourful ships: one with glass bottles clinking from the rigging, another with scarlet sails. Alfred spied Arthur's Titania nestled at the edge, aglimmer with gold and silver coins of all shapes and sizes knotted into the web of ropes across her lithe frame. His heart began to pound as he followed Francis down the gangplank; he could see that the port itself was rather sparse, with only a few rickety buildings here and there. They were scattered about on an upwards slope, following the moon-shape of the cove itself, and did not vary much in the manner of their purpose: purveyors of second-hand weaponry and ammunition, suppliers of ship's biscuits and grog, shacks of assorted random knick-knacks that glittered and shone in the bay's sickly-silver light. At the very apex of this winding curve of curiosities stood a building of shoddy woodwork three stories high; and from this came the raucous uproar which drifted downwards to the ships bobbing like corks. This, Alfred saw as he and Francis approached it, bypassing invitations from seedy shop-keepers to try and buy, was the liqour-house, the heart and life-blood of the port. The name, hand-painted onto a battered wooden sign with several bullet-holes, was a most peculiar one: The Greenwich Meridian.

"Green witch meridian?" Alfred asked, pausing beneath it.

"I do not know what it means," Francis said, looking to him. "And for heaven's sake, please do take off that crown. I do not wish to be responsible for your having it stolen the moment we step within."

Alfred rolled his eyes but conceded, slipping it off and putting it inside his cloak before following Francis in.

The Greenwich Meridian was loud and crowded, all abustle with a great many characters in all manner of eccentric and colourful dress. Between the lashings of blue velvet and gold embroidery and whole peacock tails came the amber flash and foam of ale and the coiled veil of smoke. There was the metallic gleam of swords and knives, the oiled gloss of gun barrels, the cold glint of jewels strung about throats and waists. Alfred paused, fascinated, between three grizzled old sailors playing a fast-paced card game; Francis seized him by the elbow and dragged him away.

"Come - before you are wagered," he groused. He hauled the prince toward the bar, which was a warped and cracked slab of oak. The bottles aligned beyond it glimmered in their dark-jewel colours, belying the potency within. Francis leaned over the bar, calling to the bartender, a small chirpy blonde man.

"Nice to see you, Francis!" the bartender said on his approach. "It's been a while!"

"It has," Francis agreed. "Always good to see you too, Feliks. I'll have a glass of red when you're ready."

"Of course." Feliks rummaged around for a glass and apparently failed to find one, coming up instead with a heavy glass tankard. He uncorked a large clay bottle and began to pour the wine. "And who is your companion...?"

"This is the Prince of the Summer," Francis said.

Feliks paused. He looked surprised.

"Summer?"

"Indeed. Descended to join us, as it were - and newlywed to the Winter Prince."

Feliks blinked.

"You mean Prince Arthur?" He whistled when both Francis and Alfred gave a grave nod. "I was not aware that he even had feelings."

"I do not think that he does," Francis said, taking the tankard. "Alfred, did you want a drink? Nothing too strong, I have to bring you back to Ivan in one piece, but-"

"No, I'm fine, thanks." Alfred leaned across the bar towards Feliks. "Arthur. You know him?"

Feliks shrugged.

"He comes in here from time to time," he replied. "We haven't spoken much. I tried but it's like getting blood from a stone, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Alfred agreed distractedly. "Is he here right now?"

"He passed through earlier on his way to the beach." Feliks gave a vague wave behind him. "He'll be out there until nightfall, perhaps longer."

"What's he doing?"

"I told you," Francis said. "He'll be digging holes in the sand, looking for mirror shards. That's all he does."

Alfred stepped past him.

"I'm going out to find him."

"Very well," Francis replied. "Do not forget to flutter your eyelashes, as I said."

Alfred did not think this particular nugget of advice to be worth retaining and quickly dismissed it, weaving through the crowd to the ill-fitting back door of The Greenwich Meridian. He creaked it open and slipped out; he didn't know anybody here, it was true, but he didn't want to attract any attention. He really needed to speak to Arthur alone.

The air outside was frigid: cold and still with no wind to speak of. Alfred wrapped his cloak tightly about himself, his breath clouding in front of his face as he began to pick his way down the winding path leading to the beach below. From here the view of the Edge was definitive: a long, thin stretch of sand, unblemished by rocks or other natural imperfections, frilled by a gentle grey sea washing in and out like a lung. He could see Arthur, a lone figure in his ghostly blue, trailing feathers and fringing as he dug. He had a shovel with which to do this, already encircled by holes, and a tin pail close to hand.

Alfred hurried down the path and onto the sand, which was crisp underfoot like icing on a cake, every step leaving a slanted imprint of his heavy boots. He hiked up his cloak as he scampered across the sand, the air bracing, the cold taking the breath out of him.

"Arthur!" His call echoed over the empty beach, sweeping out to sea; although Arthur caught it, raising his head to look at him. He didn't seem to be surprised or angry, regarding the Summer Prince impassively as he reached him.

"What are you doing here, Alfred?" he asked calmly.

"I came to help you, of course!" Alfred replied, letting his cloak drop.

"Indeed." Arthur turned away. "I seem to recall telling you that I require no help."

"Sure, maybe that's what you said - but this is a lot of beach to dig up on your own. Besides, I don't take no for an answer. I am a prince, after all. I'm used to getting what I want."

"Is that so." Arthur sounded deeply uninterested, going back to his digging. "How spoilt you must be."

"Persuasive, I'd say," Alfred argued, bounding in front of him. "Arthur, please let me help! I'm pretty strong, I can dig holes easy!"

"I'm not digging holes for no reason. I'm looking for mirror shards."

"Well, I'm sure I can spot those no problem too." Alfred pressed his hands together, pleading. "Please, Arthur. I came all this way to find you after you sneaked out this morning - which, by the way, is a lousy thing to do the morning after your wedding-"

"Your coming out here to find me is hardly my problem. I expect Francis Bonnefoy had something to do with it."

"...How did you know?"

"He's an infamous gossip who finds my dedication to this cause to be amusing." Arthur shrugged, pausing to look up at Alfred. "I'm sure he told you the first moment he could."

"Well, it was nice of him to bring me out here," Alfred huffed. "It's more than you did."

"I told you before, this isn't an idle hobby of mine. It is imperative that I find the pieces of mirror I seek-"

"Why?" Alfred pressed. "So Winter can exist upon the Earth once more?"

"I shouldn't take much stock of Ivan's particular interpretation." Arthur returned once more to his digging. "I must implore that you do not lean over me while I am working. If you truly do want to help then I suppose I won't stop you - but I only have this single shovel."

"That's okay - I'll use this bucket." Alfred reached down and seized the pail by its handle; it clattered, heavier than he had been expecting, and he overturned it to empty it out. A few small items fell out onto the sand.

"Do be careful with those," Arthur said absently. "I want to keep them."

"Sure." Alfred crouched down to inspect them. None of them were mirror shards, instead strange items that he was sure he'd never seen before. There was a book, damp and sandy, with a leather cover in gothic green; picked out in gold lettering on the spine was The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes. Huh. He'd never heard of it, although perhaps Arthur had. The next item was a shredded carboard carton, about palm-sized, printed in red and black. Lucky Strike Cigarettes, he could just about make out - whatever that was. The third item was a piece of a comb, moulded with plastic flowers, the paint scrubbed almost entirely away. It felt like it was made out of bone but was lighter, as though he could snap it in half if he pressed. The fourth was a small silver coin, badly corroded; he could just about make out 'sixpence' on one side of it.

"What are these things, Arthur?" he asked, turning the coin this way and that.

"Just bits. Nothing valuable."

"Is it stuff from the other kingdoms? I don't recognise any of it. What's Sherlock Holmes or a six pence?"

"I don't know," Arthur said. "But perhaps we will know if we complete the mirror."

Alfred paused.

"Complete it?" he repeated. "Ivan said you were trying to spell out 'Eternity'-"

"That would be too easy. You could break pieces to make them fit, couldn't you? No, it must be the mirror in its entirety." Arthur glanced at him. "I thought you were going to help?"

"I-I will!" Alfred piled up Arthur's scavenges and seized the pail once more, finding himself a space near Arthur to begin upending sand.

"Be careful with that bucket, too," Arthur said. "I dug that up a few weeks ago and it's proved to be very useful."

Alfred paused to inspect the pail properly; it was plain sheet metal with the letters ARP stencilled on in faded black capitals.

"ARP? What's that?"

"I don't know."

Alfred began to carefully dig, his eyes keen for any bright or interesting bauble that might be lurking within the sand. His first few bucketfuls, however - even when reinspected - brought up nothing of interest.

"Do you know what 'Green witch meridian' means?" he asked conversationally.

"It's pronounced 'Grennitch'," Arthur said.

"Oh. What's it mean?"

"I don't know."

"Then how do you know how it's pronounced?"

"I don't know."

"You don't seem to know much, huh? I mean, not in a rude way like you're dumb or anything but in a... well, you're out here busting your ass to find these mirror shards and you want to keep all these little bits and pieces you find but you don't know what they are or anything about them, really, and it's just-"

"But I feel like I should," Arthur interrupted. "Or that I did, anyway." He bent to pick up the book. "Sherlock Holmes. I don't know what that is and yet I feel that I did know, once, a long time ago. Do you understand?"

"...Like you've forgotten?"

"Yes." Arthur looked at him. "I think we've all forgotten."

"Forgotten what, exactly?"

"I don't know. Another world, perhaps, or another life." Arthur dropped the book back to the sand. "There was a war, wasn't there? Something, anyway. I don't know."

Alfred watched him go back to digging. He didn't know what to say. The whole thing was something that he had never considered before: that the Seasonal Courts were nothing but a residue of an existence that had gone before, their crowns a veneer for fallen grace. Being the Prince of the beautiful, tropical Summer Kingdom was all that he had ever known. To think that it was a lie, that he had once lived a different life that he could now no longer recall, seemed utterly ridiculous to him. And yet-

Somehow it was also exhilirating. Imagine, a whole other existence buried beneath the crust of this cold sand, just waiting to be uncovered. He only half-believed it - maybe that was why he found it so exciting. He began to dig with a refreshed fervour, shrugging off his cloak, and did not rest until he at last unearthed something. He pulled it loose with his fingers, shaking off the excess sand. It was a silver locket, the chain badly tangled; he pried it open to find a faded photograph of a young soldier in a high-necked uniform. It was signed with four numbers: 1914.

"Those ring any bells?" Alfred asked, holding it out to Arthur.

"Not really." Arthur tilted his head at it. "I suppose it could be a date. They used to use numbered years, it seems to me."

"Huh." Alfred snapped the locket shut and dropped it onto the pile. "Weird."

After some more digging he came up with a coin of his own; and this sent a strange spark of recognition through him, although he couldn't quite place it. It was a round silver coin depicting the profile of a man with long hair tied at the nape of his neck. The other side showed an oustretched bird of some kind. There was writing around the edges on both faces but he could barely make it out, for it was badly rubbed away. He scraped at the sand on the side with the bird and could just about read the tiny embossed font above its head.

"E... pluribus unum." He looked at Arthur. "What language is that?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, rather predictably. He didn't seem terribly interested.

Alfred turned the coin over again. Just below the man's chin were some other tiny letters - and with a bit of squinting he was able to pick them out.

"In god we trust." Again he looked to Arthur - although he didn't expect much from him at this point. "What's a god?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Arthur said, "but I've heard it mentioned a few times. Yesterday's celebration - the Christmas tree, some of the songs, they seem to have something to do with it."

"Ohh." Alfred recalled. "You mean the songs about the baby being born in a stable?"

"Indeed. I confess I don't know much more than that. Perhaps there is a text somewhere that would explain it."

"Maybe." Alfred held up the coin. "Can I keep this? I feel like... I don't know, that I have some weird connection with it."

"Of course. I have lots of them. I tie them into my Titania's rigging."

Alfred slipped the coin within his cloak, hearing it clink against his crown, and went back to work.

"Arthur," he said at length. "Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly," came Arthur's bland reply. "I doubt I will know the answer, however."

"Nobody else seems to," Alfred agreed. "I just wondered... do you know why I was sent down to marry you? I mean, it's sudden, right?"

"It is sudden," Arthur said. "But I have no idea. Ivan simply called me to his chamber one evening said that we were to be married."

"You didn't question it?"

Arthur shrugged.

"I didn't care. I did not expect it to interfere with my search. After all, Ivan made it quite clear that I was under no obligation to love you."

This stung. Alfred was quiet for a moment; he hadn't expected otherwise, it was true, but it still hurt.

"I-I questioned it," he mumbled after a moment. "But Matthew wouldn't say. Then... then I heard this rumour that it was supposed to bring peace between our kingdoms or something - but we're not at war, are we? At least, I'm pretty sure we're not."

"We're not," Arthur said. "But perhaps we were. Perhaps that is why the Winter Kingdom is closed up beneath the earth and the Summer Kingdom is above the clouds. Perhaps, in an effort to enforce peace, our realms were forcibly separated."

"And now... they've been brought back together," Alfred said. "Because you and I are married."

Arthur shrugged.

"It is a possibility," he said.

"Then why didn't Matt just say? I mean, it's not that crazy, in fact it makes sense-"

"I truly believe that there is a lot more to it than that," Arthur interrupted. "Think on this: if our marriage was truly to be a union of our kingdoms after a long period of conflict, why was nobody from the Summer Kingdom present? Not even your brother, the King of the Summer, attended. Don't you see? You were not a peace offering, Alfred. You were a sacrifice."

Alfred scowled. He agreed that the whole thing was very odd, even suspicious, but he didn't like what Arthur was insinuating.

"A sacrifice to what, exactly?" he snapped. "Ivan the Big Bad Winter King? Does he eat Summer Princes or something? Because I gotta tell you, I've eaten with him twice and he was perfectly civil, which is more than I can say for you. You cut our damn wedding cake in half!"

"Of course not to Ivan," Arthur replied patiently. "I don't know precisely the nature of the sacrifice - or indeed if even it is one. That is, however, how the facts strike me. There doesn't seem to be any other logical explanation for our sudden whirlwind marriage. It's not about merging our kingdoms or bearing heirs so what else can it possibly be?"

"You seem awfully sure of yourself," Alfred said coldly.

"You ought to know that I do not say things out of either kindness or spite," Arthur replied. "I say things only as I see them. I am not trying to make you upset."

"What, by saying that my own twin brother sold me out?!"

"You have admitted yourself that he was evasive. However, the intent was quite possibly non-malicious. He may very well have your best interests at heart."

"By marrying me off to you?" Alfred rolled his eyes.

"By ensuring that you fulfil your role. As I said, I am quite certain that you were sent down here for a reason."

"If that's what you think then why aren't you interested in me?" Alfred challenged, watching him dig up a small silver watch; this was shaken off and tossed onto the pile of spoils. "If I have some kind of use or purpose-"

"I haven't the capacity to sufficiently deal with two things at once," Arthur cut in. "When I have completed the mirror, I shall turn my attention to you."

"I can't wait."

"You'll have to."

Alfred scowled, wrong-footed.

"...Have you always been like this?"

"Like what?"

"A massive bore. Seriously, would it kill you to smile?"

"I don't see what there is to smile about."

"But that's just it!" Alfred exclaimed. "Okay, you Winter guys get a raw deal, stuck under the earth in the cold - but you're not angry about it, either. It's like you have one default setting."

"I suppose I do." Arthur wasn't remotely offended. "I don't think I was always like this. Sometimes... I dig something up and I feel an echo of what might be called an emotion towards it. Anger, sometimes, or sadness. That's how I know there must be more to our existence than these four separated kingdoms: because once I unearthed a small wooden soldier and I felt something... like grief. I want to know why."

"And the mirror?" Alfred asked. "I mean, you seem so sure... but how do you know? How do you know that if you find every piece, you'll get your answers?"

"I don't," Arthur said. "That's just what I've decided to do. If it doesn't work then I'll try something else. I'll keep trying until I understand what happened to us."

Alfred arched his eyebrows.

"You're dedicated."

"I have no emotions - so I do not grow elated or dejected. I do not tire. I simply do."

"Like a machine."

Arthur looked at him.

"What's a machine?" he asked.

Alfred blinked. The word had come unbidden to his tongue. He floundered at Arthur, who was watching him very carefully.

"I... I don't know," he replied.


o.O

Whatever next! Find out next Wednesday! (...I hope!)