IT happened when they were 10. The previous King of Diamonds fell ill, and not long after that the glittering golden of a royal carriage appeared outside their orphanage, carrying a decree that ruined their lives.

It was a simple but terrible story.

Alfred had been chosen to be the next king of diamonds.

Mathew had not.

It had been a struggle, screaming and crying, hands reaching for each other, and at first, Alfred had refused to go without Mathew. Mathew was not allowed to go with them. But Alfred's refusal was gut off cruuely with some short, but sharp words.

"The current King of Diamonds has made this decree. If you go against it, it's treason."

Of course, they couldn't execute Alfred, not when he was to be the next king, but Mathew, on the other hand... So Alfred gave up fighting and went away with them, and Mathew ran after promising to meet again, no matter what. Alfred wished he could believe his twin.

They groomed Alfred, the right things to say, the right things to know, how to act and speak. They taught him how to become a king. The Current king of Diamonds got weaker. Or four years Alfred studied and was trained. For four years he heard nothing from Mathew. Matthew's promise seemed incredibly foolish and unachievable.

Then, a few days before his 14th birthday, the current King of Diamonds passed away.

On his birthday, Alfred was crowned King.

He couldn't find his twin in the crowd. Mathew hadn't come. Alfred wondered if he was stupid to keep wishing for an impossible Promise to come true. "Alfred" became the "King of Diamonds" and everyone forgot his name. No one called the King of Diamonds by his name. No one would dare too. Alfred wondered if he too, would forget his name soon.

A few days after his coronation, Alfred was brought a line of servants to serve him, and told to choose a personal attendant from them. Alfred didn't want a personal attendant. He didn't like how they ignored his privacy and insisted on dressing him, or how they told him what to do, how to sit, and treated him like a doll. But Alfred had long since learned that he had no choice, and must choose an attendant.

With a dull heart, the king scanned the row of servants for the one who would became his closeat ally, or possibly enemy in the future. An attendant had every chance to poison or kill the king, and every chance to save him. Everyone knew that the attendant was the kings biggest weakness, and none knew better than Alfred. Alfred searched each face carefully, looking for a sign of loyalty, or a sign of betrayal, but then his face fell upon a face the image of his own face, a dipped head with a familiar blonde curl, purple eyes trained on the floor and a face twitching with the beginning of a smile at the king's undignified gasp.

Mathew had come to Alfred, just as he'd promised four years ago.

During the following year, o the outside eye, Mathew was the perfect attendant to the King. Inside Alfred's chambers, they were brothers. Sometimes they practiced pretending to be one another, And Mathew played the King, while Alfred was the attendant. It was on one of his days off, a rare chance to go outside the palace, that Alfred took Matthew's place as an attendant, and slipped out to the see kingdom he ruled.

It was the second part to the tragedy that was the twins life, though he couldn't know that.

Alfred fell in love. A short tempered and bushy-browsed man with eyes that Alfred wanted to compare to emeralds but was closer to the colour of fresh grass in the spring. Alfred was captivated. He and Mathew began to alternate the days off, so Mathew went one week, Alfred went the next, desperate for the chance to meet the miracle called Arthur with the deep green eyes.

Then the third part of their tragic life began.

Arthur had a companion, a man named Francis, a gentle and flowing soul that pulled at Matthew's heartstrings and made him want to smile and laughed, and beam like a foolish child when Francis was near. But Mathew couldn't court Francis, who thought that he was Alfred, because Alfred was courting Arthur. So Mathew locked his feelings away inside, and relented all of his days off to Alfred, no longer venturing outside the walls.

And the fourth part of the tragedy began.

Despite all Alfred's efforts, against Matthew's wishes, Arthur fell for someone unexpected. Both Alfred and Mathew were devastated by the crushing news of Arthur's engagement to Francis. Mathew had locked away his emotions even tighter than before and grew blank and empty. Alfred has reacted more dangerously. After weeks of crying, Alfred began to crack. He was a King, After all, and a King gets what he wants.

Alfred, cracked and wavering on the edge of insanity, called Mathew to him Mathew, trying his best to appear empty and emotionless, still flinched at Alfred's command, turning frightened eyes towards Alfred, but his twin remained impassive.

"Mattie, you're on my side right? You won't betray me, right?"

A brother was more important than a lover. Matthew's feelings shrunk away inside of him, but Mathew did not betray Alfred. He betrayed Francis, and himself. Francis looked at him him with large and hurt eyes and Mathew drove the dagger though his chest with quivering hands, tears spilling from his eyes, and all he could say was "I'm sorry." How could Mathew tell Francis that he had killed him do rhis jealous brother who didn't know how to deal with rejection? How could he justify this death to the person who still though Mathew and Alfred were the same person?

Francis, eyes tearing as Mathew pulled the knife out sobbing, asked again in a wounded tone "Mathew, Why?" and the final piece of Matthew's heart shattered at the sound of his name, a name he'd only given once before letting Alfred take over his name and place. A name Francis shouldn't have called, not when he was supposed to think the twins were the same person. A name that shouldn't have been the last name on Francis's lips.

Then there was a shout of alarm, and Mathew, still gripping his knife, ran, far away from what he'd done, how he felt, running to the brother who would praise his misdeed and comfort his brokenheart with a smile that felt like the sun itself. Mathew would be okay as long as his brother smiled like the sun. That was all he needed as the older twin. That was what Mathew told himself.

But he made a mistake. The name he used of "Alfred", the famiar golden hair, letting himself be seen in that last minute where he hesitated and mourned instead of running, and rumours spread that the King had killed an innocent citizen, and the people began to become riled up and furious, rébellion began to emerge, and the one who stood at the foremost of the angry mob was a blonde-haired, green-eyes monster, a pure Mann that had shattered Alfred's heart, not once, but twice, and a person loved by the people.

And so the final act of the tragedy began.

Mathew worried and warned Alfred to do something to stop them, to make it seem that it wasn't him, to find a scapegoat. Alfred was king, he could do it if he wanted. But Alfred only stared emptily down at the mob outside the wall, the hoarse and angry voice fueled by loss, a man he loved inciting the crowd to take down the king. The unrest kept growing. Mathew and Alfred's retainers and advisors, chancellors and nobels, all of them begged Alfred to do something. Alfred did nothing.

Then the crowd broke through the walls. Soldiers and knights were burned to death and stabbed with pickforkes and sharpened tree branches. Maids and servants huddled into corners and crevices and tried to avoid being seen, cooks and gardeners begged for their life and joined the other side to survive, novels fell victim in their baths, over their meals, caught in the thrall of pleasure. Mathew came running to Alfred, who was staring in wide-eyed fear at the pandemonium and bloodshed as though only now understanding the cause for the fear that had his servants and advisors pressuring him the past few weeks.

"Alfred!"

Alfred turned to the only one who called his name, his panting and terrified twin who stated at him with wide and scared eyes.

"Mathew." Alfred's lip quivered as he asked his twin in a soft and broken voice "Did I do something wrong?"

Mathew didn't answer as he caught his breath, but his eyes held a deep resignation which told Alfred the truth. Alfred fingers trembled as the screams grew closer, but didn't cry.

"Where did I go wrong? They took everything from me, made me become a puppet, so why-? Why can't I have the person I love? Why do they want to kill me?"

Each question became more desperate as Mathew watched Alfred mutely. He didnt answer Alfred's questions. He didn't know the answers, why his brother and him were ripped apart, why Alfred was twisted and played with like a puppet, why his brother couldn't seem to smile anymore, why he'd deserved this. Mathew didn't know what a ten year old could have done to turn God against them, but yet that must be the case, for both Alfred and Mathew had been forced into it, and Mathew knew that if the people on the streets called Alfred evil and a sinner, that he too was just as evil if not worse. They shared the same blood in their veins and the same blood on their hands.

The shouting was nearing, on the same floor as them now, and Alfred asked Mathew one last question, the voice of the king gone, and only the voice of a scared teenager left.

"Mattie, am I going to die?"

Matthew's fingers twitched, but he answered with confidence, the one question he could answer.

He held out the clothes folded in his hands, not the clothes he wore as an attendant, but those of the middle class, the clothes he and Alfred wore when they went outside the wall. Matthew's voice was strong and unwavering. Alfred's eyes filled with tears as Mathew spoke.

"These are my spare clothes-"

"Mattie, no!" Alfred begged, fearful of the continued sentence, but Mathew didn't stop.

"-wear these and run."

He pressed the clothing into Alfred's arms with a cold precision, and for the first time Alfred saw the emptiness in Matthew's eyes, like his emotions had already been locked away a while ago. Alfred trembled.

"Mathew, please!"

Mathew continued his command in the voice of a king, undeniable and firm.

"Don't look back, don't stop, and whatever you do. Don't talk to anyone, just go!"

Alfred, sobbing now, held tightly to the clothes that Mathew pressed into his arms as Mathew threw open his closet and started pulling out Alfred's clothes and pulling them over his head, discarding his attendants clothes nearby.

" Don't worry, " Mathew said emotionlessly, "We loom exactly the same, we're identical twins. No one will know."

The fighting was just outside the door now. Alfred's hand shook so hard he almost dropped the bundle of clothes as Mathew turned to him draped in royal garments.

"Is there no other way, Mattie?"

Matthew's face was blank, but Mathews voice betrayed the true pain and aching in his tone as Mathew responded.

"I've already lost too much, Al, I won't lose you too."

It wasn't the answer to the question Alfred asked, but at the same time it was. Whether there was another way or not, Alfred didn't know, but this was the end Mathew had chosen. For the first time, Alfred realized his kind brother couldn't face the blood on his hands, and that Alfred, the monster, had put it there. Alfred wanted to argue, to say to do anything but that, but Matthew's eyes betrayed the truth. If Mathew didn't die here, he'd die by his own hand later.

The banging began at the door, and Alfred caved, shoulders dropping, head bowing, Hands trembling as hard as his legs were, but Alfred still removed his rich and heavy clothes of royalty in exchange for the simple and light clothes of the working class and Mathew cut his hair to match Alfred's shorter cut more closely.

The door began to crack and Mathew pulled Alfred desperately to the hidden passage behind the tapestry, pushing him into the the passage and demanding he go.

"Mathew-" Alfred began, but Mathew cut him off.

"No, from now on I'm Alfred, I'm the one who killed Francis, and I'm the tyrant of the diamond kingdom. You're Mathew now. Youve never been the king, you've never killed anyone, you were only a servant. If you meet Arthur again, at a later time, you're not Alfred, you're me, and I'm blameless, do you understand?"

Alfred understood, though he didn't like it, he knew the chance that Mathew was giving him. To find the man he loved aching from the death of his lover, to present himself as the victim, abused and controlled by the vicious king, and perhaps, they'd find each other in their broken hearts. This was the chance Mathew was offering. Alfred didn't want to take it, but he had no chance to argue.

There was a sound of a door splintereing, and Matthew's hand pushed him forward ans he turned away from the tapestry, pulling it back over the passage, his last command a sharp and desperate "Go!" then Alfred heard the sound of a familiar voice declaring Matthew's crime, a sword unsheathing, and Alfred, cowardly, unheroic, traitorous Alfred, abandoned his brother and ran.

Matthew's - no, Alfred's- execution was held a week later, as though the people who had captured and imprisoned him were disgusted by him and no longer wanted to abuse him and take their anger out on him, but only to dispose of him quickly. The people in the streets whispered and there were some who celebrated, some who sheilded their eyes and turned away, but the loudest voice was the announcement of the knight that stood on the platform Alfred would die on, who told of the crimes of their king, and the punishment. The king, silent and worn, covered in bruises and emaciated, kept his head bowed with full eyes, and made no attempt to defend himself against the accusations ad the mob booed and some threw stones.

In the crowed, one hooded figure tugged his hood down further over his blond hair, hiding the face so similar to that of the king from the crowd, the dirt smeared over his cheeks helping hide the similarities should someone happen to glance into his face, his hand trembling uncontrollably within his gloves. He shouldn't be there, not here, in this place, in this kingdom. Not so close to the enemy, the person he loved most, not so close to Arthur, not so close to his destroyed twin. But Mathew needed to be there, he needed to see the last moments of the one they called Alfred, the ex-King of diamonds. The one he alone would call "Mattie."

He pushed his way to the front, trying not to flinch even as Mathews golden head was shoved against the wooden bar, already crusted with the blood of past victims, the delicate neck exposed to the blade hanging above. There was a church bell, like the sound of those at the orphanage, reminding him of another important fact that was choking him. In another 3 days the twins would be turning 15. That thought tore a whimper from his throat and the head of the king twitched, raising ever so slightly, and he found his blue eyes catching the purple of his twin's.

There was a beat, then his twin's small but mischievous smile flashed for only a second, the same smile Mathew used to flash when they played together at the orphanage, and his twin mouthed a word to the crowd that only one person would catch.

"Smile."

It was a cruel and impossible request, as the man he'd fallen in love with let go of the rope holding the blade from his brother's neck, but his brother still looked into his eyes searching for the demanded smile, the last command of the the King of Diamonds, Alfred, the last request of his brother and twin, Mattie. So even as the blade connected, as the scarlet splashed warm and copper-scented onto his face, Alfred smiled, not a fake smile, but a smile drawn from the memories they had together, from hide and speak. From hidden whispers and inside jokes, from switching places and falling in love, to the end, and the golden hair was stained red and the purple eyes dulled, and the head separated and rolled, a tiny smile that spoke of an inside joke still on the lifeless lips of his brother.

Matthew's last act for his younger twin brother. The Death of the King of hearts. The disappearance of Alfred. Mathew looked at his dead twin and couldn't help but remember a promis they'd made years ago back in the orphanage, when he was still Alfred, when Mathew was still Mathew, still alive, before the tragedy began, when the King of diamonds was just a unfathomable figure in a different world.

"Mattie? "

"Yeah?"

There were watching the sister comfort the sibling of a little boy who was just adopted, as the family waking away held the hands of the little boy who's tooed every few steps to look back at the brother left in the orphanage.

"We'll be together forever right?"

An uneasy tone, a sudden realization that not even blood can tie together what the government tears apart.

"Of course."

A promise that couldn't be made as Mathew reached for Alfred's hand and held it tightly in his own.

"Even if we get separated, I'll come find you. Even if I die, I'll find you in my next life, and we'll be the best of friends then too!"

Matthew's tone was filled with confidence, but even so, Alfred prompted for a final assurance.

"Promise?"

"Promise, Al."

Mathew always kept his promises.


The brown haired boy on the bed bounced up and down as he heard the sound of his parents at the door, leaping up and running to meet them, already excited for whatever treat or treasure they might bring him. The Diamond kingdom was prospering under the new King of Diamonds, a cold but empathetic king known as the ruler of a century. They said it was because he used to be a commoner like them that he knew what they needed, that even as a king he put his people first and not himself. No one cursed him for the way he came into power, and children laughed and played in the streets because of him, empty pockets were filled, and each day was something to look forward to.

He threw himself into his parents arms with a shout of joy, then withdrew suddenly at an unfamialr voice crying and an elbow that appeared in his stomach, and Kyle realized belatedly there was someone crushed between his mother and him and stepped back in confusion. The boy with the straw coloured hair that curled at his ears stared back at Kyle, and his mother held the boy to her side nervously. Kyle's father spoke cautiously, reading his son's face for is reaction as he spoke.

"Kyle, this is James, your new younger brother. He's your age, so get along with him okay? He's a part of our family now."

Neither Kyle or James spoke, but suddenly, Kyle felt tears well in his eyes, and ache like he'd found something important he'd lost many years ago. There was a feeling of familiarity, like he should know this boy, and he knew James felt it too from the bewildered and hopefully look on his face.

Kyle's father reacted to the tears warily, catching Kyle in a hug and assuring him he still loved him just as much, the family was only getting bigger, while his mother discreetly put herself in front of James, looking to Kyle pleadingly, but Kyle didn't see or hear his parents. He locked eyes with his brother, sharing the same shocking green eyes, ones he wanted to describe as emerald but were closer to the colour of fresh grass, and thought he saw a different face, with purple eyes, and heard a different child's lips in his ears as he stepped forwards with a hand outstretched, reaching for something that should be his, and repeating the whispers.

"Let's be best friends. Forever."

Then James moved, not reaching for the hand, but wrapping his arms around Kyle's neck and pulling him close, and as the embrace tightened both boys sobbed into each other's shoulders inconsolable in a sorrow they didn't understand, and laughing with a relief they couldn't explain. Kyle's parents hovered, confused and alarmed, but neither boy gave them notice. Finally, James spoke for the first time, his timid voice asking for a confirmation.

"Promise?"

Kyle's grin split his face.

"Promise."

James smiled a small, mischievous smile back.