Warning: Cursing. Lots of it.

Arthur was hunched over his desk. Tears stained his eyes, and he was gripping his hair so tightly he tore some of it out. "God dammit," he whispered. It echoed off the dark stone walls of the Queen's room. Once purple and lush—now only a cave of scattered books and spells. "God dammit, why?" Arthur screeched to the ceiling. He pushed up of the floor, sending his wooden chair flying backwards as he stood.

His kingdom was dying. A drought in the East was starving his people. War in the west ran ravage to the country. The palace was deserted. Arthur had left only Yao and those Yao chose to remain in the castle. The hallways echoed each step, a reminder of the many that once waltzed through the halls. Arthur couldn't stand to go into the library anymore, and he barely ever ate meals. Francis would bring him some food every now and then, but he couldn't do much more for the Queen.

"Arthur."

The Spaden's head snapped up. Someone had slipped passed his magic barriers while he was distracted. They were standing in the doorway. Light flew into the dark room behind them, but Arthur wasn't concerned with that.

Outlined in the brilliant yellow was none other than Alfred himself.

A fist closed around Arthur's heart and he began to sob. The queen fell to the floor, absorbed in his tears. He wanted nothing more than to run to that man in the doorway and hug him, be wrapped in his arms until they could never be separated again. However much Arthur hated Alfred, he loved him all the more. It was hell every day he went without seeing him. He would wake up sore, as if his own body needed Alfred to survive. He was starving himself of love.

Alfred strode to Arthur and picked him up off of the ground. His voice was incredibly soft. "Arthur, pull yourself together."

Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. Arthur remembered Alfred's hands. He remembered every detail about him, and something was horribly wrong. His hands were calloused in the wrong places. His arms were muscled, but they were different. They were leaner, slender, smooth. And worst of all:

When Arthur blinked tears from his eyes long enough to look up behind those glasses, the eyes staring back at him were purple.

It was Matthew.

"Arthur, I'm tired of this," Matthew sighed. He was tired, he sounded so incredibly tired. He pulled Arthur into a sitting position and knelt down in front of him. He had a longbow thrown across his back. He looked older, stronger, and worn. Had it really been that long?

"W-what happened to you?" Arthur sniffed. His sobs were subsiding, but he was still shaking. His robes didn't do much for him anymore.

"War ages you," Matthew replied. Indeed it did. The Matthew from Arthur's memories would be shaking in his boots at the prospect of speaking to Arthur like this. This one seemed almost angry with the Queen. Was everyone going to leave Arthur? Why can't things just stay the same?

Matthew wiped the tears from Arthur's cheeks with his thumb. "Arthur, I've been in the West, trying to calm the civil war. I've killed too many to count."

Arthur glanced at the bow slung across Matthew's back. That was a Royal bow...had...

In a shocking realization, Arthur remembered that Matthew was the head of archers. No wonder he looked so old. The appointment had completely slipped Arthur's mind. It felt like so long ago...

"Arthur, are you even listening to me?" Matthew shook the Queen, his voice rising. "Get a grip, Arthur! What the hell do you think you're doing?" The blonde's voice was most definitely angry now. His fingers dug into Arthur's arms. "I've been off fighting a fucking war you son of a bitch! I don't give a god damn about Alfred leaving you!"

Arthur snapped out of his wonderland. His eyes focused on Matthew's outraged expression. It was like waking up from an unplanned nap with no idea what day it is or even where you are.

"You need to get up off your self-pitying ass and do something about this!"

Arthur's eyebrows set into a scowl. "What do you expect me to do, huh?" He screamed, pushing against Matthew's grip to get in his face. "Do you want me to just wave my fucking magic wand and make Alfred come back?"

Slap!

Arthur froze there. His head was turned toward his desk, the farthest cheek now burning a bright crimson from where Matthew had hit him. "This isn't about my fucking brother!" Matthew screamed.

Arthur blinked some pain out of his eyes, and shook out his head. Matthew's arms dropped and the archer looked to the ground. His next words came out so softly, Arthur could have sworn they weren't even spoken aloud. "You can use magic for something other than what you want."

…

Alfred had been traveling for a while now. His clothes were worn. Autumn had taken control of the weather quickly, and Alfred had spent too many nights shivering around a poorly lit fire. He had used the last of the money he could spare on a thick cloak, but it did him little.

Ace huffed underneath him. The horse's breath came out in clouds, and Alfred knew they would both starve if he didn't turn into the next town soon. Luckily, Carlos had given him a map, and Alfred knew they would reach the place soon.

By nightfall the map had not let him down. He spotted the small village as the sun set. It was mainly small cottages dotted around large fields, and Alfred felt a twinge for his home. Some nights he felt sick from the lack of it. A few people were outside their houses, putting up the last tools or having a chat before turning in for dinner. Some of them even waved to Alfred as he rode by. Alfred waved back, but he couldn't bring himself to smile.

"Oi! Alfred!"

Alfred pulled Ace to a halt and twisted in the saddle to see who could possibly know his name in the middle of Diamonds. A man was running up to his horse. He was ridiculously tall, and was made even taller by his hair—which was spiked upwards. Alfred would never understand the hairstyles in Diamonds.

The man was at Ace's side now, staring up at the supposed-king-of-spades. He laughed. "So this is what Gilbert was on about? Ah, I've seen better in my day. Ya look half starved! Get up off your horse, I'll buy ya somethin' from the pub."

Alfred blinked at the man's easy attitude, but slid down from the saddle anyway. He took Ace's lead and followed the stranger.

"My name's Mathias, by the way. We met once at a Royal crowning, remember me?"

Alfred shook his head. He didn't remember much from the royal crowning in Diamonds. He remembered meeting the Aces, and pretending to be an Ace, but besides that...

"Ah, didn't really expect ya to, but I figured it'd be worth a shot," Mathias grinned. His smile was incredibly wide and white. His Diamond accent was so faint, Alfred was surprised he even lived in the countryside like this. Deck was compromised of small towns and cities, and then large booming ports and capitals. There wasn't ever much in between.

Alfred was told to tie ace outside of a small wooden tavern before going inside. He did as he was told before stepping into the liquor-soaked room.

Men with big beefy farming muscles mulled around the place, slapping each other on the back and laughing grandly. Mathias took a seat at the bar.

Alfred slid in next to him, feeling like everyone was staring at him. (Though in reality, they were quite preoccupied.)

"Oi thar, Lukas! Can I get some food over here?"

A man a few feet down the other side of the bar walked over to Mathias. He stared at him with dull purple eyes that reminded Alfred of his brother. "I already gave you food today, buzz off, buzzard."

Mathias pouted and shoved a thumb in Alfred's direction. "S'fer the kid! Looks half starved, c'mon. And throw in a beer, he needs it."

Lukas turned his dead gaze on Alfred. The "king" shivered on the abused bar stool. Lukas grunted and walked away, heading towards the kitchen behind the bar.

After Alfred had been served some sort of bread and meat he couldn't place, Mathias began to talk. Lukas was leaning against the bar, staring over it at Alfred like he was the most interesting thing since live music. He had been cleaning the same glass for five minutes now.

It was making Alfred uneasy, and his worry made him drain the beer placed in front of him. He never liked alcohol. It was bitter and burned his throat. But this made his stomach feel warm and calm for the first time in ages.

"I tell 'im ta get outta my lawn!" Mathias was saying. "But the oaf falls to 'is knees. He starts crying and beggin fer mercy in some other language. Think it was Spaden."

Alfred tuned into the conversation in an instant. "Did you talk to him?"

Mathias shrugged. "Yeah, for a bit. Only got so much out of him. He didn't speak Deckian real good. I managed to figure that he was a farmer, and there'd been a horrible drought. Everyone was starving. Then there was something about a war, but I didn't catch why."

Alfred stood up from the bar. He grasped onto Mathias' collar. "What war?"

Hello everyone! This last part was rather rushed so I'm sorry for any mistakes. As usual, I'm American.

I'm really starting to like this story. There's a few chapters I'd like to re-write when all is said and done. Until then, thanks for all the amazing reviews! They're what keep me updating.

-Mallory