Er, sorry. This took me longer than I thought it would to write. I cut my finger in the middle of it and couldn't type for a while as it was too damned awkward. But it's done now! So, after all those revelations in Clubs, have this chapter. :)
In the early hours of the morning, Arthur could hear splashing, as though buckets of water were sloshing into a huge bath. It was highly likely that this was indeed happening as he had to rise and get himself ready for the Clubs' Royals' coronation. However, it was still dull and he did not wish to drag himself from under his thick, heavy blankets.
So he moaned and rolled over, burying his head into the fluffy pillows. Shutting out the noises of people moving around his room, he began to drift off once again. However, just before he had completely fallen, he was pulled back up by someone shaking his shoulder. He grunted.
"You need to get up," came Larry's voice.
"Why?" murmured Arthur, groggily.
"Because you only have two hours to get ready."
"Huh?" Arthur frowned to himself, thinking. The coronation was to take place late in the morning. But Larry had said two hours. It was still dull, as though dawn was only just breaking. The land of Clubs spent a lot of time in darkness. "What?" cried Arthur, sitting bolt upright once all of his thoughts had linked together.
"Come along," said Larry, smiling slightly. "We have a bath already drawn up for you."
Sure enough, close to the fireplace was an iron bathtub. Arthur could see the steam rising from the water within. A fire was blazing merrily in an attempt to heat the room. Several large, fluffy towels had been left on a chair and a small bowl of soap had been provided.
Reluctantly, Arthur emerged from the bed. He winced when his feet touched the cold stone and his legs were hit with an icy blast. With chattering teeth, he hurried to the tub. When he reached it, he glanced over his shoulder.
"You can leave for the moment," he told Larry as he tried to suppress his shivering. "I will call for you once I am done."
"Very well," agreed Larry, slipping from the room.
Alone once again, Arthur pulled off his nightshirt and clambered into the bath. Instantly, he was able to relax and he sighed in relief. For several minutes, he lay still, relishing in the heat. Knowing it would cool quickly, however, he grabbed some soap and began to wash himself down.
As he did so, the events of the night before returned to him and he groaned in irritation. The revelations had worried him. What else did none of the new Royals know? How far did this conspiracy stretch? And why didn't his parents tell him? In fact, had his brothers known? He hadn't spoken to them in so long. Did they know something? Were he and Peter the only ones in the dark?
Stopping himself from following the train of thought, he scowled. He had decided to forget about it last night so there was no use in dwelling on it. In the grand scheme of things, he knew what had happened to his parents mattered very little. Nor did the fact that they had kept it from him. What mattered at the moment was the assassination of Alfred's parents. Then the curse. He could concentrate on his parents afterwards.
The water was beginning to cool as he pulled himself from the water and his reverie. Shivering slightly, he wrapped himself in the towel and dried himself off. He used a second towel to dry his hair and a third one to wrap himself up in once he was completely dry. Then he let Larry back in.
At least, he called on Larry. What entered seemed to be a tower of blue furs on legs.
"What in...?" he muttered, staring as Larry reverentially laid the things on his bed.
"It is traditional to wear furs, you know," the tailor pointed out.
"Right," agreed Arthur, absentmindedly.
He was dressed in thick, night blue trousers with an equally thick shirt in navy. A heavy coat was placed on top, also night blue. Little Spades were stitched into the fabric, stark against the sky. Finally, a black muff and black hat were given to him, to wear whilst he watched the coronation. Larry informed him that the hat was called an ushanka and Arthur hummed in interest.
Once he had pulled on his fur-lined black boots, the two of them exited the room to find Alfred and Matthew waiting with the guards. They wore much the same as Arthur except that their coats matched their eyes. Instead of the warm hat, they wore their circlets of gold and bronze.
"Hey, how come he gets a hat?" grumbled Alfred, frowning at Larry.
"Because he does not have a crown to wear," answered Larry.
Arthur smirked at Alfred. "Did you not know that I am special?"
"Well..." said Alfred, his cheeks turning pink. "I thought so."
It was Arthur's turn to blush and he turned away, scowling a little. "Let us get this over with," he muttered, striding in the general direction of the stairs.
Again, Arthur found himself at the back of a throne room, crowded with nobles, standing on a temporary stage. Everyone was swathed in furs, green carpeting the room for the most part. The only varying colours were the blues and reds and oranges of the other Kingdoms.
A man with a long pipe stood in the corner of the room and suddenly blew a jaunty tune which silenced much of the room. However, Alfred was shifting his wait from foot to foot. Thankful for his long coat to hide the movement, Arthur kicked at him. His King stilled and they watched the Clubs' Royals troop in.
Ivan wore a smaller ushanka than normal, green instead of black, Clubs attached to it. His long coat looked to be in two pieces: a long white part which continued down to his boots and a short, furry green part which appeared to be more of a capelet. The part around his neck looked like a muffler as it was so thick and covered up his neck completely.
His Queen was wearing a knee-length green dress. Darker green was used for the Clubs symbols on it. Her legs were encased in thick, black tights and her sleeves continued to her wrists, attached to her hand by her thumb. It looked very similar to the dress he had first seen her in. What appeared to be a large knife was strapped to her leg. A Club hung around her neck on a silver chain.
Finally, Toris entered, dressed in a long, green jacket, Clubs adorning his breast pocket. It was left open and they could see his pale green shirt and darker breeches. A small crown had been attached to his head, a Club prominent on it.
They stood in front of their thrones and waited upon the priest who would crown them. He stepped up onto the stage, swathed in black robes with a golden embroidery. His green hat was tall and furry. Arthur wondered how he could hold his head up with the weight it must have been.
He stepped up to Toris and a small boy hurried forward with a green cushion. Upon it was the Ace of Clubs: a sceptre fitted with a green gemstone which Arthur presumed was jade. The priest lifted it up and placed it against Toris' head.
"Bogi sochli eto sootvetstvuyushchiy, chtoby darovat' etu chest' na vas," recited the priest. "Vy klyanus' soblyudat' traditsii i obyazannosti vashey pozitsii i uderzhat' stranu rabotayet? Vy klyanus' vsegda dumayut o strane i polozhit' vashu stranu pered soboy i vashego blagopoluchiya? Vy obeshchayut borot'sya do poslednego vzdokha za svoyu stranu, i tol'ko dlya vashey strany?"
Arthur presumed this meant much the same as what the priest had recited in Diamonds. Especially when Toris replied with, "Darau."
Inclining his head, the priest tapped his head gently with the sceptre and moved on to Natalya. He repeated himself, the sceptre now against her Mark. She replied with, "Ja rabliu." He tapped her gently and moved on.
Finally, it was Ivan's turn. The sceptre was placed to his forehead, the priest stretching up to do so. The speech was repeated a final time. "Ya delayu," said Ivan, smiling. His forehead was tapped and then the sceptre was handed to him. The priest bowed to his new King before turning to the audience.
"Allow me to present the Royalty of Clubs: King Ivan, Queen Natalya and Jack Toris!" The nobles bowed low and the other Royals bowed their heads. Once they had straightened, Arthur glanced at Alfred, assuming he would cry out in joy. However, he noted that his King was frowning at someone in the audience. Following his gaze, he saw who had attracted his attention.
Ivan's parents had turned to the crowd to accept their congratulations. Alfred trembled with what Arthur presumed was rage at their happy expressions. Carefully, Arthur laid a hand on his arm and, when the taller man glanced at him, he shook his head. Now was not the time...
They said their goodbyes to Ivan and the others and crowded into the carriage. Along the road, there was silence. Larry and the others seemed to sense that something was wrong but they kept their suspicions to themselves for the moment. Matthew and Alfred gazed glumly out of the window. Arthur stared at the back wall of the carriage, unsettled by Alfred's quiet.
When they finally arrived at their ship, the noise hit them. For once, Arthur welcomed it as the sailors called out greetings and the ship creaked on the cold waters. The captain greeted them but did not comment on the strained atmosphere. Once on deck, Arthur watched as Alfred and Matthew headed to the cabins.
What was he supposed to do? He felt at a loss, something which had never happened before. Back home, there had always been something to do and something wrong he needed to fix. Arthur was quite capable of fixing things. But on this occasion, he had no idea how to get Alfred to cheer up.
"Hey, Your Majesty," said Riley from behind him.
"Arthur," he corrected.
"Right, Arthur. What's up with the King?"
Turning to him, he found him, Larry, Charlie and Rajesh all staring at him solemnly. "I apologise," said Arthur, quite sincerely, "but I cannot tell you at this time."
"Well, tell us when you can," said Charlie, stopping Riley from voicing his irritation.
"We want to help as much as we can," agreed Larry, nodding. Rajesh bowed his head slightly, obviously voicing his own wishes to help.
Smiling slightly, Arthur nodded. "I promise you that I will do just that."
"That will help," said Rajesh, suddenly. Arthur blinked in surprise, wondering what he was talking about. "Smiling cheers everyone up."
With wide eyes, Arthur said, "Wha-? I-I do not know what you mean, Rajesh."
Rajesh merely inclined his head once more and walked away. The other three glanced at each other, bowed slightly and followed.
Eventually, Arthur decided that he had worried for long enough and marched down to the cabin he and Alfred were sharing. Bursting in, he strode to the bed and glared down, his arms crossed. "Alfred."
The aforementioned grunted, his back to Arthur. His arms dangled off the far edge of the bed and his legs were curled up. Perfectly tailored clothing was now crumpled and messy. Blonde hair spread across the pillow. Somehow, he looked smaller curled up like that.
"Please," said Arthur. "I know this has been hard for you but your men need you, for goodness' sake. I cannot keep diverting questions. And I cannot tell them the truth just yet."
"Why not?" grumbled Alfred.
"Because we do not know it yet."
"Yes we do!" cried Alfred, sitting up suddenly. He had taken off his glasses and his face was wet. "We know who kill-!"
"We do not know the whole story, then. Remember who you are."
"Huh?"
Arthur sighed. "You are King, Alfred. If the people discovered your distress, they would wish to avenge you. War would break out without you having to lift a finger."
"I-I hadn't thought of that," muttered Alfred, shooting Arthur a sheepish look before bowing his head. "You did, though, huh?" He glanced back up.
A small, soft smile graced Arthur's lips. "Yes. It appears that it is my job to think before my King leaps into action."
Alfred stared at him for a moment. "You're smiling," he said.
"I apologise," said Arthur with a grimace. He was being insensitive. For Spades' sake, the man had just discovered a terrible secret!
"No!" exclaimed Alfred, shaking his head. "You-You hardly ever smile."
"Hm, perhaps," Arthur replied, frowning in confusion.
"You should do it more often," explained Alfred with a smile of his own. It was weaker than his usual grins. However, Arthur was relieved that he had managed to. Replacing his frown with another smile, he sat beside Alfred as the other looked down at his hands. "I-I did like you said."
"Oh?"
"I acted like everything was normal as much as I could in Clubs. At the coronation, I even shook Ivan's hand, did you see?" Arthur nodded and Alfred continued. "I didn't even- Just in case, I didn't cry. Mattie didn't either but he was totally close to." He looked up, the Colour of Spades locking with Arthur's eyes. "Is it... all right..."
Understanding, Arthur nodded. Remembering times when he had to comfort Peter from a scraped knee, he wrapped his arms around his King. He could feel him shuddering as he continued his crying, burying his face into Arthur's collarbone. Dimly, Arthur realised that he was crying on his Spade Mark but he did not let go, letting him cry himself out.
After Alfred had run out of tears and they had both comforted Matthew, the King and Jack went back up on deck. They returned to acting their normal selves, though Arthur spotted times when they appeared to be distant and he knew they were thinking on their parents. Larry and the others did not comment but would shoot Arthur meaningful looks. He would ward off their unasked questions with a shake of his head.
Time passed as they travelled west and then south. Arthur began to feel rather exhausted. Since he had been discovered as the future Queen, he had been travelling. He felt as though he had never stopped. Alfred seemed to notice his gloominess and approached him about a day's sailing from the port town they would dock at.
"Hey, Artie."
"Arthur," he corrected, automatically.
"Yeah," said Alfred, dismissively. "D'ya know how to fight? Like, with a sword?"
"When I was younger, my parents made sure I had fencing lessons." He glanced towards Alfred who looked a little disappointed with the answer. Arthur added, "Though I may be a little rusty." Although the statement was true, he couldn't help but think that it had slipped from his lips because Alfred had looked so disheartened.
"Oh, wanna practice?" asked Alfred, hastily.
"I do not see why not," agreed Arthur.
And that was how he found himself on a clear part of the deck, facing his King with a sword in hand. Matthew, Larry and the guards looked on. Even the captain appeared to be watching, though he was at the helm. The sun beat down on them, gulls crying above. Wisps of cloud floated lazily across the blue sky. Arthur watched them for a moment before returning his attention to a rather small matter he wanted to be solved before they began.
"This is not a rapier," he said, waving the cutlass.
Alfred merely shrugged. "Sorry. We don't have rapiers on the ship."
"Well, I certainly cannot fence with this."
"I said fighting, not fencing," Alfred pointed out.
"Fine," sighed Arthur. "Let us get this over with."
Nodding, Alfred stepped a little closer, closing the gap. Arthur stayed still. Alfred shuffled closer still. He obviously believed he was giving Arthur a chance to attack him. But the soon-to-be Queen stood his ground. Finally, Alfred seemed to give up on Arthur moving and charged at him.
Arthur side-stepped him.
Poor Alfred continued across the deck, lost to his momentum. He crashed into the railing, wobbled and managed to push himself backwards to fall to the floor. Arthur calmly walked up behind him and tapped him with the flat of his sword.
"I take it this means I have won?" Arthur said, grinning. Alfred glared up at him. As he scrambled to his feet, Arthur spoke again. "Do you want to try again?"
"Shut up! You cheated!" cried Alfred.
"Sorry, Alfred," said Arthur, as sweetly as he could. "It was too difficult to resist temptation."
Grumbling, Alfred took up position opposite him, closer this time. Obviously, he was taking no chances. They raised their swords, bowed their heads slightly, respectfully, and Alfred attacked.
Their swords clashed together and Alfred, using the slight momentum he had built up in the attack pushed at them, causing Arthur to stumble backwards. His cutlass swung away from Alfred and he hurried to block another swing. Briefly, he lamented the fact that it wasn't fencing. Using rapiers was a lot more elegant and did not require such strength. However, he knew that he needed to learn – after all, he would require it when he was Queen.
Assessing Alfred's stance, he tried to find a way to gain the upper hand. His arms were strong, his muscles flexing as he swung the sword again and again – it was all Arthur could do to keep himself defended. With tense legs he would put his back and hips into the heavy swings, overpowering Arthur with speed and strength. Which, Arthur knew, was unfortunate. Planting his feet firmly on the ground as he was, he was vulnerable to attacks to his legs. If he kept himself in a readier stance, capable of moving swiftly, he would be able to avoid being at a disadvantage.
So Arthur used his weakness. When Alfred pulled his sword back for another blow, Arthur crouched slightly, placing all his weight on one leg. Then he swept his other across the floor, catching Alfred's legs with his ankle, his leg still sweeping round. Alfred toppled, landing hard on his back, his cutlass skidding out of reach. There was a chorus of 'oohs' which both Alfred and Arthur ignored as the King wheezed on the floor, staring up at him in surprise. Arthur pointed his own cutlass at him.
"It appears I win again, sire," Arthur said, grinning smugly.
A grin appeared on Alfred's face, however, a knowing smirk and, suddenly, Arthur's sword hand was grabbed. He was wrenched forward, a cry escaping his lips, as Alfred pulled him down. In his surprise, Arthur attempted to throw out his hands to save himself, losing his grip on his sword. He landed on top of Alfred who had snatched up the sword as soon as it fell. The point was directed at him and he fell still, breathing heavily.
"Really? I would say I won this time," said Alfred, happily.
"Yes, it certainly appears to be the case," agreed Arthur, eyeing the sword and his King's chest, the only things in his eyeline. Alfred lowered the sword and he rose, brushing himself off. "Though, I must point out that I should not have been able to take you off your feet like that."
Alfred laughed as he picked himself up, too. "Yeah, you're a real devious fighter, Artie. But you need to work on how you use your sword."
"Well, I give you full permission to teach me." Arthur smiled at him as he took his cutlass back. Alfred grinned.
When they finally docked in Hearts, Arthur was sore from the previous days activities. However, he merely grunted as he rose to get dressed, Alfred having already left the room. Finally ready to face the day after stretching, Arthur wandered leisurely up to the deck. Sailors were bustling around but Alfred, Matthew, Larry and the guards were nowhere in sight.
As he made his way towards the gangplank, however, he spotted a dark blue among the crew's neutral colours. Glancing in its direction, he spotted Alfred leaning against the railing, staring out to sea. Arthur hesitated before making his way towards him.
"Good morning, Alfred," he said.
"Oh, hey, Artie!" came the reply, Alfred's eyes not leaving whatever he was staring at. Arthur followed his gaze and realised he was looking at Spades. Before he could correct him, Alfred continued. "We'll be home soon."
"Indeed."
"And then we'll have to take care of that." Alfred gestured at their Kingdom.
"We will," agreed Arthur, glancing at him.
"It'll be awesome," said Alfred, trying to smile.
Smiling in return, Arthur nodded. "I suppose it will be." Alfred brightened and he considered his mission complete.
They arrived, finally, at the palace of Hearts. Francis, Elizaveta and Feliciano were there to greet them. Ludwig, Lovino and Antonio were hovering off to the side. Arthur wondered what they were there for – was there a security risk?
"Hello, Francis," said Alfred, a little stiffly. Surprised, Arthur glanced at him, noting his frown. He nudged his King.
Attempting to recover from Alfred's poor greeting, he said, "It is a... pleasure... to be here again."
"Enchanté," said Francis, smiling at Arthur. Looking towards Alfred, he nodded at his fellow King. "Et bienvenue."
"Yeah," was Alfred's response.
"Bonjour," said Matthew, smiling lightly. Francis brightened at this but glanced to his brother and seemed to decide that now was not the time to flirt. "It is an honour to be here," Matthew continued, sounding sincere and covering for his companions' failings.
"It is our pleasure," Elizaveta interjected. "Let us show you to your rooms."
They followed their hosts inside, traipsing through the grand palace without any interruptions. As they passed the ballroom, they caught sounds of music. Presumably, Roderich was in the correct room and did not require directions.
"We are going to have a ball tonight!" said Feliciano, cheerfully, noting their interest in the room. "Roderich has been composing all week!"
Another ball? Arthur recalled the last one and grimaced. He hoped there would be no unnecessary drama. After all, he was going to create some as soon as he could find the former King and Queen.
"Oh, cool!" said Alfred, seeming to have relaxed since Francis wasn't flirting with anyone. "Will there be food?"
Matthew rolled his eyes and muttered, "Trust you."
"Oui, of course there will be," confirmed Francis, smiling. "Of course, some of it will be prepared by myself."
"Are your chefs incompetent?" asked Arthur before he could stop himself. "Ah..." he said, turning red.
Francis frowned. "Of course not!" he snapped. "I just enjoy cooking. Is it a crime to wish to prepare something for my lovely guests?" The innuendo caused said guests to shudder.
"Anyway," said Elizaveta, attracting their attention before war broke out. "Here we are at Alfred and Arthur's room."
A slight pause. "Excuse me?!" exclaimed Arthur.
"Is there something wrong?" asked Feliciano. "Francis said you would like a room to yourselves so you could lie together."
"Wh-What?!" cried Alfred, turning beetroot.
"Matthew, if you will follow me," said Elizaveta, guiding the amused Jack away from the angry Royals. He gave them a small wave and began to converse with Elizaveta.
"You do not need to hide it, mes chers," said Francis with a grin. "You are free to do as you please here."
"Including wringing your sorry neck?" growled Arthur, his fists trembling with barely suppressed rage.
"Non, non. That is something forbidden here. No killing. Just l'amour."
"Stop prattling on about 'l'amour'. There is no 'l'amour'!"
Francis pouted. "There is always l'amour, in some form or other. My parents taught me that. Ah, but I suppose that you are repressed in Spades, unable to say things clearly. Mère et père always were the most romantic couple in the four sets of Royals, of course."
"Would you shut up?"
Shaking his head, Francis turned a glare on Arthur. "Non. Now, get into your room so that you may get-"
"No," said Arthur, folding his arms. "You will get me another roo-"
"There are none left," said Feliciano, still sounding cheerful. "All the Royals and nobles are here already and the palace is filled with guests."
"But-"
"I notice that your King has not complained," mentioned Francis, casually. He opened the door and gestured inside with a small bow.
Turning to Alfred, Arthur was about to demand he say something when the Spade shrugged a shoulder and slipped inside. Arthur's eyes widened in disbelief. Shoulders slumped, he sighed in defeat and followed him inside – but not before he shot one more glare at Francis. He rounded on Alfred as soon as had closed the door. "What was that?" he hissed.
"What?" asked Alfred, still red in the face as he took in the room. There were two sections. One had a large bed with a Heart-shaped headboard. The duvet was red and it looked comfortable yet sturdy. In the other section was a couple of chaise longues and a table. The fireplace was set up but not lit. Roses were everywhere: on the mantelpiece, the table, the windowsills, the bed.
"You know what," said Arthur, worried about the state of the place. "What is that Francis thinking?" he asked, throwing his arms in the air.
"Um. I dunno," said Alfred, deliberately averting his gaze from Arthur. The Spade frowned at this but let it go. "Let's just make the best of this, okay?"
"Fine," sighed Arthur. "I suppose we should get ready now, hm?"
"Wait. I need to check out the bed." Alfred grinned, finally looking at Arthur.
"What in Spades do you mean?"
"Watch," was all the reply he got before Alfred ran away. He watched in disbelief as the man jumped mid-stride and landed upright on the bed. Then he began to bounce up and down. "Oh, wow, this is awesome! C'mon, Artie: join me!"
"There is absolutely no way I am doing that," said Arthur as he approached, shaking his head. "Get down from there."
"Nope!" And, with that, Alfred grabbed Arthur's wrists and pulled him up. Arthur wobbled and gripped Alfred's arms in surprise. "Jump!"
"Alfred!" cried Arthur, trying to steady himself even as he was bounced by Alfred's jumping. "Release me at-!"
"We're testing the bed."
"What for?" he asked, incredulous.
"To make sure it's comfortable."
"We can do that just as well by lying on it," insisted Arthur, still trying to break free whilst keeping his balance.
"Good point," conceded Alfred – and flopped down onto the bed, dragging Arthur down with him. Once more, Arthur found himself on top of Alfred as he lay still. "Ah, this is actually quite good. What do you think?" Alfred looked down at Arthur with his customary grin.
"I can hardly make a judgement when I am on top of you," Arthur pointed out, still trying to slip from Alfred's grasp.
"Yeah, well. D'you think I'm comfortable?" He looked hopeful.
Arthur snorted. "Hardly. Now let me go." Obediently, Alfred did so. Now he appeared to be disappointed. "We need to get ready," Arthur repeated as he pushed himself up and knelt on the bed, his legs between Alfred's.
"Yeah."
After he had pulled on some rather fancy clothes – Larry had outdone himself with the golden Spades lining the collar and cuffs, varying shades of blue merging together – Arthur slipped from the room. Alfred was displeased with this but allowed him to do so when he explained that he would meet him outside of the ballroom. He could only hoped that Alfred would not demolish the room in his boredom.
So Arthur searched and searched, nipping into rooms with their doors ajar, climbing stairs, wandering the corridors. At some point, he found himself in the garden but there was no sign of who he was searching for. If he didn't find them now, the only chance he could talk to them would be at the ball – presuming they showed up.
After watching servants and guards hurrying past him from one of the alcoves he had discovered on his first night in Hearts, Arthur decided to stop one of them and ask. It was highly important to find them, after all, so his pride had to be pushed aside for the moment. He stepped out from his hiding place and stopped the three guards passing by. They turned out to be Ludwig, Antonio and Lovino. When they registered who it was obstructing them, Ludwig bowed and the others hastily followed suit.
"You do not need to do that," Arthur assured them, waving his hand to indicate they could rise. "I am not Queen yet."
"What can we do for you, sir?" asked Ludwig, a serious expression still on his face.
"Ah, I was hoping to speak with the former King and Queen of Hearts. Do you have any idea where they are? I have looked all over."
The three guards exchanged looks. "I think they are visiting family," answered Antonio, finally. "They will be back for the ball, though. You could speak with them then."
"Indeed," sighed Arthur, his plan in shatters. "I suppose I should get myself to the ballroom, then."
"Yes," said Lovino, sounding grumpy. "Would not want them starting without you, sì?"
Feeling that was an insult, Arthur chose to ignore it and hurried to the appointed room. Waiting outside were the Spades who had accompanied him. As he approached, he heard Alfred say, "Where is he? You don't think he's hurt himself somewhere and no-one can see him and he'll die slowly and-"
"Alfred," Matthew interrupted, pointing to Arthur.
The soon-to-be Queen rolled his eyes when Alfred turned with wide eyes. "Where in Hearts do you think I would be able to hurt myself?"
"You could have fallen down some stairs," Alfred pointed out.
"True," Arthur conceded. "Yet, I have not. Shall we go in? It will not do to keep our hosts waiting."
"Sure!" Alfred was back to his usual self. He held out an arm to Arthur who looked at it in confusion. "Come on, Artie. You're my Queen so you totally need to enter with me."
"Arthur," he corrected once again as he placed his hand in the crook of Alfred's elbow. Barely touching him, he nodded, signalling he was ready. The others gathered behind them and the doors were opened. Noise assaulted them: music, laughter, fabric moving, talking, clicking of heels on the polished floor. Red was everywhere, from the decorations to the dresses. Amongst them, green and orange could be picked out instantly, making the other visiting Royals easily identifiable.
The song stopped as they moved further in and Alfred turned to Arthur hurriedly. "Let me dance with you first!" he cried, rather enthusiastic.
"Oh," said Arthur, startled by his good cheer. What was he so excited about? "Yes, of course."
Throwing a celebratory fist in the air, Alfred dragged Arthur onto the dance floor and turned to him. He placed a hand on Arthur's waist and grabbed his hand. Arthur had no choice but to place his free hand on Alfred's shoulder, touching it lightly. With the piano and violins' first notes, Alfred began to spin them round, Arthur hardly keeping up.
"You are going too fast!" he hissed, watching their feet in concern.
"Sorry," muttered Alfred and slowed.
At this, Arthur looked up at him, rather surprised he had actually listened to him for once. Alfred was staring at the floor, concentrating. Shaking his head, Arthur sighed. "Alfred. Look up."
"What?" asked Alfred, glancing up at him. Their eyes locked and they both stared. Arthur gazed into the ocean and the sky and smiled slightly.
"You are being much to nervous," he explained. "If you look at your feet, you will trip yourself up. Quite literally."
"Ha," said Alfred, quietly. "Sorry. I'm better with the, er, 'more energetic' dancing."
"Not to worry."
They continued for some time at a more sedate pace for some time. Finally, the band in the corner were stopped by Roderich and they halted, their long coats swaying behind them. As they caught their breath, Arthur caught Alfred staring at him, his cheeks a little red. He was about to ask what was wrong when a movement caught his eye and he turned to see Francis approach them.
"Ah, may I have this dance?" he asked as he reached them, glancing at Arthur.
Before he could reply, however, Alfred stepped closer to him and shook his head. "No way! I heard what happened last time and I'm not letting you do that to Arthur again!"
Francis chuckled as the music started up again. "My, my. So energetic, cher. Mais, I was talking to you, not Arthur."
Alfred turned red. "Ah, well- I mean- Er. Sorry. Sure." He turned to Arthur, looking sheepish. "Will you be okay on your own?"
With a roll of his eyes, Arthur shook his head at his over-protectiveness. However, before he could answer, he froze. Was that who he thought it was strolling onto the veranda? Quickly, he said, "Ah, yes." He kept his eyes on them. "Of course. I have someone I must speak with..."
Glancing at Alfred, he saw the Spade frown a little. Arthur sensed he understood what he was doing. "Right," said Alfred with a nod.
"Shall we?" asked Francis, holding out his arm for Alfred to take. He appeared to be curious but did not openly question it. They parted ways and Arthur hurried through the crowd – no sense in letting his quarry escape.
"-heures de plus et nous serons libres."
Arthur hesitated in the doorway as he caught part of the former Royals' conversation. Should he listen for the moment or declare his presence? Stepping out of the way of any emerging dancers, Arthur skulked in the shadows, trying to listen and translate as much as possible before he interrupted.
"Oui," replied Francis' mother. "Je ne peux pas attendre! J'ai peine à croire ce qui se passe!" She sounded excited, giddy almost, like a child on their birthday. However, beyond her not doing something, Arthur had no idea what she meant.
Her husband took a deep breath. "Francis sera déçu, cependant."
Arthur watched her dim figure nod. "Oui. Mais, peut-être qu'il va nous pardonner avec le temps."
Finally, Arthur decided that he had heard enough. Not that he understood the exchange beyond Francis maybe excusing them for something in time. But what? What could they possibly have done to require his forgiveness? Regardless of what he had heard, he stepped towards them and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sir, madam."
With a gasp, Francis' mother spun around. Beside her, the former King froze before looking round slowly, leaning against the balustrade. "Ah, oui? What is it you want?" he asked, acting calmer than his wife, though Arthur supposed that he was as startled as she had been.
"I would like to inquire about a certain chain of events which led to a certain point in time," he announced, stepping closer and glancing over his shoulder.
Thankfully, his statement was vague enough to catch their attention. "What is this about?" asked the former Queen.
"This is about you and your husband" - she flinched at that word - "hiring the King of Clubs to commit a horrible deed."
Freezing, the former Queen clutched at her lavish dress. She gripped it so tight that the hem of it rose slightly – Arthur could see her ankles. Behind her, Francis' father merely froze, eyes wide and reflecting the limited light.
"Q-Quoi-? What are you talking about?" stammered the woman.
"You hired the King of Clubs to kill the King and Queen of Spades. I wish to know why."
"Non, we did- How did you-?"
Arthur cut in. "That hardly matters. Tell me your reason and, perhaps, I can spare you from their son's wrath."
The threat worked. Glancing at each other, the former Queen backed away, using the balustrade to support herself. Her husband moved forward and took a deep breath. "We did it... for love."
"Excuse me?" asked Arthur, incredulous. What did killing another country's Royals have to do with any form of love?
Steeling himself, the elder man nodded slightly, as if deciding it would be fine to tell the Spade their story. "When we were crowned King et Queen, we did not like each other. We were forced to live with each other, love each other, consummate and raise an heir. It was a horrible experience. Of course, it was all the more horrible because we had been in love before we had inherited the Kingdom."
Arthur's breath caught. No. It couldn't be. But, perhaps it was that simple, just as the Diamonds' involvement had been. "You..." he managed to mutter.
Not appearing to have heard Arthur, the former King continued with his story. "We raised Francis as though we loved each other, of course, and promoted fond thoughts of l'amour. However, we remembered our true loves and... Well, we conceived that plan and now, tomorrow, after the ceremony, we will be able to leave the palace and find them once again."
Backing up to the wall, Arthur leaned against it. This whole assassination had come about as a result of a curse. And, of course, that had been the result of love, if the play was anything to go by. It appeared that this entire situation was a vicious cycle which would not stop. Not until the curse was broken. Could he do it?
He shook his head. No, he had to concentrate. So, the Royals of Hearts had been unhappy on the throne and so they had arranged the assassination. However, why wait till now to do so? They could have asked at any time. As could the King of Diamonds. What had happened to prompt them to have Alfred's parents killed now? Was there something the Spades' Royals had been doing that had insulted them and sparked the idea?
"How-How did you come up with the plan?" he asked, quietly.
"Quoi?"
"What gave you the idea to have the King and Queen of Spades assassinated?"
The man turned to his wife, frowning. They muttered to each other in their own language, so quiet that Arthur could not make out single words. Finally, he turned back around and shook his head. "I think it just came to us one day-"
"Attendez," interrupted the former Queen. She stood straighter and stepped forward to stand beside her current husband. "I recall something someone said," she explained to both of them. "A passing remark that we could be with our loved ones if we could give up the throne. If only someone would die... Who was that?" She frowned in thought.
"Ah, oui, I remember him," said the man, nodding. "He wore blue, so he must have been an official of Spades."
"What?" breathed Arthur, eyes wide.
"The hat," murmured the former Queen. "The... Jack?"
"Oui," agreed the former King, nodding his head so fast Arthur thought it would come off.
"Are you sure?" he asked. They only nodded, a determined expression settling on their faces.
He stared at them, trying to understand. The Jack of Spades had nudged them towards an assassination of his own Royals? The people he worked with and lived with. If he had visited Diamonds around the same time, there was every chance he could push them with a few veiled words. But why?
Something occurred to Arthur so suddenly that he took a sharp breath. If his parents had been decoys, there should have been some sort of compensation given to him. It would not have placated him but it would have helped him with Peter. He would not have had to work as hard and may even have accepted being a Queen more readily. The Jack was in charge of the finances, usually. Which meant that he had not seen fit to give him money – because his plan had failed? Bitterness affecting his work... Perhaps he had hoped Arthur would have taken revenge if he was not given anything in exchange for their death.
Now there was no doubt in his mind who had started this awful chain of events.
"Thank you for being so honest," said Arthur, bowing his head slightly. He turned to leave but was stopped by a hand on his arm. The former Queen was staring at him quite intently, pleading, when he turned around in surprise.
"You will not tell your King?"
Understanding their trepidation, Arthur hesitated before shaking his head. "No. I will not. At least, until I have discovered the former Jack's intentions." She nodded and he turned to leave once more. On his approach to the door, he took a breath – he would have to lie to Alfred once more. Telling him that someone he had grown up with and knew well had started everything did not seem like a very good idea.
Stepping into the ballroom, he glanced around, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He froze, staring at two pairs of blue eyes.
Beside the door, hidden from view, stood Alfred and Francis. They both looked horrified.
Arthur recovered first. "A-Alfred. Francis. Ah, did you-? Did you have a pleasant dance?"
He knew that they had heard everything as soon as Alfred's eyes narrowed. Not deigning to give Arthur a response, he turned and slipped through the crowd. Arthur didn't bother to call after him – his voice would be swallowed by the noise of the room. He watched helplessly as Alfred hurried through one of the doors. Worried, he glanced at Francis who seemed to be frozen in shock.
"Are you all right, Francis?" he asked, cautiously.
Francis' blue eyes snapped to Arthur's and he shook his head, taking a step back. Then he turned and rushed from the room, his clothes fanning out behind him as he strode through the other door.
Biting at his lip, Arthur wondered if he should go after them. Explain to Alfred that he was trying to shield him from the truth or comfort the obviously distraught Francis? With a sigh, he chose and hurried along the edge of the room to reach the door.
He found Alfred in their bedroom. The young King was lying in the middle of their bed, his head in his arms, one leg curled up. Quietly, Arthur moved to the bed and sat down in the minimal space left. Patting his arm, he gained Alfred's attention in the form of a blurry glare.
"What do you want?" growled Alfred.
"I apologise."
"For what?"
Arthur sighed. "I know I said that I would not tell you. What I meant was that I would tell you once the coronations are over. We have had so many revelations in the space of a few days that it is probably going to affect our performances."
"Performances?" Alfred was frowning, as though he genuinely didn't understand what Arthur meant.
"Yes. The three of us must appear at ease and happy when we are being crowned."
At this, Alfred sat curling both his legs now. With the increase in space, Arthur wriggled onto the bed properly, his legs still hanging off the side. "Why can't we be sad or angry?" demanded Alfred, scowling. It wasn't a good look on him, Arthur decided.
"The Kingdom-" Arthur began with a roll of his eyes.
"Screw the Kingdom!" Alfred snapped.
Silence descended. Alfred was breathing hard, obviously trying to stop himself from crying. His Queen simply stared back at him blankly, unsure what to do or say. His reasons for lying were not being accepted as readily as last time and it seemed that, if he did not calm his King down soon, there would be unrest within the Kingdoms. Strangely, despite having been so adamant about not being Queen just a few weeks ago, Arthur did not want that to happen and would do anything to stop it.
He spotted a bulge in Alfred's waistcoat pocket and he tapped it. "Your father," Arthur said as he tugged gently at the chain hanging freely, "entrusted you with the Kingdom. He was hard on you, I know. However, he was probably trying to prepare you for this." He looked back up and into Alfred's eyes. "You cannot always have your way, Alfred. Please. Calm down. We can look for the former Jack once we have been crowned but try to act as normally as you can until then. Do you understand?"
Slowly, Alfred nodded. "Yeah. But... You're not gonna lie to me any more?"
Arthur thought about it for a moment and shook his head. "No. I have also learned my lesson. If I am to be Queen, I must trust you not to lose your temper over matters such as these. I should work with you and Matthew. It is impossible to work on these things alone." He smiled softly at Alfred who stared back for a moment, obviously shocked. Then a grin shone from his face. Arthur quickly stood before he could hug him or whatever he was planning. "Anyway, I must leave you, for now. Will you be going back to the ball?"
"Nah," said Alfred, tilting his head in curiosity. "I think I'll just stay here. Where are you going?"
Sighing, Arthur replied, "I have another King to go comfort."
"Who?" Alfred's brow furrowed. "Francis?"
"Yes. He was fairly upset after you left and has also abandoned his own party. I expect it was quite a shock, discovering that about his parents."
Alfred nodded his understanding so Arthur turned to leave. However, a hand grabbed his sleeve and he paused, looking back at an uneasy King. "You... won't be staying with him all night, will you?"
"Of course not!" said Arthur with a snort of derision. "There is no way anyone will make me do that. I shall be back to sleep on the couch, regardless."
"You don't need to sleep on the couch," Alfred protested, his gaze flickering away. "We can share the bed, like on the ship."
"Ah, well." Arthur turned from him, unwilling to let the sudden blush be seen. "Yes, I suppose we can do that." With that being said, he hurried from the room.
"Verdammt!" hissed Gilbert as he floated just below the ceiling of the corridor, watching Arthur make his way along it. As the Spade began his search for the King of Hearts, Gilbert bobbed after him. "Francis was supposed to make a fuss. Stupid Hearts Schwein!" He scowled at nothing in particular. On his shoulder, Gilbird chirped and he glanced at the bird. "Ja, you are right. It is just a shame that they are not living up to my expectations." The Joker pouted for a moment. "I suppose I should start getting ready, though. It is not over yet."
The whole Alfred crying in his room on the ship and the sword fight kinda came from nowhere. But I added them in cause, well, they had to do something on the ship to pass the time.
I kind of decided whilst writing the last chapter to have Francis find out about his parents not loving each other but it wasn't in my original plan. But I think it's better like this.
Translation for those who don't speak Russian and stuff! (I don't either. What the priest says doesn't translate back on Google Translate well so I gave up after fiddling round and not getting it right for five minutes. So what it "translates" to is what I put into the thing in the first place.)
Bogi sochli eto sootvetstvuyushchiy, chtoby darovat' etu chest' na vas. Vy klyanus' soblyudat' traditsii i obyazannosti vashey pozitsii i uderzhat' stranu rabotayet? Vy klyanus' vsegda dumayut o strane i polozhit' vashu stranu pered soboy i vashego blagopoluchiya? Vy obeshchayut borot'sya do poslednego vzdokha za svoyu stranu, i tol'ko dlya vashey strany? = The gods have seen fit to bestow this honour upon you. Do you swear to uphold the traditions and duties of your position and to keep the country running? Do you swear to always think of the country and put your country before yourself and your well-being? Do you promise to fight till your last breath for your country and solely for your country?
Darau. = I do
-heures de plus et nous serons libres. = more hours and we will be free. (As in "A few more hours and we will be free.")
"Je ne peux pas attendre! J'ai peine à croire ce qui se passe!" = I cannot wait! I can hardly believe this is happening!
Francis sera déçu, cependant. = Francis will be disappointed, though/however.
You know, I think that's all the notes I have for this...
