"What."

"Huh?" Matthew played innocent. "What?"

Alfred accused, "You're looking at me funny."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I know your looks. It's that evil glint in your eye."

"Shut up, Al, and do your stretches."

Alfred whined as cold sand soaked into his rear, "I've been stretching for like, ten minutes! My butt is getting frostbite."

Matthew agreed, "Yeah, fine. Let's stand up. Do some arm stretches or something."

Thwap!

"Alfred, you ass. I just said I was cold. What makes you thinking throwing a snowball at me was a good idea?"

"Ha-ha, that wasn't me!"

Matthew whirled on Arthur, obviously shocked.

Arthur scoffed and crossed his arms, scowling at Alfred. "How dare you accuse me, the Queen of Spades, of such a thing. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Alfred sputtered, "What?! Come on, I totally didn't throw anything."

"Oh, I guess one of the ghosts did it."

"Arthur!"

Thunk!

Snow crumbled down the back of Alfred's coat. He twisted around, appalled at his brother's snickering. "Mattie! I trusted you!"

Matthew threw his head back and cackled. Alfred knelt down and gathered some snow in his hand, but his brother gasped and backed away, "Oh, no, you don't!"

Something got Alfred in the back again just as he lobbed a sloppy clump of snow towards Matthew, who neatly dodged it. "Hey!" He tossed an angry pout to Arthur, flicking a handful of snow at his legs. "You jerk! Jerk Queen!"

"Tough!" Arthur sneered. Ooh, Mattie was up to something. "You should be paying attention when you're in the sand pit. There are no friends here-" Thwap! Snowball right to the chest. He cried in great horror at Matthew's cackling, "Bastard! And to think I liked you the most!"

"Hey!" Alfred said.

Matthew flashed an apologetic grin while one of his hands waved a snowball around. "Sorry, but no friends in the sand pit!" He whipped his arm, pelting Arthur again. Alfred tossed his head back and unleashed a cackle for the skies...until a cold lump of snow smashed into his shoulder.

"Oh, you ass! It's on!" Alfred and Arthur swept to the ground, ducking and shrieking in delight as Matthew danced side-to-side, whipping flaky ammunition around like a one-man arrow-brigade.

Arthur lifted a leg in the air to angle his throw, and shook a fist, "Get over here!" Matthew dodged that snowball, but Alfred managed to nick his backside.

"Na-na-poo-poo! You're straighter than your throwing! And even that's a circle!"

"You want to see a circle?!" Alfred spat as he launched another clump across the field. "Just look in a mirror!"

"You ass!"

"Little shite!" Arthur huffed as his snowball crumpled a foot in front of Matthew. "Stay still!"

Matthew blew a raspberry, "Can't get me! Ha-ha! Can't get me!"

"Ai-yah. Ai-yah! What is going on here?!"

Projectiles ceased. The trio gawked at Yao with his arms wide apart and utter glare of 'WTF is wrong with you guys?'

"What is wrong with you three?!"

See, Alfred knew it.

"You are the leaders of our Kingdom, and you're throwing snow at each other?!"

Everyone glanced to one another. Alfred tried, "Sheesh, Yao, we were just waiting until you came-"

"You should be sorry!" Yao snapped. "You did not even wait for me to come out!" He flung his hand into the air, and pellets of snow burst from the ground.

They squealed, ducking for cover as they poured their collective might on their fourth man.

~.~

"It's not uncommon for Jacks to outlive their Kings and Queens, but this man, this one right here, went through three of them."

Alfred balked at the painting Arthur pointed on the Royal Wall. "Three? Jeez, what happened to the other two?!"

Arthur shrugged, all wrapped up in that blanket with the roses stitched into the fabric. Swoon. "There was a plague at the beginning of his career, and the first pair croaked fairly early into their reign. Then the second King went mad. Forced his Queen to jump off the mountain side with him. Godsdamn sociopath. When the third set came up, he apparently said, in his tired age, 'I do not know what you plan, but if you are going to die before I do, please do so now...do not waste any more of my time. I have so little of it left.'"

Alfred whistled, gazing at an old, bearded man staring distantly from the wall. That sounded like something Yao would say. He grinned and pointed to a broad woman bathing in the sight of a cornucopia that made his mouth water from just staring at it.

"Is that lady a Knight or something?"

"No, you fool," Arthur smiled contently at her. "That was one of our Queens. That's her King right there. They were never painted together because...well...he could make any excuse he wanted, but he didn't want to be immortalized of being half his Queen's size."

Alfred decided he loved the buff lady. "Who's that? His beard seems like it doesn't know what direction it wants to grow."

"That would be another Queen. You won't see his King around; she unfortunately died a week or so after their crowning ceremony, as one of the wheels to her stagecoach popped off and she plunged down the mountainside."

The man in the painting looked miserable. Alfred didn't blame him. His arm crept from his side to brush past Arthur's cover and seek out a cool hand. "Any happy endings?"

"Let me see. Ah, here we go," Arthur gestured to a couple shyly smiling as their hands flirted under a table. "These two. They lived a very long, and very prosperous life, what, the end of last century? I feel like they were the Kingdom's favorites. They say Freya came down and blessed them herself."

"Why do you say that?"

"They sired twenty-three children. Eighteen of which lived well into their adult years. It was quite the feat, back then."

Alfred freaked, "Holy cow! Twenty...how do you even find time to have that many kids?!"

"I suppose when a King and Queen love each other very much," Arthur grumbled. He shook his head and trailed to the end of the paintings and frames. "Many of our members of court are their direct descendants."

"So, what, all Spadian Royals are related?"

"Gods, no! How do you expect two men or two women to conceive a child?"

"Uh, magic?"

Arthur scrunched his mouth, sourpuss, "I'm...actually not quite sure of that. Anyway, you must have forgotten. Jacks can sense the magic ties that bonds a King and Queen and any others who can be as well. There can be many Kings or Queens-to-be running around, but then they would have to fight to the death for the throne. It's all royal tradition and diplomacy of honor, I assure you. There can only be one King, or one Queen at a time, after all. Kings go mad with one Queen. Imagine two. Imagine two Kings. Two of you. Oh, wait..."

"Hey..." Alfred warned.

Arthur waved him off, trying not to simmer in his own snark, "Yes, well, as they get old, they host gatherings, or go out into the world to find their successors, 'accidently' bump into a few people. If it so happens they have children, and their children take to their prowess, then they don't have to look far, do they?"

"Guess not."

A door shut, and Yao's snappy voice came from the rear entrance, "Ugh! See! Now I forgot what I was going to do before I got into that...snowy mess!"

A maid delicately offered, "Would you like for me to call in an order of hot, tea, sir?"

"What? No, I...what? I need to get these breeches off. Excuse me."

The chained pair stared at one another, both trying not to grin but failing miserably. "Old man."

"Too, right? Perhaps Yao is the one losing his marbles."

"Maybe!" Alfred agreed. Pointed to a crisp image of a blond woman posing on a desk, stiff and sharp-eyed with a hand under her chin. "Who's that pretty lady?"

"Ah," Arthur's nose curled in the slightest, despite the happy blush on his cheeks. "That would be my mother. Hmph," he held a hand to his face. "Good looks do run in the family, don't they?"

Alfred let out a little laugh and swooped to plant a quick smooch on his cheek as Yao hustled by, not even paying them any mind. "Got that right. So, your mother?"

"In her prime, yes." Arthur gave Alfred's hand a squeeze, staring at the picture in an almost puzzled way. "The old Queen of Spades."

"What," Alfred saddled closer to the new Queen's side, getting ready to smooch on him again. "What happened to her?"

"She retired. She lives somewhere more north in a cottage with her sister, on the other side of the mountains."

"Oh! I thought..."

"She died? Ha! It would take many years before Death is ready to sneak on that old battle-axe."

"That bad?"

"Oh, she was unbearable!" Arthur turned from the paintings. "Be glad the only contact you have with her is looking at a picture."

Alfred grinned from the same straw-blond hair, same verdant eyes. Except Arthur had to get his eyebrows from somewhere else. "What about Dad? Was he the King of Spades?"

"No. My father was a man-whore," Arthur replied like he spoke of the weather in small talk. "He wanted to be King, and they showed the signs of being compatible for the thrones together, but my mum wouldn't let him. Yet she had six children with the man. Go figure."

"What goes around, comes around, huh?" Alfred muttered as a maid came out of the kitchen, timidly smiling with a tray of teacups.

Arthur stuck a hand to his waist. Oh, no. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Alfred made a cutthroat motion, tugging pointedly on the chain to the maid. She covered a titter by clearing her throat and set the tray on the dining table before the thrones. "Your teas, your majesties."

Arthur actually acknowledged his servant, tossing a sweet, "Thanks, love," in her direction, yet fixed a storm over Alfred's head.

Movement caught Alfred's attention. Quick! A distraction! He pursed his lips in curiosity, eager to put his eyes somewhere else. Yao again, and Matthew, heads close to one another, whispered their way to the direction of the library. Alfred winked at Arthur, receiving an eye roll in return as they tinkered with their drinks. Looked like a little bookish trip was in store later on. After tea time, of course.

~.~

A door quietly meeting its latch. Snickering. Matthew grumbling to himself, "Oh, no."

Alfred leaped around a bookshelf, jazz hands and shackle rattling, "Hey, Mattie!"

Ignored.

"Mattie!" Alfred blanched. He plopped his butt right on the table his brother was pouring books over. Arthur pressed closer to investigate some of the titles. Matthew snapped an open book shut, winking and blinking like a dumbass. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Quickly, "Reading."

"What else is new?"

"Nothing," Matthew repeated.

Alfred gave Arthur a blank look. He craned over the desk to glimpse at the book Matthew had a hand over, a moment before Matthew grabbed it and turned to the shelves. "Historical Catalogue of Spadian Weapons and Enchantments? Sounds neat! You looking to shoot flames out of a bow or something?"

"Flame-tipped arrows already exist, Al."

"Yeah, I know that I mean..." Alfred trailed off with his mouth hanging open. Oh. Oh, oh, oh. "You're...you're looking into that King Knife, aren't you?"

Matthew slid the books in place, not turning around to swipe his palms over his pale slacks. A little sigh, "Al." Oh, great. "It's a King-Slaying Blade, not..." He shook his head. "Just because we have it, that doesn't mean we're going to use it. We might not ever use it."

"You might, though," Alfred said.

"And I might smack you on the head, or I might not!" Matthew twisted around, revealing his face to be scrunched, but in a way Alfred knew he was not angry, but struggling with threatening tears. His tone had always been quiet, "This isn't a move against you, Alfred. It never was in the first place, and it's not going to be now. Do you think I like the fact that there's a possibility that my brother might go insane and we might have to stab him?!"

Alfred swallowed. Arthur quietly cleared his throat.

Matthew held a hand up, squeezing his eyes shut, and whispered, "Just go. Yao needs to see you. He's in the Royal Office."

Alfred sprung from the table, the chain going tight as he caught his brother before he could go anywhere and gave him an awkward brotherly back pat. "Hey, I love you, man. Don't forget that."

Matthew jerked back, eyes wide and getting watery by the second. Eager tear ducts, he'd always insist. "U-uh, yeah!" He eased, smiling with a little shake of the head as he tossed an arm behind Alfred's back. "Thanks, Al. Love you, too. Yao still needs to see you, though."

Alfred held his hands up, letting Matthew go. "All right! Sheesh! We'll get out of your hair."

After the door to the library shut behind him, Arthur asked, "You all right?"

Alfred pulled a smile, covering a slight at the sudden voice. "I hope so!" He tugged forward, doing away with the icky feelings, "Come on!"

"You're here," Yao announced as soon as the door to the Royal Office opened. He tented over the Royal Desk with a sturdy gaze to the chained pair.

Alfred's eyes jumped to what Yao coveted; a bundle of old cloth on top of the desk, probably with something inside. "Yeah! Where else would we be?"

"Knowing you, Alfred," Yao painfully pulled a smile, "perhaps lost in your own mind."

"Aw, come on. Don't say that!"

"Come here."

Alfred muttered under his breath, to Arthur, "Yao."

Arthur hummed in agreement as they approached.

"Do not be frightened, Alfred." Yao flicked one side of the cover, revealing a thick dagger, about the size and length of his forearm. "It is just a blade, in the end."

A pitfall in his stomach, and Alfred resisted the urge to step away. It was just a blade, after all. The blade. The very one that might end his life. Yao did not need to say it. Arthur said, "It's not going to jump at you. See?" He leaned forward and pressed a fingertip to its iridescent finish. "As harmless as any knife would be."

Alfred wondered how many Kings died from it. He grunted at his own hesitation, not wanting to shirk from a dormant weapon. It didn't sting, zap, or lunge for his neck. "Oh. Cool."

Yao nodded, "Try crushing it."

Alfred stuck his knuckles to the metal(?) and pressed down. Wood groaned.

"All right!" Yao swished his hands away. "You'll break the desk instead." He flipped the cloth over the dagger again and gave Alfred a stern stare down. "If it is a great concern, we can keep this in a safe place. Our weapons vault, perhaps?"

Arthur muttered, "That's a bit far, don't you think?"

"No!" Alfred blurted. "I-I mean, no, there's no need," he rectified as two grumps gave him long looks. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and let out a shallow scoff, "Give me it. We can keep it in our bedroom."

"Alfred," Arthur started.

Yao pulled an odd expression, apparently not believing what he was hearing. "Are you sure? That is what you want?"

A shrug. "It's just a knife. Besides, wouldn't it be good to have it nearby in case I do go bonkers? Anyone can just grab it and...yeah." Alfred made a beckoning motion. "So, bring it."

Arthur and Yao exchanged a look. Whatever that meant. Arthur slowly nodded. Yao, with one more sly glance, pushed the bundle of cloth in their direction. "Just don't throw it off the mountainside, all right?"

"Of course!" Alfred took the goods, nodding to Yao, "Is that it?"

Yao stared and kept staring. "Yes. I suppose that is all for now. Stay safe."

Alfred turned away, ducking his head as Arthur also eyed him up sourly, having no choice but to follow. There was a Royal Door, a short cut between the Royal Office and Royal Bedroom. Royal this, Royal that. He made sure to turn the lock behind himself and unceremoniously dumped the blade on one of Arthur's dressers.

"Alfred."

Alfred glanced from towering over the knife. Arthur made a curious gesture. Drawing a long breath, holding, Alfred then slouched his shoulders as he let it out real slow. "I don't—I don't want to..." He closed his eyes, sighing as serious words were too much of a struggle. "I don't want you to have to go through with needing to freaking slaughter me if I become a basket case."

Arthur crossed his arms, not saying anything.

"But, uh, I also don't want to just go back to the farm or anything. Never see you again..." Alfred swept his gaze through the bedroom, almost managing a half smile, but not quite getting there, "This is kind of a cruddy situation, isn't it?" Quickly, before the Queen could jut in, if he was going to, but he was just standing there, and that steely stare could mean anything, even spacing out, "We're here now. I'm not saying I regret anything, a-and I hope you don't either. That...that's why if we have to go through with this..."

Alfred gently took Arthur's hand, raising it to the bundle of cloth, and held it there. "I want you to be the one to use this."

Arthur raised his eyebrows in the slightest, studying Alfred's gaze much more intently. Not spacing out. "Yes?"

"And, well...when...if it happens, I want you to tell me why you're doing it. If there's still a part of me in there..."

Something shadowed the Queen's features.

Alfred swallowed, hoping that could bring his voice over the tight ball lodged in his windpipe, "I'll understand why you're doing it."

Arthur had opened his mouth, but if he was going to say something, he didn't. He blinked, thoughts running behind those green eyes, and his hand slid away. A moment of desolation, but he began to trail up Alfred's forearm, "Ah, I see..."

"Is...is that okay?"

"Yes. That is selfless off you."

Alfred brushed his palm along the underside of Arthur's arm. He never stopped wanting him, despite the time and chains between them. "Yeah?"

They were still close.

"Yes."

So, very close. Alfred edged forward without realizing what he was doing. Magnets, he would say. Arthur had not moved away. Magnets in those eyes. All those frightened, skittish, and vile thoughts throughout these weeks sizzled away against the warmth radiating from their faces. There wasn't going to be one on the cheek this time. Gently, their lips met, as Alfred could crush bones to dust. Blue bored into green, but Arthur stayed, and they could let their eyes slip close in mutual bliss. Cool fingers brushed Alfred's jaw, to caress and hold him tighter.

Arthur was finally his.

And, of course, he was going to be Arthur's King.