The Price

Chapter Three: Something Broken

Arthur clutched his head. He felt off-kilter, as if the cut stones beneath his feet were shifting apart, uneven, and broken. His pulse pounded in his ears and yet he felt deaf and hypersensitive all at once.

My young Kirkland, the woman said, high and feminine, the sound echoing inside of his thoughts. Come to me.

He shuddered and fell against the dirty wall. "No," he mumbled. "Get away." He was going to be sick – an overwhelming vertigo clutched at his stomach with icy fingers.

There was no sound as the woman stepped forward, but he could feel her hands on his face, like tiny brushes of whiskers from a kitten against his swollen lip.

You are injured. Her mouth didn't move. Don't damage my property. She moved in closer.

Arthur panicked. He put his arms over his face and pressed his side against the wall in a desperate attempt to become smaller. "Don't touch me!" He could still feel her touch.

When she drew unbearably close, Arthur jerked away and cracked his head on the wall. He swore and cradled his head in his arms, rubbing at the tender bump that formed just above his temple. With pained tears in his eyes he looked up and saw that the woman was gone.

He grabbed the lamp and scrambled for the exit, ramming his shoulder into the swinging bookshelf until it dislodged and let him out. He braced against the corner, heaving shaky breaths in an attempt to gather his scattered wit.

Something was wrong.

The King's chambers were empty, for which he was grateful, but there was an uncomfortable feeling that tickled the back of his neck; one that felt as if he were being watched. And yet…. He rubbed his head with a grimace. He must be imagining things; it was stress, and he knew he had been under a lot of it as of late. The elderly physicians had warned him about his stress levels during his time with the sick. They were likely right.

He closed the hidden entrance, locking it back into place and returning the two books to their upright positions before returning the lamp where he had found it.

Down the hall he could hear the sharp click of boots and he hurried out of the King's chambers to stumble down the hall towards his own rooms. He straightened his posture and slowed his gait when he noticed that someone was coming towards him.

From an adjacent hall came Yao, looking stern and lost in thought. He nodded at Arthur but then stopped. "Oh! Your Majesty! Are you well? Your lip is bleeding! I'll call the doctor right away."

Arthur held out a hand to deter the man. The last thing he wanted was to have a physician look at him and gather an inkling of what might be happening behind closed doors.

For someone so austere, Yao was excitable.

"No, no thank you." Arthur tried to smile and seem reassuring, but Yao frowned at him. "I wasn't watching where I was walking – lost in thought as I was. I'm not used to these halls quite yet. However, I can tend to myself; I learned much about cleaning wounds and stopping bleeding in my time spent in the healer's clinic. I wouldn't want to bother the doctor at this hour over something as trivial as a split lip."

Yao rubbed his chin for a moment. "I see. You should be more careful, Your Majesty. You are a public figurehead and you must look healthy and robust for the public. They would worry if their Queen seemed cut and bruised all the time."

"You're right," he said with a grimace. He didn't need a lecture right now. "I apologize for my mistake. I'll be sure not to make it again in the future."

"We all worry for the health of our rulers," Yao said with a pleasant smile. He patted Arthur on the shoulder. "Please take care of yourself, Arthur."

For a moment Arthur felt as if he was needed. Yao's toothy smile and his gentle touch was enough to lift his spirits from such a dismal place. And as Yao left, continuing down the long hall, something in the back of him mind said, he doesn't care about you – don't trust him.

His shoulders slumped and he wandered off to his own rooms. Of course Yao wouldn't care about him as a person, just his position and how it reflected on the Kingdom. He was nothing more than a face to stare at and a voice to ignore.

He was tired of the lies.

Arthur stared at the war map in the small conference room. Alfred and Yao were off speaking politics without him, something about the economy and the effects of the plague.

This had become his place to think, to plot; to ignore the strange thoughts and the cursed book of Catherine's until he felt secure enough of mind to begin reading through the pages again. His thoughts were a tempest of excitement, self-depreciation, anxiety, guilt, and joy. He was losing his balance in the world. But he finally had a plan to bring it back.

"Ah, here you are."

Arthur glanced up and then returned his focus to the small figurines. "Aren't you busy?" Arthur asked and tapped his finger on the head of one of the tiny soldiers. "Being King must keep you away from such leisure as speaking to me, I'm sure."

"Are you upset? It must be frustrating being Queen – unwanted and useless in such important details of the Kingdom. Didn't you have a plan? How is that working for you?"

"Quite well, actually." He looked up at Alfred with a secretive smile playing on his healing lips. "I slept in silks until far past noon, sampled the chef's newest decadences, was gifted with a new jacket of crushed velvet and gold trimmings – it's quite beautiful and luxurious. I do believe I'll wear it to our coronation announcement party this week. Ah, and I was able to spend a few moments alone with that busty visiting noble – Katrina is her name if I recall correctly."

Alfred's expression darkened. "It seems you've had it easy. Shall I tell you about my day, debating over nothing with a group of old men who couldn't find their own ass with both hands?"

Arthur hummed and tilted his head to the side as if in thought. "No," he said after a moment of false deliberation. "It seems your life is not as you wished, either. How sad."

"I could kill you right now," Alfred hissed, approaching Arthur and scattering the small figurines with an angry lash of his hand. "There is nothing stopping me from killing you."

"Perhaps not." Arthur carefully picked up each figurine and returned them to their original spots, humming absently as Alfred watched him with a cold expression. "But why would you be rid of an asset you've barely used?" He looked up and caught Alfred's eyes with his own. "You're envious."

Alfred said nothing. He was struggling to keep his temper and he shoved against Arthur, pushing his hands into the Queen's pants and biting his shoulder through the fabric of his blouse. When Arthur didn't react either positively or negatively, he tore away with a snarl.

"I did have to oversee the planning of our coronation announcement party, however," Arthur said and looked back at the table, trying to sound as unaffected as possible. "I made sure that the wine will flow all night, and that the food will be more than plenty; the women loose and our beds warm." He spared Alfred a glance. "If that pleases you."

"Why?"

Arthur picked up a soldier with a drum and urged him forward on the map. "My intention is not to fight with you. I do have goals, and I have every wish to fulfill them, despite the obstacles you set in my path. I can set just as many for you, but this is my peace offering of sorts. We may be bound by blood, but it's never that simple." He approached the demon and splayed one of his hands against Alfred's chest. "You tricked me out of my power and I can trick you out of your pleasure."

"I gave you your power," the demon said. He grabbed Arthur's elbow and pulled him closer. "You cannot go back on a blood contract."

"That wasn't my plan at all." He pulled his hand away from the demon's chest. "I know where you derive your pleasure. Do you?" He walked around Alfred, carefully, avoiding his touch and being lashed out at. He stopped in the doorway, turning the handle behind his back. "I suggest you think about my offer."

When was he safe within the walls of his own chambers he grasped his head and groaned. He had too many thoughts. They had left him during his confrontation with the demon, but they always returned.

Don't trust anyone. They will all betray you. Don't trust yourself. You will betray yourself.

He snatched up Catherine's book and settled into bed, skimming through the pages in hopes of finding a spell that would silence the thoughts that plagued him when alone.

On the eve of the announcement party, Arthur went to the King's chambers. "I have a question," he said as pushed his way inside without knocking. He stopped once he was inside and grimaced.

The demon lounged on his silken bed with a young, rosy-cheeked maid shyly feeding him grapes with her fingers. He looked up at Arthur with a quirked brow. "What an unexpected visitor," he drawled, his fingers tracing along the silk of his pillows.

"I need to speak to you in private," he said stiffly. He pointed at the maid. "That means leave, you – shoo."

Alfred sat up as the girl whimpered and scuttled out of the room, fearful of the Queen's wrath and bad word. "If this isn't important, I will kill you."

"You keep saying that." Arthur took a seat on a cushioned chair next to Alfred's bed. He picked up the discarded bowl of grapes and plucked one of the green fruit, holding it out towards the demon's mouth. "And yet you haven't."

"One day I will."

Arthur nodded. "I look forward to it." He held the grape close to Alfred's lips and when the man finally opened his mouth, he snatched it away and popped it into his own mouth. "You should know better than to expect luxury from me."

Snarling, Alfred grabbed Arthur by the collar and pulled the Queen on top of him, pressing their faces close. "You're pushing your luck, human. This deal was succulent and promising at first, but it's beginning to look like I was wrong. I find myself dreaming of all the ways to kill you; to peel your skin and make a new coat, to abuse you and hold you underwater until you drown as I take you from behind so that each pant that drags uncontrollably from your mouth brings you another breath closer to your own demise."

"You've thought about this a lot."

"I have."

Arthur pulled away from Alfred. "Well, I suppose I will leave you to your thoughts."

The demon yanked him back down. "What did you have to ask me that was so important? I hope it wasn't just to waste my time?" His nails dug into Arthur's collarbones, leaving crescent shaped indentations in his skin that puckered and pinked.

"I almost miss the way you would wax poetic at me," Arthur said, closing his eyes and doing his best to suppress the trembles that attempted to wrack his body. Alfred was genuinely frightening, but he couldn't show his fear – only indifference was permitted if he wanted this to work. "I wanted to know if you had thought about my offer, but I didn't expect to see you abusing the privilege of maids. I was waiting for you to bite her hand."

"Your offer…" Alfred bared his teeth in annoyance. "What makes you think I can't just take what is rightfully mine?" He flipped their positions, pushing Arthur into the soft blankets and pillows. His expression softened and he stroked the side of Arthur's face. "I am your King," he murmured. "In everything I am your King and you are my subordinate. I will do with your body as I please and you will accept mine, I will tell you as I see fit and you will obey. I will show you the path of sin and you will follow. It is an easy journey."

Arthur looked away as the demon undressed him, tugging at his jacket and pulling open his blouse. He refused to make any kind indication of like or dislike, to simply become an uninteresting doll.

Alfred, however, was not deterred by the act this time. He jerked Arthur's trousers down to his knees and bit at his chest, slurping lewdly against his skin and sucking. "I believe you should be punished," he said and bit just above Arthur's navel. "For making me so angry. It is an easy thing to do, but it's not an emotion that goes unheeded – you will remember this when I am finished."

"Yao suggests you don't harm my face or hands, where people might see. It's no use letting the nobles come up with ideas of their own." He grinned. "Did you know the Im family actively partakes in witch hunts?"

The demon growled and scratched his shoulders. His human features melted away with his patience and his talon nails bit into muscle. "I will do as I please, however I wish to do it." He bit Arthur's side, just under the jut of his final rib.

Arthur made a small noise of discomfort, but refused to move.

Alfred rolled him over onto his stomach and bit at the expanse of Arthur's back, sitting back to admire the small welts he left behind that would slowly bruise over the course of the night. Arthur's face was buried into the silk pillows and Alfred frowned. Torture wasn't nearly as fun when the target wasn't responsive. He slapped Arthur's ass, his palm striking the supple flesh hard and his talons tore at the peachy skin.

Arthur whimpered so he did it again and again, watching as the small red cuts grew deeper and bled, the pale skin of his ass reddening from abuse.

"Stop!" Arthur cried out into one of the pillows as the demon dug his nails into the tender muscles of his inner thighs, the hooked talons sinking in with resistance until they reached bone. He screamed when he began to drag his claws down, ripping through the flesh. "No more! Stop!"

Alfred watched Arthur writhe beneath him, crying into the pillows and choking on pained sobs. He grinned and relinquished his hold. He pressed his fingers to the worst of the cuts and healed them, but left dark, sensitive bruises in their wake. "Have you learned your lesson?" he whispered into Arthur's ear, darting his tongue along the shell.

Arthur didn't answer. He merely sniffed into his pillow.

"You cannot out best me, mortal. There have been many before you who have tried and failed. Their mistakes made me much more powerful, their tainted blood became my pleasure. Some were much more gifted than yourself, and if they could not beat me then, do not expect to have different results." He hummed thoughtfully, his hands roaming over Arthur's back as his demonic features ebbed away once again. "I wonder though... Why do you try so hard? It would be so much easier to give into sin and pleasure. Imagine it. How wonderful would it to be to live in the lap of luxury? None would oppose you, the ignorant would adore you – the smart, they would fear you, and I could sit at your side to please you." He rubbed at Arthur's scratched shoulders. "Doesn't that sound lovely, wretch?"

Arthur turned his head and stared at the opposite wall. "Now that you're not angry," he said in a weak voice. "My original purpose was to warn you."

He stopped his ministrations. "Of what?"

"I have found that the King of Clubs will be at tomorrow's party. I do believe he should be arriving at the palace some time tonight." Arthur swallowed and closed his eyes. "Ivan Braginski is the son of the High Priest in Clubs. They're all very religious and… I'm sure you understand. The King is very proud of the number of demons and witches he's killed during his reign."

Alfred got off the bed and paced the room, rubbing his bloodied hands down his face and smearing red down his cheeks. "You couldn't tell me that in the first place? You are an absolutely infuriating human."

"It's my validation that you've yet to break me." He sat up and pulled his clothes back on slowly. "I wonder, at what point does sin best virtue?" he mumbled and stood up. "Even so, I have no wish to be hanged quite yet, so I'd advise that you proceed with extreme caution around our guest." He buttoned up his trousers and nodded. "Good night."

Alfred watched him leave, his fists clenching at his sides. When Arthur was gone he picked up the discarded bowl of grapes and flung it across the room. The artisan bowl shattered against the wall and the demon stared down at it with a blank expression. "Anything can be broken," he said as he picked up a shard and examined the jagged edge, "whether it is by sin or by virtue. Something will break."

Arthur sat in his room, smothering his thighs and shoulders with a thick, honey salve that he had made day in and day out for the plague victims in the clinic. He stared at his writing desk, the quill he had used to write the invitation to King Ivan of Clubs weeks ago was still leaning precariously in the inkwell.

There is no easy way to gain a demon's trust, he thought. Only lies and slander get you anywhere in the world.

He rubbed at his head. He got up, checked his closet, under the bed, and shook out his blankets before settling down to sleep. Just as his eyes closed, there was loud rapping on his door.

Yao opened the door and peered inside. Spotting Arthur rousing from bed, he swung the door open and smoothed out his clothes. "King Ivan has arrived," he said, looking torn between confused and distraught. "I did not know that he would be attending tomorrow's party, but it is the Queen's duty to honor foreign dignitaries and our out-Kingdom relationships." He scurried to Arthur's wardrobe and pulled out a suit. "Get dressed as quickly as possible. You must greet King Ivan."

"I understand," he said. He took the suit from Yao and went to the door to usher the Jack out. "There is no need to bother the King. I will greet Ivan and send him to a suitable room, am I correct? Tomorrow there can be more formalities at a decent hour."

He dressed and checked his hair in the mirror before hurrying down the stairs, his sweaty hands running along the twisted white-oak railing. There was a pair of idle maids, and he bypassed them with a scalding glare that made them hide their faces and return vigorously to their tasks.

When he came upon the door of the lounging chambers just off of the throne room, Arthur fixed his clothes and hair. His pulse was pounding and his head ached, but he refused to allow the minor ailments stop him from performing what little duties he had.

He knocked on the door and pushed it open carefully. He stepped into the threshold and blanched.

Inside the room was a tremendous man in an ornate green coat, trimmed with fine furs and decorated with gold crosses and religious symbols, but what froze the blood in his veins was in the corner, where the woman from the King's chambers stood.

Her blonde hair was parted into two braids that fell over her shoulders and she smiled, broken, toothy, and just as insane as before.

She didn't move and neither did he.

The man stood suddenly and extended his hand to Arthur. "How good of you to come and greet me at a terrible hour," he said as he clasped Arthur's hand, squeezing it with a nod. "You must be Queen Arthur – or future Queen? You are now as much Queen as you will ever be."

Arthur tore his eyes away from the woman and made eye contact with the King of Clubs. The man had a wonderfully soft shade of violet eyes and he did his best to smile. "Yes," he answered, "you are right. Spades is still recovering from tragedy, but I do hope you find my Kingdom to be hospitable."

"Indeed." Ivan ran one of his large hands over his face and blinked several times. "I am hoping you do not find me rude, but I would like to ask we keep pleasantries to a minimum. It has been a long trip."

"Right, right, of course, I would hate to make you uncomfortable. There is a room being prepared for your visit as we speak. It should be ready by the time we reach it." He opened the door wide and smiled. "After you."

Once Ivan was through, Arthur chanced a glance over his shoulder, looking for the insane woman in the corner of the room.

She was gone.

- End Chapter Three -

Unimportant Notes: Sorry for the late update. It seems that every time I make a promise, life makes a liar out of me. :U

Big fat thank yous to Owyn, liberteabel, and Jordan! :)