Chapter 6
'Whatever. He can be Erika's best friend now. See if I care!'
Well. . . that's what Alfred had originally thought. But now that it was the day of his birthday and he had fought with the only person he had expected to see, Alfred was pretty sure he did care. Probably a lot more so than he would like to admit.
So as the sky darkened and the main festivities were beginning, Alfred couldn't help but stare out the windows facing the main entrance of the palace, his heart secretly yearning to see a particular mop of blonde hair. Wiping away his breath from the glass, Alfred worried his lip. The lights were beginning to turn on and the flood of guests were slowly waning, but he had yet to see his best friend arrive at the gates.
Alfred shifted restlessly before flopping onto the chair he was using to prop himself up. He stared up at the gold-lined ceiling, listening to the muted bustle of the crowd outside. Music travelled up and through the empty halls of the upper floors where Alfred was currently waiting for his escort. He had been ordered by Yao to stay in his bedroom until someone came to get him, but that didn't stop the young Prince from escaping across the hall in hopes of seeing Arthur. Unfortunately, his hopes were in vain.
Alfred let out a huge yawn, quite unsightly for a Prince but he could care less if anyone saw him. For the first time in his life, he hadn't been able to get a good night sleep. Always known for being a deep sleeper, Alfred had been too busy replaying the horrible scene of the day before to even feel sleepy. All he could do was roll around, constantly worrying about whether or not Arthur hated him. The maids practically fainted when they saw his face that morning. But again, Alfred could care less on how he looked. Even better, maybe his face would scare the others away so he didn't have to socialize.
The Prince glanced over to the clock in the hall and back out the window, scanning his eyes through the blur of gowns and suits. It was already half past nine and still nothing. 'He probably does hate me now. No wonder he's not showing up.' Alfred trudged back into his room across the hall and fell face-first into his bed. His mind instantly flashed back to yesterday's incident again and Alfred's heart gave a painful squeeze. The guilt felt heavy on his shoulders. If only he could turn back time. . .
A gentle knock came from the door. Alfred got up, expecting to see a guard at the door, but was surprised to see Yao standing there instead. Seeing the boy's surprise, Yao approached him with a kind smile on his face, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Heard someone was being gloomy today despite it being their birthday."
Alfred gathered himself and sat beside the Jack, staring down at his feet. "Yeah. . ." he admitted. "Sorry."
"Oh? What's this, you're actually apologizing? So easily? Did the sun rise from the West today? Can it be the end of the world?" Yao mused. When he only got a weak glare in response, he sighed and poked the young Prince's puffed up cheek. "Pouting doesn't do you good. You're too young to have such a troubled face. I heard you gave the maids quite the fright this morning. Nightmares?"
Alfred shook his head.
"Then what is it? Your father?"
Alfred hesitated. Well, Yao wasn't completely wrong. That whole issue with the promise he had made to Titania and all was also hanging over his head, but. . . it wasn't the reason behind his sleepless night. "Yao, why is it so hard to have friends?"
Yao raised an eyebrow. That was a little unexpected. He had heard from the maids and guards that Alfred had been wandering outside the palace walls more recently, but in all honesty, he hadn't expected that it was because the young Prince had made friends. It was actually kind of a nice surprise. "Well no doubt your inexperience is one of them," Yao answered bluntly before softening. "But I suppose it's also because you're scared."
Alfred looked up, confused. "Scared?" That was a weird answer.
The Jack nodded, humming in thought. "It's a different 'scared' from what you read in your books. It's different than when a princess is kidnapped by a dragon or when you're in the forest after dark. It's something you feel when you care about someone." When he saw how Alfred's confused expression was slowly melting into that of a pensive one, he continued in hopes of clarifying further. "For example, you love your mother, do you not? No doubt we've encountered very close calls in regards to her health for the past few months and during those times, how did you feel?" Yao chose his words cautiously. He was treading on dangerous territory. Reminding the young Prince of his mother's condition in this situation would either help him or make matters much worse.
Luckily, it seemed Alfred was taking it well and with a frighteningly mature mindset that could only result from growing up as crown prince. Then realization appeared on his face. "Scared," Alfred whispered. "I felt scared."
Yao nodded, internally sighing in relief. "And do you know why? Because you didn't want to lose someone you cared about, hm?"
Alfred nodded, thinking back to the night before. He had done some of his own thinking, as lashing out so suddenly wasn't something he had ever done before, and he soon realized the reason behind his actions. It wasn't easy but he eventually came to terms with his jealousy. It was difficult to admit even to himself but hearing Yao's words made the truth a little easier to accept.
Seeing Alfred's guilty face clarified any suspicions Yao had in his head. Letting out a breathy laugh, Yao patted the boy's head. "Make sure to apologize to your friends, hm?"
"There's only one," Alfred corrected, a little begrudgingly. "But what if he doesn't want to talk to me?"
"Well he's not going to be doing the talking, is he?"
A little smile appeared on Alfred's face. "That's true."
"Exactly. Now that that's cleared up, we must make our appearance soon. We have very important guests waiting for you and we're already making them wait much too long." Yao got up and straightened out his clothing, checking his pocket-watch. Eyebrows furrowing in disapproval, he slipped his watch back into his breast pocket and waved at the Prince to quickly follow him as he began walking out the door. "Let's hope the King won't have my head for being so unpunctual," he muttered.
Alfred followed the Jack out the door and down the hall. He glanced out the windows. Still nothing. "Just blame it on me," he suggested indifferently to the Jack. "It's not like it'll change anything."
"Now, now, Alfred. Your father is only doing what's best for you."
"But he wasn't always so grumpy," Alfred pouted.
Yao sighed. "You should know that Spades hasn't been doing so well for several years now so you can only imagine the heavy amount of stress it's putting on your parents, especially your father. And now with your mother having a long-term illness, the burden on his emotional and mental state has only increased. It doesn't help when you only make things more difficult for him. He can only handle so much."
Alfred thought back to his promise with the Faerie Queen and fidgeted. "I-I know that. But I can't help it sometimes."
"I'm quite aware of that," Yao chuckled. "I've seen your little attitude enough to last me for the rest of my life. But do try. For your parents' sakes."
Blushing guiltily, Alfred huffed. "I am trying."
"Yes, yes." Yao teased. "Of course."
Together they travelled down a few short flights of stairs and rounded some corners to head towards the back of the grand ballroom. As they approached the door, Yao nodded at one of the servants and he hurried off to let the King know of their arrival. As they waited for the doors to open, Alfred nervously shifted his weight around, feeling quite restless.
"Keep your head together," Yao reminded him. "This isn't your first birthday party. Just remember to give special attention to your fellow monarchs," he glanced down at the fidgeting boy and offered a reassuring smile, "and just have fun."
Alfred answered with a weak smile of his own and turned to face the door. Just past those grand double doors were the most important people of the Four Kingdoms. If he messed up (again, his thoughts added), his father would only see him as even less than what he saw before. 'If that happens,' Alfred swallowed, 'he probably won't want to see me for a while let alone talk to me about the Faerie Queen.'
When he almost set a noble's cloak on fire after knocking over some candles, and then proceeded to throw the entire punch bowl on him in attempts to put it out during his previous birthday party, Alfred had gone without dinner for almost half a week and were stripped of his rights to go outside the palace for a month. That included the gardens and even his horse-riding and hunting lessons had been cancelled. Alfred had never felt so suffocated. Never again did he want to feel so trapped, especially when his normal schedule already felt so unbearable.
As the noise in the grand hall began to fade, Alfred thought back to happier days. It was his way of coping and concentrating, which were both sorely needed at times like these.
His thoughts travelled back to his favourite place in the world: his secret spot at the apple tree. But the journey there was just as enthralling. The earthy smell of the forest. The brilliance of the sun. The sweetness of the summer breeze. Most of all, the raw feeling of freedom and absolute liberation as he raced down that familiar hill.
And then suddenly, a pair of bright, green eyes contrasted with his memories. His ears filled with rare laughter and the crisp sound of pages turning under the shade. Reddening cheeks and a warm smile coloured his mind. The sweet smell of ripe apples wafted up his nose.
The doors to the grand hall swung open and Alfred snapped back into reality. Immediately willing his legs to follow Yao out the doors, he tried not to stumble but it wasn't easy when his mind was still filled with memories of Arthur. Remembering the older boy hadn't been intentional so even as he faced his guests – his audience – Alfred was feeling even more distraught than before.
Before he knew it, his time with Arthur was now one of his favourite memories. Not only that, but within the few short weeks they had known each other, Arthur was gradually becoming an irreplaceable existence. That fact became painfully clear as Alfred scanned the crowd and Arthur was still not there.
The applause that welcomed him faded as the guests awaited Alfred's speech. He always said a few words before his birthday, and they were probably too short to even be called a speech, but nonetheless, they were necessary. Alfred took a shaky breath. "I'd like to thank everyone for coming today to attend my birthday." His voice cracked, causing the majority of the crowd to chuckle. Willing his blush to fade, Alfred laughed nervously and continued. "I know the journey for most of you was long and uncomfortable, so I hope you will take the chance to relax and regain some strength during tonight's festivities. Another year has gone by for me as Spades' Prince, and I'd like to thank everyone who supported not only me and my family during difficult times, but the Kingdom of Spades as well. Many perils could not have been avoided without your support."
Alfred paused for the polite applause, taking this chance to breathe. He felt like a caged animal under the watchful eyes of all these people, but nothing could compare to the feeling of his father's gaze burning a hole into the back of his head. Alfred hurried to end his speech. "Without further ado, please continue to enjoy the refreshments. Dinner will be served shortly. Thank you all again for being here tonight. I look forward to being in your care for another year, and hopefully, for many more to come."
A richer applause echoed around the hall as Alfred bowed and took his throne beside his mother. Sitting on his throne, Alfred wanted nothing more than to just melt into his seat, but alas, his duty as Prince would not let him. Letting his body click into that firm and proper posture obtained from the lessons given to him the moment he learned to sit, Alfred could only let himself mentally relax.
For the next hour, Alfred sat in his throne unable to move as the other nobles socialized, drank, and nibbled on little appetizers. For the hosting royals, all the socializing – all the moving – would and could only be done after dinner. For now, the royal family could only sit on their throne and look pretty, sometimes getting introduced to newcomers of certain noble families, but that was just about as exciting as it could get for now.
Of course, Alfred thought, sitting still at a party wasn't as bad as posing for painting sessions but it was certainly a close second.
However, as bored as Alfred was, his nervous anticipation was stronger. As he sat on his throne, his eyes constantly scanned the crowd. It made him dizzy to mentally rummage through the colourful suits and gowns, but he wouldn't let himself stop. The knot in his stomach only grew tighter the longer he searched, hoping to find his best friend among the flashes of celebratory colours.
But when dinner was announced, Alfred felt the knot unravel into something worse than anxiousness: hopelessness. Although the stomach clenching had passed, Alfred felt as if there was a dark hole taking shape in place of it. Deep inside, Alfred knew it was really unlikely that Arthur was going to show up, because after all, Arthur was never late. So as the Prince sat into his chair at the high table, he felt he had no choice but to accept the fact that Arthur would never come. Then again, Alfred wasn't too surprised considering how their reunion had turned out.
The Prince grimaced and dryly swallowed his mouthful of food. Now that he thought about it, he would much rather prefer the nervous knot he had in his stomach over this new bottomless pit. Maybe that way he could at least know what his food tasted like.
Despite it all, Alfred thought dinner passed by in a blur. He felt a little disheartened seeing his usually finished dishes get taken away with more than half the food remaining, but he couldn't bring himself to linger on the thought of a possible upset stomach in the near future. Instead, even as the music and dancing began, Alfred found himself hopelessly staring at the doors to the grand hall with an empty gaze and an empty mind.
Alfred realized he must have been standing there much longer than he had thought when he was briefly shaken out of his trance by the gentle hand of his mother. He turned his blue eyes towards her, startled. ". . . Mom?"
The Queen, simply dazzling tonight in her new gown stitched with gold lace and purple silk, gave her son a questioning smile. "Something on your mind? You've been standing here frozen stiff for so long, our guests are beginning to wonder if you're alright."
Alfred looked away, a little ashamed to be caught. If his mother had to personally tend to him that could only mean his behaviour had already been noticed by the majority of the guests. But in all honesty, that wasn't what Alfred was worried about. If the guests knew, then no doubt so did his father. Alfred was more worried about the scolding he would get after. "Sorry, Mother," he mumbled. "I'll. . . go find something to do."
"Just one minute, mister," she placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from walking off. "With that expression you're going to scare our guests even more. Won't you tell me what's wrong? It's unlike you to be so down."
Alfred looked up at his mother, debating whether or not to tell her, but then again, even if he didn't say anything, his mother would read his thoughts. So he began reluctantly, "I invited someone, but I don't think they're coming."
"Oh? And why not?"
"We. . . kind of had a fight. He's probably still too mad at me to come." He let his mind flash back to yesterday for what felt like the millionth time and willed himself to stare into his mother's eyes, signalling that he was allowing his mother to search through his memories. Alfred was never quite good with words – although the main reason was most likely his young age – so when he needed something off his chest and couldn't find the right way to explain it, what better to do than turn to the psychic?
A second passed in silence until the Queen blinked, her curious expression turning to that of sympathy and understanding. Alfred then shied away. "It's my fault, isn't it? It's my fault Arthur won't come tonight."
"Oh, my precious child, you always were too quick to jump to conclusions." The Queen fondly combed her fingers through Alfred's hair. "However I do believe that if your friend doesn't attend tonight's celebration, it's because he's just as worried as you are now."
Alfred looked utterly confused. "Why would he be worried?"
The Queen smiled. Her baby-blue eyes were soft and thoughtful as she continued patting Alfred's hair, comforting him. "From what I can see, he's probably too worried that you're still mad at him to come."
"But I'm not anymore, really!" Alfred paused. "Well. . . maybe just a little. It's his fault he didn't tell me that he was spending time with someone else! Friends don't keep secrets from each other!"
There was a moment of silence between the two. Then Alfred, realizing what he had just said, quickly shrunk in on himself – the very definition of guilt plastered on his young face.
The Queen tried to reason with her son. Clearly, her son's conscience could only do so much and Lord knows how stubborn this boy could be. "Don't you think there is a reason why he kept it from you? Don't you think he had the right to be heard before you made your accusations?"
Alfred winced. "Yes."
"And – correct me if I'm wrong – is it true that friends not only have to be honest with each other, but trust each other as well?"
". . . Yes."
"And is that what you did?"
". . . No."
"Alfred, no matter how betrayed you felt you need to think before you act. And that applies to any situation. Whether it's with your friends or with important contacts of this kingdom a Prince needs to be level-headed, do you understand?"
Alfred nodded glumly, eyes glued to the floor.
Seeing her son's face softened the Queen's heart and she stroked a finger down the boy's cheek, causing the Prince to shyly glance up at her. She smiled and her gentle caress quickly turned into a pinch. Holding her son's cheek between her forefinger and thumb, the Queen gave the skin a teasing pull. "As long as you understand then, darling." She let go of Alfred's cheek and he rubbed the sore skin, giggling.
"Thanks, Mom." Alfred grinned up at her. He wanted nothing more than to hug her right there and then (because he sorely needed a hug right now) but when under the scrutiny of the guests, public displays of affection were a touchy subject.
Those who appreciated the traditional way of things scorned any signs of strong emotion. They believed that those of high-class must always maintain pride and dignity, so for them, emotion equaled the loss of such worth. The Kingdom of Spades and the Kingdom of Clubs had mutual respect for traditions such as these – which was about as close as either kingdom could get to mutual respect for each other. That, and the pact renewed every ten years which ended the bloody rivalry between the two kingdoms a century ago.
The other side of the spectrum, however, was completely different. The Kingdom of Diamonds and the Kingdom of Hearts saw emotions as pure and beautiful. Kisses were often exchanged as greetings, hugs were basically currency, and love was like a second language. They had moved on from old traditions and made their own modern ones, but still respected the old ways to maintain the precious peace that has yet to be disrupted in either kingdoms.
The Queen of Spades, seeing that her son's bright smile hid tinges of hesitation and inner-conflict, cupped his face between her hands and planted a soft kiss on the top of his head. It was a smart move – demonstrating affection while maintaining the grace and dignity the people of Spades respected so much. "Better?" the Queen asked.
Alfred beamed. "Better."
"Excellent. Then it's time for you to go around and great our guests properly, including the children from the other kingdoms."
Alfred's expression soured. "Even Ivan?"
The Queen laughed. "Especially Ivan." With a gentle hand on Alfred's back, she guided him along. Alfred pouted, remembering that his father had said the exact words. At least his mother didn't sound like she was threatening him.
It didn't take long to find the royal family of Clubs. Their green attire glowed under the light of the chandeliers and their imposing figures easily towered over anyone they spoke to, intimidating even those standing within a ten foot radius. When Alfred and his mother approached, the King of Clubs glanced over and immediately smiled in greeting, excusing himself from the current conversation he was having with another noble.
"Amelia!" The King of Clubs beamed at the Queen of Spades. "How wonderful of you to grace us with your presence."
Beside him, the Queen of Clubs scoffed. "I suppose it must have been quite the task for you to make your way over to us seeing as it has been nearly an hour since dinner. You must be quite popular tonight," she commented. It would've been hard to determine whether or not her tone was hostile, but after so many encounters, the Queen of Spades immediately knew that that was a backhanded compliment.
Nonetheless, Alfred's mother nodded politely. "Nicolas. Anna. Always a pleasure to see you again."
Then King Nicolas turned to Alfred who was desperately trying not to run away. Something about the King of Clubs infamous wide smile was like seeing a wild animal bare its hungry teeth at you – pearly-whites, gums and all. "Greetings, little Alfred. Do you still remember me? It's been year since we last met."
Alfred bowed at the waist. "Good evening, King Nicolas. Of course I still remember. It would be very difficult not to," he answered. The King of Clubs let out a boisterous laugh and Alfred cracked a small smile. The King and Queen of Clubs were polar opposites in terms of appearance – the Queen with her high cheekbones and platinum blonde hair and the King with his dark, scruffy beard and slightly tanned complexion – but their personalities were practically identical. Both were cold, merciless, and calculating. King Nicolas just liked hiding it behind a smile, which made him all the more terrifying. "Thank you for coming to my birthday party, King Nicolas."
"Aw come now Alfred, didn't I tell you to call me Uncle? Your father and I are very close after all."
Were very close, Alfred wanted to point out, but he smiled anyway. "Right. Thank you for coming, Uncle Nicolas."
The King of Clubs nodded happily in approval and turned to his wife. "Where's Ivan, dear? He should do some catching up with the birthday boy. It's been such a while since they've had a chance to properly talk."
Not sympathetic in the least, Queen Anna sniffed and quickly turned to look down to the end of the refreshment table, calling out a sharp, "Ivan!" as if she always knew where her son was at all times. Almost immediately, a head peaked out from behind the punch bowl and Alfred could see Ivan's large violet eyes peering at them in curiosity. The Queen of Clubs waved him over. "Come here, Ivan."
As he approached, Alfred saw Ivan's four-year-old younger sister, Natalya, following close behind, a small hand grabbing onto her brother's coat. Alfred always liked Natalya better than her brother and she practically clung to him every time they had a playdate, but ever since the fight the two boys had, she's been doing nothing but glare at him with wary eyes.
"Ivan, did you wish Alfred a happy birthday yet?" King Nicolas asked, placing a hand on his son's shoulder.
Ivan shook his head and turned his clear eyes to Alfred. With the same, unreadable smile Alfred couldn't find it in himself to like, Ivan said, "Happy birthday, Alfred."
"Thanks," he mumbled in response. Ivan was about a year younger than him and a few inches shorter. His small, skinny build made it practically impossible for Alfred to say or do anything bad against the Prince of Clubs without having Yao chasing him down for retaliation.
"Well then, now that our boys are reunited, how about we let them play on their own," King Nicolas suggested, clapping his hands together as if it was the best idea in the world and as if he had no idea that the last time the boys were left alone, a fist-fight broke out. Then again, it wasn't Ivan who had walked away with an almost broken nose.
With slight hesitation on her face, Alfred's mother nodded and looked to her son. "Play nice, you understand? We'll be back to check up on you later."
"Come now, Amelia, the boys are old enough to take care of themselves now. Why, when I was younger and we were having the heaviest snow in centuries. . ." Alfred watched as the King of Clubs steered his mother away from them, his wife by his side, boasting about something extreme his father had made him go through when he was but Alfred and Ivan's age. The King's loud laugh could be heard even after they disappeared into the crowd.
"Your nose seems to have healed well, Alfred."
Alfred turned to the other prince, trying to put on a polite smile. "Thanks for your. . . concern, Ivan. I guess I should consider myself lucky that your aim was slightly off."
"Slightly off? Oh no, Alfred, I never miss. I was aiming for the frown you had on your face that day. I like your smile so much better. It suits you more."
Alfred grinned. "Good thing my teeth weren't knocked out or else I wouldn't be smiling much, now would I?" Both boys laughed like nothing could be funnier. Ivan might look more like his mother with his violet eyes and pale, blond hair, but his personality most definitely came from his father as did trait of having an intimidating smile.
"Don't hurt my brother!" a little voice spoke out, interrupting the conversation. Both princes turned to Natalya who was furiously pouting up at Alfred while clinging to her brother's coat in a possessive manner. "No more fighting!"
To be honest, Alfred had always felt a little guilty about the incident since he was the one to throw the first punch, and it didn't help that Natalya, someone he actually didn't mind playing with from the Clubs palace, now saw him as a threat. But he did his best to swallow his guilt and keep his temper cool. "Only if someone watches his mouth and doesn't insult someone else's mother," he said, glancing over at Ivan.
For a second, Ivan looked as if he was truly apologetic, as his eyes saddened a little and his mouth twitched downwards, but his expression quickly switched back into that default smile he always had as if the guilt had never been there in the first place. "I didn't mean for my words to sound so horrible since I was only saying the truth, but since you were so mad over it, I'll say sorry if that makes you feel better."
Alfred debated for a second. He wanted nothing more than to make Ivan admit provoking him (even if he said he didn't mean it) and apologize to him a thousand times over, but the way he offered it rubbed Alfred the wrong way and made him realize that even if Ivan did apologize, what's done is done and Alfred would get no pleasure from hearing him say it now. "Sometimes, saying the truth isn't always the best choice," Alfred grumbled, letting the option of making Ivan apologize go.
The Clubs' Prince quirked his head to the side. "Then it's better living a lie?" The tone made Alfred's annoyance rise, but he forced it back down. He knew of Ivan's ability to mask his emotions with feigned innocence and nothing pissed him off more, but seeing how genuinely curious Ivan was, he couldn't bring himself to hate him.
". . . No, but sometimes you need to take other people's feelings into consideration. . ." he paused, not knowing if he should continue. ". . . What you said last time really hurt, ya know? How would you like it if I said something like that to you?"
When Ivan's smile saddened ever so slightly, it stayed that way this time. "Sorry. . . I didn't mean to."
Alfred could barely believe what he heard and had to remind himself to close his gaping mouth. It was even harder to believe that he was actually starting to feel sympathy towards Ivan, but he had to admit, it was a pleasant surprise. "Nah, it's okay. I know you're kinda on the insensitive side." He kept his tone friendly or else, knowing Ivan, it would've been taken literally.
"My parents told me that before," Ivan admitted. "But they didn't say it was a bad thing. Papa told me that some people see honesty as insensitivity. But I think telling people the truth, no matter how bad it is, would be better than lying to them. Because people have to face the truth eventually."
There was a lot of truth to Ivan's words and Alfred knew it. His mother had told him the same thing as well as most of his tutors, but he just couldn't understand it, let alone accept it. He would much rather live on as happily as he could instead of carrying a heavy burden – the truth could always be dealt with later.
"I guess you're kinda right," Alfred shrugged easily, then quickly switching to eye Ivan with a warning. "But my mom isn't going to die and that's the truth."
Ivan said nothing against him. "If you say so," he responded simply. He had learned from his past mistakes.
"No. . . no more fighting?" Natalya took a tiny step out of her brother's shadow towards Alfred, a hesitant glare still on her baby-face. Everyone in both the palaces of Spades and Clubs knew that Natalya adored Alfred, second to her big brother of course, so even she was eager for the two to reconcile.
The two princes exchanged glances and Alfred smirked. "I wouldn't say no more fighting. . . but we'll try not to kill each other." Ivan smiled in good humour but Natalya looked mortified, as if the two boys she looked up to as brothers would really end each other's lives at any moment.
"I'll marry Brother and protect him!" she vowed, standing in front of Ivan. "Then no one can hurt him!"
Ivan sighed tiredly. This wasn't the first time they've had this conversation and it definitely wasn't the first time Alfred heard it either. "Natalya, I can protect myself just fine."
"No! Brother needs me as a wife to protect him."
"Then can't you just be my bodyguard then?"
"No! I will marry Brother!"
"Natalya. . ."
"Brother, marry me!"
Ivan laughed a little nervously. "Maybe when we get older. . ."
Alfred snickered. Oddly enough if anyone could scare Ivan, it was his little sister. But just when he was about to take pity on the other prince and change the subject, a Spades' servant approached him and made his presence known with a bow. "Your Highness, pardon me for interrupting."
Alfred nodded in acknowledgement. "What is it?"
"There is a young boy at the gates asking to be let into the palace. He's saying he knows you and that he's been given an invitation from you?"
Alfred froze. But although his body couldn't seem to move, his heart was certainly up and running. In fact it felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. "A. . . boy?" he replied dumbly. Part of him knew who it was – there could be no one else. But he had to make sure. "What's his name?" he demanded. He just had to make sure it was-
"Arthur Kirkland, Your Highness."
And that was all it took for the Prince to go flying towards the door in a very un-princely manner. In order to leave the room as fast as possible, he had to cut across the dance floor which was currently filled to the very edges with dancing couples of all kingdoms. Alfred was able to time it so that he could dodge the dancers without knocking anyone over, but in his hurry, it was inevitable that he stepped on a few toes and tripped over some dress hems. The cries of surprise and protest were not few and Alfred winced. He would definitely be hearing about this later.
What he didn't realize, however, was how soon he would hear about it. Just as he was about to pass the doorway, his wrist was firmly caught by a hand and he was practically whipped around to face none other than Yao's very displeased face towering over him. Without a word, Yao dragged him out the door and to the side where it was void of people and out of earshot. All the while, Alfred was trying his best to free himself, but under Yao's vise-like grip, he was unwillingly pulled along.
"What is the meaning of you running across the hall like a wild child?" Yao demanded, tone quiet but harsh. "If your father saw you, do you have any idea how displeased he would be? Especially after yesterday's talk? Did absolutely nothing get into that little head of yours?"
At this point, Alfred couldn't find it in himself to worry. Not when the person he's been desperately wanting to see is right outside the gates. "Yao, I'm sorry, I know running was wrong, but can I please, please, please explain later?"
"No, you either explain now or face the wrath of your father. You know how he hates to be caught without answers and if his guest go running to him demanding to know why you've been trampling all over their feet. . ." Yao inhaled deeply, "then you'll be facing worse consequences than me yelling at you for being so disrespectful."
Letting out an exasperated groan, Alfred gave in. "He's here, Yao! The friend that I was telling you about? I invited him and he didn't show up in time so I thought he wasn't coming, but he came! He actually came! Now I can actually go talk to him!"
Not entirely convinced that the arrival of a friend was worth that much excitement and ignorance of the King's warning, Yao raised an eyebrow and ever slightly loosened his grip. "You mean to say you actually invited him to the palace? A commoner?"
Alfred stomped his feet impatiently. "He's not a commoner, he's my best friend! So of course I would invite him over for my birthday."
Yao mentally slapped a hand to his forehead. Now things were going to get even more delicate to explain to the King. "Oh Alfred, you just love to see me get in trouble, don't you?" he muttered mostly to himself and shaking his head.
"What? No, of course not, but can you let me go now? I'll explain to Father later, I promise!"
Yao sighed and released his grasp. "Fine. Off you go. But the moment you get back I'm taking you to see your father, understand?"
"Okay, okay, fine." Alfred took off running. "Thanks, Yao!"
"No running, Alfred!" the Jack called after him, but to no avail. After seeing the Prince disappear from sight, he sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And to think it'll get worse when he reaches his teenage years. If that boy ever has a rebellious stage, I'm retiring."
With no other choice than to face the King, he turned to walk back into the grand hall, a tired scowl on his face and mutters of how disobedient children are these days seething from his mouth.
Outside the palace walls, Arthur stood at the gates shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. In his hands was Alfred's birthday present, neatly wrapped by his mother and awkwardly taped by him. He had been so excited to make it, but after how much trouble it had caused, Arthur now looked at the gift with mixed feelings.
"If our friendship gets ruined by you, don't think I won't burn you," he chided at the gift. But despite his words, he knew that even if Alfred didn't want to be friends with him anymore, he probably couldn't bring himself to destroy the thing he had worked so hard to make. "Fine, I probably won't burn you. I'll just throw you at him. Maybe that'll wake him up and put some sense back into him." Arthur nodded contently. Yes, that's exactly what he'll do.
But the moment he heard a familiar voice cry out "Arthur!" his resolve crumbled and was instantly replaced with the nervousness he's had since morning. Turning towards the sound, he was a little surprised to see Alfred come bounding towards him with a huge grin on his face, not at all like the angry boy he had imagined he'd face for being late.
"Arthur!" the Prince shouted again in glee, racing down the stairs towards the farm boy. Without a second delay, Alfred crashed into Arthur for a huge hug, almost throwing the older boy off his feet. Despite Arthur's complaints about him being heavy, Alfred couldn't be happier or more relieved. "You came, Arthur, you came! Thank God you actually came!" Even when both had settled on their feet, Alfred refused to let go.
Luckily, Arthur didn't seem to mind. His own nervousness slowly dissipated seeing how happily he was being received. "Of course I came," he smiled, letting a hand go of the gift crushed between them to awkwardly slide it out of the embrace to hug the boy back. "I got an invitation, didn't I?"
Alfred finally let go, but only to look at Arthur with a pout. "But you were late! I waited for you and looked for you but you weren't there at nine. And you're never late!"
Arthur's cheeks coloured and he looked away sheepishly. "Ah, I uh. . . I'm sorry about that. I was just. . . getting something ready." At least it wasn't a total lie. It didn't take too long since he had the faeries help, but the main reason for his tardiness was his own reluctance to come. If it wasn't for his mother's constant persuading, he wouldn't have been able to push aside his nervousness to come to tonight's party.
"Getting something ready?"
Hearing the suspicion in Alfred's voice made Arthur quickly look up. "It's nothing bad, honest! It's. . . actually something I prepared for you. A surprise of sorts."
The suspicion was instantly gone from Alfred's face and was replaced with a look of excitement. "A surprise? For me?"
Seeing how blatantly impatient Alfred looked, those wide blue eyes glittering under the light of the lanterns, Arthur nodded shyly. "I can show you later. But first I have to greet your-"
"No, show me now!"
". . . Now?"
"Yeah!"
"But. . . I don't have it with me." Arthur paused. "Actually I can't have it with me, that's why I have to show you."
"Then show me!"
"It's. . . not exactly close by though."
"Oh that's okay!"
Arthur frowned, uncertain. "Alfred, it's not something I can just show you and come back right away. Shouldn't you ask your parents first? Actually, shouldn't I meet them first and thank them for inviting me?"
"Well technically I was the one who invited you and I hadn't really told them about you coming since they were busy and all so you don't actually have to meet them."
Arthur's frown deepened. So that's why his name wasn't on the guest list. "That wouldn't be very polite of me though," he argued. His mother had explicitly made it clear that he must great the King and Queen, even if the Prince had invited him. They were the head of the most powerful of the Four Kingdoms after all.
But Alfred waved if off. "Nah, it's okay. I can just explain when I get back. You can meet them then!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yup! Now c'mon, let's hurry up and go! I wanna see what this surprise is."
"It's not as great as you're making it out to be," Arthur said. "But alright, alright I'll show you. Don't blame me if you get in trouble. And stop pulling me! Do you even know where we're going? I'm the one taking you there, idiot!"
Alfred only laughed as he dragged Arthur by the hand through the palace grounds and away from the party. Yao and his father can wait. Besides, it's not like he said when he'd be back.
"Are we there yet?"
"Not yet."
With a cloth covering his eyes, he couldn't see a thing. But he knew they were passing through a forest. The dirt and pebbles crunching underneath their feet as well as the earthy, nighttime smell of trees gave away the setting. The crickets were singing loudly, almost loud enough to drown out the sound of the river. But with his eyes covered, his ears sharpened and Alfred knew Arthur was leading them down the river. There really was only one main river that traced around and over the land of Spades.
"Are we there yet now?"
"Not yet, Alfred."
"Still not yet?"
"No."
". . . What about now?"
"Alfred."
"How 'bout now?"
"Alfred, stop that."
"Now?"
"No."
"Now?"
"No, Alfred."
"Now?"
"No!"
Alfred burst into giggles and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm so nice to you," Arthur grumbled, playfully whacking Alfred over the head. "Be patient, Alfred, we're almost there."
"I know, I know," Alfred mused. "Just don't crash me into a tree or something."
"Maybe I should," Arthur muttered.
In reality, Alfred definitely wouldn't mind if they kept walking for a little while longer. The relief that he felt knowing that Arthur wasn't mad at him grew warmer in his chest. However at the same time, Alfred felt strangely unsettled at how hot this warmth was actually growing. Just like when Arthur appeared in his thoughts back before Alfred made his appearance before the guests in the grand hall, the same warmth and confusion had arisen. First came the warmth – the confusion and distraught came afterwards. It was just like now, how Arthur's hand around his own felt very comforting and familiar, yet it was like needles were lightly pricking his skin at the same time, making his hands sweat and his heart thump nervously.
"Alright, we're here." Arthur's voice brought Alfred out of his thoughts. When their hands separated, Alfred's hand quickly fell cold at the loss of contact.
But his excitement was sparked back to life when Arthur removed his blindfold. Alfred could hardly believe what he was seeing. They were standing in front of their apple tree but Alfred was looking at it at a whole new light – literally.
The entire tree was illuminated in a soft golden light, as if each branch and leaf ran gold through its veins. Draped across the branches and all around the tree were strings of beaded light. Even the apples were encased in a glittering glow, making them the exact picture of the magical golden apples Alfred often read about in his storybooks.
Alfred looked around from where they were standing. All around them were several oil lanterns to cast away the night shadows. Some hung on trees; others were placed on rocks. But the light of each lantern shone a different shade. To Alfred it looked like the rainbow had decided to live on in the night and separated its colours into every lantern.
Even the river was different than usual. Its waters were illuminated with cyan light and lazily drifting above its waters were illusions of blue goldfish, their lace-like tails leaving trails of light in their wake.
"H-Happy birthday, Alfred."
The Prince turned to his best friend. Arthur stood at the base of the apple tree with a nervous smile on his face, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. His usually flaxen hair gleamed an unearthly gold under the magic of the tree, the light further illuminating the blush on his cheeks and the uncertainty in his eyes.
Alfred's astounded mouth closed into a huge smile and his heart swelled in inexplicable joy. In his eyes, Arthur was the best thing there. Of course, everything looked absolutely too amazing for words, but with Arthur being there, it just made everything all the more incredible; it made the picture perfect. It wouldn't have been complete without Arthur standing there looking so anxious and awkward.
Noticing the lack of response and abundance of staring, Arthur's nervous little smile waned. "W-What is it? Why are you staring at me like that?"
Alfred's smile only grew bigger.
"W-Why aren't you saying anything?" Arthur sputtered, looking a little panicked. Knowing Alfred, he would've ran him over in a hug long ago if he was happy. He definitely did not expect the Prince to be staring at him with such a large grin on his face in silence. But if he was smiling it couldn't be too bad, right? "Alfred, say something already!"
That's when Alfred's happiness spilled over and shook him out of his euphoric shock. Finally sprinting over, he collided into Arthur for a breathtaking hug. "Did you really do all of this for me?"
"Well I-. . . it was really the faeries' idea so I had a bit of help. . ." he faltered, noticing how Alfred was staring up at him. It didn't help that he wasn't letting him go from the hug and those large blue eyes were so damn close. "D-Don't get me wrong!" he stammered, "I only did this b-because it's your birthday, okay? Don't expect me to do this for you every day or something. It-It's only because today is a special occasion and I thought that, well, since it would be the first birthday we would be celebrating together I would put together something extra so I just asked the faeries for help and-" he stopped when Alfred burst into laughter. "What? What did I say?!"
Alfred teasingly narrowed his eyes and leaned closer into Arthur's face. "I thought you said it was the faeries' idea." He watched in amusement as Arthur's face gradually darkened in colour.
Frantically turning his face away from Alfred's soul-reading gaze, Arthur tried to make an excuse. "I-It was their idea! I just helped, that's all!" In the silence that followed, Arthur realized nothing he said would fool Alfred now. He hesitantly turning his eyes to peak. Seeing Alfred's smug face confirmed his thoughts. "Bollocks," Arthur cursed quietly, giving up. "Alright, alright, I admit it, it was my idea."
Alfred grinned. "I knew it. You don't have to be embarrassed by it though!"
The farm boy made a noise at the back of his throat, probably in weak complaint. Then he turned his face back to look at Alfred with the same nervous expression he had before. "Do. . . do you like it?"
"Like it?" Alfred squeezed Arthur harder and somehow managed to jump up and down with the taller boy in his embrace. "I love it! This is the best birthday present ever! No one's ever done something like this for me before."
Arthur gently wriggled out of Alfred's hug, a shy smile on his face. "Actually, this isn't really your present."
"It's not?"
"Well I guess you can say it's not the main part of it. . ." Arthur walked to the base of the tree and picked the wrapped up gift at its roots. Walking back, he looked more nervous than he did before as he handed the gift to Alfred without a word.
"Another present?" Alfred asked, sitting down by the river to open it.
Arthur sat down next to him. "Technically, this is your actual present." Then he mumbled, "Everything else was just to set the mood."
"Arthur, you're spoiling me," Alfred teased.
"Oh shut up and just open it."
Curious, Alfred tore through the wrapping paper, the sound a little harsh against the chirping of crickets and caused both boys to simultaneously wince at the first rip. Catching each other's actions, they exchanged glances and giggled. Then Alfred continued to unwrap the gift and let out a half-gasp, half-squeak when it was revealed.
Arthur smiled at the reaction, albeit still a little cautiously. "It's not perfect," he admitted, putting the discarded wrapping paper to the side so Alfred could see the gift better, "but it's unique. The only one of its kind."
For the second time that night, Alfred was awed into silence. In his lap was the most beautiful notebook he had ever seen. The blue leather cover was soft to the touch and engraved at the front was the golden symbol of Spades, a crown resting on its point. Feeling something on its spine, Alfred turned to see the initials A.F.J. written in golden cursive near its base. But that apparently wasn't all. Something caught his eye on the back cover and when Alfred turned it over, his breath caught in his throat.
In the same gold printing used for the symbol of Spades and Alfred's initials was Alfred and Arthur's apple tree sprawled out gracefully on the back cover. Its many branches and leaves reached out to the corners of the book and little fruits dangled from them, looking as if they were ready to fall right off. The silhouette looked so real Alfred could swear it was moving. No, wait. It really was moving. There were even little birds flying to and from the tree.
"This is what I've been working on all week for you," Arthur explained, feeling his nerves settle a little seeing how hungrily Alfred was drinking in the gift.
"You. . . made this?" Alfred asked incredulously.
A tad insulted, Arthur huffed. "I did! Well, of course I had help, but everything you're holding there was designed and put together by me. Speaking of which, you owe Erika an apology. If it wasn't for her and her father I wouldn't have learned how to make this for you."
Alfred blinked. "What?"
"The reason I was spending time with her was because I was learning how to make this notebook for you," Arthur sighed tiredly. "That's all. Not because I was trying to replace you or whatever other silly things you were thinking about that day."
"Oh. . . so that's why," Alfred said, laughing guiltily. Then he paused, realizing just how silly he had reacted the other day. "Sorry, Arthur. I really am. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."
Arthur smirked. "Apology accepted. But it's not just me you owe an apology to. Make sure to say sorry to Erika too."
"I will, I will." Alfred looked back down at his new notebook. Excitement made its way back up his throat and he giggled. "Oh gosh, I can't wait to write in this! I'll write in it every day, I promise!"
"Why are you promising me?" Arthur laughed. "It's your notebook, you can do whatever you want with it." But then his expression quickly darkened, realizing what he had just said. "Just don't ruin it."
"I won't!" Alfred reassured, brushing his hand over the front cover fondly. "How can I when it's so awesome?!" He looked over at Arthur with startling genuineness in his bright blue eyes. "Arthur, this is seriously the best thing I've ever gotten before. Thank you so much!" He flung his arms around the other boy, stretching a little from how they were sitting.
Arthur used a hand to gently touch the boy's arm, a timid smile on his face. It's only been recently that Arthur's been responding to Alfred's hugs, since they came far too often for Arthur's tastes. But it's because of how frequently Alfred gives him hugs that Arthur knew the difference between each one. This one wasn't quite like the others – it was sincere; mature. This was one of the hugs that weren't unwanted or unnecessary and Arthur warmly welcomed it with a slightly faster-beating heart.
"Is it honestly the best thing you've ever gotten as a gift?" Arthur mused, his breath tickling Alfred's ear. "That's a little hard to believe considering how you're a prince. You probably get gifts a hundred times more expensive than this."
"It's not the same though," Alfred said, letting go to shake his head. "They don't make things by themselves or put any thought into it. They pay other people to make them and sure, some of them are really cool, but. . . it's just not the same, you know?"
"But didn't they come up with the ideas? That counts for something, doesn't it?"
"No, even that doesn't happen anymore. They would just pay a bunch of people to come up with something, or have a competition and they choose which one they like best."
"Oh. . ." So maybe royalty wasn't as nice as Arthur had originally thought. But it must be nice to be able to use money so conveniently.
"That's why I'll take special care of this, because you made this with your own hands and ideas! But seriously, Arthur, how did you make the tree move like this? It's amazing."
Blushing at the compliments he's not used to receiving, Arthur tried to play it cool. "It's not that hard, really. I just added some magic ingredients to the material and casted a charm to help it move. It's the stuff I've written in my journal about." He pointed at the fish floating over the river. "It's how I made those too. Everything you see here are things I've learned from others and they're all written in my journal so I can remember. "
"You have to teach me," Alfred insisted, reaching out a hand to try and touch the flying fish. Sensing his touch, they avoided his hand and instead, circled around his hand and up his arm, playing a little game of tag. Ecstatic, Alfred tried to catch one but when he finally managed to get one, it disappeared and reappeared to the side of his fist, like smoke.
Arthur raised an amused eyebrow. "And here I thought you weren't interested in anything but dragons and Attack Magic."
"That's 'cause I didn't know what they were for or what they could do!" the Prince argued. "Promise me you'll teach me some time?"
Arthur laughed and relented. "Alright, alright, I will."
"Yay! I can't wait!" Placing his precious journal on a rock away from the water, Alfred stood up and walked up the small hill to try and get a closer look at the tree. "What about these? How did you make the tree glow like this?" He gently tugged at a branch and drops of water splashed onto his clothing. The stains glittered, as if Alfred had tiny patches of light on his shoulders.
"Careful!" Arthur called out, dashing over. "I had the faeries help me with this. I borrowed their faerie dust and encased it in water with a spell. Then I just divided them off into little dew droplets or put it over the trunk and branches. So everything you see is basically water. Careful you don't get yourself wet."
"Whoa that's cool," Alfred grinned, brushing away the remnants of the water and dust off his shoulders then seeing the sparkle on his fingers.
Arthur smiled in silent agreement, but then his expression changed. Suddenly he looked a little cautious and his words came out slow and careful. "The other day. . . you said you had a fight with the King." He glanced over at Alfred for his reaction "Is everything okay?"
". . . What?" Alfred had not been expecting that change of subject and his mind didn't quite follow what Arthur was relating to.
"Yesterday, when you came to find me, you told me that you had a fight with your dad and came looking for me to talk about it. Remember?"
Now that Alfred thought about it, he did tell Arthur about his reason for looking for him in the first place yesterday. But he had said it so lightheartedly and quickly he didn't think Arthur would notice or pay any mind to it, let alone remember to ask him about it. The memory of the fight with his father came flooding back and so did those hurtful words. The bitterness came back to weigh heavily on his chest, but the fact that a day had already past numbed the feeling.
Alfred's smile was a little lopsided. "I didn't think you would remember."
Arthur scoffed. "Of course I would. Not only did you say that you were sad 'cause you couldn't talk to me about it, but. . . you were acting really strange." Arthur wanted to add that it was also because there was something off about Alfred's smile that day but as if he could admit it out-loud.
Alfred didn't bother smiling this time, which Arthur thought to be an odd sight to see considering the boy always had a sunny smile on his face. Had the fight been so bad that it was still able to wipe away the Prince's smile in an instant? "Alfred, if you don't want to talk about it, it's okay."
"No, I'll tell you. I want to tell you." He sat down at the base of the tree, eyes stormy as he collected his thoughts. "Father used to always play with me when I was younger. He, my mom, and I spent a lot of time together. We used to always go out horseback riding or have picnics in the summer; and during the winter we would build snowmen together and read by the fireplace in the library. . .
"But then my mom got sick and nothing was the same anymore. For the past few years my dad has been nothing but grumpy. He almost never eats with us, always locked up in his study doing work, and every time he talks to me it's always about duty related stuff. Whenever I want to talk to him about something it's like he doesn't hear me or doesn't want to hear me. Especially when he tells me to do something I don't want to do and I complain, he doesn't listen to anything I say!"
Arthur took in Alfred's troubled expression a little unwillingly. Other than when they had their little fights, he had never seen Alfred with such a face. It suddenly made the Prince look much older than he actually was and it was during moments like these when Arthur felt strangely unsettled. This Alfred was unfamiliar to him.
And that frightened him. It frightened him knowing that he didn't know Alfred as well as he thought he did. There were still a lot of things Arthur has yet to learn about Alfred, and to be more specific, the Prince of Spades.
Alfred started picking at the grass in front of him. "Yesterday was the first time I had seen my father in a long time and the only reason he summoned me was to tell me to get along with the Ivan even though he knows we don't get along and we don't like each other."
"Ivan?"
"The Prince of Clubs."
Arthur swallowed. "Oh." He knew of the long, tangled history between the Spades and Clubs kingdoms. It wasn't a pretty one. It was a well-known fact that the royal families of both kingdoms couldn't get along with each other. Guess it still remains true to this day.
"Did you know, Arthur, that the last time Ivan and I met, he told me that my father doesn't visit Mom and I that often because he thinks I'm a lost cause and that. . . he knows that my mom's gonna die soon? So he's looking for another Queen?" He turned his eyes, teary and mad, towards Arthur. "He told me Mom's gonna die and that's a lie! He's lying!"
"I know, I know," Arthur placed a hand on the boy's back, rubbing soothing circles to calm him. "And what did you say?"
"I told him he was lying of course! And then I punched him."
Arthur looked mortified. "You. . . punched him?!"
"I couldn't hold back, Arthur, you've gotta understand!"
"Yeah, I-. . . I understand." Arthur nodded but was still in disbelief. To punch a prince. . . if someone other than someone of similar or higher rank did that they wouldn't live to tell the tale. "Then what happened?"
"We kept fighting until our parents showed up and broke up the fight. He almost broke my nose, that guy, and my father made me apologize and still wanted me to get along with him today!"
"Well, you were the one to throw the first punch."
"But he started it!"
"I agree, it was completely rude of him to say those things, but I don't think the right way to handle it was to punch him, Alfred," Arthur chided. "Especially if he's another prince that you'll probably have to work with in the future."
Alfred sniffed in annoyance. "I know that. My father yelled at me for hours after it happened." Then Alfred remembered him meeting said Prince of Clubs today and his anger cooled. "But he apologized today."
"Who, your father?"
Alfred snorted. "Him? Apologize? Never. No I meant Ivan."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I could barely believe it," Alfred smiled wryly. "And I actually think he meant it for once. We actually didn't fight today. Well, kinda. We disagreed, but we didn't fight for once."
"Well that's good. You can tell your father about that and maybe that'll make him happy."
Alfred hesitated. "He'll probably just say that it's my duty that I get along with Ivan anyway." Technically it was, but Alfred was never the one to pay much attention or care to his duties.
Arthur shrugged. "I still think you should tell him. It's a good thing after all and judging by the way he's been acting, good news is what your father needs to hear the most."
"I guess. Yao says that Spades hasn't been doing well for the past few years either. And with my mom being sick and all. . ."
"Yao. . . as in Yao Wang, the Jack of Spades?"
Alfred nodded and Arthur couldn't believe how easily Alfred was going around naming these important people like they were equals. Well, now that he thought about it, to Alfred, these were people he grew up with so obviously he was familiar with them.
"Then all the more reason to tell your father the good news about you and Ivan."
"Yeah. . . I guess I will. But sometimes Father just makes it so hard to talk to him. Sometimes I feel like he's doing it on purpose."
"But he's still your father, Alfred. If he was that nice to you and your mother before today then that means he's just worn out from all these bad things that's been happening. . ." Arthur paused. "You should try to get along with him whenever you get the chance. You never know what might happen."
The way Arthur had said that last part made Alfred turn to him. Then he noticed how downcast Arthur's eyes looked as they stared down at the hands in his lap.
Oh. Right. Arthur didn't have a father anymore. The guilt resurfaced and Alfred remembered the conversation he had with Arthur's mother the day before.
"I uh. . . heard about your father from your mom yesterday," Alfred said cautiously. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't be complaining about my father when yours isn't even here."
Arthur turned his head in surprise. He almost forgot Alfred really did meet his mother already. What conversation were they having that they brought up his father? Arthur mentally shook his head. It didn't really matter now anyway. It was actually sweet of Alfred to remember and feel guilty, even if he had no reason to be.
"It's okay, Alfred, you don't have to feel guilty for complaining. It's not like I can do anything about it anyway," Arthur assured the other boy. "Just. . . don't give up on your father, okay?"
"I won't. I'll keep trying." He hesitated to ask his next question. "Do. . . you remember anything about your father?"
Arthur shook his head. "Mom says he passed away in an accident when I was three. So I can't remember much about him except this one time. . . Well, the memory's really blurry but I think I was on the swings with him. He was carrying me on his lap and we were swinging together."
There was something about Arthur's bittersweet smile that made Alfred's chest tighten. He didn't like seeing Arthur sad even if he hid it behind a smile. He loved nothing better than to see Arthur smile that shy smile of his or to hear him laugh out loud. To Alfred, those were the most rewarding things he has ever experienced.
But before Alfred could say anything, Arthur shook his head to dismiss any stray thoughts. Turning to Alfred, he said, "Well, no matter. As long as you get along with your father, I'm happy."
"Yeah, alright, I know." He paused. "I uh. . . still have to talk to him about Titania too so. . ."
"You still haven't talked to him about it?!"
Alfred winced. "He's been too busy! I didn't even see him until yesterday and how can I ask him that when he's too busy telling me what to do?"
Arthur huffed, relenting. "Alright, fine. But just don't forget about it, okay? I don't want the Faerie Queen to hunt us down again after what happened."
"Hah, neither. . ."
The subject was dropped and when Arthur spoke again, his voice was gentle. "Alfred?"
"Yeah?"
"You're not a lost cause by the way. No matter what anyone says."
"Thanks, Arthur."
Any remaining talk of fathers – happy or not – or royal duties or unhappy memories eventually faded into the back of each of the boy's minds as they began to focus on catching up with each other about the past week. Both were eager to change the topic, now that temporary solutions were set, and hungrily delve into what had happened in each other's absence. Arthur went on about the magic he had learned and used and Alfred explained how a royal birthday party is prepared and perfectly executed. Alfred jokingly sling-shot a glittering branch to make it rain wet faerie dust on them (much to Arthur's annoyance because the stains were a pain to get out) and Arthur set his fish to chase after Alfred in revenge, making the Prince trip over his own feet trying to avoid being blinded by clouds of glowing, blue smoke.
When the fireworks began to go off, the two sat and watched them come alive. Some took shape of a dragon and roared away at the night sky before exploding. Others formed the Spades' symbol and flag, waving proudly. Flowers of all shapes and sizes bloomed in the sky above the castle and the trees, creating a picture perfect view from where the boys were sitting.
As the two children lay on their backs to look up into the night after the show was over, Alfred pointed out a shooting star. "Quick, Arthur! Make a wish!"
"Oh please, you don't believe those actually work, do you? It's just a myth made up for childr-"
"Shh! I'm making a wish!"
"Tsk, idiot." But he shut up nonetheless.
Alfred tightly shut his eyes. 'I wish Arthur and I will be together forever. No matter what happens!'
". . . What did you wish for?" Arthur asked after a while, regretfully curious.
"You can't say your wish out-loud, Arthur, or else it won't come true!"
Arthur flushed pink. "I-I knew that! I just. . . wanted to see if our wishes were the same."
"Arthur!" Alfred rolled over on his side to look at him, grinning wildly. "You made a wish?! Didn't you say it was just something for children?"
Arthur's cheeks darkened to red and even Alfred could tell under the pale light of the moon that Arthur didn't really believe that. "S-So what if I did. I still made a wish didn't I?"
"So what did you wish for?"
"Alfred!" Arthur rolled onto his side as well to face his best friend, mocking Alfred's previous actions. "Didn't you just say you can't say your wish out-loud or else it won't come true?"
Alfred pouted. Oh yeah he did say that. Arthur laughed at the boy's expression and rolled back to face the sky, an airy smile on his face.
But Alfred didn't. He kept looking at Arthur's face, half-lit by the golden light of the tree and half-illuminated by the brilliance of the moon. All of a sudden, he was hit with a strong sense of determination and he reached out to grab the hand closest to him, making Arthur turn to him in surprise.
Alfred stared into Arthur's eyes, startling the farm boy with how serious he looked. "Arthur, we'll be friends forever, won't we?"
After a moment, Arthur's eyes softened. "Forever's a long time, Alfred," he whispered.
"I know."
"We'll have fights."
"I'll try not to start them."
Arthur chuckled. "Same, but we'll still have them."
"I know."
Arthur thought for a tad. "You're a Prince. I'm just a farm boy."
"That doesn't matter," Alfred insisted, squeezing Arthur's hand.
"But it does! One day you'll be King, Alfred. I can't be beside you then."
Alfred thought about it. Arthur had a point. But there were ways around it. With new found determination he looked back into Arthur's eyes. "Then you can be my Queen."
Taken aback, it took a few seconds before Arthur's face flushed a brilliant colour. "D-Do you have any idea what that means?" he sputtered after recovering from the shock. When Alfred shook his head, he said, "That means we have to get married, Alfred."
Then it was Alfred's turn to blush. "Oh. . ." But for some reason he didn't feel totally against it. "W-Well whatever we'll eventually find a way. But even when I do become King. . . you'll still be my best friend, won't you Arthur? No matter what?"
At first, Arthur opened his mouth to continue on about all the possible trials friends can go through, but then he saw how intently Alfred's blue eyes were staring at him. The light of the moon made his eyes glow silver and the light from the tree made his hair shine a rich amber. To Arthur, Alfred looked unearthly.
"Yeah," he finally said in a hushed whisper. "No matter what."
When the boys finally parted for the night, promising to meet tomorrow at their usual spot and time (and that Arthur will meet his parents another day much to Arthur's fear of getting Alfred in trouble), both were left with a sense of completion. The reassurance that their promise had brought resonated stronger than both of them had imagined, and the seriousness of it was a little startling.
But no one was complaining.
By the time Alfred arrived back at the castle, there were very few guests left and Alfred instantly knew that he was going to be in a whole lot of trouble if any of his parents or Yao found him now. So sneaking in from the back and up the ivy that he used for a ladder in cases like these, Alfred hurried into his room and locked the door. No one could ruin how blissfully happy he was and if they were insisting on it, they would have to break down his door in the middle of the night to do so.
Once he was clean and dressed for bed, he sat at his writing desk and grinned at the coloured lantern he had brought home. He had asked Arthur to enchant the wick so that it would change colours whenever it was lit. Now it flared a beautiful rainbow of colours, reminding him of how magical everything had looked by their apple tree. Then he turned to something even better: his notebook, already flipped open to the first blank page.
He was pleasantly surprised when he first opened it to find that the backside of the front cover had an inscription on it, written by none other than Arthur. With a finger, he fondly traced over the words printed in Arthur's familiar writing:
Now you can write down your own magical adventures. Happy eighth birthday, Alfred.
~ Arthur K.
Alfred ran through all the memories he could choose from to write as his first entry. There were so many possibilities! But then after several minutes, Alfred came to a realization.
Grabbing his favourite fountain pen and smiling so large his cheeks were hurting, Alfred's heart swelled as he placed his pen to the top left-hand corner of the page. In a few seconds, the ink was set and the title was finished. Alfred grinned at his genius.
Printed with practiced, but childish font was the name Arthur Kirkland – Alfred's favourite adventure of them all.
Finally! I finally present to you the hardest chapter I've written so far. All 12,900 words of it! Hurray for this being the longest chapter so far!
But you have no idea how many times I got stuck writing this chapter. It's mostly because I'm the type of person who likes linking between chapters and foreshadowing (I'm a sucker for foreshadowing OTL), so if I haven't figured out the ending to some stuff, I can't figure out how I'm going to write the stuff that's happening now.
Although I have to say, Ivan was the hardest person to write so far. I love him to bits, but I guess I have to do more research on his character. I like to think Alfred and him have a "frienemy" relationship. They respect each other immensely but at the same time, can kill each other if necessary. As well, don't be alarmed that I made little Ivan skinny and small. I like to believe he's one of those kids that suddenly have their growth spurt in their late teens – the kind that gives you a heart attack at how different they look. Yeah, the guy will bulk up eventually. Don't think this is the last time we'll be seeing him.
Thank you so much for all your reviews. They give me so much encouragement you have no idea.
Let me know of any mistakes and/or questions and/or comments! I always love hearing from you guys and I'm always trying to improve my writing.
See you all in the next chapter!
P.S. Notice how Alfred and Arthur have the same thoughts in regards to each other and how they realize that they have yet to learn about each other? ;D
P.P.S In case you guys didn't notice, Ivan's father and Alfred's father used to be close childhood friends until the inevitable feud between the two Kingdoms tore them apart as they rose to their positions as Kings. I just didn't want to expand too much on it during the story since it won't be brought up again. . . I think.