As you've probably already noticed, the Arte Stella deck's joker roles weren't included, as those didn't fit in the story. I hope nobody minds!

Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.

"Any news?" They were always the first words out of Arthur's mouth, every time somebody walked in to whatever room he was currently occupying. Especially Yao.

"Nothing new, Your Majesty." Yao shook his head as he walked into the study carrying a tray.

"Okay..." Arthur rubbed his temples with a sigh. Had it already been a few weeks since Alfred left? And Matthew had finally departed on his own task yesterday.

"He's probably still training," Yao said lightly. He set down a plate of food on Arthur's desk, right on top of a stack of papers.

"He was good enough." Arthur felt a silly need to defend Alfred's skill, even if it meant that he was facing the enemy.

"But he wasn't a soldier. He won't receive as much additional training as the civilian boys we've forced from their homes, but even the guards are still practicing."

"We did not force them," Arthur muttered. "Clubs did." He picked the fork up, shoveling in a bite of food he barely tasted. He didn't even bother to gripe that the food had better not be too spicy.

"He has great potential," Yao said, leaning closer. "It's entirely possible that he-"

"Don't." Arthur gripped the fork tightly in his fist. "A huge army is trying to make its way here to kill me and take over my kingdom. Almost everyone I care about has gone off to die. The best I can hope for is that I won't lose absolutely everything. I don't need to be patronized with false hope." He stood abruptly, walking over to his study's window to stare out at the kingdom. Yao didn't deserve to be barked at, but Arthur was extremely tired of empty reassurances when he knew there would be no happy ending. He had just recently come from a meeting with about five people assuring him everything would be okay; he couldn't take much more.

"There's nothing wrong with hope." The accented voice from behind Arthur was not Yao's. He turned, frowning.

"What do you want?" Arthur said. It came out sounding more weary than annoyed.

Francis shrugged, leaning against the doorway. "Just checking on you. You haven't been looking good. You're not sick on top of everything else, are you?"

You don't look so great yourself, Arthur thought, eyeing his long-time enemy. Francis' normally perfectly styled hair was tangled, his eyes sorrowful and shadowed. Arthur found himself feeling sorry for Francis. He didn't even have the benefit of being able to talk about his pain, since for whatever reason he and Matthew had not "confessed" about their relationship. Matthew at least had the excuse of being busy with preparation right up until he left. So really, it was Francis' own fault he had to keep everything bottled up. "No," he finally said. "I'm not sick."

He still was curious to know how that conversation had gone, when Matthew first told Francis about his mission. All Matthew would say about it afterward was that Francis had "eventually understood".

"You should get some rest," Francis said.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Arthur said, unable to help himself. He and Francis had been quite civil to each other lately, all things considered. It was hard to hurl barbed insults at the man who was lending him an army. But some days Arthur just wasn't in the mood. Fortunately, Francis just shrugged again, not seeming offended.

"You should get some rest," Yao said.

"Yeah, okay." He finally left the window, pausing at his desk to stoop over and have another couple bites of dinner.

"I'll return in the morning," Francis said. "We can work on some strategy."

Arthur nodded absently. As he passed by, Francis silently patted his shoulder, and Arthur wasn't sure whether he should be annoyed or not, so he just kept walking.

He returned to his room, still merrily lit by the fire the servants had been tending to. He stared at the flames, musing that at least something was cheery.

Arthur hated bedtime. Everyone told him all the time that he looked exhausted and needed rest. Well of course he looked tired! On top of everything else, at night he had to return to his empty bed, haunted by memories of a warm loving body, and worry would plague him and prevent him from falling asleep. So he stayed up as late as he could, until exhaustion forced him to bed, and sleep claimed him instantly. That was the idea anyway; it didn't always work out.

"I'm worrying over nothing, right?" Arthur dropped onto his bed, still gazing into the flickering flames.

"You're a match for any Clubs soldier. I shouldn't even be considering the idea of them reaching the palace with you there holding them back..."

He burrowed under the bedding, determined to not think about anything that would upset him. Last night he had lain awake unable to stop himself from imagining his kingdom under the rule of a usurping warrior queen. Tonight, he decided, he would picture his army saving the day, helping the Diamonds soldiers out, and Francis being forever in his debt. That would be sweet.

But of course, his awful traitor of a brain decided to remember the past instead.

"Did you have a nice ride, Your Majesty?"

"Of course I did." Arthur slid out of the saddle of his white mare, handing the reins to the young stable boy. His beloved childhood horse had been brown, but he felt white was more befitting of royalty. Even if she was an evil thing and didn't like anybody but him. And she at least tolerated Peter, the stable boy who led her away.

It was definitely time for a bath. Arthur started to head back into the palace, but something caught his eye. He turned, just in time to see a young man walking a horse back into the stable. Arthur only saw him for a moment, but it was enough to make him stop and watch.

He returned to the palace and thought nothing more about it. Until the next time he was in the mood for a ride on his horse, and saw the boy again. That time, he was brushing one of the horses, and Arthur caught a better look at him. He was quite handsome, Arthur certainly wouldn't kick him out of bed.

The time after that, Arthur was just passing by the stables, and there he was again. He was taking a break, drinking some water and chatting with another stable boy. His easy smile, windswept golden hair, open shirt exposing his chest... Arthur knew then and there he wanted him.

Later that evening, as he was talking with Yao, Arthur remembered that of course the Jack knew everyone who worked in the palace. "Do we have a new stable boy?" he asked.

Yao nodded. "Did you meet him?"

"No. Just saw him briefly. He's very cute." Arthur paused. "Assuming we're talking about the same person. Tall, blue eyes, blond hair with a bit that sticks up?"

"Yes, that's him," Yao said. "Alfred. More of a charity case than a talent I just had to hire. His brother is a survivor of the illness, and is totally dependent on Alfred, who was begging just to earn enough to buy medicine every day. So I offered him a job."

"Huh. Interesting." Arthur shrugged. "He's nice to look at. Maybe I'll see him again."

And of course, bright and early the next day, Arthur decided he wanted another ride on his horse. Alfred must have been late that day, because when he did show up, he was in a huge hurry to get to the stables. He stopped against the stable wall, leaning over to catch his breath, hands resting on his knees. He straightened after a moment, wiping his forehead. Arthur could only stare at him. It had been a long time since he had been so quickly taken with somebody. A few glances, and he knew he had to get Alfred into his bed at least once. Even though he was the Queen and could just order anybody he wanted into his bedchamber, he really preferred not to.

He was not, however, above other forms of coercion. He smiled as he watched the handsome new stable boy disappear inside to get to work. So he would do anything for his brother, would he?

Arthur hugged his pillow, trying to shake off the memories. "I sure was an asshole then..." he murmured, using one of Alfred's preferred insults. Ah well. If he hadn't been a spoiled horny bastard, he wouldn't have gotten to know Alfred, and ended up in an incredible relationship with somebody he loved more than his own life, and become a better person and Queen. Funny how life worked.

He just wished there was more he could do to ensure Alfred's safety.

The crowd broke into cheers, yelling and whistling as Alfred stood over his vanquished foe. He winked at the other soldiers, then reached down to help the downed man up. "I believe you owe me a drink."

The soldier awkwardly rubbed his neck, though he still had a smile on his face. "Heh, yeah..."

Alfred turned to the crowd that had stopped to watch. "Anyone else want to challenge me?" He looked around at the gathered men, who had promptly lowered their hands. "Aw, come on... It's good practice!"

"Alfred..." His company's commanding officer, Gilbert, frowned over at him from where he was poring over a map. "If you're going to be a cocky little shit, I'll challenge you myself."

Oops. How long had he been there? "Sorry, sir."

"If you're bored, there's always push-ups."

Alfred laughed. "Oh, yeah. I'll find something else to do."

"Like push-ups," Gilbert said with a grin.

"Oh. Yessir..."

Many push-ups later, Alfred walked over to the lake they were camped near, stripping to the waist as he went. A few other soldiers were already bathing in the chilly water, talking together in hushed tones.

"Who's dead?" Alfred said, catching some of their conversation as he splashed water on himself.

"I doubt it's anybody you know," one of the soldiers said, glancing his way. "And we don't know if they're dead."

"Probably wish they were," his companion said. "The Clubs army sure likes taking prisoners."

The first one shuddered. "I'll fall on my sword before I'll let them take me."

Alfred looked toward where the enemy army was camped, frowning. He'd been hearing that lately, that the Clubs soldiers took wounded Spades men back to their camp. What happened after that was anybody's guess. They were probably tortured for information, though he supposed it was likely they were simply being forced to join the other side. After all, Clubs' goal was taking over Spades, and then the rest of the kingdoms.

Well they could torture Alfred all they wanted, he wouldn't tell them anything or join them. And any day now, he knew, Gilbert would be telling them they were ready to join the front lines. Alfred smiled grimly to himself as he finished cleaning up. He looked forward to it.

"That's a horrible idea!" Tino shook his head wildly, frowning. "Definitely not."

"It's a good idea." Matthew settled down on the grass, pleased with himself. What better way to avoid combat than an injury? It was perfect. It would explain Tino's presence without him having to tell people about an illness that would have kept him out of the army in the first place, he could claim that his desire to continue helping his comrades had prevented him from wanting to actually return home, and they wouldn't ask him to join in the fighting. He'd be able to stay in his medic position, assuming he and Tino were successful in acquiring that position to begin with.

The drawback was that a feigned injury would be fatal if he were found out. A real one, though...

"It's not like I'm asking you to chop a limb off," Matthew said.

Tino shook his head again, folding his arms. "No. I'm not wounding you."

"You know it's a good idea."

"Yes..." Tino turned away from Matthew. "Yes it is. But you can still..."

"I can't pretend," Matthew said. "There will always be the chance of getting caught, no matter where I say I was injured. I can't risk it."

"But-"

"It doesn't have to be really bad. You're a good doctor, you can make it look a lot worse than it really is, right?" If nothing else worked, try working in some flattery.

"Well, of course..." Tino said, sitting down beside Matthew. He hugged his bag close.

"It'll be better in the long run," Matthew soothed. "I know you don't want to hurt me, but it's the best way to keep me from being really hurt in the future, right?" He pushed his pants down, leaving his lower half covered only in pale peach shorts. "Upper leg, I think. Just try and avoid any arteries. Er." Tino eyed him. "As you know."

"I'm not happy with you for making me do this." Tino opened his bag, rummaging through it. He selected a blade, and Matthew quickly averted his eyes. Then Tino's hands were on him, and it took Matthew a startled moment to realize Tino was simply yanking the belt from his pants.

"What are you doing?"

Tino took the leather belt and shoved it in Matthew's mouth. "It's going to hurt, you know."

Tino also had a sewing kit out. Mentally groaning, Matthew lay back, already nervously biting down on the belt.

"And it's not going to be quick," Tino continued. "I have to be careful."

Matthew nodded slightly and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take his mind away.

It was not an experience he would care to relive. When it was over, Matthew sat up, spitting the belt out and wiping his eyes. Tino wordlessly handed over a flask, and Matthew took a long drink, not even caring what it was. To his disappointment, it only held water.

His poor leg was now decorated with nasty-looking stitched up slices. They certainly looked like they could have been acquired in battle. Tino cleaned and applied medicine to the wounds, which fortunately softened the pain to a dull throb. He wrapped bandages around Matthew's leg, and nodded to himself at a job well done.

"I'd make an awful soldier," Matthew groaned. "Whining like a baby whenever I get wounded..."

"It's different in battle," Tino said, giving his hands another scrub with a damp cloth. "You aren't currently running on self-preservation and adrenaline. And they wouldn't slowly cut into you like that."

Matthew grimaced. "Maybe not in battle, but if I get caught..."

Tino looked away. "Hence the bottle we gave you."

"I know." Matthew looked down at his bandaged leg. Had Alfred been wounded like that? He'd probably crack a joke while being sewn up.

"But preferably, try not to get caught."

They rested that night, curled up under their coats. In the morning, Tino tended to Matthew's leg, as well as their usual daily routine. He found a fallen tree limb that would work as a makeshift walking stick for Matthew, and they continued their journey toward Clubs' camp.

His nervousness grew with every step, doubts plaguing him. There was no way he was proficient enough in the language for them to believe he had been living in Clubs, was there? And they had drilled him thoroughly on geography, going so far as to give him an address and have him memorize details of the surrounding area in case he was questioned on where he lived. But knowing his luck, he would run into others who lived in that area. And what if the other soldiers asked around, and realized nobody had ever seen Matthew before in their lives?

What if his subterfuge worked, but the war lasted so long that his leg healed, and he was forced into battle?

If he died, either in battle, or executed by Clubs, or by his own hand, how would his loved ones find out?

They were questions that had repeated themselves in his mind for weeks. Oh, he had been reassured plenty of times in the last few weeks, and his instructors had attempted to answer his questions, but as he walked to the enemy camp he was feeling much less sure of himself.

On the other hand... what if he was successful? He had left Spades, many months ago, in disgrace. He had been lucky to leave with his life. Now that there were more important matters to worry about, everyone seemed to have already forgotten about Matthew and Francis. And now, he could possibly return to Spades as a hero...

"There's one," Tino whispered, interrupting his thoughts.

"What?" Matthew looked up, quickly spotting the man in a green Clubs uniform like the one Matthew wore. "Oh."

"Just keep walking."

They did, trying not to look at the soldier. As they passed, he actually waved at Matthew, and Matthew returned the gesture briefly before they moved on. He felt like his heart was trying to escape his body, but he was rather proud of the straight face he kept.

They encountered more soldiers the further they walked, and continued to be mostly ignored. Matthew couldn't help but share a smile with Tino. Maybe this insane idea actually had a chance of working.

He spotted an officer, and took a deep breath. He supposed they were going to find out.