*Slight warning for sexual assault later in this chapter.
Unfair Hands
Angelique did not speak to Alfred at breakfast - nor lunch - or anytime that day. He could have put it down to the day itself - the frenzied start to the Card Council's stay - but for once he knew better; for once he knew what was on her mind.
It had mortified him at first, her frostiness, and he had attempted to pull her aside and apologise in the morning to no success - the attempt had been weak in fairness, Alfred just as nervous about facing what had happened as he was about making up for it, but at least he had tried. Now he had had to push the whole affair from his mind: The moment he had watched the Queen of Clubs breeze through the palace doors followed by no Jack and no King was enough to evaporate any worries of his standing with Angelique.
She had the look of a queen - she was how Alfred imagined a queen to be: strong and confident but with that elegance which seemed important in a queen somehow, man or woman; a compassionate spark. She wore green - as was customary for Clubs - and her dress and cloak draped along the flagstones as she entered.
Despite her composure, Alfred had not expected compassion from the Queen of Clubs as he awaited her greeting in the foyer, he had tried to smile despite the anxiety he felt at the lack of Clubs royalty present but could not resist troubling one of his thumbnails obsessively as he grinned.
"Alfred!" She cried upon reaching him, her smile spilling from her bright face, hazel eyes alight, "my, you have grown!"
She put her arms around him and he hoped she did not notice his intense sigh of relief.
"It's good to see you, Elizaveta," Alfred replied as they parted and, glancing at Yao, he saw that even he looked more relaxed - though Alfred noted that there were no hugs and kisses for the Jack of Spades on this particular occasion.
"You're practically a man!" she gushed looking back at the Prince again and putting her hands on his cheeks and examining his face with excitement, "if only they'd take you out more, you'd be a heart throb!" she laughed and Alfred flushed but smiled with her, proud to hear her compliments.
She had been whisked along with her servants shortly after, though not without clasping Mattie with equal enthusiasm, and the last of the royals had arrived not long later. Diamonds floated in last, the king grinning with a bottle of wine and looking and smelling as if he had had plenty already. His queen floated gracefully beside him with a sleepy smile, her hair was cut short - while in the past she had worn it long - she resembled her brother much more closely now. The brother in question, the Jack of Diamonds, kept a close eye on the young queen and a closer one on the drunken king.
But it all seemed unreal now, like a half remembered dream and Alfred tried to conjure exactly what it was they had all worn besides their native colour, the way they had smiled - genuinely? - it was a struggle to recall such details and the man with the eye glass was giving him instructions and the leather chair squeaked on his clothes, distracting him.
"Could you read this for me please, your highness?" the man questioned now, holding up a script of letters - or possibly they were words?
"They're a little bit small, aren't they?" Alfred scrunched up his eyes to see the writing better, wondering why they were testing his reading when obviously he could read just fine.
It was Yao who had insisted Alfred have his eyes checked, but Alfred wanted nothing less than to answer some doctor's questions as the royals were settled into the palace. There were no meetings today at all – and it would be some time before the council gathered in the parlour for the afternoon, but still Alfred felt restless.
"Just read out any letters you think you can see, your highness" the man persisted patiently and the Jack nodded sharply at Alfred, folding his arms in expectation.
"Well...If you say so," Alfred mumbled, perturbed by the request and swallowed before squinting at the script once more, "...a...g...k...um...s?"
Yao and the doctor exchanged glances and Alfred knew immediately this was not a positive sign.
"Alright," the doctor sighed, laying the script down, "now try looking through this lens for me please,"
The news Mel gave Arthur as he sat preparing a pheasant at the old table was enough to make his stomach sink like an anchor.
The guard had called at their door - had asked for him personally - Mel had assumed he was registered as unassigned in terms of military training and they were just doing their rounds. But previously Arthur had been less hassled due to the subtle limp left from his accident - technically regarded as a 'disability'. That could easily have become less important to them at this stage but it seemed so unnatural to Arthur that they should make a house call that he found it hard to concentrate on plucking feathers after hearing of it.
"There's nothing wrong, is there pet?" Mel watched him pick at the bird idly, "is it something you've done? About the hunting? Work? You aren't worried about Peter and I? We're perfectly alright!" she put a hand on his firmly to halt his obsessive, useless picking and force him to look at her, "Peter doesn't have the taste for vegetables, that's all, but we're perfectly alright."
But he could not forget the things that the strange girl had said to him only the evening before. If the council feared rebellion, they would have no issue smoking out a suspected spy using his family as bait, right?
"What exactly did they ask when they came?" Arthur asked with fresh urgency, "what did you say to them? How much do they know about us?"
Mel shrugged casually, "only whether you were in residence here," she rose from the table to dispose of the discarded feathers, "and I told them that you had moved on recently, and that I didn't know your exact whereabouts or expect you back for quite some time."
Arthur was surprised by her answer and looked at her with some awe.
"Surely they didn't believe you?" he muttered incredulously, watching her back as she bound some of the feathers to shut away in her apothecary drawer.
"It isn't so strange, boy," she glanced at him over her shoulder, "after all, you aren't a child anymore - your life is yours now...really you could do to remember that - Peter and I are alright - I'm not so old as they say! - you aren't bound to Kattleroot, there's only so much here for you now, don't think that hasn't occurred to me. "
Her words hung between them. Arthur, in all honesty, felt he was entirely bound to Kattleroot. He was bound to Mel and to Peter and his home- Antonio and Belle too. If he only thought of himself he would not be half as worried about the visit from the guard. He recalled Natalia's offer, to take him to her people - to clean his slate. He had declined for lack of trust, but had her words not aligned with the truth? The guard had come for him, just as he had imagined yet never expected they would. Shouldn't he listen to her now? Problems he did 'not yet have' yesterday had quickly reared their ugly heads today – and Natalia was irritatingly pre-emptive about it all.
"And one thing you must never forget, Arthur," Mel added as she shut her apothecary drawer, turning to him with a somewhat hard smile, "they don't call me a witch for nothing. I can take care of myself - if not you and Peter too."
He could not shake these troubled thoughts as he did his shift at the Warehouse that afternoon, the distraction of the exercise of offloading shipments welcome on that particular day.
His anxiety levels rose ever further when he reached into his work cubby and found a folded white note right at the back. Confused he opened it immediately and felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the elegantly sloping blue script written on the white parchment. It read: They will come for your family while your back is turned.
The hairs on the back of neck stood up and he wondered how much of his life Natalia had slithered into. He whipped around to see if she was there watching him at that very moment but met only the vacant gaze of the horse in the stable beside him. He scrunched the note up and shoved it in his pocket, trying not to panic.
Don't fall for her tricks, Arthur. Don't do what she wants.
But as the day wore on he only felt more and more certain that he was going to do exactly what she wanted.
Against all odds Antonio was also at work, but said little as they shifted each crate together.
It was when the work was done and they wiped their damp brows that his friend began to retain some of his spirit. The Blackshirts were meeting at the Warehouse that afternoon and Antonio, though he did not directly join the crowd formed around the three men who seemed to be the ringleaders, sat up on the newly unpacked crates to listen, beckoning Arthur to join him. Wary of the excitable crowd but intrigued nonetheless, Arthur put down the dirty cloth he was holding and cautiously climbed the pile to join his friend. The view was good from here and Arthur was shocked by the sheer volume of people gathered and the consistent charcoal of their shirts. He scanned the room to see whether Tim was present and caught sight of him at last, further off than even Arthur and Antonio, smoking from his pipe with folded arms and a hard expression.
"Wow," Arthur couldn't suppress the awe he felt, an awe of both admiration and anxiety.
"Yeah," Antonio agreed, "I've never seen this many all together - makes you hopeful, you know? They could really change something."
Arthur didn't reply, only continued to survey it all in wonder. Antonio had found his words by this point and spoke enough for them both.
"You see that guy there? The younger one?" Antonio gestured to one of the men on the makeshift platform who sat a little apart from the others looking somewhat annoyed, "That's Lovino Vargas - he's actually the brother of the Jack of Hearts – yeah, pretty unbelievable, huh? But he's a real loyal revolutionary; he's been behind a lot of uprisings lately. If he's here, then that means it's serious."
"Why would a guy like that care about the people here though?" Arthur questioned.
"Ask him and he'll say he just hates the council system, no more, but I hear he has a true allegiance to the lower class – he was a bastard kid and grew up separated from his brother in a backwater village just like ours," Antonio was well researched on this man and clearly approved of him," of course, when he was re-united with his brother he was gifted a boatload of cash, but he's still a total loudmouth – he's staying at the Goose and I think the whole town must have heard about the 'stupid fucking bed bugs' by now."
Antonio grinned at Arthur in amusement and the blond was glad to see it for the first time that day – if taken a little off guard by his devoted enthusiasm.
They were planning an uprising in the capital – for the Prince's tour. Arthur felt a lump form in his throat as soon as this much was apparent. What the rising would constitute he wasn't entirely sure, but where it concerned Alfred he could not suppress a pang of panic from swelling in his chest. His people deserved better than what they got, this was true, and blame the court he could – but to blame Alfred, to choose him to attack, that felt wrong on all counts. Part of him felt like getting up there and then and saying: 'don't do it! I know the Prince, I like the Prince! He's knows about our plight and he's powerless until he has a true say in court!' – but of course that wouldn't do. They may not even believe him and he'd be deemed some sort of rebel enemy.
Antonio was a great deal more enthusiastic about the idea than Arthur.
"Don't you think Belle would have loved getting involved with all this, Art?" Antonio commented as they walked home together, trudging through the snow, "she'd have been besotted with Vargas I bet."
"It's lucky for you then that Tim's keeping her out of it," Arthur replied dryly without a second thought, more lost in his own restless troubles.
It was only when Antonio's pace slowed and he saw the odd way he looked at him that Arthur realised he may have spoken out of turn. He usually withheld from making comments about Antonio and Belle but he had assumed there was still something between them – or maybe that assumption was the problem.
"Arthur..." Antonio formed the word slowly, frowning at him with that pained expression he had had the other day in the square, "Arthur, that's ridiculous, don't you...? Ah... it's nothing," he mustered a smile, "I'm not worried about Belle."
Both of them were quiet for the remainder of the journey home.
Alfred was happier to be part of the festivities come the evening time when the royals gathered together in the grand parlour with the comfort of the warming fire and the consistent bubble of conversation around them. A pair of spectacles was to be delivered to the palace in the near future, but for now this only felt like a small defeat; Alfred had been given several glasses of wine over the course of the evening and though he didn't favour its taste, he grew to like the sleepy, weightless feeling it induced.
By the large window, the Ace and Lord Ardnan sat with a deck of cards between them. As Alfred had passed them Ardnan had tossed him a grin.
"We're old rivals, he and I - we were but young tricksters together once," he announced amicably, tossing a few of the cards to the Ace.
The Ace nodded gravely, "and he can never deal a fair hand."
"And can you say yours is fairer?" Ardnan looked amused.
"Nobody will deal a fair hand if it is not in their interest to do so," both men flinched to see the Queen of Clubs stop and reply as she passed them, "is that not the heart of a card trick?"
The men cautiously agreed, unable to quite retain her eye and the queen left them with a sly wink at Alfred.
Presently she was absorbed in deep conversation with the Queen of Hearts, Kiku, a quiet, reserved but good natured man who happened to share quite a few of her interests and who, on most occasions such as this, she was able to coax out of his shell on a one on one basis.
Cards was not the only game afoot that evening, the young Queen Erika of Diamonds called Alfred now to join a game involving many wooden tiles on a circular board already being started by the Jack of Hearts and his rather more sheepish King. She pressed her hands together in excitement as he sat down, having removed her silk gloves and fur shawl – contented and flushed enough by the warmth of the crackling fire. The Jack of hearts was probably Alfred's favourite Jack - set apart from the others simply by his cheerful, open personality. Feliciano was a slight, auburn haired man who was always smiling and always at the side of his rather more stoic king Ludwig. Currently he was having the rules of the game explained to him for the third time and flapping his hands eagerly at Ludwig if the king's own attention ever appeared to stray from Erika's careful instruction. Gilbert, interrupted the game to hand Ludwig (who was in fact his brother by blood) a pint filled to the brim with ale and exchange excitable greetings with Feliciano, not forgetting to ruffle both Alfred and Erika on the head with a grin; The Joker was in his element when entertaining a full house. Well... it was almost full.
As the hours wore on and the drinks were drained and refilled many of the exchanges faded into gossip and Alfred found himself listening in guiltily to much of it - though a lot of it was uninteresting. It was easy to relax into such an atmosphere on an evening like this, to feel the security of the people around him who seemed so friendly and warm as individuals and yet as soon as they were within their own borders they were strange competitors. Alfred was aware of still not quite being on an equal with some of the older royals – still perceived as a child in many ways. He decided to rectify this come the formal meetings and discussion, he was no child and could handle himself and his kingdom. But they would all see that soon anyway.
It was when the King of Diamonds and his Jack were discussing the situation with Clubs with the King of Hearts that Alfred could not help eavesdropping on their conversation.
"...-But surely it wasn't enough for King Ivan to excuse Deliberation," Basch, the Jack of Diamonds commented with feeling, "there is no war at the time being – and surely he does not run and sulk at the mere prospect of conflict!"
"Ah, but, my friend, Ivan is a very personal man – he is insulted by what is happening here more than anything else," The King of Diamonds responded, stretched out on a couch with his glass of wine precariously balanced on the arm.
"The King has not yet dropped suspicions that it was Spades that kidnapped the Princess of Clubs – though this is a foolish accusation," Ludwig added, "and let's not forget the territorial losses they made to Spades not five years ago," he went on solemnly, "though I still doubt anything serious will come of this."
"It's a shame for the kid, that's all" Basch commented and Alfred tried his best to look distracted with his own wine glass, "thrown into something like this."
There were some murmurs of agreement at this comment and King Francis removed himself from his couch, stretching and scratching at that scruffy blond beard of his.
"Bathroom break, " he announced good naturedly, knocking back his wine, "I hope to see the two of you as pissed as me when I return - though Ludwig's getting there already I see."
With a fruity laugh he left them.
Arthur wavered when he returned home that evening. He looked at his door and thought of going inside but his stomach was still in a knot. He had half hoped she would be here waiting for him. She wasn't, but still he wavered.
Tentatively he made his way back down to the river, roundabout the spot he had been in last night when he had seen her. After loitering awkwardly for a few minutes he began to feel a fool, it was dark now, and he was hungry. She wasn't just going to appear here again like some kind of ghost haunting his house - he was being an idiot.
Upon turning in defeat he was greeted by none other than the spectre herself standing directly behind him, with those piercing eyes trained on him.
"Shit! - " he jumped and leapt away from her, heart racing, "how the hell do you do that?!"
Despite his surprise Arthur felt something peculiarly like relief, though really this was the last emotion he should probably have been feeling upon running into the frightening girl again – especially not when she was lurking by his home for the second time. Though unexpected, her appearance was much less terrifying than their first meeting; she still looked wild and unruly but her hair looked as though it might have been brushed since the previous evening. She wore a tattered bow in it which likened her to one of the china dolls Mel had been forced to sell last winter.
"Have you made your decision, Arthur?" she hissed immediately as he approached her, standing uncomfortably close to him - she seemed not to notice his outrage at her ability to sneak up on him.
He considered her for a moment, and crossed his arms as he remembered her swiftness with a blade. He shouldn't have been surprised that she gave him no formal greeting but he could not help marvelling at her lack of social skills.
"And a good evening to you too," he muttered dryly, throwing a wary glance at the illuminated front window of his cabin. Best to keep this quick.
"Oh...yes," she nodded briskly and then continued to stare at him, "...well?"
"Well..." Arthur considered playing it cool but, he had to be honest with himself, he was scared, "...When?
"As soon as possible," she seemed eager now, gazing at him with wide, black eyes and taking a few crunching steps toward him through the ice, "we could go tomorrow."
"No," Arthur replied firmly, looking again to the glowing window, "no, I need to tie things up here before any of that – I need at least four days."
Arthur denied admitting to himself that this was also just enough time to visit the Prince of Spades once more before going on this journey. It might not even be the longest journey in the world but...he had been thinking and thinking and it seemed like time to start to let Alfred go. To take the opportunity to distance himself so that whatever protection these 'Strangers' gave him actually had some kind of effect at all.
It wasn't just Alfred obviously – he couldn't just up and leave life here for god knows how long. He had a job, a family. He had to make sure they were prepared for what could be as long as a few weeks without him (he had no idea what they would encounter on the way to this place). And then they would all be safe and it would be worth it. He had thought it through all day. It would all be worth it in the end.
"Then I will see you here in four days," she replied, her expression unchanging, "Noon."
Matthew Jones once again found himself away from the general excitement at the Palace, finishing a job for the Jack in the large ground floor study. He didn't mind, of course. Parties were always a bit overwhelming anyway. He was happy to watch the antics of the other royals, just as happy as he was to listen to their stories, but he also didn't mind leaving it up to them for a while. After all: how much was he really needed in there? He was more useful out here, planning his brother's tour.
Really, he was glad to plan the tour because he was relieved they had listened to his encouragement that it would take place at all. It felt like years he had been urging the Jack to let his brother see and know a little more of the place he would rule and it seemed that only recently were his words being heard. But how often was Matthew ignored, huh? He was used to that too, he supposed.
He sighed wearily as he shuffled the last of the papers he was reading over for the final time together and pushed them to the side of the large, polished writing desk. Straightening his glasses, he prepared to rejoin the party in the parlour, hoping he'd find something interesting to say to somebody so not to feel like total dead weight the entire evening. He supposed he would end up making small talk with Angelique – though she never seemed to enjoy his conversation at all. He wondered whether Alfred was paying her any attention this evening and thought that he probably was not. He sometimes felt a little sorry for the girl: she was not particularly kind or particularly good humoured but she tried very hard with his brother.
Yep, Alfred seemed destined to break hearts. This was an area where Matthew knew that the two of them were cut from very different cloth – Mattie who was handsome in a feminine, intellectual sort of way and had no charm other than that of the awkward kind. But he wouldn't feel sorry for himself about that.
Before leaving the quiet study, Matthew recalled a book he had been meaning to borrow from the room and began scanning the bookcase by the door for it, having to fetch the step ladder when he realised it must be on the top shelf.
"Having trouble there, mon cher," an all too familiar voice in the doorway startled Matthew and he lost his balance on the ladder momentarily, teetering on the edge for a moment.
"K-king Francis," Matthew stuttered as he regained some composure on the ladder, trying to hide his disappointment upon seeing the older man.
"How did I know I'd find you working away in here," he chuckled, leaning against the bookcase Mattie was currently trying to search, though in truth he was completely thrown off by the King of Diamonds' presence and such a search was now rendered hopeless.
"You were looking for me?" Matthew replied nervously, though it was innocence poorly feigned for he knew the King would seek him out at some point during his stay, he just hadn't been sure when. That was the worst part: he was unpredictable that way.
Matthew stayed on the ladder, pretending to file through books idly though his heart rate had risen considerably now that the king was so close to him.
"What is it that you're looking for, mon cher?" Francis asked him with a smile, clearly enjoying how flustered the young man had become.
Matthew spoke the title tentatively, not expecting it to be something the King of Diamonds was familiar with.
"Ah," the King plucked a tome from the shelf beside him, "is this not the one?"
Matthew couldn't believe his miscalculation and looked from the book to Francis' smirk with an open mouth.
"Oh, I didn't even know that was there..." he made no attempt to descend the ladder to retrieve the object of his search, an old, dusty looking book with a brick red cover.
"Ah, you can be such a scatterbrain, Matthew," the older man replied with affection, holding out a hand to help Matthew down the ladder.
Matthew took it gingerly, the king's rings cold to touch. He hated to openly show his distaste at touching any king but with Francis, Matthew could not resist the urge to recoil from the contact if only slightly.
"Don't be so coy, Matthew!" the king noticed his flinch and protested as Matthew reached the bottom of the steps, "you wound me, boy! Why do you shy away when you know how much I dote on you?"
Matthew was silent for a few moments and considered his situation – alone with King Francis in the study. He could try to flatter him and by some miracle wriggle out of the unwelcome intimacy they found themselves in that way – or he could just hope that Francis was in a mood to listen to Matthew's word and let him go in peace.
"I meant no offence, your highness," Matthew murmured anxiously, "I don't exactly feel myself today and I...I'd prefer to return to the parlour I think."
His argument was so weak and so poorly formed that he felt embarrassed just to have let the words leave his mouth.
"Ah, why must you always play hard to get?" Francis persisted, his hand on Matthew's wrist, "why won't you just give in and be my lover?"
Matthew stared at the floor, his face burning, hating the brazen way in which the king was prepared to proposition him.
"I'm sorry," Matthew uttered the words quietly, "I'm sure I'll never understand your jokes, King Francis...but I'm not a boy any more – I...I know all your games."
The king tilted his head at Matthew, quirking an eyebrow at him questioningly. He didn't lose that hint of amusement but he gained a harsher, crueller look in his eye.
"You should know by now that how I feel about you, mon cher, is no game," Francis cupped Matthews chin and once again he felt the cold graze of those many rings, "though I will admit that you've grown into quite a man now."
Matthew turned his head sharply away, provoked to do so by the salacious way that the King looked at him and the roughness with which he touched him.
"Please..." he begged weakly as Francis snaked an arm around his waist, "I'd really like to go now."
"Ah, but I don't think I can let you go quite yet," the king dropped any pretence of being agreeable and kept a tighter hold on Matthew's wrist as he leant in to press his lips against the eldest prince's neck.
Knowing he was powerless to the wish of the King of Diamonds, Matthew could only do his best to shy away from him now and endure what was enough to sate the lecherous desire of the other man. Even so, he continued to protest weakly and in vain.
Every further advance provoked a feeling of shame in Matthew who scolded himself for the lack of strength to push the king away and be done with it. And his punishment was to endure his hot breath on his neck and the groping hands beneath his shirt, the vice grip which held his arm above his head against the bookshelf and the outraged voice in his own head.
Why could he not tell him where to go? He was not so weak. He could kick him in the balls - that would do the trick. But he played the fool as usual, letting the king run his hands all over him. That was Matthew – there might as well have been a sign on his back which said 'walk all over me – do whatever you like'. It made him feel sick to his stomach.
"Please," Mattie uttered one last desperate time, attempting to pull away from the stronger man.
The door to the study was swung open and the figure standing in the doorway gave both Matthew and his molester a shock enough to part them at last, though the sickened feeling in Matthew's stomach did not subside, only increasing with his humiliation.
I am sorry I did that to you Matthew my sweet summer child :(
Anyway, this chapter was pretty long (I combined 2 shorter ones) and it's to make up for a possible slight delay in the next one because I'm really trying to work out when and what order everything in the rest of plot is going to happen and when ends will be tied etc. etc. at the moment. Also, I'm sorry the story has had so much set up and Alfred and Arthur have actually been separate for the majority so far but I promise promise I will make up for it !
Let me know how you're finding the story and I'll be back soon!
