Chapter II

"It's not ticking. It's not ticking. What is ticking? T-This isn't ticking at all!" babbled Alfred hysterically, staring at Aequitas.

"I-It's alright! Calm down!"

They were obviously everything except calm, Alfred decided, the cloaked figure and him pacing in opposite directions up and down the alley. He stopped in mid-pace, turning around suddenly,

"You're a guy right?" Alfred asked, narrowing his eyes.

"What the hell- Of course I'm a bloody guy! Which part of me screams female?"

"Well the fact that you were kinda nagging like someone's mother just now? I mean, it's possible right? Because I'm supposed to marry the person who makes this thing tick and-" Alfred eyed the other man warily, "-And you're like-"

"Stop right there." He held out a hand. Alfred was almost expecting time to freeze over again, but it didn't. Instead, the cloaked stranger cleared his throat and inhaled deeply. "Alright. L-let's just try this first. You are going to turn your back to me and walk all the way down that alley until that clock stops ticking."

Alfred nodded, swallowing.

"If it doesn't stop ticking, it has obviously malfunctioned. If it stops, you're going to walk back slowly and see if it starts ticking around me again. Clear?"

"Okay. Okay that sounds good." Alfred steadied himself, glaring down at Aequitas, daring it to do anything out of the norm. It continued ticking.

Making a face, Alfred turned around and started to walk. He counted his steps in his head in an attempt to forget the general awkwardness that came about following such instructions. He was around fifty steps or so away when Aequitas stopped ticking. Well, damn. Looked like it wasn't a permanent error or something. Still, the experiment was only half done. Alfred took in a long, deep breath, turned around, and walked back.

Tick.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The urge to throw the damned golden pocketwatch onto the floor was excruciatingly tempting now. "Seriously, Aequitas?" He mentally screamed at the offensive gold watch. "I don't even know this guy! And all that save-the-damsel-in-distress-and-get-hitched fairytale shit does not apply in this situation!"

Anyone else would have been able to tell that Alfred F. Jones was no longer in his right mind considering how he was talking to a watch out of all things. Alfred shook Aequitas hard, wondering if the concept of shaking some sense into a person applied to clocks too. An apparently Magical clock, but nevertheless.

"Let me-" Cloaked stranger was doing a strange hand gesture with his hands, pawing at the air around Aequitas, "Could I just- see that thing-"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, but held Aequitas up nevertheless.

The man pulled off his hood, leaning in till his nose was almost touching the clock face and squinting at the golden body of Aequitas, and Alfred noted that he did have green eyes, and- God. Were those supposed to be eyebrows?

After a minute or so he let out a sigh and pulled back, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. "... Unfortunately or fortunately put to one side, Aequitas is currently perfectly functional."

"You mean it's not broken? Really? 'Cus I'm pretty sure Dad dropped it too many times to be safe-"

"The cogwheels are in perfect order and it's regulating the time around it just like it's supposed to." When Alfred opened his mouth to ask the man just what in the world he was talking about, he held up a hand and cut in, "Trust me. I know how clocks work."

"Soooo you're saying...?" Alfred cued, hoping that the other man had not suddenly decided that it was all fine and dandy that they were going to get married because the clock was working. Because he had honestly thought better of him, than to succumb to this kind of ridiculousness, even if he had just known him for half an hour.

"As doubtful as I am about this decision," said the man pointedly, "Aequitas has never made a mistake, and even if this is a mistake- and it probably is-" mumble mumble, "- I have an obligation as a Time Mage to respect its decision and-"

"Oh no you don't. I am most absolutely not marrying you-" Something else caught in the back of his mind - why on earth was a Time Mage back within the city, for one - but at the moment nothing was more important than the fact that a stranger was about to say yes to an arranged marriage prescribed by a clock out of all things.

"You don't need to." The man sighed, scratching the back of his head head as he waved a hand in the general direction of the castle, "I mean, it's been an age-old tradition of the Spades Kingdom for the King and Queen to be bound by marriage, but technically, Aequitas is only dictating a suitable Queen. And Queens, especially in the other Kingdoms, do not need to be romantically involved with their Kings."

"Oh." Alfred said, feeling a little stupid and wondering if this was why he was supposed to take History lessons on the Political Systems of the continent.

"... Or the bloody frog would be classified as a pedophile and his Jack will probably murder him." Mumble mumble.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." came the clearer response. "... as I was saying, there is absolutely no need for us to get married."

"So uh, what? I need to take you in as my Queen?"

He watched a slight shadow of doubt cross the man's face- it showed, when those (gigantic) eyebrows twitched and furrowed just so slightly- followed by a slight grimace that was no more than a tightened jaw, "You don't need to. That is a decision for you to make as a King. Aequitas has made a choice, but it doesn't mean that it won't tick again if you meet someone else that is suitable as well-" he trailed off, "... And to tell the truth I don't see how I can be suitable for this job."

Alfred blinked. "Well," he cracked, "You've obviously proven yourself as an excellent bodyguard-" The glare that was sent his direction told him that it was probably a bad joke to crack at this moment. "-Sorry."

They lapsed into rather uncomfortable silence after that. The man, with his arms crossed, standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the alley. Alfred, standing stupidly with Aequitas' chain still clutched in his fist, staring blankly at the nearby wall.

Alfred weighed his options.

First off there was this... Guy, whose name he didn't even know yet. He had ginormous eyebrows, fought like a badass, was a Time Mage, and was that- Time magic- what happened when everyone seemed to freeze? Then there was the ball. The ladies at the ball. The ladies and their fathers.

Then there was that un-ticking Aequitas, and the current one steadily keeping time in his hands.

Maybe it wasn't that hard a decision to make.

"So uh, I guess we should get this covered, at least. What's your name?"

"Arthur Kirkland," Alfred repeated, willing his voice not to shake, "Will be my new Queen."

The shocked silence of the court was overwhelming. Alfred fiddled nervously, back in his uncomfortable ceremonial robes that threatened to suffocate him in their stuffy itchy-ness. He tried to count his blessings- at least the ball had long ended and he thus had a very limited audience.

A very limited, but very shocked audience.

To his left he could hear Matthew fiddling nervously too. Yao was standing below with the rest of the court, making a scrunched up face that told Alfred very clearly that he did not approve of this at all, that this was a very stupid decision, and (given the current reaction from the rest of the court) I told you so.

The only person that wasn't doing the nervous awkward fiddling around was Arthur himself. Even the various members of the court (all wrinkly old men, some of which who looked like they were ready to clutch on to their failing hearts and just collapse at Alfred's announcement) were shifting around and muttering to each other, exchanging looks and throwing sideway glances at their King and said new Queen. Arthur stood to Alfred's right, back completely straight, eyes looking straight ahead, his arms folded behind his back. He was still in his dark slate blue cloak, hair slightly tousled and smelling strangely like the alleyway, but even so he stood, completely unmoving and unperturbed by the reception the court was giving him.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Aequitas has made the decision." To prove his point he held up the golden watch. A ripple of shock spread through his audience.

"But, my lord- Surely-"

"Not all Queens need to be bound by marriage to their Kings." Alfred added, feeling a little proud that he could use this newly found piece of knowledge so soon.

"All the previous Queens in the Kingdom have been female, my lord. This is not a good sign, if the Kingdom's Clock has chosen a male-"

"The decision of Aequitas has always been the most appropriate decision for the Kingdom. Perhaps it has decided that such traditions have to change in a time like this." Alfred threw a glance at Matthew. His brother gave him a small nod. Good, it was a decent rebuttal then. He turned back to the rest of the court who had broken out into a discussion with controlled volume. They sounded like the rumbling of a distant thunderstorm, Alfred thought to himself absentmindedly; a distant thunderstorm that was going to come down on him very soon, all lightning and thunder and heavy rain. Hopefully it was going to be a quick one, like all sudden thunderstorms, because all Alfred wanted to do at the moment was to have a warm bath and then collapse face first into his bed.

"Please reconsider, my Lord." The first of his advisors spoke up. A wave of mumbled approval sounded after that. "There may be other suitable maidens that could-"

"Arthur Kirkland..." Another voice sounded from the other end of the room. "... Have I met you somewhere before?"

Alfred blinked. The rest of the court turned around to look at the owner of the voice. It was one of the elderly advisors, so bent over and crooked that he looked like he could be Alfred's great-great-grandfather. He croaked slightly at the attention, and lowered his head, "I am sorry for the interruption, my Lord, he just looked very familiar... And then his name..."

This time all the eyes turned over to Arthur. Unable to help himself, Alfred looked too. If Arthur was uncomfortable at the sudden attention, he didn't show it.

"- now that you mention it-"

"- he does look very familiar-"

"I mean, those eyebrows, surely-"

(Arthur had twitched at that sentence, Alfred found himself noticing with a slight tinge of triumph.)

"Kirkland!" Came the sudden exclamation. "Arthur Kirkland- he was that Time Mage who was in charge of the army-"

"Oh- From the Royal Guard of the King-"

"You were the what?" Alfred stage-whispered to Arthur over the sudden noise of realisation throughout the hall. Army? Royal Guard of the King? The rest of the court was suddenly ablaze with exclamations and sudden realisations, and the only person who didn't really look all that surprised was Yao, and Alfred wondered if he should confront the old Jack about not telling him that Arthur used to work for his father when he knew (he had to have known, because why else did he have this facial expression of defeated resolution when this was uncovered?).

Arthur sighed, his shoulders falling a little. "I didn't see the need to explain it to you."

"You could've told me that you worked for Dad! It would've made things easier-"

"Not necessarily." Arthur dropped his gaze at that, and Alfred felt a strange sense of irritation rising within him, because it was obvious that there was something he was being left out of, and why should he be? He was the King, for god's sake.

"Arthur Kirkland? You're really that same Arthur Kirkland? We thought you died back then, when-" The exclamation trailed off into an awkward cough. "When, well-"

"I moved to the Diamond Kingdom. It wasn't... Appropriate for me to return. The news that Alph- the late King had passed away reached me and I thought to at least pay my respects."

Another rumble of various old men thinking to themselves aloud under their breaths. Alfred waited, patiently, trying his best not to open his mouth and ask them if they were done, because seriously, Arthur used to work for his father and didn't this make it more appropriate for him to take the position as Queen? Why were these old men still thinking and talking amongst themselves like this was supposed to be a difficult decision? Why was Arthur still staring at his feet?

"... It would do the Kingdom good to have Time Magic back with us."

Finally someone spoke up. And thankfully, the silence that followed after that did not last for longer than a minute.

"To have a Queen who already knows the way things work in this Kingdom-"

"Perhaps it's not such a bad idea-"

"After all he'd be able to protect the King too-"

"An exception," came the loudest voice from one of the younger advisors, "Needs to be made, it seems."

Bath, Alfred thought, gratefully.

"- N-No, honestly, another bed will not be necessary-"

"But my Queen-" came a familiar voice, "- Uh. Sir? W-We cannot allow you to just sleep on a mattress in the study; a bed is being brought in right now, if you would just-"

"But it is not necessary!"

"B-But my uh, Queen-" the voice continued to sound strained and vaguely uncomfortable, as Alfred made his way from the bathroom back to his main chambers.

"If I really am your bloody new Queen," spat Arthur, as Alfred rounded the corner, to watch Arthur and a footman argue in the center of his study room, "then you will let me sleep wherever I damn well please!"

"But-" the servant tried again, admittedly quite pathetically.

"Hey, Lucas?" Alfred leaned against the doorframe, addressing the servant. Both Arthur and Lucas whipped around at Alfred's voice coming from behind them.

"Just let the Queen sleep wherever he pleases, seriously." Alfred said. "Less work that way."

"As you wish, your highness," the footman frowned, bowing deeply nevertheless. "I would have prepared for yours and the Queen's sleeping arrangements but ah, all of the staff were under the assumption that the both of you would..." a discreet cough, "... Bed together?"

A snort issued itself from Arthur, as Alfred rolled his eyes at the sound.

"No Luke, we're not going to uh, bed together. I mean really? We just met each other." Alfred waved dismissively at the servant, "Don't worry about it. Just uh, do whatever Arthur told you to."

"Yes, your highness. I'll have the mattress moved into the study immediately. If you will now excuse-"

"Wait a second," Alfred turned to Arthur, incredulous. "Mattress? In the study? Really?"

Arthur shifted, minutely uncomfortable, but still managing to sound haughty. "I-I assumed it would be the most reasonable option."

Alfred snorted. "Really? That was your most reasonable option? To pull up a mattress to my study? Really, Arthur?"

"Really, Arthur," mimicked Arthur, and Alfred found himself frowning because no way in hell do I sound that annoying. "Honestly, I've had the longest day ever imaginable and I'd very much like to just get some sleep. Now if you would just-"

"Hey Luke, could you prep a room for the Queen instead?"

"Alfred!" Arthur frowned. "They've already been troubled enough and the mattress is already half-way up the-"

Alfred simply waved him away, stepping forward closer to Luke. "So yeah. Prepare another room alright? Maybe the nice one with the green upholstery down the hall?"

"ALFRED!" Arthur shouted this time, clearly peeved, his voice echoing around the room in a way which suddenly seemed almost worryingly familiar. "Stop interrupting-"

"-SO," Alfred raised his own voice to drown out Arthur's, "alright?"

Lucas' eyes were widened, mildly startled by the raised voices and palpable tension between the two. "Y-Yes, your highness," he managed to choke out, quickly excusing himself from the room.

"I win," Alfred turned around to grin at Arthur, partially confused by his own choice of words. Since when was this a competition? But something about Arthur just screamed of things which seemed to make Alfred bristle in all the wrong ways. It couldn't be helped, he supposed.

"You child," muttered Arthur, exhausted and just on this side of disgusted, as he let himself fall into a settee by the window. Alfred watched him mumble to himself, lips moving around words incomprehensible, snippets of King, wretched, and Alphonsus slipping through the cracks. Alfred felt a pang instinctively at his father's name.

He drew up a chair to the settee, sitting on it backwards, resting his chin on the chair's back. He watched Arthur for a few more long moments, the dusty lines of his slate-blue robes falling over weathered breeches and worn leather boots, and those eyebrows which failed to be obscured, even by the arm thrown over Arthur's eyes.

"Arthur?"

Alfred watched the agitated line of his lips stop moving, forearm unshifting.

"Yes?"

Toying with the cuff of his sleeve, Alfred debated with himself for the last time, whether he should ask. It had run circles around his brain, dancing tantalizingly, the lure of curiosity which Alfred never felt sated of, books and hear-say lapping at the edges of his mind.

No time like the present, right?

"What happened to the Time Mages?"

Arthur shifted, minutely, as his tongue came out to wet his lips, as if pre-empting a long discussion. The reply was disappointingly short.

"Whatever they've told you, happened." Pause. "Or did you skip out on your history lessons as well?"

"Well yeah, I did, but I found my way around it," dismissed Alfred. "But there's... Very little information on the factional shift of the Time Mages," he said, blindly groping at the bits of information Matthew had spoken to him about over assorted meals and the gaping years past. "Articles and documents and paperwork," he continued, Matthew's words slipping past his mouth. "I want-" Alfred swallowed, not knowing the reason for the sense of foreboding washing over him.

"- I want the truth."

But he had the truth. The truth painted out in books published in his youth, of The Great Movement, of Time Mages being relocated to places beyond the kingdom's reach, in equal part of fear and awe at their powers.

Their powers to control and manipulate the cogwheels of time invisible to other humans gave them the ability to wield time to their own advantage, or something like that. They could stop time, accelerate time, or even slow down their own time, which meant that they could live forever if they wanted to, and one of the biggest feats a Time Mage could pull was to reverse Time itself.

"You would never know," his father told him with a harsh whisper when he was still too young to fully understand the implications of it, "if the time you are currently living in is the Truth, or a manipulation of someone who has seen a different future, returned, and chose to meddle in it. What does it mean to live in a Time like that? We are mere puppets on a stage is under their command."

That was why, it was said, King Alphonsus moved the Time Mages out.

For the integrity of our True Time.

Alfred had heard the other variations of the tale, from the cobblers on the junction between Dovetail Alley and Ironholde Road, the bakers down Champe's Road and the kids sandwiched in between the gridlock of buildings.

"The King's mad," they'd whisper, hushed and excited by the stark heresy passing between their lips. "Stark raving mad!" Alfred hung back, listening. "Mama says he'd been scared 'o 'em Time Mages!" one girl had frowned. "Nuh uh," another boy chipped in, having nudged his way to the front. "Dad says that they'd been plottin' to- To kill them. The royal family." Collective gasps all around, and Alfred felt himself shudder involuntarily. They're stories, just stories, people say all kinds of things, he'd tell himself at night. And they're gone now.

Arthur shifted his forearm to rest at his forehead, eyes drawing a cutting gaze right at Alfred.

"The truth?" He asked, his mouth barely curving up at the edges, before looking up at the ceiling, as he shifted his forearm back down to cover his eyes. "The truth is what they say it is."

"But-" But what of what they say? Which parts? There had been no reason to question printed and published history, signed in triplicate by his father, not till now. Not till a living, breathing, annoying Time Mage was lying on his settee, now his Queen. Not till Alfred had only just realized, sitting backwards on a chair, talking to said Queen past midnight, that such a strangely small (and yet paradoxically, by it's very nature, huge) part of his kingdom's history was missing.

A knock at the door broke the silence.

"Alfred?" Matthew asked, tentatively stepping into the room. "O-Oh. Ah- Sorry. I must be interrupting something. Sorry for calling on you so late, I'll just- I'll talk to you in the morn-"

"No, no, not at all," said Arthur, pulling himself upright. "I should be... Retiring to my own room."

"B-But wait-" Alfred tried, stumbling to get up as well, his hand narrowly missing the brush of Arthur's sleeve as it went past.

"Good night, Alfred, Matthew." Arthur smiled cordially at Matthew, glancing back at Alfred, still half out of his chair, before closing the door behind him.

"Way to go, Mattie," Alfred huffed flopping down onto the vacated settee.

"I'm sorry, were things just about to get steamy?" Matthew asked, voice dry, as he took up the chair Alfred had been sitting in.

"W-Whaaat? We did not-"

"I know, I know, relax, I was kidding." He turned around to glance at the door, before back at Alfred, straight-faced. "And he's not as blond as that last girl. Or as built as that last guy."

"- MATTIE."

"Just saying!" Matthew bit his lip, half-frowning at Alfred's semi-shocked, semi-embarrassed expression. "I am sorry though. Was I interrupting something important?"

Alfred frowned petulantly. "No, not really." He signed, removing his glasses to rub at the marks they left on the bridge of his nose. "So why were you looking for me anyway?"

Alfred watched Matthew fumble with the clasp on the cuffs of his sleeves, fingers restlessly wanting to do something, just as Alfred's own tended to do.

"C'mon," he sighed, twisting around to lie back on the settee, facing the ceiling like Arthur had. "Out with it, Mattie-boy."

He heard the click of Matthew's tongue at that old nickname. "It's about the Time Mages." Alfred forced himself to stay still, to keep his breathing even.

"What about them?"

Matthew sighed. "I know you haven't exactly been attending all those history classes arranged for you; I mean, I kinda enabled that, god knows I've enabled you enough over the years and-"

"Matt," cut in Alfred impatiently. Matthew cleared his throat.

"Right. I've told you that I've... Looked into The Great Movement before, right?" Alfred nodded, for once, listening. "W-Well, right before all-" Matthew waved his hands between them and the ceremonial robes they were dressed in,"-This stuff, I found... Documents."

"Documents?" Echoed Alfred.

"Sort of. More like... Documents which state the lack of other documents." Matthew sighed noisily, resting against the back of the chair. "I wasn't... Completely sure before, but now I more or less am." Alfred turned his head to look at Matthew, face in that same set of almost scholarly determination which Alfred had gotten used to over the years.

"There's a massive amount of paperwork missing from The Great Movement."

Alfred frowned. "How much?"

"From the documents I've seen- Think of them as content pages, the earlier versions and master copies- At least three books of groundwork and plans, and two of accounts. At least." Matthew's finger came up to twirl agitatedly in his hair. "The existing ones don't match these, Al, which means that-"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, the words half-formed in his mind, waiting for Matthew to articulate them.

"- That some are fabricated."

"Some?" Alfred echoed again.

"... If not all," Matthew muttered, eyes downcast. Alfred could smell the distaste in the air, the briefly-suspended bitterness and doubt that Matthew always had for their father, counterpoint to Alfred's hero-worship in his earlier years. Alfred looked back up at the ceiling, contrastingly dull in it's boring whiteness.

"They can't be," he said, words empty, and he knows that Matthew knows it. Token stubbornness, Matthew would think.

Matthew sighed again, and Alfred wondered if Matthew would end up looking like the older one, just due to his worry lines alone. At least people won't mix us up anymore, Alfred thinks to himself absently.

"Al."

"Mm?"

"To do this right-" And Alfred can see Matt making another sweeping gesture out of the corner of his eye, "-We have to find out."

Alfred closes his eyes, thinking about the citizens he had chanced upon (who had chanced upon him, and were desperate enough to take that chance, a part of him whispered), the dusky midnight sky outside the window, and the single errant Time Mage who had helped him.

"I know," Alfred muttered. "I know."

The least he could do, Arthur decided after looking at the overly clean room and the plush bed covered in fresh-smelling sheets with just the slight scent of muskiness most beds that have not been slept in for a while had the tendency to possess, was to get out of his clothes that smelt a little too much like the back alleyway. He changed into the clean shirt and loose drawstring pants the servants had laid out for him and collapsed face-first into the bed, feeling only token guilt for dirtying the bed with the dust and soot and dried sweat that clung to his skin. He was tired, and though a warm bath would probably have done him (and the sheets, the poor clean sheets) good, he didn't really think he had the energy to move.

It had been a while since he used Time Magic like that, he thought to himself absentmindedly, lazily tugging the covers out from under his body, wearily pulling the sheets up as he stared blankly at the ceiling. His time spent in the Diamond Kingdom had been uneventful and bland, which he thought was a blessing after all that had happened. There was no need to use magic, and for once Arthur found himself comfortable with that. His reputation back in the Spades Kingdom had been somewhat war-crazy, but that was merely something that was necessary for his job. Untrue to popular belief, Arthur Kirkland didn't dislike putting down his sword for once, and living alone in a small wooden cottage with only his books for company was satisfying and quite enough.

And yet here he was. Back in the Spades Kingdom. As the Queen.

Arthur groaned, turning on his side and squeezing his eyes shut. He refused to think about the situation at hand. The implications of the situation at hand.

What the hell do you think you're doing, Arthur Kirkland, the voice in his head reprimanded.

I don't know, he thought back, and was immediately irritated at the fact that he didn't know, but still chose to stay. Sleep, he dismissed all the other thoughts in his brain, willing as hard as he could to keep them quiet and force them to slink back into the shadows of his mind.

They refused to leave him alone.

They came back to him in waves, lapping at the edges of his brain; an annoying taunt of questions and answers and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts. Arthur gritted his teeth, turning over once more. He was tired. He wanted - needed - to sleep. He did not have the time and energy for this.

Thirty minutes later he cursed as he dragged himself out of the bed. The room was stuffy, the sheets thick and rich and suffocating. The bed was trying to swallow him. And back in his brain was the endless tirade of questions and answers and thoughts and a whirlpool of things that he didn't want to deal with. Not now.

Air, Arthur thought as he sat up and wiped at the thin layer of sweat that collected at his temples, he needed some bloody air. Not entirely pleased at how his legs were refusing to support him properly, he dragged them towards the balcony, throwing open the double doors and sighing in relief when the cool night air hit his face.

Arthur let his warm palms rest on the cool wrought-iron railing of the balcony, breathing in the air. Hasn't gotten much fresher, he thinks to himself wryly, wrinkling his nose slightly. He had been spoiled by the relatively fresh air of the Diamond Kingdom's countryside, he realised, belatedly disdainful. As much as Arthur hated the Diamond Kingdom, in all of its pompous, lavish glory (Culture! he heard the annoying voice lodged in the back of his mind correct him) - and on top of that its King (his brush with the boy, Francis, when he was two decades younger, still left a bad taste in his mouth, that made his eyebrows twitch unconsciously. That Incident was never to be brought up, not ever again) - the wide fields past the mountainous regions did them good.

A lot more good than Alphonsus would ever have been inclined to do, Arthur admitted to himself. Not after... That.

"Arthur," a voice beside him rumbled, and Arthur stifled his jump of surprise, telling himself that really, this was to be expected.

"Isaac," he replied, cordially, turning to nod at the middle-aged man to his left, dressed in the same robes he had been wearing an hour ago. "Good... Evening."

"Is this a part of your plans," Isaac bit out the word like something sour and unwanted, "Arthur? To be Queen?"

Arthur swallowed, that ever-elusive tiredness sweeping over him again. He honestly didn't want to go through this again and- And good god, does it look like I ever wanted to be Queen?

"No," Arthur admitted."It was not."

Isaac stared him down, pale-blue gaze unwavering. Arthur absently remembered asking Isaac, a long, long time ago, why he chose to keep his appearance as such. A youthful, healthier (and thus more convenient) body could have been achieved easily, with a slight manipulation of his own cogwheels. Isaac had tugged at his loose, greying locks, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Gives a sense of worldliness and dignity, I suppose. And great knowledge, wouldn't you think? Great knowledge," Isaac had repeated, gaze far off, seeing a century Arthur had never set foot in.

The gaze bit at his nerves, but Isaac was courteous enough to wait for Arthur to speak more.

Play by ear sounded weak and flimsy, even to Arthur's ears, a half-drafted excuse for time, which was exactly what he needed. Time, he laughed to himself bitterly. How ironic.

He turned to Isaac. "We need time," Arthur said. The briefest of smiles flickered across Isaac's face. The irony wasn't lost on him.

"Do we?" he asked, half-mocking, half-serious and wholly encoded with far too many parts of things smelling of revenge and assassination, which made Arthur want to gag.

"Yes," Arthur forced his voice to stay steady. "Alfred is... New," he supplied, for the lack of a better word. Childish and petulant wouldn't do much to buy him any sympathy.

"He is the new King, yes," Isaac nodded, without any trace of humor.

"He needs time, Isaac. He's young and- And he wants to try, at least," Arthur grappled with the words, only half-believing them himself, while the other half of him - the half of him stuck in the time of years past - tugged at him instead. "Give it a while. Wait to see where the chips fall and all that."

Isaac looked at him, penetrating and all too close for comfort.

Arthur thought of a multitude of things Isaac could have said. Don't get too fond of him, time won't solve everything, we can't wait forever, or enough guilt to feed a murderer, eh Arthur?

Instead, his lips curl up at the edges. "Alright," he murmurs, and then he is gone.

Arthur goes back into the room, his hands cold, falls to the bed, and doesn't wake up till the servants come for him in the wash of late-morning sunshine.

A/N:
So that was chapter 2! Hope it cleared up some of the mystery? :D Plenty more where that came from, I promise. Thanks for the overwhelmingly nice response (as well as Kinoko for the very helpful concrit) to the first chapter, we hope you've enjoyed this one as well!

Shameless plug time! If you've followed us here from our last fic, Heartstrings, you might be interested to know that our doujin is finally open for international pre-orders! Link's in our profile if you're curious. Summary: In the fic, they go on a nice vacation to the Lake District, which doesn't turn out as nice as they expected (or does it?). In the doujin, Peter from next door stays with them for the weekend! It's about 50 pages (22 fic/24 comic) of shameless USUKUS fluff. PG-13 yo.

So anyway! Comments and feedback are always appreciated, as usual, see you guys in the next update!