Chapter 14:
He refused to go crazy. He would not be reduced to nothing but a mere shell of his once powerful self before he had even had the chance to tear out Alfred's throat with his bare hands. A castle couldn't possibly have the power to send a man mad. It wasn't possible for stone walls to infect the brain with such poisonous hallucinations. He couldn't - wouldn't - be the man to ruin his own ingenious plans.
Sick of waiting. Sick of planning. Sick of nothing.
Ivan could barely sleep at night, visions of Alfred crawling into his dreams like a monster to disturb him even there when his eyes were closed. Everywhere he looked the young king was waiting, lurking in the shadows or following down the corridors. Elizaveta didn't see him, she hadn't since his first appearance in the throne room. No one saw him but Ivan. He just stood there grinning, watching… mocking his failures.
No more.
Marching down to the dungeons, Ivan would sit back and wait for Alfred to move no longer. Searching for him was proving nothing more than a waste of his energy; the Spade Royals had proven themselves in their capable hiding abilities – cowards. Ivan knew now that they had to be harbouring shelter in one of the two other kingdoms.
Which one exactly he couldn't determine, that all depended just how far the two cowards were willing to run. Trying to figure out which kingdom they were taking shelter in would take far too long and Ivan was tired of wasting time. This plan was much quicker and would prove far more effective.
Alfred's emotions, after all, were his greatest weakness.
A King needed a heart of stone to rule and Alfred seemed to lack that ability. He ruled with his heart far too often.
The dungeons stirred as he descended the stairs, his coat fluttering out and trailing on the steps behind him as the guards clumsily bowed at the waist at the bottom. He ignored them and signalled for them to move out his way before he pushed them. They moved instantly. A man on a mission, he marched straight to Yao and Matthew's cell and demanded it be unlocked immediately in a gruff voice.
The guard outside the door startled and fumbled with the key attached to his belt, his shaky hands making things extremely difficult as he forced the key toward the lock, missing several times but Ivan found it no trouble. Yao and Matthew's faces of poorly hidden concern were more than enough to keep him entertained.
Yao was stood in the corner of the small cell as if he had been trying to look out the ever so tiny barred window far above his head that he could never have reached even on his tiptoes whilst Matthew was perched on the edge of the bed, bandaged and looking worse for wear. His eyes narrowed instantly at Ivan's presence whereas Yao looked wary, Ivan smirking at the young Ace as he remembered the pleasure it brought him to leave each and every bloodied mark still strewn across his skin.
With a loud 'clink' echoing throughout the eerily still dungeon, the cell door opened and the bars that separated the Spade Royals from the Club King were removed. Yao stiffened as if ice had been injected into his veins, his throat bobbing as Ivan took a single stride into the cell, his eyes fixated on only Matthew as the Ace rose to his feet with shaky legs.
"Hello Matthew," Ivan smirked, violet eyes snapping over to Yao when he shifted to try and close the gap between him and Matthew. It was hardly worth the effort; before Yao could so much as lift a finger, Ivan grabbed the front of Matthew's shirt and dragged him out the cell, shutting the cell door behind him just as Yao reached them so that his body slammed into the iron bars with a loud thud. Ivan thought that perhaps such an impact would have winded him, but Yao forced his arms through the gaps between the bars and desperately tried to reach, scratching for both Ivan and Matthew in his desperation.
"Ivan no! You said you wouldn't hurt him anymore!" Yao yelled, pulling his arms back to grip at the bars so tight his fingers turned white. Matthew struggled in his grasp but Ivan only gave him a small grin before restraining him with magic. It took hardly anything at all, the blond practically going limp in his hold with only the smallest amount of magic wrapped around his limbs. The Ace was still weak from their little 'chat' it seemed.
"Please! Ivan I will beg if I have to! Leave him!
Ivan almost considered his offer. Watching Yao beg on his knees for Matthew's life would be quite the show but Ivan had other plans for Matthew's life. It was rather valuable after all. He couldn't just throw it around all willy-nilly. Turning to from Yao he nodded to one of the guards outside another cell with three very similar scowling faces inside.
"I want the redhead," He told them, eyes glancing over Alistair whilst he continued to address his guards so that the knight knew he too was being indirectly spoken too. "Make sure he comes quietly. Poor Matthew here has suffered enough already at the hands of his friends."
Yao whimpered at that, just as he had wanted as he hauled Matthew from the dungeons by the back of his shirt. Once they were at the top of the stairs and a little way down the corridor he released his magic on the Ace and Matthew instantly began to fight, slapping his hands back at Ivan's until he was let go and allowed to stand of his own accord.
The Spade Ace looked tired, ragged of breath and low of energy. Clearly, he was in much need of rest but it made the game all that more interesting. His wounds were healing but not fully healed. It was curious that he wanted to fight so much despite the pain.
"You are incredibly stupid if you think you can fight me."
"I don't want to fight you," Matthew said defiantly, his voice much stronger than he looked physically. His lilac eyes were remarkably fired up and bright behind the frames of his glasses for someone who looked, well, beaten. "I will walk myself or are you scared that a lowly Ace will overpower a crazy King such as yourself?" Matthew smirked, cocking his head to one side with a brave amount of confidence as if he knew what was really going on in Ivan's head. Ivan found it a funny choice of words. If he didn't need Matthew he would have killed him for it.
Forcing a friendly smile that was sickly sweet, he extended his hand out in front of him.
"Please, stretch your legs. It might be the last time you use them."
"Thank you."
Matthew ignored his threat, turning his back on him and holding his head high as he walked ahead. Ivan scowled at his back, almost wishing he could throw daggers at it. He hated this unusual arrogant confidence that Matthew had adjourned. Matthew didn't fight. He especially didn't fight with Kings. He wasn't a fighter and he never had been. In all the years he had known Alfred and his brother, Matthew was the one that sat in the back with a book and ran in the opposite direction of conflict. He supposed, however, that if Matthew was going to fight for anyone that anyone would be Alfred.
The walk to the throne room was quick. He stood at the front of the room, at the bottom of the steps up to the three Spades thrones with Matthew knelt on his knees in silence at his side. He didn't argue much about the act - a vague threat about Yao was enough to make him shut up and kneel.
Shortly after, Alistair was brought into the room. He'd never considered Alistair all that much. The head knight was often busy with other bachelors or bachelorettes when he came to visit at balls – Ivan had high suspicious that Alistair just preferred to avoid him when possible, keeping a close watch from afar.
The minute he walked in, Alistair's guard shot up around him and Ivan could feel it like a punch to the face. He strode in with his hands cuffed behind his back and his eyes narrowed on Ivan as if he were the only man in the room, hardly giving Matthew a side glance as if he just didn't care.
Ivan knew this game. He liked this game. Arthur played it regularly - pretending not to care about those that he really did. It was a fun game to twist. The Club solider stopped Alistair directly in front of Ivan before taking his leave, closing the throne room doors behind him and leaving Alistair and Matthew in Ivan's hands. Matthew's head hung low at Ivan's knee already.
"Alistair Kirkland. How long it has been. You're the eldest brother of the Queen if I recall, yes?"
"Skip the formalities."
Ivan quirked an eyebrow as he silently clasped his hands behind his back. It seemed his prisoners still had some fighting spirit. How delightful. Rocking back and forth on his heels with a childish grin, Ivan cocked his head to one side ever so slightly as if he were about to as Alistair to play a game of eye spy with him. A twitch of Alistair's left eye told the Club King immediately that the attitude grinded on him.
"Straight to the point, I like it. I want you to call your little brother for me," Ivan stated matter of fact. Alistair looked confused, the emotion so clear across his face it might as well have been written there as his eyes dropped down to Matthew whose head had lifted at the order. He too looked a little bewildered.
"I don't understand? I can't. I don't know where he is."
Ivan hummed and wanted nothing more than to take the moment and twist it into something dramatic. He could have stridden across the room, his coat wiping out behind him as he whispered into Alistair's ear exactly what he wanted him to do but he didn't have time for the enjoyment of his much-wanted dramatics nor did he want to leave Matthew sitting on the floor without his presence. Matthew had become a source of unpredictability he hadn't accounted for. For all Ivan knew, Matthew could happily stand and race for the door. He could just as easily try to fight for freedom.
"I suggest you listen closer Mr Kirkland." The way Alistair repressed a shuddered, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly as he tried to hold it back, brought a smirk to the Club King's lips. Oh, how wonderful. Alistair really did hate those formalities when they came from him. "I said your little brother."
Mossy green eyes widened almost instantly, his face contorting into something Ivan could only source as utter dread before it was gone and his face returned to a neutral stance once more. His slightly chapped lips were pressed into a firm line, eyebrows drawn close in scowl and his eyes had almost darkened at the mere mention of Ivan's words as he did nothing but shake his head once.
Out the corner of his eye, Ivan noticed Matthew look up to him with far less controlled emotions. He could feel the hatred burning beside his knee yet Matthew said nothing, remaining still.
"I don't recall Arthur being your youngest brother. I am correct, aren't I?"
"Shut the fuck up." Alistair's voice lacked bite as it came through gritted teeth, warning the Club King.
How cute. Spades appeared like a wall of concrete from the outside; powerful and towering tall alongside the Four Kingdoms determined to make its mark and yet on the inside it was controlled by nothing but weak and vulnerable people. People that could be manipulated by the right twist of their arm. They were easy prey once inside. Alfred would become just as easy once Ivan had his hands around him.
"You will call your youngest brother to this throne room for me or I will make sure that upon Arthur's return he suffers a fate far worse than death. The choice is yours."
"I won't do shit for you!" Alistair hissed, struggling against his bounds but not daring to take a step forward. His glare was murderous but it was met only by a poisonous smile as Ivan called for a guard. The guard shuffled into the room immediately and Matthew couldn't help but shiver at the sound of Ivan's voice, his shoulders falling forward as he watched Alistair stare wide eyed at the guard.
"Your Majesty?" He bowed graciously but Ivan's eyes never left the red head before him, a wicked grin plastered across his face. He wanted to make him suffer until he gave in to his plan. Time was of the essence. He didn't have time for another. He needed Alistair to break. Luckily for him, Alistair was man of many weaknesses. One would think his parents would have learnt to have a smaller family.
"Bring me the blond one. Dylan was it? Perhaps we can have a similar chat to dear Matthew here." Ivan nudged Matthew's shoulder with his leg, ignoring the grunt of protest in favour of Alistair's horrified expression as the crumbling realisation of his decision was brought upon his shoulders; one brother for another.
The guard nodded and began to take his leave however he had barely taken two steps before Alistair cried out for him to stop, green eyes aflame with hatred. If looks alone were enough to kill, Ivan would have been dead for certain but instead he felt warm and fuzzy knowing that he had made yet another member of the Spade family suffer; even if it was just a little bit. After all, this was Alfred's doing. If he had stayed behind and faced him like a man, his friends wouldn't have had to suffer.
"I'll do it!"
"Good!" Ivan clapped his hands cheerfully and dismissed the guard, tasking him instead with finding his Queen. She would be valuable in the next stage of his plan and he could not complete it without her. Her willingness to agree, however, was not guaranteed. "Now call him."
"Alistair don't…" Matthew warned, groaning when Ivan kicked him hard. He was beginning to wear thing on Ivan's patience.
Alistair spared him a sorry glance but Ivan knew his plan was already in motion. He could feel the electricity spiking in the air before Alistair had even closed his eyes, lowering his head so that his chin rested upon his chest. The smirk on Ivan's lips was one of victory.
"Peter? Can you hear me? I need to speak with you." Alistair's voice was feather light that Ivan could barely hear it over the cracking sound of static in his ears, Matthew shuffling anxiously in his chains beside him. The noise made him acknowledge the Ace enough to see Matthew was already awaiting his gaze.
"You don't know what you've done," He said with the shake of his head and his voice low, eyes hateful and almost fearful.
Matthew didn't hold his line of sight for much longer, turning back to Alistair who was now glancing around the room and simply waiting. His shoulders were tense and his jaw clenched as he tried to hide his fear but it was in vain for Ivan could feel it rolling of the man in ripples.
The mere mention of Alistair's much younger and final brother had instilled terror into his chest just as Ivan had planned, threatening another member of his family on top of that had only ensured that it remained there.
Grinning at Matthew's shuddering shoulders, the Club King returned his attention back to the head knight just as a small child appeared into the room in a cloud of thick, black smoke. Electricity sparked within the dark cloud, crackling with warning that only made Ivan all the more pleased. Within seconds of the boy's feet touching the ground the smoke thinned, disappearing into nothing along with the sounds of static and electricity that had buzzed in his ears.
This was all going so perfect; the boy had even appeared exactly where Ivan had predicted with his back wide open to him. He was unaware to his surroundings, unaware to the dangerous that lurked beyond the image of his older brother tied in chains in front of him. He was completely clueless to the Club King looming behind him wielding his long staff.
"Young Matthew, I know exactly what I'm doing."
XxXxXx
Ever since Ivan had requested she search the castle, tear it apart one brick at a time in their search, Elizaveta found that there was one place in particular she made return visits too: the gallery. She had never intended for it to become such a habit, never intended to step foot within the place every again upon searching it with her guards, however she couldn't help but flee to it in times of thinking, locking herself away within it's quiet walls and pacing under the watchful eyes of one particularly stricken portrait.
Alfred and Arthur's portrait.
They had been painted to perfection. Alfred was stood tall, his grin wide and happy with the King's Crown painted intricately with shining jewels as if it were the real thing sat atop his golden hair. Arthur was nestled in beside him, his smile smaller but no less joyful and his eyes painted the perfect shade of green that almost jumped from the canvas. His hand was held in Alfred's with the Queen's crown pressed into his hair and Elizaveta couldn't help but swallow thickly under their gazes.
She could see a happiness that she couldn't see in her own portrait. She had seen how these two individuals lived as she tore apart their home section by section, ransacking it for information. She had seen Alfred's spare pair of glasses resting on the dressing table in their chambers, Arthur's books lining the bookcases and scattered all over the castle, pillows neatly fluffed on the bed, portraits of Alfred's ancestors hanging around her and the way that Arthur and his brothers had been carefully added into that line of monarchy.
Her eyes almost welled with tears as she pulled something from her pocket, slowly opening her palm and looking down to see two silver bands resting in the centre of her hand. They were wedding bands. The same ones Alfred and Arthur were wearing within the painting. She had found them in a small box hidden away in their chambers the very first day they arrived here.
They had been tucked away within the wall along with the Spade Queen's journal. Elizaveta didn't have the heart to hand them over to Ivan. She couldn't let his tainted hands touch something as pure as their wedding bands. Even she was unsure if she should touch them. Along with the journal, she had kept them hidden.
She almost dropped the bands when a guard stormed through the doors into the silent gallery, urgently stuffing the rings back into the safety of her pocket where she had kept them safe from the very beginning. He didn't notice, striding toward her and bowing before delivering what appeared to be an important message.
"His Majesty has sent me to summon you to the throne room."
She wasted no time in nodding and following his lead toward the aforementioned room, walking briskly to keep up with the guard who made it apparent in his rush movements that there was a rush to get there. Although confused, she never questioned it. She had no knowledge that her King was busy making plans of attack. Perhaps news of Alfred had come through and she had been too busy to hear of it?
The minute she got to the throne room she was surprised when the guard stopped in his tracks and left her too it, allowing her to proceed on her own as he remained behind, almost quivering at the door. She eyed him quietly, suspicious of the odd behaviour, but entered the room as she had been directed.
Instantly she could feel just how cold the room was. This was a normal occurrence when it came to her King; Ivan had the power to make any room cool over just with his eyes however this was something different, she could feel it.
She didn't expect to see the mayhem that she saw.
Her King was stood at the head of the room, tall and proud as if he hadn't spent the past week running from shadows and screaming at blank walls like some crazed man. Matthew was knelt on the ground beside his legs and Alistair in the centre of the room, his shoulders shaking. His back was to the Club Queen and she could only presume he was crying, a sight Elizaveta knew was rare.
In front of Ivan, with that horrid staff held across him and his back firmly pressed against her King's body was a small, terrified child. He was dressed head to toe in black apart from the red shirt beneath his black jacket. The jacket was littered with markings upon the sleeves and around the trim in red, standing out against the back and around the boy's neck was a red neck scarf, pulled loose and almost falling free as it revealed his neck. His dusty blond hair was ruffled all over, clearly from some struggle, and his bright blue eyes were streaming with tears as he whimpered and whined – eyes fixed solely on Alistair in front of him.
The clothing alone was enough for Elizaveta to know who he was. Her lunch was awfully close to making a second appearance.
"My Queen, welcome."
Ivan's voice was like ice crawling across her skin and she wondered into the room, coming to a stop just beside Alistair. Out the corner of her eye she could see that he was indeed fighting back tears, whether they were tears of fury or of hate she was unable to tell. Anyone could see simply from looking that the only reason those tears had yet to fall was because Alistair was staying strong for the child shaking like a wilting leaf in front of them.
"What are you doing?" Elizaveta asked with a confused frown, eyeing the child before her gaze lifted to Ivan. The corners of his lips twitched as he patted the boy's shoulder, making him cry out and Alistair instantly struggle against his chains. Elizaveta could have sworn she heard a low growl come from her side.
"Alfred has hidden in the shadows for too long. Today, we make him move."
She didn't understand his plan from the little in front of her but she didn't believe it to be a good one. Without her consultation, Ivan had been free to concoct this plan all on his own and in his unstable condition Elizaveta didn't want to know the thoughts that passed through his mind. Lowering her gaze, she tried to piece together Matthew's involvement but he appeared just as puzzled as she did as he sat discarded at her King's feet. If she didn't know any better, she was beginning to think that Ivan was beginning to grow a new addiction to Matthew simply because he couldn't have Alfred. Almost like the young Ace was his pet.
"Do you recall your younger years My Queen?" Ivan asked suddenly and Elizaveta was struck with the thought that perhaps her leader really had gone mad. As if to prove it, his eyes darted off behind her, narrowing as if he had seen something lurking within the back off the throne room but she daren't turn around. The fear of being punished for staring at something that she knew, ultimately, wasn't there was far greater than her curiosity.
"I do."
After a moment's hesitation where Ivan continued to stare behind her, his eyes finally returned to her and their conversation. Elizaveta counted Alistair lucky that he had been ignored, his gaze still lingering on the blank wall at the far end of the throne room where Ivan had been staring.
"Good. Then I suggest you call upon a certain member of your past. I presume that he will listen to you. You were, after all, good friends I heard."
Her body went rigid. Like cement coursed through her veins instead of blood and had forced her into permanent stature. Ivan's voice was stern, like a father talking down to his child and explaining a highly important task. She knew exactly what he was asking of her. As did Matthew who was staring at her from the floor with widened eyes, silently pleading for her to do anything but what she had been asked.
"Something the matter?"
"I won't."
She shook her head and stuck out her chin, planting her feet firmly on the ground in defiance. Ivan's eyes twitched with annoyance before his grip upon his staff tightened, pulling it closer to his body as if he intended to crush the child's bones against his own larger body. The child whimpered, biting his lip, and Alistair cast a dark glare in her direction.
"Do you know what happens when you kill a Joker? The cosmic balance of this world would be thrown off. I need a Joker, a stronger Joker, in order to get my message to the seemingly elusive brat these people call their King. This," He shook the child roughly. "Is my bargaining chip. Unless you want the cosmic balance of the world thrown upside down and our Four Kingdoms tossed into peril where millions and millions of innocent men, women and children will die then… that makes you just as dark as me my dear. Their blood will be smeared across your hands Elizaveta."
The sound of her name upon his lips sent shivers throughout her entire body, her skin crawling with the threat. She hesitated. The child, Peter she believed his name to be, was crying, begging and pleading for his life. It wasn't until she heard him whisper Arthur's name in true desperation that she felt the painful sting of guilt tear through her heart. His wedding band felt like led in her pocket.
"He is only a child!" She protested and although she believed all maternal instincts within her had died many winters ago, the need to yank that boy free from Ivan and coddle him in her arms where he would be safe and unharmed trampled through every other reasonable thought.
He was a Joker but before he was a Joker he was a child.
Ivan did not heed her words, as if expecting such from her he pulled a dagger from the inside of his coat pocket. The sight had her stomach rolling in loops as if she had been pushed down a steep hill. With surprising care, he dragged the dagger over Peter's cheek, a teardrop rolling over the silver blade. She swallowed thickly, eyebrows drawn thick as Ivan's eyes watched her for a reaction, judging her every movement.
His staff vanished from his other hand with a single blink of her eye and Peter instantly attempted to run, to be free, but an icy hand on his shoulder held him in place; the dagger was swift to follow, pressing against his small throat and daring him to move, to breathe, in a way that Ivan did not like.
"Alistair!" He cried out, his brother and his only hope jostling in his chains. Alistair attempted to move forward however the instant his leg so much as twitched it buckled beneath him and he tumbled to the ground. He hit the floor with his chest, only just managing to keep his head up as he grunted at the impact and Elizaveta instantly dove down to help him to his knees. She whispered for him to stay down, for his own safety, but all he did was glare at her and roughly shove her away as if her touch burnt at him through the fabric of his clothing.
She recoiled, stumbling back to her feet at the look of hatred Alistair burnt into her soul – a look she had only ever seen given to the likes of Ivan. She was not so bad as to be given the same looks, was she? She did not deserve such looks of burning emotion. Or did she? Was she, too, not the reason he was on his knees before another King in the sanctuary of his own castle?
The Club Queen felt hot tears threaten in the corners of her eyes. Her throat was dry and her thoughts scrambled, ears bleeding from the sound of a child in need. Several times she had seen Ivan do grave things but never had he gone so far as to punish a child in her presence.
Torn between a difficult decision, Elizaveta couldn't differentiate right from wrong.
This child was a Joker. An unbelievably powerful force and vital component within their world – the Four Kingdoms could not function without he or his brothers. He was still on the path of learning who he was and what he was, how to use that power stored inside of him and why. At this moment in his life, he didn't know the half of it.
He was young, innocent and naïve. If Ivan killed him, even at this age, their world would be thrown into unleashed chaos that could never be contained. Evils beyond imagination would consume them and eventually they would tear themselves apart until nothing but blood and ruins were left standing. Jokers kept them balanced. They were the wrong to everything that was right.
However, if she did as King Ivan asked of her she would be drawing yet another Joker out of the shadows. An older Joker; a stronger Joker. She would be forcing him into a situation she would wish upon no one. He would have to comply with Ivan's wishes in order to keep his fellow Joker's life – in order to save the life of Arthur's little brother. Trusting a Joker's magic was dangerous and highly unreliable, Ivan was insane for simply considering such an idea never mind actually running with it.
A blood curdling scream echoed through the throne room, disrupting her desperate thought debating, and Elizaveta was met with Alistair's green eyes wide and pleading at her knee. He looked up to her through fiery red hair, lashes damp and eyes glossy with tears he was struggling to contain. His voice cracked upon words she didn't hear and her gaze drifted from him to the others, noting the small droplets of blood smearing across the silver blade held at Peter's throat, the metal glimmering in the sunlight as Ivan moved it across his skin.
Alistair's voice barely came close to her ears, replaced only by the sound of Peter's screaming and crying along with Ivan's childish laughter, too happy and pleased with his actions that Elizaveta's skin grew warm with anger. Matthew was hunched upon floor still, curled in on himself, and if Elizaveta knew him at all she could picture that had his arms not been bound they would have been pressed against his ears to block out the torment.
Taking a single, steadying breath, she tilted her head back and focused on the high ceiling. She couldn't tell if she would come to regret this decision but she could let Peter suffer no longer. She had the chance to win his freedom and she would take it. The repercussions she could deal with but the murder of an innocent child and a Joker no less would not be on her hands this day.
"Gilbert." Her voice was weak, trembling with fear and she hoped that if anything that would make him come to her aid faster. "You need to come quickly… I…" Normally a remark would roll easily off her tongue, something funny or an insult of sorts to lure him down to her – an old habit that had continued from their younger days when they had been friends. Before the days when royalties had become a large part of their lives. Before she had been married off to a lunatic.
It took a few seconds but she could feel the static crackling in her hair; Ivan's head lifting and looking over to her when black smoke gathered around her ankles, swirling upwards in front of her just as a man appeared with it. Lightening flickered around him, flashing in the darkness before it thinned, vanishing into the unknown, before the man stepped out and gripped her arms tightly.
To most, he was known only as the White Demon but to her he was, and would always be, Gilbert. A dear friend whom had grown up at her side and been with her throughout her childhood until their destinies had forced them apart.
His face was a picture of worry, crimson red eyes scanning her up and down, repeating once more before finally come to rest on her eyes. Elizaveta concluded that he looked well; his pale skin and frosty white hair clean and well maintained. He didn't appear to have injuries like the last time she had seen him – training he had said but Elizaveta had not been convinced.
"Are you hurt? Did that bastard touch you?" He asked gently, cupping her chin to observe her face from better angles. She went to bat his hands away but found she didn't need to, his hands falling of his own doing when he realised that the tapestries upon the walls behind her were not green and presenting the crest of Clubs like they should. Instead they were blue, the Spade emblem sewn proudly within them.
When Peter's low whimpering broke through the sudden silence of the room, he turned his back on her, shielding her behind his body instinctively and surveying the scene that he had been called into.
"Gil!" Peter cried, Gilbert flinching only an inch at the sound of his name as his eyes narrowed in on Ivan holding the dagger to his prodigy's throat. Peter's blue eyes were locked onto the familiar face that had suddenly appeared in front of him, hopeful and bright. Elizaveta could see the way Peter was staring at Gilbert like he was his rescuer already and yet Gilbert hardly batted an eyelid in his direction, eyes never lowering from Ivan stood behind. The Club King's stance had stiffed since Gil's arrival; he was stood taller, his back straight as if to try assert his dominance. Did Elizaveta sense some uncertainty from her King?
"Well done My Queen. I knew you would reconsider."
She could tell Ivan was mocking her, his eyes finding hers as she peered over Gilbert's shoulder. The Joker growled. The last thing she wanted was to hide behind Gilbert, to be seen hiding behind a Joker when they were unworthy of trust and companionship. However, she felt safe with Gilbert – far safer than she had ever felt with Ivan. Gilbert had instincts to protect her that went beyond his job as a Joker keeping the balance all the way back to when they were young children. She too, had the same gut instincts.
"Listen well White Demon. I have a message that needs to reach King Alfred of Spades. I know not his location nor do I care anymore. You will get my message to him if you want the cosmic balance of our world to remain intact. You do value the lives of your youngers, don't you?" Ivan taunted, pulling on Peter's hair to reveal more of his throat.
Alistair yelled for him to stop but his body was of no help to him, held in place by invisible restraints. Elizaveta had seen Ivan use magic as a form of restraint before but Alistair was fighting, she could see it clean on his face and yet Ivan showed no sign of weakening. It had her deeply concerned.
Gilbert bore his sharpened teeth toward the Club King in warning, Ivan grinning at the response and pressing the blade harder against Peter's skin. More blood oozed from the wound and Peter screamed once more, Elizaveta jumping at the shrill noise and gripping onto Gilbert's arm tightly. He flinched and she could only just see his strained face, watching the boy he was training being tortured before his very eyes.
When the screaming continued and Gilbert did nothing, Elizaveta pushed him aside and stepped forward.
"Stop! Stop it!" She screeched, pulling at her own hair in uncontrollable desperation. She was surprised when Ivan's hand halted in its movements and drew back. The blade was withdrawn from Peter's throat slightly, lavender eyes frowning at her as he stared at her. Only when she felt her hand brush against her cheek did she realise that she was crying. "He is a boy! A child! Leave him alone! Gilbert!"
She reeled around on her heel, vision blurring slightly with the onslaught of tears she refused to shed more violently as Gilbert lingered in the shadows. He took another glance at her face as if she were painful to look at, his eyes darting all over her, before he strode to her side and nodded once at Ivan.
"I will do as you ask."
The Queen felt like being sick.
"You will release him and vow never to lay a finger on him again. Do so and I will make you wish for death. I can send your message however I can't tell you where Alfred is in the Four Kingdoms."
Gilbert's voice was dark and hollow. It sent a shudder down Elizaveta's spine as she watched him stand up to her King, her shoulders shaking with anticipation until Ivan threw Peter down the stairs away from him as if he were nothing but worthless scraps.
He landed with a thud on his knees, his arms catching him but he didn't seem to care, crawling across the stone immediately to his brother where Ivan's magic had released him also. Alistair frowned deeply, a crease forming between his brows as he tried to hold in the tears, as Peter's arms wound around him. Peter clung to him tightly, crying hysterically into his shirt and smearing it with tears and blood. With his arms bound behind his back, Alistair could do nothing but rest his head against Peter's until Gilbert gave a small wave of his hand and the shackles fell free.
Ivan's glare was met only with a stern glance.
"Time with his brother is well deserved. He is under my guard and if you wish for me to carry out your plans you will allow him such time."
The sentiment made Elizaveta smile softly as she tore away some of the fabric from her shirt, slowly approaching Alistair who had his arms protectively around Peter. He eyed her as she crouched down close to them but she made no other movement other than holding out the cloth to him and nodding toward Peter, the boy cowering away from her in fear that she too was going to harm him. Those blue eyes were fixed on the Club emblem proudly displayed on her chest.
It hurt deeply to see the fear embedded in his eyes but Alistair took the fabric and ever so carefully wrapped it wound Peter's neck. He never thanked her but the look in his eye was grateful enough and that was all she needed before she stood and turned back just in time to see Ivan haul Matthew from the ground. He stumbled slightly as he was suddenly remembered and dragged in front of Gilbert.
"You've had the pleasure of meeting Matthew before I presume?"
Matthew gave Gilbert a weak nod of which he replied with a single nod of his own. Ivan didn't care for the gesture, holding the Ace by the back of his shirt as if he were hanging him out to dry. Clearly, he was sick of waiting. The time to move was now.
"Great! Gilbert, if you would be so kind."
XxXxXx
A/N: First of all, I would like to say that I'm sorry for the delay on this chapter. I have been rather ill over the weekend and so I have had very little time to finish this chapter, proof read it and post it.
That said, it's here now and it's a pretty big one with lots of things that happen. Ivan is going to crazy extremes and introduces us to our well-loved Jokers!
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!