The loyal soldier was dying. The Queen had fallen. And the King was at the foot of his enemies.

Yet, all was not lost. Still, a part of the kingdom remained, the one who was too often regarded as unimportant; none other than the noble Jack.

He came, summoned by something even he did not understand, with an army that nearly doubled the first and managed to push back Clubs. Renewed, they dragged the soldier to a hastily made base, picked up the Queen, and pushed the enemy off of the King.

For once, Spades did not hail the two nobles that were so often in the spotlight, but instead the one that seemed to hide behind the curtains, working the ropes and the lights so that everything would go smoothly.

Because, after all, that's what Jacks do best.

…

Arthur woke up to soft hands, one on his chest, the other on his forehead. He felt heavy, drained, as very near to death as one could feel. Just below his heart hung a heavy lump of coal. He moved up his arm to take it off, but the soft hands pushed him back. A feminine voice cooed and clucked its tongue.

"Oh, Arthur, please don't strain yourself. You've used so much magic..."

Arthur mildly wondered what business anyone but a Royal had calling him by his first name. The thought didn't last long, however, before he fell back into unconsciousness.

…

When Arthur finally cracked his eyes open, he had no idea how much time had passed since his last consciousness. The soft hands were gone, so Arthur sat up a bit and looked about the room.

He wasn't anywhere he recognized. Everything was blue, but it was the wrong sort of blue. It wasn't the deep navy that looked almost like Matthew's eyes, but instead a crisp sky blue that hurt to look at. The rug was white and inlaid with such an intense silver thread Arthur wondered if it was actually metal.

He looked down at the large bed he was lying in, which seemed to be the only furniture in the room besides a small table and a wooden chair pulled up to his bedside. The quilt he was wrapped in was lined with silver as well, and Arthur realized that he was probably in Diamonds. And that the lump of coal was invisible.

His hand wandered down his chest, but there was nothing there. With a grunt, he sat up fully against the ornate oak headboard, but nothing rolled to the ground, and nothing thumped to the comforter. Why, then, was there so much pressure on one little spot? No other place in his body ached, which confused him. Surely, he should have still had the cut from the sword on his wrist from the battle? Or the broken rib from when he'd been kicked? He was unnerved. How long had he been asleep?

Perhaps he hadn't been sleeping at all. Perhaps he was dead, and he had gone on. Why did the afterlife look so much like Diamonds? It's such a shame he hadn't been able to keep his promise to...Alfred!

With a jolt, all the things he should have been worrying about came rushing at him. He threw the bedspread aside and jumped down, his bare feet curling at the contact with the cold floor. He needed to get out of the room in order to find anything out, which seemed like a simple enough plan.

Arthur set the plan into action by activating the first and only step: leave.

Unfortunately, when one leaves a room, they tend to be provided with an exit. Something like a door, and arch, perhaps even a window.

These things were missing from the room.

Arthur panicked, and began feeling around the walls for a loose brick. All the wind in his lungs seemed trapped. He could breathe in but not out, just as he could be in the room, just not be out of it.

Had someone built a house around him?! Why was the ceiling so high? Why was there no dust? Why did he remember soft hands? Someone else had been in there, which meant they were either hiding under the bed, or they were able to leave the room.

That both comforted and terrified the Queen.

"Hello?" Arthur called, his voice coming out squeaky, panicky. "Can you hear me? Whoever you are? Hello?"

Receiving no response, (walls were notorious for being shy) Arthur threaded his hands through his hair and took four large breaths, focusing on the exhale.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. After several long heartbeats, he managed to do so by trying to think of solutions.

Well, he could always attempt to eat through the stone, but he hated the taste of limestone.

Arthur tugged harshly on his hair, mentally chastising himself. This was no time for jokes! He needed to get out of the room. But it wasn't as if he could just walk out of the bloody thing like magic-

Ironically, Arthur found himself thanking Deck he was alone, because he blushed up to his ears. He was the bloody Queen of Spades, the most powerful magician in all four Kingdoms, and here he was trying to find a secret door.

Arthur closed his eyes and went through the motions of reaching inside himself in order to find the muscle-like thing that was his magic, and stretch it out like he normally did, pushing it into the wall and letting him escape.

Except it wasn't there.

It was much like waking up one morning to find that you no longer have legs. That muscle had always been there, whether or not Arthur had the courage to use it. But now it was gone, and he felt completely helpless. The lump of coal grew.

How long had he been asleep?

…

Yao never liked such complete control. Right after the first Great War, he'd been left alone with a kingdom and a blonde baby, but not much else. Those years had been the hardest, piecing back together a Kingdom that was once proud and noble and strong.

Yao did not like control, because he made mistakes. Yao was the smartest man in the world, knowledge was his game, and yet, he was still human. And being so smart, Yao knew that humans make mistakes. That they make decisions based on their own selfish mourning and not the burning Kingdom or the blonde baby. For that reason, Yao was content as a loyal Jack.

As Yao strode down the hallway, he heard a large crash. A large painting of an old King of Diamonds shook as it smiled at him. Yao lifted an eyebrow and moved closer to it.

The crash sounded again, louder this time, directly behind the painting. Yao moved the painting aside, but there was only a wall. So he stepped back and peered closer.

The moment he'd stepped back, the wall swelled. Yao's eyes widened and he jumped aside, under a large curtain, just before it exploded. Rocks flew everywhere, large pieces clunked down on his back and on his head.

It was over as soon as it had come, and with shaky hands, Yao peeked around the curtain, expecting Clubs to march over and take him away.

Instead, he found Alfred. The boy looked wild. His glasses were missing, his plain baby blue clothes were coated in dust and disheveled.

"Alfred? What happened?" Yao asked, running out from behind the curtain to look at the boy. He didn't look the slightest bit harmed, Lily had assured him he had been fully recovered.

But mentally, Alfred seemed off.

"Ghosts!" Alfred shouted. His face looked pale. "G-ghosts! They're after me!"

Yao, having seen this before, merely pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alfred, don't tell me you just broke the Diamond's castle because you were afraid of ghosts."

"There's no door!"

"Because only Lily can go into the healing rooms! She would have gone to get you in five minutes!"

Alfred looked at his feet and chewed at his lip. As he did, his feet lifted off the floor. He screamed. "No! Put me down, put me down!"

His fists flew outwards, but it hit only air. Yao's eyes widened as he watched his King fly off the floor.

Alfred, panicked and in a frenzy, stared down at the Jack. "Yao! Help, help me!"

Just as the sentence was finished, Yao felt a tug, and he was being lifted off the floor as well. It was a familiar sensation, strangely. It almost reminded him of Arthur's hugs, the way invisible arms wrapped around him to lift him up...

Oh no.

It couldn't be that.

Yao struggled in the air, kicking his feet in a very undignified manner. "Alfred! It's not ghosts, you need to calm down! Alfred! Listen to me!"

Alfred's eyes met Yao's. Yao sighed, before yelling. "It's just Gilbert! He's messing with you!"

This was the wrong thing to say.

Alfred's eyes narrowed into anger, and both of them dropped on the floor immediately. Then, there was a pop, and Gilbert was sprawled across the floor with them, looking affronted.

"Listen up, Eyebrows, you have no right to just summo—Eyebrows?"

He looked up at Alfred, and had his face not already been pale, it would've drained of color. "Alfred," he said quietly. "Why do you have Arthur's magic?"

Thanks to rexlover180 for being the greatest beta ever.

This chapter gave me trouble, and lots of it. I hope you all enjoyed anyway, and thanks for baring with me and my wonky updates!

Honestly, this wasn't planned at all. It just happened. Sigh, Alfred and Arthur decide these things for themselves, I'm telling you. Just write it down.

Thanks for reading!

PS-

200 reviews! Wow! Thanks so much! Reading reviews mean so much to me, you guys are awesome. Thanks a million for all the support, but remember not to be shy with critique!