An End, A start

"Are you listening, Alfred?" Matthew frowned, cocking his head.

The younger Jones brother stared back but didn't quite see, he hadn't had time to put on his new glasses, but this wasn't the cause of his vacant gaze.

Matthew had taken Alfred aside to break the news. The elder prince had been more than a little confused himself at first, listening to Gilbert's theory about the incident as his shoulder was bandaged by the palace nurse; the theory that the gunman had mistaken Matthew for Alfred and that this whole awful affair was a new, twisted form of rebellion against the monarchy.

Mattie had wanted to stay by his side longer, still feeling guilty for what had happened and still aware that he had not managed to tell him the very thing which had led him to march out to meet the man that morning, but the nurse insisted the Joker have time to rest. Gilbert assured her that he would be healed in no time - Joker's had extremely expedited healing times, a phenomenon linked to their delayed aging process: a wound like this would be no more than a few days work for him. The Man did look a little drained nonetheless and Matthew hated to trouble him further.

Alfred sat on the Jack's desk in his study, shoe tapping nervously against the shining wood (Yao would have a fit if he saw this). The room felt too large suddenly, bookcases too tall, too full of volumes. If they got new books where would they go? The cases were full already - came an anxious, idiotic thought. Alfred opened his mouth to ask Mattie and then stopped himself. He looked up, the ceiling was a mile away, the windows were too long. outside, the lawn was too wide and flat. Couldn't someone shoot through glass? Shouldn't they be hunched under the table talking about this? He grimaced through an amused and somewhat hysterical snort at how laughable that prospect suddenly seemed; how laughable it all seemed for a moment.

"Alfred?" Matthew repeated, stepping hesitantly closer to him.

"But why?" Alfred muttered at last, catching his brother's glance, "why would they want to kill me or you? Why not...I don't know, the Jack - not that I want that or anything, but..."

Matthew sighed and rubbed his forehead. When he looked up again he was staring out the window himself.

"It's...well, I suppose it's because you're...going to be king and -" Alfred's eyebrows knitted together and he felt as if he might actually have to shout at his brother for stating the overstated but Matthew hurried on without him, " - and these people have been without a king for years - a long time - but they're playing by a king's rules, and not even such a nice one in their eyes," his shoulders relaxed to see Alfred looking more thoughtful than angry, " I think maybe some people think they can overturn the hierarchy like this or that everything will improve if the palace is forced to acknowledge them and how bad things are the way they are. I was confused myself and I'm not as knowledgeable as Gilbert but...that's what I understand."

"I just don't know how to fix something like this," Alfred's face was a mask of anxiety, he bit his lip, "I don't know what I can do to reverse this."

"You can't Alfred, it's not your fault, you-" Matthew didn't want his brother to take it on his own shoulders, he felt it was all a horrible misunderstanding.

"But it is! I'm the Prince of Spades! I'm meant to be the good guy! There shouldn't be people trying to assassinate me," his fist closed around the edge of the desk, "Yao never prepared me for this."

"You are right, I have been negligent," a third voice interjected their conversation and Alfred was almost unsurprised to see the Jack of Spades standing in the doorway, posture perfectly pulled together as always, expression calm, "and you're ruining the desk with your shoes."

"You're really worrying about that now?" Alfred retorted heatedly, though he flushed that he had been caught all the same.

It wasn't enough to quell his sudden anger though - he was no longer a child that could be subdued with a petty scolding.

"Your highness, if you would just-" Yao closed his eyes, putting a hand to his temple.

"-But I've done all the classes and I've learnt all the business and the economy and the policies of war and the history of every town and all of the trade laws -almost all of them - but I feel like I'm not prepared at all," Alfred wasn't shouting, but he almost was - not the shrill wail of a child but the demanding tone of a young man, " I'm not on the throne yet and there's already been an attempt on my life!"

Alfred shifted from the table so that he was standing - he was the same height as the Jack now - Matthew noticed this as he looked between the two, wanting to leave but fearing the gesture of walking out the door.

"I..." Yao still had his eyes closed as if the words pained him a little, " I agree that I went about this the wrong way," Alfred raised his head to continue his tirade but was denied the satisfaction, " I became obsessed with protecting you - obviously that has failed today - and I knew deep down that keeping you naive was the wrong choice, but I could not risk anyone involved with the throne being endangered - especially not you - and especially not since..."

"Not since when?... " Alfred felt a rush of adrenaline to have the words out between them, Yao had shown an actual weakness and he was testing it, "Since that family died?"

"How do you know about that?" the Jack questioned sharply and Mattie also had to give him a frowning glance.

"Why does it matter?" Alfred replied somewhat nervously, feeling he owed at least something to Angelique,

"Well...in fact, yes, I was thinking about that incident," the Jack sighed, glancing at Matthew, " it was a fatal slip up - there is barely a day when it doesn't cross my mind that we failed our duties in that way - how the culprit - who, for all we knew, was operating from within the court itself - slipped through our fingers without a trace. That fire was no accident...and with the powers the boy was rumoured to have, it was also a great political loss."

"Powers?" Alfred asked, his attention suddenly drawn, "The same things you're asking Angelique about? The magic thing?"

"Ah, so she has spoken with you."Yes... I thought she and the Kirkland boy had the same talent, I was not so certain of her heritage, but Sadik, her uncle, is a long term friend, and he assured me she had the power of the Sense - that is, the ability to control the elements," Yao was talking to himself more than to Alfred, maybe that was the only way he could convince himself to let the boy in.

"The actual Sense? I thought you only saw spirits with that?" Alfred's anger dissolved into intrigue, though his amazement at the Jack's ability to keep secrets remained.

"...Yes, that is the popular rumour - but I have reason to believe there is a lot more to it than that... some still call it witchcraft, sorcery, a curse but, as the Jack of Spades...I found it fascinating and...powerful," he met Alfred's gaze, "I thought, let's rethink what a queen should be - let's rethink our old superstitions."

"Tell me, Yao, I have to hear it outright," Alfred struggled to hold his mentor's eye as he asked the question he had been afraid of answering for over a year now, "Angelique, she is to be Queen, isn't she?...she is to be... my wife?"

"Do you not want her to be your wife?" Yao questioned, with an unreadable look on his face.

"I..." Alfred was stumped by this response - it wasn't one he had expected to receive, "I didn't think I had a choice in the matter."

The two observed each other for a moment in stony silence. Eventually the Jack of Spades let out a deep sigh.

"I admit it has...become part of my expectations for you," Yao nodded and Alfred felt his heart was heavy in his chest, though he wasn't surprised, "after the Kirkland manor was burned down I thought myself a fool - too radical too soon when your parents rule had been so loved and so distinctly...traditional," he had pressed the tips of his fingers together on each hand so they made a kind of arch and held Alfred's eye, "and considering the fact that Miss Mancham has not shown even the smallest glimmer of the Sense perhaps traditionalism is the only avenue we have left to save face in these times...you could follow in your parents footsteps."

"...And be married," Alfred reiterated nervously, losing eye contact with his guardian.

"It was merely a theory," Yao added calmly, "and perhaps a presumptuous one but you know, your highness, when you were very young you were quite adamant that you wanted to marry your queen...I suppose I've been blind to see you grown into new ideas...you have been rather sheltered and boys will like to have...experience."

"That's not-! It's not like that, I'm still..." Alfred struggled against a tide he could not turn and lost hold of any coherent speech, "I'd still like to marry my queen, but..."

"S-surely there may be some compromise...some alternative?" suddenly Matthew found himself with two pairs of eyes upon him - one dark and shrewd, the other blue and pleading.

"Well, there is something else of note, Alfred - as I have agreed that keeping you in the dark was unwise, I will tell you," The Jack seemed to take a moment to compose himself, raking a hand through his hair before going on, "the Ace has been investigating a lead for some time that has led us to believe that the first chosen Queen is not, in fact, dead... as far as we know he could still be in the kingdom."

Alfred stared at him dumbly for a moment, still occupied with the thought of marrying Angelique.

"Oh..." Alfred didn't know what to do with this information which for some reason felt entirely irrelevant to his predicament.

"-Do you plan on seeking him out?" Matthew could not help but interrupt the exchange, reading the Jack's thoughts better than his brother did.

"We have an opportunity to do that - I would still like to see whether he really does have the powerful capabilities of which some with the sense are supposed to, and finding him may lead us closer to where we went wrong those years ago," Yao had become rather animated as he went on and Alfred grew nervous, "if we can locate this boy - well now he'd be nearly a man - but if we could locate him and bring him here-"

"-No," Alfred cut in sharply and Yao was jolted from his excitable planning, " What? you want to drag in some other poor queen-to-be? Wasn't Angelique enough? Oh no no, don't think about how I feel about this though! I'm just thrilled to entertain - yeah - maybe I'll marry him too!" he rolled his eyes in exasperation, "I mean, seriously, I understand that you want to right your wrongs and see an opportunity but... bringing someone here who's already lost everything - taking them away from whatever life they may have now so that I can disappoint them too - that won't help at all."

Alfred's brows knitted together as he tailed off, feeling extremely lost for a moment. Was he being selfish? Was he being truthful? He didn't know.

"You need not worry about Angelique's position if that is what is troubling you?" Yao offered, ignoring Alfred's outburst and sarcasm which would be enough to have him sent to his room in normal circumstances, "even if by some miracle we did find this boy and if by equal miracle he showed us enough promise that we did reconsider offering him the role of Queen - well, tradition would be out the window and you would be free to privately court any young lady you wish - even Miss Mancham, I am certain, would forgive you."

"I'm not concerned about Miss Mancham, I'm concerned about me," Alfred was suddenly tired as he spoke, realising it was impossible to argue with a man who knew so little of his own heart and mind. He didn't want any young lady, he didn't want a magic stranger - he didn't want Angelique! - he wanted...well, he wasn't quite sure what he wanted yet.

"In any case, we are running out of time, Alfred, if things remain as they are here, Angelique will be coronated this year - rather than next, she is already of age and we see no benefit in waiting until she is eighteen - we need to bring mergence period to an end before it consumes the monarchy altogether." Yao was forever pragmatic and level-headed while Alfred's head began to pound with the effort of taking all of this in, "Due to this I do ask you to consider what I say about a marriage to Angelique - maybe it's a desperate act in current circumstances," Yao shook his head slightly in disappointment, "but Alfred, however difficult, please don't dismiss what I am proposing, I can only hope you will understand my decisions eventually."

Alfred said nothing, feeling frustrated and embarrassed. It seemed somehow petty to object when Yao made it out to be so crucial to their kingdom and yet he couldn't quite give in - something held him back and wouldn't let him go. He didn't need to be his father, he didn't want to be. Nor did he want to revert to the past - he wanted to move forward - progress! But they all seemed stuck in a rut instead, the three of them considering each other like the three points of a triangle.

Then the Jack did something he had not done in years. He reached out and, albeit somewhat awkwardly, put his hand on Alfred's shoulder.

"I'm sorry to have to spring these things on you, Alfred."

"I'm sure I can handle it," the Prince muttered, "and I will...consider what you say about Angelique."

He had this slow, cold feeling that now, with chaos in the palace, with Arthur gone, with the needs of the kingdom starting to overpower the needs of his own heart, his childish ideals would have to be brought to an end soon.

"Good," Yao gave his shoulder a final pat before withdrawing his hand, "then we must go over the final plan for your tour - obviously security measures are needed."

Matthew's shoulders sank in relief at last.


Alfred would probably be married before the year was up.

Arthur was struck with the stark thought as he held Magnus' reigns tightly, hands claw-like with the cold. They had been travelling for a few hours perhaps - the sun was setting now, the last rays filtered through the trees - and it was at this moment that he chose to pointlessly think of Alfred.

Yes, there would probably be a wedding and he would read about it in the paper and Belle would cut the article out and put it on her wall. Alfred would wear some over the top ceremonial garb and maybe they would even smooth his hair down so he didn't have that little flick in his fringe anymore. Why should that matter to Arthur at all? It shouldn't.

A sudden gripe in Arthur's stomach distracted him and he was made aware of his own hunger, having not eaten since the previous morning. He had a small amount of food in his pack but not much (he had felt guilty taking from the cupboard at home). He had hoped to hunt something out in the woods which they could roast on a fire or that Natalia might contribute something to their supplies. From the look of her luggage it didn't seem promising - only one sagging leather bag . Arthur's gaze went from the dress to the horse she was on, a thin, dappled mare that was going to be put out at the Warehouse. Arthur had taken his chances, in his mind Natalia had been fairly slight and he had been right, in fact, her waist was almost frighteningly tiny or perhaps it was an illusion from the thick sash she tied around it.

There was an audible growl from his stomach and he looked away from Natalia sharply, hoping not to draw attention to himself, embarrassed at his own hunger. He focused on the stream instead - that's what they were following for the time being and it wound in and out of the undergrowth like a snake, dipping beneath exposed roots and bubbling back up between the rocks. He had never ventured so far into the forest before and the path was not so straightforward, the ground sloping into ditches in places or forming ragged earthy ridges in others. The canopy above their heads was thin and dead mostly, but the branches entwined with one another in a way they didn't tend to in the outlying woodland. Through these entwined limbs he spotted the dimming sky and pondered where they would have to stop for the night. He had to force out a wistful longing for the chair by the fire at his cottage.

"We're still on the right path, yes?" Arthur was jolted back to his chilly, hungry reality by Natalia's almost nervous voice.

This was the first word to have passed between them for over an hour - Arthur hadn't minded: he liked the silence - he liked to have room for his thoughts. Or had, before said thoughts had become a pointless circling of recent events. Like a persistent vulture he picked at remains of conversations he had no reason to, turning over pieces in the light.

"Yes," he gave her a nod, "as long as we can see the stream we're good until the footpath and then..." he wrinkled his nose as the name escaped him and tried to visualise the map he'd 'borrowed' from the schoolhouse, "...we should pass a homestead and the village of Wyndale."

"It's getting dark," she commented and Arthur had a moment to wonder if she ever got cold: she wasn't wearing a jacket, just like the first time he'd met her - and then it had even been snowing.

"Are you..afraid of the dark?" Arthur asked, not serious in the slightest and unable to keep the laughter from bubbling through at the end.

"Shut up!" she hissed and then Arthur really did have to laugh.

"I was joking, sorry," Arthur fought his stupid smile and wondered if she'd murder him in the night.

Natalia stared at him, not quite angry, more bewildered, as if nobody had done that before: joked with her. Either embarrassed or frustrated she whipped her head around to face the path, pale hair briefly fanning out.

Arthur too repositioned himself to face their uncertain path, fighting a dangerous urge to laugh again.


Hours later the two stumbled into Wyndale Village having become hopelessly lost as the sun set. It was now viciously dark and the pressing howls of night creatures at their backs had forced them to seek shelter within the village . Arthur sorely regretted teasing Natalia about her fear of the dark; she wouldn't let him forget it for the entire hour they spent scrambling around through the undergrowth with no clue as to where they were headed.

Of course, it was also pelting down with rain. It was approaching torrential levels when they finally saw the signpost to Wyndale and were ushered into the town's walls by an incessant gust of wind. Arthur's clothes were heavy and sodden as he found a spare stable to tie their horses in. It was shabby yes, but good enough for a horse.

It was an uphill battle to the inn. Literally. Wyndale was very much built around the rock - the only positive of this fact being that they felt relatively safe from whatever lurked in the forest below. At its highest craggy peak stood the Rook's Nest Inn, battered sign banging incessantly against its post with the howling wind and the lantern flickering threateningly.

They'd been received with much suspicion upon shouldering their way into what they had hoped would be a safe haven for the night. The first thing Arthur noticed was that it was incredibly dark inside; he bumped up against a coat rack immediately after entering. Peering closer he saw that a yellow jar on each table did offer a few stale circles of light which, like the lantern at the door, flickered and made the tankards and hunched shoulders look as though they were quivering ever so slightly. The door banged against the wall once they were inside, pinned there by the angry wind. The hum of conversation died in the room like a snuffed out candle. A man playing a slumped piano in the far corner let his hands slip off the yellowing keys as he stared at the doorway. The barmaid stopped motionless midway through pouring a drink into a rusty tankard; there was the sound of the ale running over the edge of the rim. The patron himself took no notice of the spillage, only of the intruding silhouettes by the door. Those stale circles illuminated the glint of eyes all over the room which seemed trained on them, as if entranced.

"Um, good evening," Arthur said instinctively and immediately regretted the decision as he stared into the unimpressed eyes of the man closest to him.

The greeting was entirely ignored but it's utterance did seem to trigger the slow continuance of the inn's activities - the barmaid became aware of the mess she was making, grabbing a dishcloth to wipe it up with, and the men's attention returned to the tankards of ale in their hands; there was a creak as the man at the old piano turned to take in the keys once more.

Natalia left in search of water and lodging rates from the bar and Arthur slipped into the comforting darkness of a wooden booth. As his body hit the bench he heaved a sigh, letting his head thud against the back.

I wonder what would happen if I brought Alfred to a place like this, he thought with a wry smile. He cut his smile short when he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be thinking about Alfred anymore.

"Fancy a palm reading, boy?" a gravel voice from the shadows spoke and Arthur jolted back in his seat slightly.

A figure on the opposite side of the table leant forward and was illuminated as a pair of wide shoulders and a round, lined face.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realise the booth was occupied, I'll just..." Arthur gathered up his bag in a panic and began to push out of the seat, sure the thing before him must be some kind of apparition or demon.

"Don't be foolish," the woman seemed to smile, at least, the cracks in her face moved slightly, "I am happy for the company...now then, I know you must just be itching for a reading, yes?"

He hesitated, observing her. She was plump and old and not quite friendly - she was communicating with him at least - more than could be said for the others.

"I- I have no money," Arthur stuttered, still wary of her, though by now he could at least see that she was a human of some kind or the other. It was a lie: he had a few coins in his pocket, but those would be needed if they had any hope of staying under a roof tonight.

"Free of charge, boy, free of charge," her smile was unfaltering, her eyes glittered in the candlelight.

"...Alright," Arthur tentatively placed his arm on the table and allowed her to take his hand in her sandpaper claws, as lined as her old face.

"I can see here that you're a hard worker," she turned over his palm in hers.

Yeah, yeah, Arthur thought, relaxing. Anyone could look at the slight rough and calloused hands of his and see that he was a hard worker. You could probably tell he was a worker just from looking at his clothes alone. She clearly wasn't a real witch.

"But that's obvious, isn't it?" She flashed her eyes at him with an almost mischievous grin and Arthur felt himself tense up again, suddenly embarrassed as if she had actually read his thoughts. Of course, that was impossible...right?

"Hmm, " she traced the lines of his palms as if reading a map, "oh my, you're about to begin quite the journey of discovery, young man - I do believe perhaps even more than you have bargained for - and we cannot discount that you may not like everything you find."

Arthur tried not to let her ruffle him, remaining silent despite the slight nervous twinge he felt at her words. She went on.

"Yes, you are incredibly lost... and you're path to happiness will not be smooth - you are stubborn, but be sure to be just as stubborn in keeping faith in what fate has in store - giving up on what you truly desire will be futile and only cause you more trouble. You will - oh! Oh my, well would you look at this! - " she looked up at him with eyes shining and her face in a wide grin, "I know who you are boy!"

Arthur could no longer hide his intrigue - he didn't want to take the psychic seriously until that point. It was ridiculous to think so, but it was as if she had uttered the words he had been hoping to hear for the past 5 years.

"What?" Arthur leant in a little, "you do?"

"I've seen you - in the paper - it must have been years ago now - I never forget a face, I don't. You were nothing like now, you were a boy! They said you were dead, child," she nodded at him as if it made sense, " did the trauma do away with it all? They said they all died in the fire...but there were bodies missing. They found the mother and father. Three brothers too - charred to dust, but they were bodies alright. Not one boy though, one boy that'd be just about a man now - or the little one," she was still smiling eagerly but now it felt wrong. Now he didn't want to hear - now this was what he had hidden from for 5 years, he could feel it in his gut. Arthur felt a sensation frighteningly like bile rising in his throat and his cheeks became flushed.

Smoke, enough to make you choke, stinging eyes and throat. A woman screaming, blazing pain and quaking fear. Bit his tongue: blood, salty metal - almost pissed himself. Cracking of wood, fanned heat of flames, bundle in his arms - run and don't look back, they won't stop.

"I-" Arthur's voiced cracked, he blinked and found his eyes were filled with water, "I don't understand."

"Ah, what was the name..." she considered the grain of the table with a hardened frown.

The offbeat piano melody swelled in Arthur's ears, clattering drinks and murmured voices joined it in a drowsy orchestra in his skull. I am going to faint, he thought.

"Oh yes, I remember now!" The old woman's gravel tone scraped against the inside of his head, "I never forget a name, I don't."

Arthur could not decipher the woman's blurt of whatever the name she remembered was. Something -Land? Perhaps it was a place. But he didn't consider it for long: an outcry from the bar sent the smoke billowing from Arthur's mind and leaning from the booth he saw that he had entirely more pressing problems to deal with.


A/N: Surprise! Here's another chapter because I'm sure there's someone reading this thing thinking 'omg will it ever end' and even though the best is yet to come I wanted to tell anyone who has bravely stuck with this tale that yes, I do plan to end this thing and I am showing you my commitment by doing my best to get chapters out. Hopefully with my next update I can give an update of how many chapters this story will end up being but at the moment I'm thinking it will get to around 30? Maybe less?

I hope I have at least a few hangers on who'll be in it for the long haul!