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My stories are usually based around yaoi pairings, which means boy-boy, homosexual pairings. If you don't like it, don't read it- it's that simple. Please don't complain or flame, as you have been warned.
Hetalia Axis Powers/Hetalia World Powers is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya, Studio Deen, and Funimation. All stories are purely for entertainment purposes, and I am so not worth suing.
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Excerpt from Chapter Six of The Structure and Politics of Hierophant City, a text for students of Spades Kingdom enrolled in Dagda Academy in the capitol city of Merica.
Of all of the officials and residents of Hierophant City, the most mysterious are those known as "Jokers". The Jokers serve as the enforcers of the Will of their patron God, and like all members of the Hierophantic Court lose the symbol of their original Suit upon taking up the position. Instead, a bi-shaded star in the colors of his or her patron appears in the place of the original suit marking. Jokers are known to wander the Kingdoms carrying out the instructions of the Hierophant when not on a task for their Gods, and are thus afforded the same respect as high-ranking clergy.
Most of what we know of the Jokers comes from the journals of Joker Frederick, formerly of the House of Hohenzollern in the Kingdom of Hearts. Joker Frederick apparently misplaced his diaries when staying in Gallia, capitol of the Kingdom of Diamonds, on assignment to the Temple of the Earth therein. An enterprising cleric found the documents and, recognizing their importance, sold them to a renowned printer for distribution amongst the people of Hoyle; it is through these passages that we have come to understand some little of the mystery of the Jokers.
Each God of the Pantheon of Twenty Two keeps a watch on the Kingdoms of Hoyle, but in particular searches the souls of the inhabitants for those with two unique traits- those whose spirits match the temperament of the God him or herself, and those who are marked for a premature death. (Frederick also took care to note that most Chosen are also gifted in either the magical arts or the arts of war.) The conjunction of these two key elements is relatively rare; it has been estimated that there are no more than five or six dozen Jokers in existence at any given time. When these traits do coincide, the God waits until the moment of the Chosen's death to mark that soul as his or her own. It is at this time that the Chosen's Suit marks disappear, and he or she loses all affiliation with Clan and Kingdom to become a Joker. Jokers, as the Chosen of the Gods, are essentially immortal in that they do not age; they can still be killed through battle, magic, or accident, however. A Joker will serve until such time as he is killed or his God Releases him unto death, a fate many Jokers choose when the weight of their years or their tasks become too much for their souls. Joker Frederick, if his journals are to be believed in their entirety, had served for nearly four hundred years at the time of their publication in the early 4100s. Which God he himself served is unknown, for he referred to his patron as simply "the Old Man", and gods may take any form that they choose when visiting mortals. Frederick also alluded to a herculean task that his God had given him, one that was to encompass his entire life's service, but he was vague as to what this task was or why it was of such import.
The Last Day of the Month of Dumannios, Year 4350 Kingdom Era
Royal Palace of Merica, Spades Kingdom
"Get in here immediately, aru!"
Wang Yao, Jack of Spades, herded four cloaked figures none-too-gently into the Ready Room of the Great Hall of Spades Palace. Three were wearing the simple spun-wool mourning garments of the commons, while the last was his shell-shocked Queen, Arthur Kirkland. Arthur had not spoken a word since their new King (Gods help them all) greeted him in the Festival Square; not when the crowd had roared their approval at the man's extravagant and courtly gesture, not when Yao had shoved them all into the palanquin and barked orders at the bearers to return immediately to the Palace, and not when he had been led like a child through the corridors by his panicked co-ruler. The funeral of Dylan Bruce, former King of Spades, was in a shambles, the new King claimed to be the heir to an extinct Royal line, and the populace was already spreading gossip about prophecies like wildfire; any one of these alone would normally have been enough to send the rather irascible Queen into an apoplectic fit, and yet he remained pale and silent. Yao dismissed the servants and petty functionaries with a wave and a stern hand on the hilt of Aeterna before turning to his motley charges.
"Just what the hell is all this, aru? Who are you?"
The tall blonde from the Square spoke first, in a high clear tenor with a slight nasal overtone that reminded Yao of the river accent of the south. "As I said before, I'm Alfred Jones. This is my twin brother Matthew and a…friend of the family, Gilbert."
He inclined his head to the taller of the two remaining figures first, a lithe man with hair and eyes a shade darker than Alfred's own but the same pretty face. It was the other, however, that drew Yao's gaze. The third man was half a head shorter than the brothers but with a denser build. Removal of his hood had shown this "Gilbert" to be an albino, with bone-white skin and hair and manic ruby eyes. He had a strange aura about him, and lacked the distinct navy spade marking under his right eye. Either he was a foreigner, Yao reasoned, or something else entirely. The implications of Alfred's given clan name and of Gilbert's "something else" were beginning to give Yao a headache.
"That is impossible," Yao began, rubbing his temples. "Clan Jones was wiped out millennia ago."
"Not exactly," Alfred replied with a cheery grin. "We've been kinda hiding out under the protection of Death's Jokers."
"And you're a pain in the ass assignment, kid." Gilbert rolled his eyes to the ceiling, waving off Alfred's ensuing whine to the contrary. "At least your brother is quiet."
"Please don't drag me into this." A quiet whisper from the corner of the room reminded Yao of the boy's presence; Alfred's twin seemed to melt into the walls with little difficulty.
"You're even louder than me, you know."
"Aiyah, be quiet!" Yao felt the vein in his temple give an uncomfortable throb. "Are you," he pointed at Gilbert, "trying to tell us that you are a Joker?"
"The most awesome Joker Gilbert, in the service of Hierophant City," the albino stated proudly, assuming what Yao supposed was meant to be an impressive pose. It came off as a bit silly to him. The Joker gave a toothy grin and pulled his shirt open at the chest to expose a star marking in black and navy on his left upper breast. "And in the service of Lord Death as well. It is my duty, as it was my mentor's, to watch over the Jones family and keep its heir concealed until such time as the prophecy came to pass. I have a letter from Hierophant Magnus verifying the lineage of these two morons."
Yao snatched the proffered envelope and scrutinized the silver wax seal- it definitely looked like the Hierophant's personal sigil, and the tell-tale flecks of crystal in the wax were very difficult to falsify. He slid his finger underneath, lifting out the sole piece of parchment inside with a frown. The handwriting was familiar as well, but Arthur would be a far better judge; the Queen was the one who kept up foreign correspondence after all.
"Arthur, could you authenticate this letter? Arthur?" His companion showed no sign of having heard him, preferring instead to gaze upon the portrait of Rane the Great with unfocused green eyes. "Arthur! For Death's sake, man, get a hold of yourself, aru!" Yao seized his Queen's arm and shook it hard. Hazy eyes turned to his as Arthur struggled for a moment, mouth opening and closing without a sound. Numb fingers slipped the page from Yao's grasp as Arthur finally looked over the document.
"It's genuine," he whispered, pointing with one shaking finger to a black-inked stamp in the corner that shone indigo when turned in the light. "Death himself has blessed it with his mark."
"To Wang Yao, Jack of the Kingdom of Spades, and Arthur Kirkland, Queen of the Same-
Let it be known on this day, the 28th Day of Dumannios in the Year 4350 of the Kingdom Era, that in my official capacity as Hierophant of the Pantheon I do hereby affirm the identities of Alfred Jones and Matthew Jones, formerly known as Alfred and Matthew Williams. Our Lord Death, Thirteenth God of the Pantheon and Patron of the Kingdom of Spades, has charged his Chosen Jokers for the past four millennia with the task of concealing the whereabouts of the direct heirs of King Rane Jones until such time as the prophecy of the Grand Royal Flush came to fruition. Alfred and Matthew are the sole surviving members of the Jones Clan, and have been blessed by their patron with the abilities and talents famous to the line; these abilities will further serve to confirm their status, as will the Royal Artifact in the possession of Alfred Jones- Tempus, the lost Rune Ring of Rane the Great.
Further, Hierophant City in accordance with the will of Lord Death releases Joker Gilbert, formerly of House Beillschmidt of the Kingdom of Hearts, to the service of the new King of Spades as advisor until such time as the prophecy has been fulfilled. In addition, Joker Gilbert will be sent an Apprentice to assist in these duties, as chosen by Lord Death.
Signed Here and Witnessed by the God Himself-
Magnus Berg
Hierophant of the Pantheon of Twenty-Two"
Yao recited the letter in an incredulous voice, both Royals lifting their eyes to the new King at the close. "Abilities of the line?" Yao asked, unsure.
"Oh! Yeah, he probably meant this…" Alfred trailed off as he and his twin each picked up one of the heavy armoires flanking the door with one hand and lifted them clear over their heads. "We're also pretty bad-ass fighters, but we can't really show you that indoors without breaking a whole lot of your stuff. Like this entire wing of the Palace."
"Those have to weigh twenty-two stone each," Yao gasped. A sideways glance to Arthur shocked him even further- his Queen didn't seem surprised at this feat of strength at all. Instead, he was grasping something at the end of a golden chain around his neck for dear life.
"This can't…it can't really be…I had it all along?"
"What are you…?"
Yao cut off his question as Alfred put down the furniture and was at Arthur's side in three long strides. Clasping his hand over the Queen's, the boy's face softened from his brilliant grin into something close to weeping.
"Have ya really been wearin' it all this time, Artie?"
"I…is this truly…?"
Alfred gently pried open Arthur's clenched fist, revealing a heavy gold ring in his palm. Yao leaned closer, noting the engraved Ogham runes on its band and the massive star sapphire at its center. The Jack had never seen such a specimen before- star sapphires were very rare, and this one was such a deep shade of blue, almost onyx. He recognized it immediately from the portrait of the First King; was flabbergasted that Arthur had the damn thing in his possession and did not- and that he managed to keep such an ornament concealed for eight years.
"You had Tempus and didn't even recognize it, aru? After all the time you spent gawking at that portrait? How did you even get the damned thing?"
Neither man answered, Arthur staring down at the jewel at his throat as if it held the answer to the riddles of the universe, and Alfred staring at Arthur's face. Those dark eyebrows drew together in the center, porcelain cheeks beginning to turn crimson as his breath quickened. Yao knew those symptoms, and stepped back away from the pair on pure reflex. That was never a good sign…
"You…" Arthur whispered, pulling his hand away from Alfred's and closing it again around Tempus. "You…"
"Hmm?"
"You great bloody git!" Arthur shouted, the strident tone making the new King jump at least a foot in the air. "You lying tosser! All that time you lied to me! About who you were, about everything. Oh, very well done, poppet. I didn't think a child of that age could put on such a show. Those tears when I left, your innocent proposal- that was expert."
"No! That wasn't…I didn't…" the boy began, holding his hands out to the Queen. Arthur ignored the gesture completely, absorbed in one of his famed temper tantrums.
"Did you have fun at my expense? Strange Arthur and his creepy magic, isn't it hilarious how attached he got to a pair of little peasants in the river country? Won't it be amusing to make him think he's found happiness and then let him believe he's lost it again? What a fabulous joke, even if we must wait a few years for the punch line, eh?"
Arthur's voice slid up the octaves with each word, a near-hysterical squeak by the end of his diatribe that broke even Yao's heart, and he had no special fondness for his temperamental co-ruler.
"It wasn't a joke or a lie! We'd never do that! We didn't know, Arthur, I swear it. Gil didn't tell us until after you'd left for Merica!" Alfred pleaded, grasping Arthur's shoulders in a grip so tight he was sure the man would have bruises later.
"Oh of course not, poppet. How could I have been so stupid?" the Queen railed, ripping himself from the younger's hold with difficulty. "I saw your idiot strength the moment we met. I sat in front of this bloody portrait nearly every bloody day and never noticed the bloody ring in it was around my neck!"
"He's swearing an awful lot," Yao heard the other twin mumble to the Joker. "He's super angry this time, yeah?"
"Shut up, birdie, and maybe the little tyrant won't start screaming at us too."
"Arthur, please," Alfred pleaded. "You have to understand-"
"I have to do nothing!" Arthur shrieked, clearly at the end of his rope. "I am the Queen of Spades and I won't be made a fool, not anymore and not by you!"
Yao sighed as Arthur stormed out of the room and through the Great Hall, waves of dark magic rolling out of him and pushing everyone but Alfred to their knees. The King appeared to remain upright only by sheer force of will, determination glinting in those blue eyes as he chased after the velvet-clad back of his Queen.
"Aiyah."
"So…he took that pretty well."
The look Yao favored the Joker with could have slagged brick.
.
.
Arthur's tears blinded him as he navigated the halls by memory alone. He could hear Alfred's (the King, just call him the King now) heavy footsteps behind him, though they fell further behind with each twist and turn Arthur made. He was certain he could lose the man in the winding passageways to the roof (the boy's sense of direction was always horrible) if he could just stop crying. As he flew around the spiral staircase at the center of the East Tower, Arthur scrubbed a hand quickly over his eyes. If he could remember where that secret passage was…
Ah! There it is!
Arthur hurriedly tugged on a brass sconce that possessed a chalcedony cabochon as its decoration rather than a lapis lazuli, hurling himself into the small passage it opened in the wall and pushing the stones back into place with shaking hands. Pressing his ear to the damp granite, he could hear Alfred approaching, calling his name with a desperate hitch in his voice (just like that Samhain Night, after he heard ghost stories about the forest and was too afraid to sleep alone). The King thundered past with enough noise to wake the dead, leaving Arthur to heave a gusty sigh of relief, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor with his face buried in his cold hands.
Alone at last, Arthur allowed himself the luxury of a good hard cry. He had been so lonely these past eight years, and though his mind had dreamed up dozens of scenarios in which he would meet Alfred again none were anything like this. He felt terribly betrayed, his heart an anvil in his chest. Alfred (his Alfred, his hero, the first person to ever genuinely care about him) had lied to him from the first day that they met. If he had loved Arthur as he had seemed to, he would have told him the truth about who he was (but would he have believed a story as crazy as that, even from Al?). And even if his unconvincing claim that he hadn't known before Arthur left for Merica was true he could have somehow gotten word to him, couldn't he (except letters would have been screened and no commoner would be allowed through the Palace to see the Queen and Dylan would have found a way to take out the competition)?
Drawing a rattling breath, Arthur regained his feet and made his way down the pitch-black passage with a mage-light in his cupped hand. This particular path led back to the Ready Room, and he was sure Yao would have led Gilbert and Matthew away from there by now (pretty Matthew, the same as ever with his gentle smile and tendency to blend into the furniture). He had almost regained his composure by the time he reached his goal, listening intently for any sound before nudging the tapestry concealing the passageway aside and releasing his magic. He would sneak out from here to his room, and just hope that by morning Yao had sorted out this mess for him. Turning to the door, Arthur smacked hard into a warm, solid chest, falling unceremoniously onto his backside. Twinkling blue eyes mocked him from above.
"Gotcha," Alfred gloated, hands on his hips. "You're predictable, Artie. You always double back to where you started when you run from somethin'. It's why you always lost at hide-and-go-seek."
"I most certainly did not, you great lummox!" Arthur replied, with every intent of storming past Alfred to his rooms. His plans were neatly foiled by the heavy armoires now blocking both the exit and the passageway from which he had emerged. "Let me out, git!"
"Not a chance. Not until you sit down and talk to me like a man," Alfred said, his lips taking on a stubborn set that Arthur recognized all too well. Alfred was well nigh intractable when he got a notion set in his head firmly enough. One might better try to reason with a mountain. The boy flopped down onto the carpet next to the Queen, staring curiously at the portraits of the First Royalty. "Look, Arthur, I know this is a shock. It was for us, too. We didn't believe Gil at first, either. Man, this painting is all kinds of creepy- that guy totally looks just like me."
"You're his descendent, twit. You look like him," Arthur sniffed. Alfred merely shrugged. "And your nose is less hawkish, while he lacks your absurd hair abnormality."
"Hey now…"
The two sat in silence for a long moment, avoiding direct eye contact. Predictably, Alfred broke it first.
"I wanted to rush right to Merica when I found out, just after your coronation. Wanted to get back to you any way I could. Gil put a stop to that real quick, and he was right to with that old bastard on the throne. That, and Death forbid it, I guess." Alfred's face was melancholy, a look so rare that Arthur could hardly recognize him with it twisting his features. "Plus, we didn't know which one of us would be King, or when. It coulda been decades, for all we knew, and it coulda been Mattie. But you gotta believe me, Arthur- it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, waiting to see you again."
"You…you insufferable thing." Arthur could feel the trails of saline on his cheeks now, turning his chin downwards to contemplate the pattern of the rug. "I'm trying to be angry with you."
"I know," Alfred laughed. "This…we never asked for any of this, Artie. All I wanted back then was to make you smile, and to grow up faster so I could marry you."
"You were insufferable then too," Arthur choked. He was not about to start blubbering again.
Alfred tilted his head back to contemplate the chandelier. "Maybe, but I was kinda proud that I could always make you smile. Even Mattie and Ma couldn't but manage it every once in a while."
"Is Emily still back in Albion, or is she somewhere here in the city?" Arthur felt his spirits rise a little at the thought of his surrogate mother- Gods knew his own never provided him any solace, and Emily's warm hugs and delicious cookies were certainly something he could use right about now. Alfred's smile turned a little fragile at that, cracking at the edges in a way Arthur couldn't quite associate with the sunny boy he had known. Maturity, perhaps? Has the world finally managed to jade him? The thought made his heart sink…must be the result of a too-small dinner and his earlier crying jag, he reasoned.
"Ma had to wait back home," Alfred sighed, returning his eyes to his ancestor's portrait. "We had to ride pretty hard to get here in two days, what with Gil havin' to jaunt to Hierophant City to get the letter and all. And Ma, she's…Artie, you remember that plague that hit the river towns back in the spring?"
Arthur nodded, dread rising in his throat. "I spent every night in the Temple, making offerings for our people…and for you three. I prayed so fervently that the sickness would never touch you."
"Well, you know Ma," his companion chuckled, a dry, mirthless sound. "She was always tendin' to the sick and the injured. She's so damned stubborn about it, and nothin' Mattie or I said would keep her from tryin' to help as best she could. But this time, she took sick; she was one of the lucky ones to survive, but she's been real weak ever since. Mattie and I had all kinds of trouble tryin' to make ends meet, and the medicine she needed was so expensive."
"You great bloody git," Arthur snapped, his eyes welling up again as he smacked Alfred about the head. "Why didn't you try to get word to me, or go to the manor house? They would have made sure I heard of it Alfred, the servants there all adored you."
"Couldn't. Gil said we had to lay low, and with all the rumors flyin' around about a war, any letter to you woulda been screened. Plus, Mattie and I had to be real careful about keepin' to ourselves as we got older." Those full lips twisted in a way that was almost self-depreciating. "Our strength keeps gettin' greater, see, and it's hard to control. Sometimes we wreck stuff without even tryin'."
"That's hardly a new development. You two were destroying things from the day we met."
"Yeah, but now it's not just breaking a glass or busting an axle on the wagon," Alfred replied. "Nowadays we're more likely to knock down trees and walls. Mattie got pissy about some girl who dumped him last month and put his fist six inches deep into that huge oak in the forest. You know the one that's like four arm spans around?"
Arthur nodded. "The old histories say that Rane the Great could uproot a young tree to use as a spear with his bare hands. We always thought that was just storytelling…"
"Nope. Gil likes to call it 'an efficient use of terrain'." Alfred stood then, dusting off his cloak. "Come on, I said I'd bring you back to the Jack when you calmed down. I think they're in the library. Wherever the hell that is."
"Come along, then. If I let you try to find it on your own, you'll end up in Diamonds," Arthur sighed, rapping his knuckles on the armoire. "Move this, and we'll get going."
Alfred obeyed, shifting the heavy furniture back into place as though it were a child's toy and bowing at the waist. "After you, my Queen."
"Git."
They walked in silence through the Great Hall and several corridors before Arthur found his voice again; it was too easy to just revel in his Alfred's presence, to pretend nothing had changed, but that wouldn't be fair to either of them.
"Alfred, you know we can't just pick up where we left off don't you?"
"Why not?" Alfred challenged, his bottom lip thrust out in a distinct pout. "You're still you, and I'm still me, so…"
"Don't' be foolish," he snapped. "It's been eight years; we've both grown to manhood in that time. I have been living a life of court intrigue and constant confrontation with the last King. I am not the same person I was back in Albion, and I doubt you are either."
"I'm not far off, and neither are you," Alfred countered, clearly irritated by the lack of immediate camaraderie. "People don't really change Artie; they just become more who they were meant to be."
Arthur stopped dead to flick his companion on the nose. "Now you sound like Yao. He is old enough to get away with cliché statements of faux-wisdom, you are not."
"You're still a nag," Alfred called as Arthur began walking again, faster this time. "And you still have a horrible temper, are dishonest about what you're feeling, and try to use sharp words to keep people away."
Good Gods, the boy is actually ticking off my undesirable traits on his fingers! That brat! But Alfred was just warming up, it seemed.
"You still can't control your magic when you're angry, you're a crybaby, and you swear a lot." The man's grin resurfaced at Arthur's obvious dismay, but when he continued his voice had grown soft and fond. "But I'll also bet that you still feed the birds when no one's looking. I bet you still embroider when you're upset, could out-drink any man in Merica, and never get tired of learning new things. And money says you missed me as much as I missed you but don't know how to say it."
The breath was driven from Arthur's lungs by the certainty in Alfred's litany, and the fact that all of it, every word, was completely and utterly true. That doesn't mean he knows the man you are, or that you know him at all, he reasoned, stopping short in front of the library doors. "We're here, so-"
"Look at me, Arthur," Alfred whispered. Strong, callused fingers cupped Arthur's cheek and turned his face towards Alfred's; the thumb stroking gently across the tender skin under his right eye. "There's one more, of course. You're still the prettiest thing I've ever seen."
"Stop that," Arthur breathed, backing away from Alfred on shaky legs. "You cannot act like that with me now. I am the Queen of Spades, and you are now King. We have duties and responsibilities, and I am not some village girl you're trying to pick up for a tumble." He ignored the pained look in Alfred's eyes in favor of storming past him into the library, where Yao, Matthew, and Gilbert were waiting.
"Al, get in here quick," Gilbert called, holding his hands up in defense against the fuming Jack. "This little guy is severely unawesome and I need a buffer. Birdie's not helping."
"Birdie thinks you deserve the lecture," Matthew muttered. Arthur was almost pleased to note the lad was still passive-aggressive; his snipes were always amusing.
"Yes, do get in here Alfred, Arthur. We have much to discuss," Yao said, tucking his hands backwards into the voluminous sleeves of his tunic. He had shed his cloak and hat at some point, and had apparently been consulting the massive book laid open on a lectern in front of him. "With the very public transference of Spadille, we have no choice but to formally announce Alfred as King of Spades tomorrow morning."
"So soon?" Arthur asked. "He's far more unprepared than any other has been."
"Nonetheless," Yao responded. "The people are already speaking of prophecy, and well they should. With the appearance of a monarch of the Jones Clan, Hoyle is now experiencing a Grand Royal Flush. This was not even thought possible, and yet is a perfect interpretation of the Aether Prophecy. I am clearly the Peony, and Arthur the Rose. Alfred, then, is the fallen star returned to the sky."
"The people have been speaking of prophecy ever since I was crowned," argued Arthur. "A little more time couldn't hurt."
A snort came from the Joker, who threw himself into an armchair and propped his heavy boots onto a bookshelf. "That's bullshit. The other monarchs are already on their way here for the funeral reception, yeah? How pissed would they be if they came to Merica and found out you were hiding the new King from them? Diplomatic nightmare, which considering you're practically at war with Clubs and Hearts already…"
"The idiot has a point, aru. It will also not win us any good will with the people, who clearly saw the choosing." Yao sighed and rubbed his temples. "We cannot afford civil discord while we are on such shaky ground with the other kingdoms."
Arthur echoed Yao's exasperated aura, but knew when he was beaten. "Very well. We should send couriers ahead to the other royals in that case. Though unorthodox, it will be easier on us in the long run to have Alfred's coronation within the fortnight to avoid the rudeness of asking them all to journey here twice in a month."
"You are just saying that because you don't want to see the King of Diamonds twice, Arthur," snapped Yao. "You had better be…not yourself during this period to avoid any further strain on the one kingdom with which we still have a tenuous alliance."
"Uh, that might be a problem," Alfred interjected. "I mean, Francis Bonnefoy is the King of Diamonds, right?"
"Yes…"
Arthur and Alfred exchanged a look of mutual chagrin. "I, um, have a previous history with Francis too. I kicked his ass once when we were kids, so unless he has a real short memory we may already be screwed with Diamonds."
"….."
Yao's mouth opened and closed in a soundless gape, reminding Arthur unpleasantly of a fish. "You are joking with me, are you not?"
"Nope. He still friends with that dark-haired jackass?" Alfred asked.
"Carriedo?" Arthur replied. "Antonio is now the Captain of the King's Guard, and remains Francis' best friend."
"Well, fuck. Seeing as Mattie kicked his ass, we're double screwed."
Matthew flinched from the corner. "Why do I have anything to do with this? I won't matter in diplomatic relations…"
The royals were already shaking their heads before the boy could finish his sentence.
"That is not how nobility works, aru. A man's actions reflect on his House, and all its members. Arthur has had significant trouble in dealing with not only his own temper but those of his brothers."
"Scott, Colin, and Seamus have all reflected poorly on House Kirkland at international events before," Arthur agreed. "Idris is the only one that seems to be able to keep out of trouble. We have had strained relations with Hearts due to insults those berks gave while drunk and belligerent."
Alfred slung an arm over his brother's shoulders. "Besides, Mattie, you're gonna be in a pretty visible position yourself."
"Al, we made that promise largely because we thought I could end up King and you are restless. I can fade into the background and-"
"No!" Alfred's voice was sharp and vehement. "I don't trust anyone to watch my back but you, Matthew. And anyone who doesn't like it can back the fuck off when they see what you can do." A shadow of his carefree grin crossed Alfred's boyish face. "Sides, I'm gonna need you and Artie to keep me grounded."
"What about me, you brat?" Gilbert whined, uncrossing his ankles and letting his feet drop to the floor. "I got released from Hierophant City to 'advise' your flaky ass, remember?"
"You're more likely to jump into his crazy ideas right along with him," Matthew admonished. He grasped his twin's hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs across Alfred's knuckles. "Okay, Al. We're in this together."
Arthur frowned darkly, exchanging an irritated look with Yao as the more experienced royals were cut out of the discussion altogether. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what Alfred was talking about- if the boys were still as inseparable as Arthur remembered, there was only one position Alfred would bestow upon his beloved younger brother. The Captain of the King's Guard was the closest to the King besides his co-rulers, and the one functionary with complete freedom and access to him at all times. He remembered Matthew's unexpectedly fierce demeanor when Alfred was threatened, his skill with archery, and his quiet cunning. Though it was unorthodox for a new King to choose a Captain outside the Army, it would not be seen as total disrespect with Matthew's status as the other remaining Jones heir. If anyone could protect Alfred through being thrown head-first into the complexities of political intrigue, it was Matthew. Yao must have realized what Alfred meant as well as he opened his mouth to complain, brows furrowed, but subsided at a subtle head shake from Arthur. That argument is not one worth having, my friend.
They stayed convened in the library for an hour more, hashing out the language of the morning announcement and of the letters to the other monarchs. Yao delivered more than one scathing insult to Alfred as he quizzed him on his general knowledge of Spades Kingdom's politics and particulars. It seemed that despite the basic education Arthur had given them years before; the boys had learned almost nothing since. Gilbert had brought them books and scrolls when he could, but such study had to be done clandestinely and in what little time they had left over after scratching out their meager existence. Finally, Yao had slapped his forehead and given up, assigning Arthur the task of providing lessons to the King and his brother while the Jack arranged the funeral reception with the other Kingdoms and Alfred's pursuant coronation. Arthur was of two minds about that, torn between the nostalgia of teaching his dear ones once again and the creeping insecurity of the gulf of time that now lay between them.
He was also afraid, he mused as they broke for the night, a servant showing Alfred and Matthew to the chambers they would use until the King's Suite could be set to Alfred's tastes. Afraid of the tender look in those sky-blue eyes, filled with the same adoration as they had been when Alfred was a boy but tempered now with something far more adult; afraid of having his heart destroyed if he opened it again. There were few true friendships between the ruling monarchs of nations, and even fewer liaisons; nothing could be allowed to affect their ability to rule. The current political climate was somewhat of an exception- the Jack and Queen of Diamonds were siblings, the Jack and Queen of Clubs were married, and if the rumors were to be believed the King of Hearts was lovers with his own Jack. Arthur knew better than to involve himself in such entanglements, which was why he repeatedly and violently rejected the offers of an intimate if casual relationship with Francis. All these years, Arthur had believed that Alfred's proposal was childish innocence from a boy who was too young and naïve to tell familial love from romantic. Yet, Alfred's courtly gestures (he had bent on one knee to kiss his hand again when he said goodnight) and intense eyes seemed to speak otherwise; and Arthur himself had not allowed so much as a kiss since he left Albion. He had thought he was merely waiting for someone like Alfred to enter his life- he had not expected the boy himself.
Arthur worried at the ring still hanging at his throat as he tossed in his bed that night, only falling into a fitful sleep once he had threaded it onto his left ring finger.
.
.
Lying in the dark halfway across the castle, Alfred counted his brother's slow, even breaths. When he was certain Matthew was asleep he gently untangled their limbs and slid out of the great bed. He was used to a rope cot, and the devouring softness of a feather tick made him feel uncomfortably decadent. Slipping Spadille from the nightstand, he crept to the guarded door and closed his eyes. The watch in his palm warmed to his touch, and Alfred tilted his head, listening. It was a whisper in his mind and no more, but it was enough; he reached for that new energy nestled in his heart and concentrated on Spadille. The watch glowed a soft azure and its ticks slowed to a crawl, tendrils of wind escaping the casing to slide under the doorframe. After a moment, Alfred eased open the door to find his guards neatly frozen, one's mouth still open in aborted conversation. Alfred crept past them with ease, releasing his aura once he was safely out of sight. A few more repetitions and a quiet plea for directions from Spadille (which sent him a mildly irritated pulse- apparently it did not appreciate being used as a dowsing rod) found Alfred in the Great Hall once more. Climbing the three broad steps to the dais at the chamber's center, he ran his right hand over the carved arm of the rowan throne of the Spirit King. While massive in general size, the wood was delicately carved to be open and airy, banded with gold and inset with gemstones of the air in various shades of blue- sapphire, chrysolite, lapis lazuli, and chalcedony.
Alfred's fingertips drifted over the polished seat, worn from millennia of use by his predecessors. For almost eight years, Gilbert had been telling the twins that their destiny lay here in Merica. Alfred, though he believed his "uncle" on an intellectual level, had never connected to the idea emotionally. It had just never seemed real to him- until that moment when Spadille connected with his outstretched hand and seared the power of the King of Spades into his soul. Now, it was all Alfred could do just to remain conscious and coherent with the flood of energy and awareness streaming into his body from the whole of the kingdom. Spadille too overwhelmed him; the implement had a consciousness of its own that almost clamored for Alfred's attention like an affectionate puppy. He lowered himself onto the throne, dropping his head into his hands as he tried to cope with the enormity of his new position.
"Ah, laddie. You did always say you'd be a hero someday. You can't be overwhelmed already."
Alfred's head snapped up, his eyes locking with a stooped figure in the shadows of a nearby column, dark in a hooded traveling robe. He couldn't see the man's face, but it hardly mattered. He would know that voice anywhere.
"Sneaking into the Palace is a bit far to go just to talk to me," Alfred chuckled. "How'd ya manage this one, Old Man?"
"Oh," the man laughed, drawing back his hood to reveal a shock of wild white hair and a devilish smirk. "You'd be surprised at the places I can get into, my boyo."
Notes:
Many thanks to my reviewers- you have all been very kind! And thanks for the patience- I've been ill recently and thus delayed on updates.
Joker Frederick refers to Frederick the Great, the most famous King of Prussia who was affectionately known by his people as "Old Man Fritz". His House was indeed Hohenzollern. I thought it appropriate for him to be Gilbert's mentor, as canon Prussia mentions Old Man Fritz a couple times.
"Tempus" is the Latin word for time.
Magnus Berg, the Hierophant, is Norway. Since he doesn't have a canon human name, I selected one for him- "Magnus" is a Norwegian royal name, derived from the Latin word for "great". It is still the 5th most popular baby boy's name in Norway today. "Berg" comes from the Old Norse and Germanic words for "mountain", which will tie into where Norge is from in this tale. It is also one of the top ten most common surnames in modern Norway. He and the other Nordics will appear later on- all as agents of Hierophant City in different capacities. I chose Norway as Hierophant due to his significant skill with magic.
Twenty two stone is just over three hundred pounds.
Scott is Scotland, Colin and Seamus are North Ireland and Ireland respectively (twins), and Idris is Wales.