Chapter VII

"You've got a problem." Alfred blurted out after what felt like forever. They had left the Diamond Kingdom with the blessings (or what were supposed to be blessings, anyway) of King Francis, and Alfred had promised that they would make arrangements for the transportation of the Time Mages from the Diamond Kingdom back to Spades. Arthur had been a bundle of nerves, tense and babbling and ending too many of his sentences with '-it's nothing, nevermind'.

It didn't make sense.

"I-" Arthur inhaled, a little too sharply for Alfred's comfort. "I don't have a problem, Alfred. Other than the fact that you could have perhaps shared with me your intentions of taking the Time Mages back."

It was almost as if- and Alfred was almost scared to think that, because what did it mean if that was the case- as if Arthur was afraid of having the Time Mages back. And that was absurd, surely, because they were his kin (of some sort) and the Spades Kingdom was their home and of course Arthur would be happy to welcome the rest of the Time Mages back to the Spades. Alfred would treat them well- not special, but as well as he treated the rest of the people- and they could live together again, just like before Everything Went Wrong.

"W-Well! I didn't really intend on doing it so soon! I did plan to take them back of course, as part of the negotiations with King Francis and all that but he-"

Alfred paused, wondering how he should word it.

'But he hurt you' seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because it wasn't as if Alfred had any solid basis for that claim, and Arthur might end up insulted or at least in very strong denial.

"But he said all that, and it was like he was... I dunno, mocking us or something for being unable to take care of our own people!" This was the truth, though perhaps only half of it. "And we can now, can't we? Dad's gone and as far as I know everyone's been okay with the Time Mages. They welcomed you back, surely they'd-"

"It's not that simple!" Arthur snapped, eyes widening seconds later in a manner that told Alfred that he had shocked himself with that reaction. And for a moment it looked like Arthur was going to say something else, something important, but he deflated and shrunk back and Alfred could see him swallow it.

Silence.

"I-It's complicated. The political structure of the way the Kingdom used to work. There are many people in Court that have only risen to their current ranks because the Time Mages were chased out of the Kingdom." Arthur rubbed his temples, forcing himself to lean back against his seat in the carriage, "I was merely the Royal Guard and it wasn't as if I was going to threaten to replace anyone, taking up position of the Queen and all. They'd have an easier time welcoming me back than the Time Mages all at once."

Alfred crossed his arms and pursed his lips together slightly.

"On top of that, the Kingdom might not be... entirely comfortable, suddenly welcoming back a race of people they've not seen in a while."

"We'll have to make them comfortable then! A celebration or a welcome back festival! And then I'd talk to all of the people to make sure they understand... And... and I don't know, maybe you could talk to them too, and explain how Time Magic works yeah? The previous misunderstanding probably happened because no one really knew what Time Magic could do, and fear of the unknown and all that happened-"

"Alfred-"

"Let's make this work, Arthur!" He leant forward slightly, staring as earnestly as he could into Arthur's eyes. They were wavering, just like they had back in the Diamonds Kingdom as Alfred and Francis talked about the Time Mages and how they'd be fetched back to the Spades Kingdom, and ever since then Arthur had not met his eyes without letting them swim around. What was Arthur worried about? (Because surely he was worried about something, and surely it couldn't just be politics, or what the rest of the people might think-) "The Spades Kingdom is their home. They have every right to come back!"

Arthur opened his mouth again. Then he shut it. His eyes shut too, and for that brief second he looked like he was in pain. Then it was gone as Arthur turned to look out of the carriage window, his features a flat mask of impassiveness,

"... You're right."

The reply was a little too quiet.

Alfred was nervous. There was no escaping the truth now, he knew, pacing back and forth in the chambers. He had tried sitting down, stilling himself earlier, when Arthur had shot him the seventh look of the half-hour, but it had been worse, really. He jiggled his leg, crossed, then re-crossed them, toyed with the fancy trim on his robes, tapped his fingers noisily on the table, and managed to get Arthur cranky with some (all?) of them.

Relax, he told himself, rubbing his fingers idly. It's not that big a deal, I mean, you're just talking to your people. Not like you haven't done that before right?

But he hadn't. Not from this balcony, not really. This was The Balcony. The last time he was here, he and Arthur had been fresh out of coronation, and was presented to the gathered public in the square below. But he did not have to talk that time, not for an extended period, and traditional first greetings of a King were nothing compared to this.

Frankly, he had no idea how the public would react to him telling them that the Time Mages would be welcomed back into the kingdom in a week. He had been confident when pushing the idea at Arthur, because he was so sure then, so sure that it would work, because it had to, because he couldn't see any other way.

But Arthur's silence scared him.

It echoed at him, sounding at the edges of his thoughts, nipping at his heels. Arthur always had something to say, whether Alfred wanted to hear it or not, and for him to suddenly be so mum, reserved, distant... He didn't like it. He feverently told himself that he wasn't a child, wasn't someone who needed Arthur's approval to move forward, because he knew that it wasn't like that at all. And yet Arthur's censorship of his own thoughts from Alfred unnerved him, made him pace the floors and twiddle his thumbs, which just seemed to throw Arthur into an even worse mood.

"Would you stop it?" Arthur snapped, as if on cue, looking up from the papers he had been reading.

"I'm not bothering you or anything," Alfred mumbled in defence, dropping into a padded armchair opposite Arthur's own.

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, agitation showing on his features. "It's nervewracking to see you pace," he muttered, eyes flicking from paper to Alfred, to the curtains covering the french doors which lead to the balcony, and back, never settling for long.

It never ocurred to Alfred that Arthur would be nervous too.

"Arthur?" He hoped his voice didn't show his uncertainty. Because that was the absolute last thing he needed right now.

Arthur looked up from his papers a tad too fast, his nerves showing. "Yes?"

"I was just-" But how much is too much, Alfred wondered. Where's the line between a King, a partner, a friend, even, and... And whatever is on the other side of this damned line-

"Your highnesses?" Yao came in through the doors, letting the curtains drape to a close behind him. "The people have gathered and," his eyes flicked between Arthur and Alfred, and Alfred wondered if his nervousness was really that obvious.

"And we're ready when you are, aru."

Biting his lip, Alfred looked over at Arthur, who nodded, as they stood in tandem, Arthur straightening out his robes, while Alfred fiddled with his lapels for the last time. He managed to muster what he hoped would be a good smile. "Ready!" He chirped, but the sound seemed to fall a little dull on his ears.

Yao raised an eyebrow. "Yes, your highness."

"- Of course, we have come to realise that all the threats from Time Magic are at most, simply worries that will not happen, and the Time Mages are our people too. Just like- just like, well, my- our Queen is one. As a Kingdom we should welcome these Time Mages back. I have talked to King Francis at length during our visit, and we have come to the agreement that we will be welcoming all the Time Mages from the Diamonds back to Spades."

Alfred inhaled, watching the crowd beneath him. There was none of the reactions he had expected initially- no loud boo-ing or cheering, no sudden protests or complaints. Just a few murmured chatters, confused glances exchanged. He threw a sideway glance at Arthur, half-cursing himself for becoming so dependant on Arthur for a measure of the situation at hand; but Arthur seemed more keen than he had been on studying the crowd, his green eyes darting all over the crowd, wary and alert and almost as if he was expecting something worse than Alfred had expected.

(What, though-)

"The Time Mages are due to arrive in a weeks' time, and we would like to show them the warmest homecoming possible. You know, a festival and stuff like that that. Parades and performances in the streets and food and games all around! It'll be for them as much as it will be for everyone else, and we hope that everyone will have a great time and treat them kindly when they arrive."

He paused, the lack of reaction from the crowds unsettling. He forced himself to not turn to Arthur, and instead cleared his throat. "That's all from me today. Thank you all for gathering!"

There was only a slight delay before the crowd began to disperse. The mumbling become a rather lively chatter as they returned to their various houses and jobs, and at the very least, Alfred found himself thinking gratefully, no one was throwing rocks at him.

"Whewf. That... that wasn't too bad was it?" Deflating a little, Alfred turned to Arthur, a sheepish grin on his face. "I totally expected someone to shout 'boo' at one point, really."

Silence. Arthur was still staring out at the plaza, eyes following each retreating group of anonymous public.

"Uh. Arthur?"

"Yes?" Alfred noticed as Arthur caught himself, turning to Alfred and trying to mask the fact that he had been jolted out of his thoughts.

"It went pretty well didn't it?" Alfred repeated, pulling the curtain aside so they could return back to the room. He threw one more glance over his shoulder, back down at the square. Just the backs of a few more townspeople. "... You looking for anyone?"

"No!" The reply came a little too fast, and Alfred found himself narrowing his eyes at Arthur in suspicion. He had been like that ever since they returned from the Diamond Kingdom; a little too thinned out, too tense and nervous and too hasty when it came to dismissing Alfred's concerns or questions. Arthur seemed to notice his look, and for a split second almost looked uncomfortable. "No, it's nothing. I was just concerned. The riot might seem far away but it really isn't, and you were making a public appearance without much guards. It could have been dangerous if I wasn't keeping a lookout."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. He wasn't entirely convinced, but it was like Arthur to be a worry-wart like that. "You worry too much, Artie." He waved Arthur off without realising how easy that nickname slipped out of his mouth (ah well, perhaps it would further annoy Arthur by putting an extra edge into the patronizing tone of that statement-), stepping back into the room, "It's not like they could do anything. Like suddenly appear out of no where-"

Alfred stopped in midsentence. Not just because the air around them had suddenly thinned out. Not just because there was a strange sensation creeping over him, clinging to every single particle of his body; a strange sensation that was almost too familiar. Not just because he had suddenly lost the ability to move in that split second.

Arthur had moved before he could do anything else. It was just one simple step forward, to place himself in front of Alfred.

"Isaac."

Who? Alfred found himself thinking, before he hurriedly dragged himself back and tried to put together the strands of concentration he had lost because it happened too fast.

Time Magic, his brain told him. Aequitas was still in his coat pocket, its weight a reassuring press against his left thigh. He could feel it ticking slightly, and for a moment allowed his mind to drift towards it. Focus on the ticking, because Arthur had said something about Aequitas being the clock that regulated the Kingdom's Time. It had the ability to calm any disoriented cogwheels - whatever that meant - and Alfred learnt that if he let himself focus on Aequitas for a moment, he could-

Move.

He gasped, taking a step forward to steady himself. The thinned air was heavy, of a different quality to the Freeze that Arthur would use during their morning training sessions. It felt different, an uncomfortable sheen over his skin that sealed him in seemed to make it hard to breathe.

"Arthur," his voice came out barely a whisper in the sheer weight of the room around them. "What-"

And that was when he noticed that they were surrounded.

Twenty or so men, Alfred decided. Maybe a little less, but perhaps a little more too. He couldn't do a proper count with his head whirling around like that. None of them looked too pleased.

"What is the meaning of this, Arthur." The first one who spoke was an old man, all silvering hair and eerily pale blue eyes. The man was staring straight at Arthur, not even at Alfred, and yet he found himself immobilized by it.

"'Welcoming the Time Mages back into the Spades Kingdom'? 'Homecoming'?" A younger man spat, seemingly unable to hold back, as his eyes flashed angrily at them. "Is that the way we phrase 'hostage', in this new era?"

The men drew closer, and Alfred forgot to breathe.

"Or is this," another man, older this time, continued, "a- a long, elaborate plan, centuries in the works, knowing Alphonsus, to-"

"To threaten us? With our women and children? Your women and children too, Arthur whether you choose to remember it-"

"So much for time," one scoffed. "You asked Issac for time, and this is what-"

"I told you," a lower voice this time, gravelly, came from the left, "not to have trusted him. He was- He is too close to the King."

"To Alphonsus," another murmured, and Alfred felt himself dizzying from everything. The voices which seemed to echo from all around him, sounding him out in the repressive background-silence of the room which choked him and-

"To the goddamn genocide itself!" Cried someone else, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone turn to Issac. "We told you so," the voice was accusatory, bitter, but Alfred found himself caught on the word of choice.

Genocide.

"We told him," another one spat at Arthur, moving forward, and everything in Alfred screamed on high alert, but he found himself immobile, independent of the magic. "Told him that anyone that- That involved with the royals must've been a part of the plans for the massacre."

Massacre, Alfred's mind echoed dutifully.

"We told him!" A boyish voice from the far side repeated, as if it would help. "We did and- And he did not listen and now-"

"And now this." Alfred forced himself to look at the man. Relatively small in build, his face a strange connundrum of weathered and young. A face which had been through far more than wrinkles or lines could ever care to admit. Alfred realised that his was the low, gravelly voice from earlier. He stepped forwad. "What is the meaning of this, oh great Queen Arthur? Or are we no longer privy to your... Plans?" He hissed, eyes narrowing and glinting and Arthur hadn't said anything so far, and Alfred was really panicking now because what on earth are they talking about?

"Enough." The voice was strong, laced with irritation and something else Alfred couldn't quite place, and the first man, the one with the silvery hair and trimmed beard, commanding all of the men's attention. He looked Arthur in the eye.

"Arthur. You will either tell us of yours' and the boy-King's plans now, and explain yourself and all of this time you have bought, or..." Issac raised his chin inperceptibly higher. "Or we will take it that you are... No longer with us." His eyes steeled. "And we will, take my word for it, act accordingly."

Arthur said nothing. From his position, Alfred couldn't see his expression, only the taut line of his back, so wired and stiff, like it had been for days, and suddenly-

He knew, Alfred realised, a chilling wash of pure coldness rushing to his fingertips and toes. He knew that they were coming. That- That they would react like this because-

"They are our people," Alfred heard himself say, as he tended to these days, in such... Tense situations (which were recurring at an alarming pace).

The group of Time Mages startled briefly at his voice, refocusing their attention onto him instead. Eyes wide, one of them ventured to ask. "H-How-"

"They are our people," Alfred stubbornly repeated, his hand resting resolutely on the cloth of his pants, seperating him from the smooth, constant tick of Aequitas. "A-And," he willed his voice not to shake, "and regardless of the past, whatever- Whatever my father," Alfred's voice trembled at that, minutely, and he knew they could all hear it, "had done, they are still people of the Spades Kingdom." He let his eyes flit over the group, some of them watching him bug-eyed, while others warily suspicious.

"You are our people," Alfred rephrased, "and as citizens of the Spades Kingdom, you will always have a place within our lands."

There was a silence that stretched way too far and thin in the room, and Alfred realised that he was holding his breath, only able to watch the Time Mages in front of him - Isaac, his brain repeated - because he didn't dare to turn his head to look at the rest of the room. He could feel their gazes though, piercing through the air, even from behind.

Then finally, someone breathed. "That's it?"

Another pause, before the rest of the room caught on.

"That's it? You think we're going to buy into this- this Great King thing you're trying to build on?"

"'Come home'?"

"You think we're going to just... forgive and forget for that simple line?"

"Genocide!" A voice hissed, "Your Father went ahead and slaughtered the rest of our kin in front of our eyes and you think you can just ask us to come home!"

The words were emphasised this time. They echoed in his head. Genocide and slaughter and massacre in a whirl of noise and confusion and-

"Do you take us for idiots!"

Front-left, was all his brain could register. There was a flash of silver - a sword, his brain hurriedly replaced - and Alfred simply stared blankly as a boy not much older than him dashed forward and-

"Daniel!" A voice called out, sharp and warning but it was too late and-

And Arthur -

A sharp clang. Metal on metal.

There was a faint buzzing in his ears that rose to an almost hysteric screech, his brain piecing together everything- Every look, every unconscious tensing of back and jaw; the way Arthur reacted to questions about Alphonsus, the way he reacted when Alfred brought up the proposal to Francis-

Arthur knew.

Of course he did. He was one of them wasn't he? He was sent away as well and-

"He doesn't know." The voice in front of him shook. Alfred stared, dumbly, as the rest of the Time Mages turned away from him to look at Arthur instead; his sword was drawn, a taut line of silver against the boy's sword. One swing and the boy was sent backwards, stumbling for a few steps before catching his balance.

Arthur repeated himself, his voice flatter this time, "He doesn't know anything about the- about what Alphonsus did. Like the rest of the Kingdom."

"You think we'll buy that as an excuse? How could he not-"

"He was four!" Arthur snapped. "Fed with the same information as the rest of the bloody Kingdom!"

"And you didn't tell him." Isaac spoke once more, and Arthur faltered slightly, his sword hand wavering a bit before clenching once more around the handle.

He didn't. Alfred's brain echoed, like it was suddenly prone to. Arthur knew, and he never told me.

"Well it's going to be a little difficult for our dear Queen now, hm?" A voice sneered over the stillness of the room, "Telling his precious King that he had a hand in starting the bloody Genocide!" It ended in a shout that rubbed against the walls of the room. Gravel on plaster and stone, echoing. The rest of the room fell along with it, a low rumble of murmurs sweeping over the echoes like waves.

And all Alfred could think was no. Because what were these people trying to say? Arthur couldn't have- (but he had flinched when that accusation was made-)

"Enough!"

Isaac again, came the foggy feedback from his brain. Must be the big guy or the leader here. Alfred tried to breathe as the silence settled once more in the room. Stiffling.

"It looks like we might have misintepreted the situation."

The rest of the Time Mages turned to look at him, various degrees of shock and disbelief on their faces.

"If the boy-King truly doesn't understand the situation then his actions can be explained," Isaac spoke over the noise of protests that sounded all around the room, before redirecting his gaze over to Arthur. "Though it looks like you might have some explaining to do as well, Arthur."

Alfred looked over to Arthur's back. He said nothing.

"To us as well, of course. But we won't wait long this time."

"Isaac!"

"But-"

"We leave. For now."

A few disgruntled grunts sounded, but a moment later they were gone.

The air around them cleared, but remained oppressive. Alfred couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, and suddenly, it was just him and Arthur again.

He opened his mouth, eyes lost on the expanse of Arthur's back, still un-moving, and realised that he had no idea of what to say, because honestly, where would he start?

Arthur straightened up, cleared his throat in an abortive half-noise in the dead silence of the room, and walked off to the doors leading back to the main castle.

For better or for worse, Alfred found himself following him.

"What were they talking about, Arthur?" The fact that he was asking - asking Arthur for information - made him feel considerably weaker than he would like. But Alfred knew that the question had been a while coming, hanging in the air during their silent walk back to the King's Chambers, pulled taut and thick between them.

Arthur didn't startle. He looked up from his knees, opposite Alfred in the armchair which they have come to recognize as his, looking weary, tired and... Full of guilt.

Alfred felt himself clench up. The words from just now did an echoing carousel around his head.

"Telling his precious King that he had a hand in starting the bloody Genocide!"

"Arthur," he grit out, forcing himself to sound level. "What were they talking about."

"You heard them," his voice was toneless.

"Exactly. I heard them. I heard from this- This group of Time Mages which I've never seen before- Who you've been meeting, apparently, and why didn't you tell me, Arthur-"

"Alfred," Arthur's voice was calm, steadying. Too calm, and Alfred mentally snapped.

"You thought I couldn't handle it!" He cried, agitated now, pushing off from his chair and pointing accusatorially. "You did," and he was so sure, because that's just what Arthur did, in the beginning. Alfred thought they had gotten past it, gotten past seeing him as more than just a boy-King, as the Time Mages had so crudely termed it, but apparently not.

"You thought I couldn't handle the goddamn truth of my own Kingdom, and so you fed me lies?" In the rush of the moment, the words were harsh, but as Alfred thought to himself, not hard enough.

Arthur sat in his chair, frozen, staring at Alfred, slightly glassy-eyed. "They weren't lies."

"You were holding back the most important bits of information! Why didn't you tell me!"

"Did you want to know that your father was a mass murderer?" Arthur snapped, eyes flashing, "That 'oh, I'm sorry, the Time Mages your father exiled weren't chased out of the Kingdom and forced to relocate, but the survivors of a brutal genocide under his hand'?"

Alfred bristled, the cold in his chest burning up his throat, "Then I certainly have the right to know if my Queen had a hand in said genocide don't I! You- You played a part in-" He faltered, because there was no way Arthur could have done that; because there was still a part of him that was hoping to hear some form of a denial from Arthur. Say no. Say that it was a misunderstanding. That you were wrongly accused.

Instead, Arthur flinched and dropped his gaze again.

Say anything, Alfred thought, fury bleeding into desperation, because at that point, he needed Arthur to say something, anything at all. A far-flung part of his mind asked him what he would do if it was the sheer truth, if Arthur had been an integral part in orchestrating the genocide of his own people, and he could feel his stomach twist tighter at the thought. At the idea that Arthur helped his own father-

Oh god my- Dad.

The mental picture of his father hit him harder than he had expected it to. In the rush of the past half-hour, with genocide and massacre and slaughter and all those lies, he had almost missed the key name which kept popping up. Alphonsus.

Alfred felt very literally sick to his stomach. He clutched the plush backing of the chair he had vacated, facing Arthur, and telling himself very sternly, that he was not allowed to throw up. Not now.

"Arthur," his voice was shaking, a fine line between fury and distress. "Tell me now. You have to tell me every damn thing now. No- No withholding information, no sanitized truths."

"Everything," Alfred's mouth was dry, bile rising at the back of his throat. "Right now."

Arthur swallowed, and when he spoke his voice sounded slightly hollow, and even drier than Alfred's. "I suppose there's no point keeping anything else from you now that things are like this. You have the right to know."

Two days after Queen Mathilda of Spades passed away, the Kingdom of Clovers pushed through The Wall, the initial stalemate over precious resources for both Kingdoms broken by sheer force as the neighbouring Kingdom charged their way through. What was meant to be a funeral became a hurried burial, with all of the country's resources and manpower redirected to the defence efforts at the south of the Kingdom.

"Sir Kirkland!"

"Come in." Arthur massaged the old leather of his wrist guards. Even as Royal Guard he had been recalled back to the battlefield. The state of defense at the wall was probably at its worst, and he was due to leave for the South in an hour.

"The King would like to see you, sir!"

"Alphonsus? Now?"

"Yes, sir."

Arthur paused for a moment. Alphonsus had lapsed into a strange silence after Mathilda's death, only communicating with the rest of the castle through the mouth of messengers. He had refused to see Matthew and Alfred after the three of them cried at the grave, but that was probably inevitable, what with the war suddenly happening before anyone could catch their breath.

"I'll be there in a moment."

When he knocked on the double doors to Alphonsus' study he was answered by a hoarse 'Come in'. Alphonsus looked a lot paler and thinner in his dark blue robes, his eyes still slightly red at the edges.

"Your highness." Arthur took a bow.

"... Get up, Arthur. How many times do I need to tell you to stop those formalities with me?" The same words, but without the usual lightness in the words this time. "You are... Leaving, soon?"

"To the wall. The other Time Mages are having a hard time holding back the Elements from the Clover Kingdom. Whilst I'm probably not too much of an addition we're hoping the extra manpower would help."

"Good, good..." Alphonsus trailed off. He looked distracted, even troubled, but of course he did. Arthur had known him before he had been crowned King, and he had watched him fall hopelessly in love with Mathilda and stay that way for the rest of his days. His wife's death and the sudden attack on the Kingdom before they had time to mourn her was probably tearing him apart more than Arthur himself could comprehend. "Arthur."

"Yes, your highness?"

"I wanted to ask you." He paused again, blinking a few times as he furrowed his brow, as if considering the question, test-tasting it in his mind. "... About Time Magic."

"Time Magic, your highness?" Arthur repeated, a little unsure. Alphonsus had always shushed Arthur up during his previous tries of explaining his magic to him, whining about how it was complicating and did he really have to understand those details to work Aequitas properly?

"Is it... is it possible to- and this is just a what-if scenario- What if, I asked you to go back in time to stop her from having the children- Is it possible?"

Arthur blanched. He stared at Alphonsus, at the blue eyes that looked so earnest, so desperate, and yet so sincere, and wondered if his old friend realised what he was asking.

"... It's possible."

"I told him that it was possible, but since Time Travel is taboo to us Time Mages none of us would be able to do that in the end." Arthur paused, the breath that he inhaled shaky.

Alfred's face was pinched, a slight furrow between his brows. He hadn't said anything for a while now and frankly, Arthur was expecting the worst.

"And?" He prompted, when Arthur didn't continue.

Arthur sighed, frowning and rubbing at his head. This was more than he'd wanted to reveal in one sitting, one day even. "That's it," he muttered.

Alfred's expression changed, as he blinked confusedly at Arthur. "That's it?" He echoed. "But- but they said you had a hand in it-" He gestured in the general direction of the space to their left, as if said space had suddenly become a metaphorical representation of history. "That meant that you had something to do with it didn't you?"

Arthur frowned at him. "But I just explained-"

"No you didn't! Dad asked you if you could Time Travel and you told him whilst you could you wouldn't! How does that link you to the Genocide!"

Arthur blinked at him slowly. For a moment he didn't respond, the expression on his face shifting from a slightly exasperated one to a blank look, almost as if he couldn't entirely understand why Alfred didn't see it. "I gave him the key to a possibility."

"A key to wha-?"

"The possibility that if he wanted to, it was technically not a problem for him to return to the past." Arthur's voice was quiet, "And that if he could do it, he would kill his children to allow his wife to live."

Alfred froze. He watched as Arthur's eyes turned to him, something flickering in his eyes, and suddenly he could feel a cold in his stomach, spreading upwards.

"I should have realised that Alphonsus wasn't in the state to hear those words. I probably realised already. But I chose the truth over the lie that might have saved him. I refused to acknowledge what he was really asking for." Ignored it, forced himself to turn a blind eye to it. That Alphonsus wouldn't. That the question didn't mean anything, and that telling him that it was possible wasn't going to change anything.

"In the end he shook his head and laughed; told me to forget that he asked such a stupid question. I left for the Wall." Arthur was looking past Alfred's shoulder, at the window behind him and the blurry silhouettes of buildings in the dusty light of sunset. "Two weeks later when he called me back it was too late."

"Do it!"

"I-I can't, your highness, we aren't allowed to-"

A snap of fingers, a startled scream that cracked into nothingness. Confused looks on the faces of all the Time Mages present. A body hitting the floor, a pool of blood slowly expanding.

"Y-your highness, what are you-"

"Go on. Turn back time. You can do it can't you? And then you can save your kin. Life and Death should mean nothing to the lot of you!"

"I- I cannot-"

"... Not enough? We'll just have to be a little more convincing then."

It wasn't a sight that Arthur wanted to return home to. Alphonsus, flanked by a line of soldiers - a bloodied sword, the rest of the Time Mages of the court cowering in front of him in shock and confusion-

And the bodies-

"I don't really know when he went..." Arthur stopped himself, clenching his jaw subconsciously, "When he went mad. But I- I realised I had to stop him. We fought, and he just kept laughing. I... I could have killed him." Another pause, "I could have killed him. I ran, the rest of the guards came, and that was when he gave the order to-" He faltered here, brows furrowing slightly as he glared at the carpet instead,

"... I tried to get as many people out as I could. Ended up in the Diamond Kingdom. The frog- Francis- he was kind enough to take us in. Hide us there until things calmed down. A week later news reached us about the Great Movement. And that's... that's how it was. We couldn't return back then, of course-" Arthur stopped there, trailing off into an uncomfortably cold silence. He breathed out, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls in an eery echo.

"I did that to him."

A long pause spread between them, and Arthur's gaze remained glued to the carpet. He didn't want to look at Alfred now, not after all of those ugly, barefaced truths had come spilling out of him, all of them, because he was responsible and oh god I just- I was the one who told him that his father was a mass murderer.

He felt his insides plummet even further. Alfred remained stone-still.

"No you didn't." The words were jarring in their quiet, measured tone which sounded so odd on Alfred's voice, so different from how he spoke every day. Arthur didn't look up, didn't want the possibility of seeing a schooled expression, a facade Alfred might have possibly put in place to distance himself from Arthur (and oh, wasn't that a suddenly earth-shaking idea).

"Yes I did," he muttered, voice hoarse. It is the truth, no sense hiding it now. The words did nothing for the clenching of his chest and fists, synchronized and constant, suffocating.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't look up, couldn't even school his voice properly because this was why being Queen was a bad idea; why even coming back was a tragic, horrible notion. Horrible, horrible notions which Arthur had no business even thinking of, but then along came Alfred, and the chips would fall where they wanted, regardless of Arthur's protests. (And oh, did they fall, ever so gloriously free-falling to the bloody table where they'd collide and hurt and-)

But Alphonsus, Arthur thought, and he did not even try to pretend that a part of him did not ache at the name. He had been more than Arthur's King, the person whom he was supposed to protect. He was his friend, a dear, dear friend, and nothing would change that.

A hand rested on Arthur shoulder, and he finally looked up.

"My father-" Arthur tactfully pretended not to notice the uncomfortable half-wince at the word, "-made a lot of... Bad choices." And this time it was Arthur's turn to cringe on reflex, because 'bad choices' really did not even begin to cover the reality of the fifteen years past.

"But," Alfred continued, and his stare was absolutely dizzying, Arthur distantly thought, "I..." he paused, the bridge of his nose wrinkling slightly in concentration, "I really don't think it's your fault."

"You did what you had to- What you thought was right, right then and... And you shouldn't be blamed for um, that." The hand on his shoulder tightened, and Arthur found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the searing sincerity of Alfred's eyes, caught between the wonder of how he was always able to do that, and the startling, fleeting hope it gave him.

"People blame me," he heard himself say.

Alfred's frowned deepened. "It doesn't mean that you should be," he argued. "You could've done so much worse but... You didn't." His gaze flickered for the briefest of moments.

"You could've killed my dad," he murmured. "But you didn't. And that's..."

Arthur laughed, bitterness tinging the empty sound. "And that was a waste of an opportunity, to many," he muttered, a sardonic grin picking up at the edges of his mouth.

"And I," Alfred said, raising his volume slightly to emphasise his point, "think they're wrong. I think-" He bit back an uneasy laugh, resting against the tall backing of the chair, half-sitting on one arm, as he looked away to the window instead.

"-I think that I'd probably have to forgive you for anything you'dve done. And I'm not... Too sure how I feel about that, actually," he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

Arthur's breath caught in a half-swallow. "No," he said, forcing his voice to be clear. "No, you don't-" Arthur struggled with the words, with the semantics and nuance and meaning, all things which he fleetingly wondered, if Alfred would even pick up on.

"-You're not... Obliged to forgive me. For anything, Alfred."

"No," mused Alfred, wistfully. "I... I don't think I am." His gaze darted back to Arthur, then away again, almost bashfully. "But I think I still would."

It was a combination of factors, Arthur would purposefully decide later, which lead him to react the way he did. He had not been expecting the blush on Alfred's ears, or that look, that damnable hand still on his shoulder, or Alfred's face when he looked away and-

"We have to decide on what we're telling the citizens," he blurted. Alfred blinked at him, momentarily disoriented. "A-About the Time Mages, of course," Arthur hastily added, standing up to briskly walk over to the second desk in Alfred's sitting room. He couldn't think, not with Alfred that close, a hand on his shoulder, soothing and so warm, and Arthur would have killed at that moment to know if Alfred knew of the possible meaning behind his words, loaded like a pistol with the safety off. Arthur shuffled through a few loose papers to have an excuse to keep him busy for a while. "They'll be coming back in a week and..." sufficiently straightened out, Arthur turned back towards where Alfred was sitting, giving him a pointed look.

"And things need to be done."

He caught the drop of Alfred's hand back onto his lap, and his attempt to arrange his expression into something passibly sensible. "R-Right," he muttered, giving his head a quick shake before standing up from the chair's arm, coming over to Arthur. "Of course we..." Alfred scratched his head idly, suddenly enraptured by the papers in front of him.

"We need to do something, yes," he confirmed, nodding briefly. He squinted at the papers in Arthur's hands, a moment before Arthur realised that they had no connection to the current discussion, and thus hastily put them away, before focusing back on Alfred.

"We need to decide if we're going to tell the Spades Kingdom the truth," Arthur said.

Alfred's gaze wavered, then dropped, as Arthur felt a pang of sympathy. It wasn't an easy decision, certainly. It was a messy situation, one which Alfred had not at all asked for. It was his father's mess, passed down onto him, with the crown alongside a problematic kingdom. Which he has done an excellent job at helping, Arthur reminded himself, as he watched Alfred think.

He had, and it had to be said. The kingdom wasn't exactly in top form, but it was starting to do considerably better than it had been in the last fifteen years. Under the combined efforts of both himself and Alfred, problems were being resolved, slowly, one by one. The issue of water sanitation was currently in progress, as was the slow relocation of factories to the more rural countryside, where they could do less pollutant damage. With repaired relations with the Hearts, there was a steady flow of healers and traders into the Spades, and machinery production went up again, with the Royal orders for Hearts-specific products. And-

Good god, Arthur belatedly realised. We actually... Work.

It was minutely confounding to realise, at first. He knew, in an abstract sense, that they worked together at the very least decently, for them to have made it through three months without the kingdom collapsing. Yet another part of him was still slightly stuck on the first few weeks of their meeting, when Alfred to him was nothing more than a child in royal robes and a crown.

Oh how things have changed, Arthur thought.

Alfred looked up, as if on cue. "We'll tell them," he decided, stepping towards the large windows by their armchairs. "We- We have to tell them, Arthur. It's a really really hard truth but..." Arthur could hear the audible swallow, "but it needs to be said." He turned around to face Arthur, face resolute.

"They deserve to know. All of them, no matter how bad it sounds. And telling them the truth can't be any worse than them finding out through... Well, I dunno, through any other channels, right?" Alfred cast a vaguely worried glance in Arthur's direction.

As idealistic as Alfred was - as much as Arthur had scoffed at the trait in the beginning, calling him silly and incapable of making an appropriate decision - he had to admit that his optimism was infectious, and very much necessary, in terms of balancing out their partnership.

(Either that, or he really was that far gone, it was hard to tell.)

"Right," Arthur affirmed, coming around to stand beside Alfred. "It'll take a lot more work than us just... Deciding for it to be so but..."

"But I think you're right, Alfred."

Alfred visibly deflated in relief, coming to smile ever so slightly, and Arthur wondered about the part of him- the larger, greater part of him- which had come to trust that Alfred would do the right thing.

A/N:
And here's chapter 7! Thank you again for reading and reviewing (sorry we haven't gotten around to replying to all the reviews, we promise to do it soon!), we appreciate all your support.

Also, we will be taking a one-week hiatus! Which means no chapter eight next weekend, I'm afraid. We'll be back the week after that. Sorry, real life issues call.