a/n;; sorry for late update ;n;

Review responses :)

Pepsicola: Good job on picking that one up ;) It was going to be explained later in the story, but since it's not a major plot-revealer, basically Monarchs without reproduction abilities are required to use a surrogate. Now, the real question is whether Matthew and Alfred are cousins, or...?

The King of Clubs gave Alfred a fixated gaze, one that should have hurt less than it did. If he was being rational, and it was something stupid that came with being a monarch, what was he actually expecting? He was engaged-as sickening as it was to think about it. Alfred had clearly moved on, or at least he was telling him this. The younger man had also just admitted that there wouldn't be any full strain on their, well as it appeared now, companionship. It was all Ivan could ask for, right?

He knew the second he acted, he should have stopped. It was ridiculous how calming, yet humiliating those words sounded- as if Ivan was a soulless and an ambitious-less girl who'd just been denied as gentle as possible. Ivan stepped closer, and he swore he heard Alfred's breathing hitch, and tucked a loose strand of that sunny-gold blonde hair behind the owner's ear.

"I…thank you for that…" Ivan supplied, really not sure how else to respond. "I suppose that it all I can ask…mm?"

"E-Eliza, she is very b-beautiful, Ivan. Most fortunate," Alfred admitted, though his eyes were betraying his words. He looked a bit unsure, and overall unconvincing, but he covered what he could a supportive smile. "You know, we need a female Queen in these times, and I heard she's a real tiger."

Ivan coughed out a sound that was mix between disgust and laughter, and Alfred tried to give a soft giggle to sound polite.

"And it's a Kingdom, a Suit, Ivan…Clubs, it needs a good heir…" Alfred also added, his quicker speech indicating that this was something he was just adding to sound either funny or persuasive. There was also a hidden "….that I could never produce…" but that would have never been an obstacle in the life that Ivan had pictured so many years ago. When Ivan didn't return a similar smile, Alfred looked down at his shoes and changed topics.

"I know that it's kind of crazy now, all of this, but don't leave, okay? I made that mistake, and I don't think we can suffer anymore. Gilbert will always be here, but that doesn't mean I am not, okay?" The usually energetic youth grabbed the King's unsuspecting hands and they both ignored that familiar touch when Alfred's mouth spread into a grin. "We used to say everything, and beat each other up as kids, right? It's no different- we're still- we're still good. We have to be."

There was a flicker of doubt in the King of Club's eyes because he knew that if this was how Alfred was going to see the way they would be functioning, it wasn't the same.

"D-da."

It had never occurred to the two men how they stood, albeit isolated, but nevertheless, and spoke everything on Diamonds soil.

"Hey… we missed you after you fled," Alfred's chuckled as he stuck another book onto the bookshelf in his new room. He turned to glance at his sole mentor and flashed a peaceful smile. "You kind of just like, left."

Francis rolled his eyes dramatically, but waved it off. "Details."

"I did the best I could," the younger man admitted. Alfred felt his heat rise to his cheeks as he looked back at his father-figure. "I don't know. I was supposed to feel the same way I did when I was a kid, right? These things don't just change-"

The King of Diamonds paced slowly to the window of Alfred's chambers, hands folded behind his back. "If it should have lasted an eternity, if this bond of yours was stronger than thunder itself, no, mon cher, they will never change. They drive us insane, and stupid and lustful and desirous, I can't even describe it."

"He's…grown- you can feel how much 5 years does to a person…"

"I believe your hand is currently folded with the Joker of the Deck, non?" Francis asked cautiously, his voice wavering. He had to have direct eye contact with Alfred to know the full truth. "Is this just a game, or are you committed to a life with Gilbert?"

"What does this have to do with anything? I just needed to see the man that made me grow as a person-"

"Are you, Alfred, or aren't you going to commit your life to Gilbert? He's one of my closest friends, but he doesn't deserve to be played-"

"I already told Ivan that-"

"I need an ANSWER!" Francis roared, completely knocking the wind out of the secret-Monarch with his volume. "You are living under my roof, and currently my kingdom. It's not very hard to just admit to me- and I swear by my heart no one shall hear my repeat your answer. I just need to know how this is all going to work out!" The King of Diamonds realized his hastiness and shook his head, trying to redeem himself as he looked at Alfred's frozen position.

"I- I regret my decision. And you can't do the same…"

The 21-year old manboy turned his back on the King, running his fingers across the spines of books that he was now facing. The two blondes spent about 6 minutes in loud silence before Alfred cracked a response.

"I told him we're just friends…I can't hurt Gilbert like that."

"Is Gilbert being the only reason you choose this?"

"I-" Alfred twitched, giving Francis a pleading look.

"Roderich sent me here at Francis's request. I hesitated, but until I am officially a Monarch, I was in no position to deny his request," Elizabeta supplied, her voice defending her presence in Ivan's room. Ivan raised an eyebrow, but nodded. It all made sense, really- Francis knew about Alfred, and he had predicted a disappointing story to be told. And he predicted Ivan was going to brood all night long until their next meeting tomorrow.

The King of Clubs grunted a sound of affirmation, and pulled out a small bottle of vodka from his coat. "I apologize; I only brought one glass. I suppose you could take it- I don't mind drinking from the bottle."

Elizabeta didn't even bother saying that she was never too fond of vodka. Ivan was silent as he popped the lid open and poured his future Queen a meagre amount (at which Elizabeta was happy about). The King took a swig of his drink of choice and then collapsed onto his bed, just centimetres from Eliza's seat.

"I…I wasn't told why I should be here- but I presume it's not a diplomatic matter, hm?"

"No."

"I understand I am not your favourite person, your Majesty, and by a long shot are you mine, but I have duties to fulfill, even with my maiden name still attached. If there's anything I can do-"

"YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH!" Ivan roared, sending daggers at Elizabeta. He expected the woman to flinch and look afraid, but all he got was the demeanor of a patient headmistress. The future Queen of Clubs had her hands clasped in her lap, and her lips pursed. He reminded himself that his betrothed was just as intimidating as himself.

"I don't condone loud volume, your Majesty. Perhaps you'd like to try correcting yourself."

"I need not correct myself for the likes of you."

"In eleven months we'll be wed. You don't start now, you'll need to eventually. I am only here to help you, nothing more. I can't do anything if you don't allow me to."

"What can you really do?" Ivan snarled, taking another swig. "You, THIS, everything is so pathetic. I loathe it."

"What exactly do you loathe, Ivan?"

A humourless laugh escaped Ivan's lips. "The one I've waited for- for years, I might add- just dropped me. I'm such a girl, to let this affect me so much. Ha!" The King chuckled sarcastically as he tipped his bottle into his mouth. "I was so stupid, it's laughable."

Green eyes bore themselves into the violet-hued ones of her future husband.

"There is nothing laughable about being in love, your Majesty."

"LOVE? Don't disagree with me- it's overused and overrated. We love animals, but we slaughter them. We love our people, but we choose to rule over them. We marry for love- we marry for, well, power." Ivan said pointedly, adding emphasis on the last part. "And in some cases we love for no reason, and it makes us ill and childish and pa-the-tic. We fake love, we make love- what is it anymore?" When Elizabeta gave no comeback, Ivan's upper lip curled in satisfaction. "I tell no lies, hm?"

"Still, what other word do we use to define our emotion if not love? Is there really anything else to define that connection to-" Elizabeta protested, not even noticing how riled up Ivan's words made her.

"To nothing. It's all some twisted game." Ivan snapped. He tipped his bottle again, only to realize there was nothing left. His eyes immediately darted to the untouched glass in Eliza's hands. The latter sighed, and handed over her glass.

"Who was she…?" Elizabeta asked quietly.

"He." Ivan supplied immediately.

"Name…"

"You don't know him."

"Well I want to know him."

"No matter."

"He a Diamonds boy?"

Ivan turned his head to avoid that maternal gaze Elizabeta was giving him. "Alfred Jones."

She could have sworn she'd heard that name. It wasn't unique in anyway, and 'Jones' had never been a commonname in her village, but-

THE ENGAGEMENT PARTY.

"I know him!"

Almost instantly, the King's head whipped back. "What?"

At this, Elizabeta winced a bit. "Well, no, I don't know him…I met him at…our party a while back. He didn't look so fond to see me, even though I swore I'd never seen him in my life."

"He's a child, forgive him."

"But this 'child'…you love him-"

"Don't associate that word with him, or me for that matter."

"But you two…how long?"

"Too long. I spent too long caring. He's moved on, I need to move on."

"He's with the Joker."

"Yes." Ivan replied lowly, his head hanging down, and his eyes growing dark. He hated this! He was the King of Clubs! He had to get over this. He had to find peace with the idea of still being in Alfred's life. That was all he could ask for!

A cold hand landed on Ivan's shoulder, and it almost reminded him of when he was still a Prince, and his supposed-to-be-heir-sister, Yekaterina, would console him as he suffered through another day under his father's big feet. He turned his head and saw Elizabeta with a supportive pout.

"I- You're lucky, you know... You know what love is, I don't. Don't let this mean I'm angry at you, but it wasn't so long ago since I had even been in my village, with suitors that should have courted me. I don't get that chance, anymore. Trust me, I'm honoured to be Queen one day, but I'm still 23- I still wanted that experience of falling in love.

And you know what? Maybe we will…maybe for you, again. When have Monarchs been completely faithful, hm? I won't even hold it against you if you bed our servants, or court the barmaid, even after our Union. I just ask for the same priviledge, yes?"

Elizabeta looked really hopeful as she finished her proposition.

"I-" Ivan began, unsure what to say. If anything, who could deny the two anything? They only person capable of stopping any of their actions was each other. They were both strong as strong could be.

"As my future Queen, I won't let anything get in the way of, ugh, love." Ivan agreed. "Our Union is strictly political."

Later that evening, as Ivan walked out into the silence of the night, his eyes widened a bit as he saw his Jack pressing his future Queen against the cold wall, their mouths attached at each other. Part of him felt played, but then again he really didn't mind this.

As many things that happen when living the Deck, it was only appropriate to say, 'well, played'.

Ivan couldn't help but smile at the two, thought.