Chapter 20:

The Royals stayed for the rest of the week. Arthur made sure to be on his best behavior, even with the Royal Pervert, Francis. He got to know these Royals, got to see how things were done in Diamonds, in Hearts.

And he was happy to see that they were responsive to his suggestions, that they respected his presence in court.

For the first time since their royal engagement, Arthur felt that he could actually be a good Queen for Spades.

As the week winded down, the Royals prepared to leave. Queen Kiku left him with a book and a promise to discuss it the next time they met. King Ludwig, stoic as ever, gave him a nod, which Alfred told him was a good thing. Feliciano of course kissed him on both his cheeks, and said his goodbyes in rapid fire Italian. He smiled at their departure, even looked forward to seeing the strange trio again.

He wasn't too distressed over the Diamonds' departure. Queen Lily was all but silent during their trip, but she did have tea with Arthur enough that he enjoyed her presence in the Palace. Jack Vash seemed to be too militant for Diamonds' neutrality, and he often lost his temper. He also was too protective of the young Lily, distrusting anyone to be alone with her.

And then there was King Francis. He was so determined to get Arthur in his bed. It was sort of frightening—Arthur had said no to people before, but the Frenchman was so adamant to kiss him, to grope him, and to taunt him. After a while, Arthur didn't even care. It was just annoying.

He just didn't want Alfred to find out. Arthur was pretty sure that the Prince's strong punch would definitely hurt relations between the two kingdoms.

So when Francis departed with one final, uncomfortable squeeze to his behind, Arthur was relieved.

…

When the Royals left, things returned to normal around the palace. Well, as normal as it could be, anyway.

Arthur and Alfred spent the rest of their summer immersed into the politics of the Spades Kingdom. Arthur had taken on much of the household duties, and he found out that maintaining an entire Palace's goings-on was extremely difficult. He also began working with the Queen on details of the Kingdom's interior.

As he worked away on land-disputes, representation, and the affairs of the Spades' people, Arthur also observed how hard his fiancé had to work. Alfred had always had duties around the castle—he trained knights with the master-at-arms, he went into the capitol city to see how people were living, and he often ran royal errands for his father.

Now, his duties must have increased tenfold. He took much more responsibility for his knights and soldiers, and he was responsible for organizing the cleanup after the war. Because of wartime unrest, crime in the cities had increased, and Alfred also had to deal with that. To Arthur, it seemed like he was doing…everything.

Arthur seemed to have some time on his hands, but he barely saw Alfred as the season slowly shifted to autumn. Sometimes, he would fall asleep alone in the prince's too-big bed, and when he woke up, Alfred would be there, awake and already getting dressed for another long day.

Sometimes, Alfred would wake him up in the dawn hours, just so they could fuck, not wasting any time, just to retain some level of intimacy in their engagement. And then he would be out the door, gone before Arthur could even kiss him goodbye.

Sometimes, he didn't see him for days. Where there were once bright blue eyes, tired, almost grey ones took their place. Alfred was exhausted, and it made Arthur think that something wasn't exactly right. Why did Alfred have to do so much? Where was the King?

The harvest was among them, all around in shades of brown and orange and red, leaves falling everywhere, and Arthur had finally noticed something sort of crucial—since the departure of the Royals, he hadn't seen the King of Spades.

So he waited, waited up all night for his exhausted fiancé to enter their room. And when Alfred saw him, waiting there, he began.

"I hate to say this, only because we've barely had any conversations since the night of our engagement, but you know that we need to talk."

And he knew, knew what Arthur meant, because he was keeping something from him. Alfred winced at the suggestion.

"You know, Alfred, you can't hide things from me forever. We are going to be King and Queen one day, how can we do anything if you can't tell me what's wrong?"

He sighed. "I know. I know, Arthur. And you're right—we are going to be King and Queen one day."

He paused.

"Just…sooner than you think." Arthur couldn't describe the weight in his voice, or the sadness in his eyes. He began to speak, but was interrupted by the prince.

"Maybe it's better if I just show you."

And so, in the middle of the night, Alfred led Arthur up one of the many winding marble staircases to the tower of the King.

…

When Alfred pushed through the ornate doors, Arthur didn't know what to expect. But it wasn't what he saw.

King Frederick lay in his bed, bigger than any bed he had ever seen. His eyes were open, but unfocused, like he couldn't see. There was sweat on his brow, and he seemed to have the goose-prickles, like he was cold.

The worst part was his arm. His right arm, wounded by the King of Clubs, had never healed. Instead, the wound had grown diseased, worse than any infection Arthur had ever seen. It was killing him.

"Poison. The King of Clubs used a poison sword." Alfred's voice cracked with emotion, like it was the first time that he had said it out loud.

Arthur couldn't say a word. He couldn't even think.

Alfred continued, although it must have hurt to say. "He's unresponsive. He can't see. Can't hear. Seizures. We don't know how long he has be-before—"

"Oh, love. You don't have to say anymore. I understand." He was prepared at that moment to do anything, say anything to comfort him. But Alfred stood straight and tall. He refused to show weakness.

That moment had to be harder than war, harder than anything. But for the first time, Alfred looked like a King.

…

New knowledge gained, Arthur was filled with respect for his fiancé. He took on everything, did so much, and never showed so much as a hint of sadness, fear, or grief.

He was so resolute to not give up. He really, truly believed that as long as his father was alive, he couldn't—wouldn't give up.

But in the end, his hope was in vain. King Frederick did not make it past the week.

And that's when Alfred finally broke down.

END of CHAPTER TWENTY

A/n:

So um… sorry?

This was my next (and last) major plot point.

Oh Freddie, I have grown to love you so, it's hard to see you go.

I'm feeling maybe two more chapters. Clockwork ends with the coronation of Alfred and Arthur. I want to wrap up Arthur's time magic, and nightmares. And then I think there will be a sequel, or maybe a series of one-shots.

So Spades Law: The Prince of Spades must be married before he can be crowned king. If King dies and prince isn't married, he has a year to do so before he loses his claim to the throne.

R&R please

~Manda the music nerdface