Woo, chapter 12! But sad chapter is sad.

"Brother?" The Ace of Diamonds sat across from his tired looking King.

"What it is, petit frère?" Francis looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

"When are we going home?" it sounded childish but Antonio didn't care. He liked the Spade family well enough. Alfred and Matthew were always willing to talk to him but London wasn't Paris. He wasn't sleeping in his four poster bed, with his favorite blanket and his little brother next to him.

Francis noticed Antonio's downcast eyes and sad expression.

"You are worried about Lovi." It didn't need to be a question.

"And Feli." Antonio said slowly.

"But mostly Lovi." Francis lay the newspaper on a table and crossed his legs elegantly. "I know how fond you are of him."

"Don't say it like I don't care about Feli." Antonio grumbled in the same tone Lovino was famous for.

"I'm not." Francis sighed. "I don't know if we can go home."

"We have to though, brother." The Ace said, trying to push the thoughts of his brothers away. It was time to be the general. "We can't leave our people alone."

"You're right. As usual." Francis said. He was silent, his blue eyes sad and almost cold.

Antonio became worried about his King. Francis was never quiet for long.

"Cabecou?" Francis gave a terribly small smile at the use of his childhood nick name.

"I'm scared, Tony." Francis said softly. "I don't what to do any more. I try to think of what Papa would do but he never talked about war."

"It was all in the books, no?" Antonio asked. Francis nodded slowly, tears welling up in his eyes.

Antonio watched Francis. "Smile for your brother, Cabecou, por favor?"

"Pourquoi?" Francis whispered. "What have I to smile at?"

"Me." Antonio said simply. "Am I not enough? Your family?" Francis said nothing but instead watched a candle, trying not to cry. "What about the King?" Francis's eyes widened slightly, but he still wouldn't look at his brother. "Won't you smile for his majesty?"

A small smile tugged at Francis's lips. The soft pink crescent grew a little and finally stretched across the Diamond's lovely face.

"That's the Francis I know." Antonio pulled his brother into a bone crushing hug, one that the King gladly returned. "Go find the Spade, if he doesn't want to share your bed tonight, mine is always open."

"Ma chérie, nous sommes frères!" Francis gasped dramatically. They laughed.

"Don't be such a pervert, Francesco." Antonio said. "You know I hate sleeping alone."

"Oui, I know."

"And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her all up. The end." The King of Spades closed the book and put his arms around his youngest brother.

"Another!" Peter wriggled a little and turned to look at his brother.

"You've had three already. One from each of us, as always." Arthur always lost the rude, blunt demeanor talking to his baby brother. He spoke to Peter kindly and gently. He could never stop seeing him as the tiny little boy he once was.

Alfred smiled from his spot by the fire, but didn't look up from the book he and Matthew were sharing. Arthur was a wonderful brother.

"Come on jerk!" Peter shouted.

"Peter, calm yourself, we have guests." Timo looked up from behind them.

"I don't mind." He said. "I don't want to be a bother." Berwald just nodded in agreement.

"Can the Six tell me a story?" Peter asked, leaping off his brother's lap and trotting over the tall Club.

Timo glanced at Berwald. He knew how sensitive the man was when it came to speaking.

"S'rr'." Berwald shook his head. Peter's face fell a little.

"Oh, alright." He said softly. "I guess I'll go to bed then."

"You want me to tuck you in?" Alfred asked.

"Could you do that, Mr. Berwald?" Peter said it in a whisper.

"W' j'st m't."Berwald said, clearly taken aback.

"Come on, Peter, let's go." Arthur stood and picked up the twelve year old. He knew the boy was too heavy to lift and far too old to be carried to bed but, he had to. He would carry the Nine until he could only drag him across the floor.

"You've rather taken a liking to the Six." Arthur said, sitting on the edge of Peter's bed.

"He's nice." Peter snuggled against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"And you can understand him?" Peter nodded. "Good." Arthur smoothed the boy's hair. "Good night, Peter."

"Night, Artie." Arthur had to admit, that always made his heart melt.

He didn't notice, though, as he turned the light down and picked up a few pieces of clothes, that a figure was watching through the crack in the door. The figure smiled sadly, feeling tears come to his eyes. He remembered when his own brothers were that small, when they wanted to be tucked in at night and held until they fell asleep. His youngest brother still wanted that and sometimes wound up in the figure's bed, curled into a ball against the figure's body. At least he would. That wouldn't happen any time soon.

"You treat him so wonderfully." The figure said as the King of Spades quietly closed the door to Peter's room.

"Francis!" Arthur leapt back, not expecting the Diamond's voice to come from the gloom. Francis stepped under a lamp and leaned against the wall. "How-what- how did you see that?"

"The door wasn't shut all the way." Francis said slowly. Arthur was shocked. He hadn't noticed how tired and worn the King looked. "I was just passing by and happened to hear you."

"I see." Arthur swallowed his prized blunt, sarcastic nature and asked, in a soft, rather tender voice, "Are you alright?"

Francis noticed the minute expression that passed across Arthur's face. It was almost as if the Spade was swallowing something sour. "No snide comment?"

"I can easily provide you with one, if you wish." Arthur said, scrunching up his eye brows.

"Non, I am fine without one." Francis moved closer to the other King. Arthur stiffened slightly and stood up straighter, looking like he was about to fend off an attack.

But Francis just watched him with cheerless eyes, the blue a sad reminder of what they once were.

"You have such a lovely face." Francis wanted to reach out and brush the perfectly soft skin, desperately wanted the feeling of Arthur's skin beneath his fingers. He held back his hand.

"Do I?" Arthur whispered. Francis nodded. "You still haven't answered my question." Francis tilted his head slightly.

"And what question was that?"

"Are you alright?" Arthur gently repeated the question in the same tone he used whenever Peter had a nightmare, or when Alfred would have one of his moments and ask if he was horrendously ugly, or when Matthew felt useless and invisible.

Francis sighed and brushed a piece of golden hair out of his eyes.

"It is hard, losing your brothers." He said. "I hope you never have to…" He trailed off and took a deep breath. "I hope you never have to lose them. I thought nothing would happen to them, that God would let me keep my family. They are all I have." Silent tears rolled down his milky cheeks. Francis wouldn't look at Arthur though. He wished he had someone like the pompous Spade, someone to hold and love. No, that was wrong. He wanted the King.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. He hated seeing people cry.

"Francis, please, don't-."

"Don't what, Spade?" Francis slid down the wall and just sat there, looking for all the world a drunk. "Don't cry for the boys I raised because my Father was too busy being a horny fop?" His accent came out thicker than usual from all the tears.

Arthur joined him on the floor and tentatively reached out a hand. His fingers lightly rested on Francis's face and slowly turned it to face Arthur.

"Please don't make me cry." Arthur smiled mournfully. Francis sobbed as Arthur wrapped his arms around him, pulling the Diamond into his boney body.

Francis didn't care how boney Arthur was, or who would walk down the hall and see them. For the first time in days, he felt safe, and warm, and loved.

FYI: cabecou is a type of French cheese. I thought a fitting nick name for France.

Ma chérie, nous sommes frères: my darling, we are brothers!

W' j'st m't: we just met. I thought that one might not be as obvious.