To say that Alfred was prepared for battle would be a complete lie. It was true that he had spent most of the years of his childhood in the military. In his free time he studied maps and planned fake battle strategies in his head. He had, of course, wanted to be an Ace. Actually going to war, though?

He didn't know what to do. He was a King. The kind meant to stand in front of the soldiers and give them hope that they may win. The one meant to represent Spades in every possible way.

Alfred felt as if all of his fears were being realized. He was a terrible King. While his country had been suffering, while his soldiers had been fighting, he'd been crying on a horse in Diamonds. What sort of man could stand in front of a crowd and tell them to keep fighting, even though they've been fighting far longer than him?

These thoughts had not left Alfred since the Capitol passed out of view. He didn't mention it to anyone. They had all been keeping such a wonderful facade of happiness and hope. He didn't want to be the one to break the bubble.

Now, however, his thoughts were coming faster than ever. Below him sat a tired army, starving horses and injured men. He pushed Ace forward, determined not to flee from fear. Not again.

Beside him, Arthur began to look like all the other soldiers. His shoulders were slumped, the bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced, and the armor he was wearing almost seemed to dull before Alfred's eyes.

As the wove between the tattered tents and limping men, Alfred noticed the way the soldiers looked at Arthur.

Not one of them spared a glance at their King, their male King that everyone in Spades had called out for in the beginning of the war. Instead, they looked to Arthur. Their eyes flashed with hope and their heads bending in respect. A few men even knelt as his horse passed by. A small boy, probably no older than fourteen, saw him from where he'd been sharpening swords. He stood up immediately, and began to run about the camp shouting:

"The Queen has returned! The Queen had returned!"

People poured from various tents or down from the hills, and they all welcomed the Queen with applause and shouts.

Arthur, the whole time, kept a grim smile on his face. Alfred watched all this from the top of his horse, and he thought that perhaps, the people did not need a speech from him.

…

The 'meeting table' was actually a large flat rock that stood at one's hip. It had four Spaden flags posted around it, and besides that, was completely barren. Matthew stood to Arthur's left. Alfred stood to Arthur's right, and though everyone formed a sort of circle, it was clear who was at the head of the table.

"Now," Arthur said, bending forward to the center of the table, where a map laid "we have reports from our scouts that Clubs will meet us here very soon. Either tonight, or very early tomorrow."

He tapped the spot on the map that they had marked with a large purple spade. Then, he traced his finger down a line that indicated a cliff just west of where they stood, and he nodded to Matthew. "Sir Williams, you'll take the archers to this cliff. Conceal yourselves with whatever resources are available. When the army is within an arrow's reach, send up a flaming arrow and then begin to fire. Understand?"

Matthew nodded and saluted quickly.

"Now, Toris," Arthur said, turning his burning gaze to the brown-haired man. "Can you handle the first league? You will assist Matthew at the cliffs, and you will have to run down from the heights and attack while you're on higher ground. Find any sort of ledge or cranny to camp in, and watch for the flaming arrow. Are you capable?"

Toris nodded. "More than, your majesty."

Arthur nodded. "Now, Alfred," he said, turning to his right. "You'll be expected to lead the rest of the army. I'll take the right flank, you'll take the left. We can circle around the expected battlefield tonight, and then attack from all sides once the time is right."

Alfred's eyes stared down at the map. It all seemed like a perfect plan, except...

"The river," Alfred said, pointing at the thin blue line running through their battlefield. "They could come by the river. I know it is not thick nor deep enough for ships, but that is the problem. Clubs could easily march men through the waters, since they are not as put off by cold as we are."

Arthur chewed on his bottom lip. "I will take care of that," he said at length. "Matthew, if you see men coming by water, fire two flaming arrows in succession, and that will be signal for me to act. Alright? Good, meeting adjourned."

Arthur rolled up the map and shoved it under his arm. Alfred had never seen him so determined, so in his element.

"Arthur," he called, catching up to the man's side as he walked towards the camp. "How can you stop them from coming by river?"

Arthur smiled at him, and patted his arm. "I...I know that I can. I have done things like this before."

Alfred blew out his cheeks. "I've noticed."

Arthur stopped walking, and turned to Alfred with a stern expression. "Al, don't think that you are not suited to this. The Magic chose you just as it chose me."

"But the men...they are loyal to you, Arthur. They trust and respect you. Not me."

Arthur huffed. "Well, you'll just have to prove your worth then. And you'll have to stay alive."

Alfred's eyes widened at the last comment. Arthur's voice had cracked just slightly. Alfred bent down and hugged him. Well, as best as one can hug through freezing chain mail, and pressed his chapped lips to his neck.

"We'll both live," he whispered. "I know we will, we have to."

But as he said these words, the scream from his vision returned to his ears, and the sight of Arthur falling on the battlefield flashed before his eyes.

I will protect you. I won't let you die.

…

The arrow went up before dawn. Alfred watched it hit the night sky and then fade out. He stared out at the battlegrounds, but they were too far away to make out much of anything in the darkness. A chill ran through the air, reminding them that the weather still existed, that their chain mail and armor would only make them colder.

Alfred knew they only had a few minutes to spare before charging into battle. He couldn't exactly just lead men to their deaths without first saying something. Maybe not a speech, but words, something, anything, to give this horrible battle a purpose.

"Men!" He called, garnering the attention of the shivering soldiers. "I know that most of you may see me as a coward, or as a imposter, or perhaps unfit to even call myself a King. Maybe you are right. Maybe I shouldn't even be speaking to you right now, or wielding a sword, but running to a falling Diamonds on horseback."

Alfred shifted, the frozen ground crumbling into powder underneath his boots. "But I promise you I will be the first man into the fray, that I will be the first to proclaim myself a target, and that I will be the last man to retreat, until my final breath leaves me. One thing you learn from cowardice is how to be brave, and my friends, I have been a coward far too long! I fight for Spades, I fight for the Queen, and my friends, I fight for you!"

His soldiers let out a long bellow, and Alfred smiled. He felt the strength run through his body. The magic was preparing him, the white-hot light flashing before his eyes. "For Spades!" Alfred cried, lifting up his sword and running down the hill.

"For Spades!" the men repeated, following him down the rocks.

Alfred wasn't sure when his sword first clashed with another, but he remembered easily overpowering the startled Clubsman. Half of the Club's army turned around, surprised by the sudden attack from behind. Alfred didn't remember killing the first man, but he knew he did. And the second.

At the time, he was simply lost in battle, determined to keep his people safe, and that anyone in Clubs armor would fall at his feet.

He would, though, think back to that night and to the many bodies that fell. Tears would flow from his eyes, or pure regret would wash over him, but when he thought back, he knew he had done what he had to.

Alfred looked up when two flaming arrows were shot into the sky. He had been right. They were coming by water. He felt the Clubsmen surge forward, knowing their reinforcements were coming fast. Alfred pushed his way into the heart of them. He had to get to the river. How could Arthur, one man, keep hundreds of men at bay?

Getting to the shore was not easy, but he managed. He was at the dark, cold water in time to see it magically freeze over. Club's soldiers were trapped in solid ice, all the way to their hips. They chipped at it with their swords, but to no avail. Alfred heard an angry bellow, and turned towards it. There, among the many soldiers, on top of a white horse (now frozen in place) was the King of Clubs. His feet were frozen to either side of the horse, and he looked positively furious. Alfred watched as the man bent down to his foot. Instead of trying to chip at the ice like the rest of the Clubsmen, though, he simply held out his empty palm. Fire burst from it, and Alfred stumbled backwards.

The King of Clubs has fire Magic. The King of Clubs has fire Magic!

Ivan broke through the ice, and slid off his horse, standing on the paused waves. "Surprised, little King?"

Alfred backed up, and his hand tightened around his sword. The King of Clubs edged towards him, ignoring his soldier's shouts to be released, and unsheathed a long, curved blade at his hip. The metal, even in the light of the moon, was pure black.

"Do you like it?" The King asked, stroking his hand along the edge. "It was crafted by the best weapon master in all of Deck. The King of Hearts."

Alfred's eyes widened. "No! You're lying! Hearts has no part in this war!" The Clubsman looked around the battlefield.

"Ah, is that why your Diamond friends have not come to help? Where are your most trusted allies, oh great kingdom of Spades?"

Alfred slashed out, but Ivan was too quick. The black blade did not make a twang as Alfred expected, but a low ring, almost as if he'd hit a rock.

Ivan retaliated, his blade trying to cleave Alfred in half. Alfred easily blocked the swing, he was far stronger than Ivan. The magic was deeply settled in his body.

"So the great Spaden king must use his magic?" Ivan shouted. "Fine. If we are going to play that way, then magic it shall be!" Ivan flicked his sword hand, and immediately the black metal was covered in flames. It was as if it was made of the hardest coal in Deck, though it never burned. Flames licked out at Alfred.

Their swords clashed again, and Alfred could almost feel the heat of the fire through the handle of his own weapon.

Ivan pressed him backwards, towards the river, flames shooting down towards Alfred's feet and making him dance away. Despite Alfred's strength, he soon found himself sliding across the ice. Ivan was far more at home atop it, the fire and ice clashing and making hisses and steam rise up from the floor. It was all Alfred could do to keep himself alive.

"Alfred!"

It was Toris. Toris had pushed his way through the battle to the river. His left eye was swollen shut and red poured down from his cheek, but he jumped onto the ice and joined Alfred in attacking the Clubsman.

"Toris!" Ivan exclaimed, a small smile flying over his face. "So we meet again. Tell me, how does it feel to fight the man who saved your life? Who took you in when Gilbert was not able to care for you? How does it feel to betray a brother again ?"

Toris pointed his sword at the King's stomach. "I am not your brother! I will never be your brother! I did not betray you, you betrayed Clubs!"

Alfred kept Ivan's sword busy while Toris tried to inch forward. He only had to fling his sword into Ivan's stomach, but Alfred doubted it was that simple.

"You have always been jealous of Spades! Of Diamonds! You envy their prosperity, you envy their sense of pride in their countries, you do not want to destroy them, you wish to be them! You are a horrible, hateful man! Our country has been filled with barbaric traditions you need only abolish! Gilbert did not deserve to die!"

Tears were streaming down Toris' face. "Elizabeta did not deserve to loose everything. And Feliks did not deserve anything! Not one bit of that shit you called punishment!"

Suddenly, Toris loosed a moan, and he collapsed on the ice. Alfred whirled around to see a man with thick black hair and glasses staring down at Toris. He wore the armor of a Clubs Jack.

But Clubs had no Jack...they-they've been hiding him! They had full magic now! No wonder Ivan had such control of his fire!

While Alfred was distracted, Ivan took his advantage. His flaming sword swung outwards. It cut through Alfred's chain mail like butter, right into his side, under his ribs. Alfred fell to the ground, screaming as the smell of burning skin met his nose.

On the other side of the battlefield, however, Alfred heard another scream, a familiar, horrible wail that pierced through the freezing ice. He saw the crowd separate. And he watched, on the ice, bleeding and crying, as his vision came true.

Arthur fell.

Thanks to my beta, Rexlover180 for sticking with me ;)

Hello everyone! It's been a while, yeah? I hope this chapter satisfied your lust for blood. It gets better from here, however, so don't fret! (Well, as good as war can be, which isn't very good.)

And yes, Toris has a long back story. I'm not sure if you'll ever get to know of it. Perhaps I'll do a oneshot in the future, I'm not sure.

Thanks for reading!

-Mallory