Author's Note: Hello! Welcome back! Here's the second chapter! Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting!
For old readers, in case you're confused about the change in order, I apologise for the mess-up of chapters! One very helpful reviewer has kindly pointed out the really bad structuring, which I have amended and hopefully it's better now. :) I have changed the order such that the story opens with Lovino first, and then goes around the other Kingdoms so as to give you readers a clearer idea as to how the other Kingdoms are run (haven't touched on the Kingdom of Hearts yet though) and also the backstories of the Royals.
After finally setting foot onto the paved path of the main street, Lovino got down from his horse and decided to walk. He took the time to marvel in the sights and sounds, waving to his people who had, upon seeing their King, rushed eagerly to their balconies to catch a glimpse. Lovino was still a little not used to all the attention he got whenever he visited the Kingdom, though that particular day he had not left his castle on progress but rather, for a totally different purpose. Catching a bouquet of flowers tossed to him by a pretty young lady leaning over her balcony's railings, Lovino sent her a charming wink in return, making her stumble back in awe, her hand covering the lower half of her face to hide her blush. The Kingdom was filled with lovely damsels that the King of Aces loved to charm. However, when the group slowed down to a halt and he turned to the carts his guards' horses had been lugging, Lovino's characteristic frown returned. He pulled back the cloth that had been draped over the boxes, revealing dozens of bottles, each filled with a viscous liquid. These were what had been sustaining the people of the Kingdom of Aces for months, their only source of hope against the disease. Something they had that the other Kingdoms did not.
"Map?" Lovino ordered, holding out his hand while checking the bottles to confirm that none of them had been smashed on the way. When no one responded, he looked up and directed at the nearest guard, "Who has the map?"
"Antonio does, Your Majesty."
"Oh yeah, right…" The new guard fumbled in the small pouch he kept slung over his shoulder and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Lovino.
"Here you go, Your Majesty," he finished with a beam.
Lovino barely managed to stop himself from groaning. Not only was there the stress from the possibility of there not being enough medicine for everyone, but his new guard was a bumbling idiot. Still, he shoved these thoughts to the recesses of his mind, bent on completing what he had set out for. He gathered the guards and together they briefly discussed the houses they had to visit before each setting off with their own cart of medicine, while Lovino and one of the guards would remain and give the bottles out to those living in their area.
And of all people, the one staying behind was Antonio, much to Lovino's displeasure. After all, his first impression of the new guard was that he was an oblivious fool and he had not a single clue why Henry had asked such a person to take up a job that involved protecting the King. Lovino watched as Antonio checked the map another time before knocking on the door in front of them. The King eyed his companion warily, as he bounced on the balls of his feet and hummed in anticipation while waiting for the door to be answered. Antonio must have felt Lovino's scrutiny, for he turned to flash him a brief smile before looking back at the wood. Lovino felt his cheeks heat up slightly at the other's bold cheekiness, but decided to ignore him in favour of the little boy who had stuck his head out from behind the door.
The boy's mop of licorice hair barely reached Lovino's hip and he was watching the two curiously, his electric blue eyes startling them with their brightness. "Who are you?" he asked, gaze darting from Antonio to Lovino, then to the bottle Antonio was holding. "Are you here to help Grandma?"
"Yes, bring this to her. Get her to drink one spoonful three times a day, it will help her," Antonio crouched down to the boy's height and explained, sticking out three fingers and then one for emphasis. The boy nodded slowly, as if trying to absorb what Antonio had just told him.
"Three times… A day," the boy repeated as he took the bottle from Antonio, swirling the thick syrup inside thoughtfully.
"That's right! Hope your grandmother gets well soon," Antonio chirped, ruffling the boy's hair and earning himself a smile. He then turned to Lovino and gestured to the cart behind with his thumb, signaling to him to move on. But Lovino put his hand out to stop the door from closing and questioned the boy almost demandingly, "Wait! How is your grandmother doing?"
The boy's smile fell and his eyes narrowed, like he suspected Lovino of having an intent to harm his family. "Who are you? You look mean."
A sudden bout of laughter exploded from his left and Lovino spun in its direction, peeved and flustered. It was Antonio, who had both hands wrapped around his stomach as he bent over, his lean frame trembling uncontrollably. For a second, he paused his chortling and sneaked a peek at Lovino, but apparently the expression the other man wore – which was a mix between confused and embarrassed – only seemed to amuse him further and he resumed his laughing fit, only to finally stop after receiving a smack on the head from Lovino.
"What the hell? Get a hold of yourself, you idiot! We're being serious here!" he hissed, and Antonio hastily straightened up and cleared his throat a few times before speaking to the boy casually.
"Oh, he's the King." And the boy's eyes swept Lovino up and down, taking in his striped waistcoat, immaculate breeches and white coat. He took in Antonio's surcoat as well, his lips forming a silent "O".
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, then added as an afterthought, "Your Majesty."
The child opened the door fully, revealing his dark brown and too-large tunic. He extended one thin hand to the inside of the house, welcoming the pair in and leading them into what seemed to be the only bedroom in the tiny abode. An old woman lay on the bed, a worn-out blanket placed over her frail body. Her uncovered head was noticed by Lovino, and his heart sank at the sight of the swollen welts on her face, turned a grisly yellow from the pus. The woman's breathing was shallow, and she curled up more tightly into her fetus position at the noise made by the visitors.
She didn't deserve this. His people didn't deserve this. Lovino felt as if the disease had gotten to his heart and was now squeezing it in its vice-like grip, the coldness from its icy fingers radiating through his veins, and in a way he guessed it already had. No matter what he did, it would still be there. He had increased the frequency at which medicine was dispatched to his people, but the disease just kept returning stronger and stronger, determined to crush his resolve.
And with every victim he saw, Lovino felt his resolve getting weaker. He wasn't sure how much he could keep giving, and his hand automatically went to his left arm at that thought, feeling the bandage under his clothes.
Truth was, each bottle of medicine contained a bit of his blood. Though of course, he never made that piece of information public. The people would be dismayed that their King was doing such a thing to himself, but Lovino had had no choice. He had discovered the extent of his "special ability" accidentally one day when he had unintentionally knocked the plant on his desk over – damn, it had been a gift from Feliciano – and had cut his finger when trying to pick up the broken ceramic. He had cursed upon seeing the blood, but then something else had caught his eye. The plant had gotten a bit yellow and was close to the point of wilting, but Lovino had decided against getting rid of it ("because it has sentimental value, okay?"), and all of a sudden the leaves were green and fleshy once again. Intrigued, Lovino had observed the cut on his finger before hesitantly moving it over to the plant again, letting another drop of his blood fall to its stem. Indeed, the plant had seemed to straighten up on its own, no longer at the point of wilting. The King had had an epiphany right there and then: he could use his ability to help his people!
And I don't have to die, he had also thought.
So Lovino told his Queen, and when Emma shot him a look of outrage and argued with him that there was no way he was going to put himself at risk, he had retorted that it was the only hope they had for their Kingdom.
"I'm sick of this shit, Emma. More and more people are falling ill and now I might be able to do something about it. I might be able to save them! I can't be so selfish, Emma! Everyone out there is fucking suffering, and if a King's duty is to just sit here in comfort then I'd rather not be a fucking King, fuck you!" Lovino had yelled, swiping the documents off his desk in his frustration. He had been instantly struck by a pang of regret when he saw Emma's fury melt into plain hurt.
"If you're really going to do it, I won't stop you." Emma's tone had softened after she had been exposed to Lovino's outburst. "But please take care of yourself, Lovino. I… I just care about you, that's all."
At her words, Lovino felt something else – it was raw and unfamiliar, but not entirely unpleasant, and it seemed to quell his anger and made him feel less incomplete. He realized it was the feeling of having someone concerned for him, and he suddenly wished he could take back everything he had screamed at Emma. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you," he wanted to say, but the strangeness of that feeling seemed to paralyse him, making him temporarily mute and all that came out of his mouth was a soft "yeah".
From that day onwards, Lovino made it mandatory for all medicine to be sent to the castle before being dispatched, for "safety purposes". But he would draw his own blood out with syringes, dropping three to four drops in each bottle with the help of a few trusted servants. Whenever any of his subjects dared to speak up about their worries, he would snap at them. As such, no one was allowed to challenge Lovino's decision. It didn't make him feel any better being rude to his servants, but it kept the questions away so he never bothered to hold his sharp tongue. After all, he had grown up that way, building walls as high as the castle's own stone exterior around himself out of unpleasant words and unkind expressions just to keep everyone at a distance.
Lovino never quite knew why he did that, perhaps it had been a form of defence so no one could hurt him. But his people had chiseled cracks into his barriers, and whenever he closed his eyes, he would see their faces – of children, women and men of all ages, a multitude of visages peering through the metaphorical cracks at their King, and it was at those moments when Lovino would be reminded of how much was at stake if the Kingdom succumbed to the disease completely. And Emma; the spunky Queen in the tea-length dress had wielded a sledgehammer and knocked a hole in the stone and in her own, platonic way, had found a place in Lovino's heart like how Lovino had been welcomed into hers the first day they had met.
At the beginning, the medicine had worked like a charm. People were writing in to the castle, reporting that their relatives had mysteriously gotten well after taking the medicine given out. Those who couldn't afford the medicine were offered the treatment for free, while those who could had to pay a fee. Nevertheless, the Royals tried to subsidise as much as they could, even going as far as selling their belongings to other Kingdoms to ensure that the economy would not plummet too significantly. They were lucky to have obtained a cure unlike the other Kingdoms, but this also brought suspicious people from the other lands to the Kingdom of Aces and more than once, travellers from elsewhere were caught trying to steal the medicine left on the doorsteps.
Hence, Lovino made sure that guards patrolled the area often and that the medicine was given out personally to the people of his Kingdom. This was because as the resistance against the drug grew, he had to increase the drops of blood in each bottle and it was starting to take a toll on his health. The King lost weight and grew thinner, until his coat sagged off his shoulders and his cheekbones became very prominent. Once, he even collapsed and had to be suscepted to Emma's nagging and force-feeding of chicken soup when he woke up.
Lovino wasn't sure how long he could keep on giving his blood out like that. He glanced at the bottle the boy had placed on his grandmother's bedside table, the thought of the drops of his blood being mixed around with the syrup enough to make his stomach give a lurch. Deciding that he had had enough, Lovino swiftly took off his coat and placed it over the meager blanket with surprising gentleness. The old woman seemed to find comfort from the extra warmth and stopped squirming, finally settling down and sleeping soundly.
"Remember to take one spoonful every day too, okay?" Lovino turned towards the boy at the door. "Just in case."
"Are you cold, Your Majesty?" At Antonio's question, Lovino stopped in his tracks and became aware that he had been rubbing his arms to protect himself against the chilly wind.
"Your Majesty, you can have my surcoat. It's not much but… It will help at least a little," Antonio reasoned, unbuckling his belt and pulling off the coat, holding it out to Lovino. The shorter man responded with a hard stare before he reached out and took the surcoat from Antonio, muttering a grateful "thank you".
They had finished the last of the bottles and figured out that they had a little time before they were supposed to rendezvous with the other guards, and Lovino had made the unexpected choice to drop by at his grandfather's house. He had not seen him since the day Feliciano had set off to the Kingdom of Hearts as the new Jack (Sometimes members of the same family could belong to different Kingdoms because some of their ancestors married across Kingdoms), which was a total of two years, and felt that perhaps it would only be right if he dropped by for a short visit. From what he had heard, his grandfather's house was not marked as one of the houses that needed the medicine because one of its inhabitants had caught the disease, but Lovino had specially ordered for one bottle to be sent every two or three dispatchments as a safety measure.
But there's no fucking way I'm telling him I specially requested, he thought as he rapped sharply on the door twice, stealing a brief glimpse of Antonio who was whistling while caressing the mane of his horse and rolling his eyes as his own horse whinnied for attention. Lovino confessed that Antonio's earlier gesture had pleasantly surprised him, and he had been a little touched that someone had been thoughtful enough to be able to see through his body language and offer him their coat. The surcoat was still hot from Antonio's body heat and Lovino felt strangely snug and comfortable. Not that it changed the fact that Antonio was still a too-happy idiot. His face had literally lit up when Lovino thanked him.
"Why are you sending me medicine when I'm not ill?" was the first thing his grandfather said when the door was open.
Oh crap. "I… Urm… Weeeelll, it's just for precaution because I don't want to have to attend your shitty funeral, alright?"
Romulus paused, hand going to his chin pensively. "Okay… Come in then, I have something to tell you."
"What? Figured out my death date?" Lovino answered stiffly but he stepped into the house anyway. The interior was the same as it had been two years ago, the two-seater couch that Romulus loved taking naps on was still there but now tattered, and the aeroplane model Lovino and Feliciano (or rather Lovino because Feliciano had spent all the time playing with the glue) had assembled in their childhood still hung at the window. Lovino saw that the room he and Feliciano used to share had been converted into a workshop, with saws and hammers of different sizes hanging from the walls and long tables covered in dust and wood shavings. Where their beds used to be laid a suspicious-looking pile of wood.
Lovino pointed at the plank at the top of the pile, where the carving a five-year-old Feliciano had made of two stick-figures, one with his arms firmly crossed and his eyebrows in an exaggerated frown, the other with a triangular mouth too big for his face. At that time, Feliciano's inner artist had yet to awaken, and his itchy hands loved marking things. Two curls had been drawn onto the figures' heads, and Lovino's hand resisted the temptation to reach up and make an attempt out of thousand past attempts to flatten the stray curl that always stuck out from his hair, refusing to be tamed by any comb or Lovino's fretful hands. "Did those use to be our beds?"
"Yes. After you and Feliciano moved out, I got a job as a carpenter. Am working with Alaric," his grandfather explained before falling back onto the couch, causing another spring to pop out from the other seat. "Anyway, I have something to tell you. And no, it's not your death date."
He patted the seat beside him, but after seeing the loose spring, Lovino decided he did not want to risk having his rear end brutally pierced with coiled metal and chose to lean against the wall instead.
"You see, I received a letter yesterday. It wasn't signed, but I have a feeling it's from the old woman who told me about your… Ability." Romulus rested one muscly arm on the back of the seat, peering upwards at Lovino, whose silence urged him to continue. "One of the old Jack of Diamonds was a Vargas, apparently. A very, very long time ago. He had the heart. The Ruby, the old woman named it. And he had been unlucky–"
At this point, Lovino snorted. "Ah. Another example of a possible fate I might have. Fan-fucking-tastic." He knew he was stepping into dangerous waters at the flare of agitation in his grandfather's weathered pupils, but he had swum in these currents too many times to let it bother him.
Romulus seemed to be contemplating between giving up on his grandson and resuming. He picked the more sensible choice and massaging his temples, went on, "At that time, there was a fatal disease spreading across the Kingdoms. Like now."
The mention of the disease made Lovino jolt back from the wall. "And?" he demanded, heart beginning to hammer in his chest. What about the disease? Was there a cure? Something else he could do? What did the Vargas do? Did he run away?
"The legend of the Ruby was widespread and known then, and as the Kings got desperate they began searching for the carrier of the Ruby. The King of Diamonds discovered that his Jack had it, and wanted to kill him. You see, his Jack was already over forty years of age, and even if he died the next Jack would probably be chosen quickly. But of course, the Jack didn't want to die and escaped, sparking a war between the five Kingdoms as the Royals ruthlessly eliminated any competition that stood between their Kingdom and the Ruby. Because the Ruby can only be used for one Kingdom. It's not enough for everyone," his grandfather finished, his voice in that unusual sepulchral tone again. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Lovino?"
But Lovino could only look vacantly at Romulus, even Antonio's surcoat insufficient against the chills his grandfather's words had given him. "What… What happened to the Jack?"
"He was never found. The Kingdoms nearly wiped each other out, and in the end the Royals took up a gruesome solution: they put anyone who was sick to death and burnt the bodies to curb the spread and bit by bit, the disease went away."
Romulus waited, as Lovino's eyes flickered from where they had been intently searing a hole into the ground to Romulus' own amber ones. Lovino faintly recalled that though most people often said that Feliciano resembled Romulus the most, with their similar auburn hair colour and ever-present smile, Lovino had inherited the intense amber hue his grandfather's eyes carried.
"What I'm saying is," Romulus exhaled, his leg jiggling up and down, a bad habit Lovino had come to know as a sign that his grandfather was uncomfortable. "I have a plan to help you escape–"
"No." The firmness of his own voice shocked Lovino. "I can't leave."
"Don't you understand?" His grandfather had shifted positions again and was now leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his tensed fingers knitted together. "When everyone is desperate enough, they're going to come after you. The whole world's going to be after you, Lovino," he stressed, gold eyes flashing warningly.
Lovino had already lost sight of the shore and was now preparing to dive into the dangerous waters he had been merely treading in earlier on. A deep breath. In. Out. "I don't care. I don't give a damn about my safety, Grandpa."
Lovino wanted to accuse his grandfather of pretending to care about him, because since when was he ever so concerned about this particular grandson of his? He wanted to take everything out on the older man in front of him, wanted to let him know how much it hurt never being anyone's first choice. It was childish, it was stupid, but it was the truth. The truth was clawing at Lovino's insides, begging to be let out, like a beast struggling against the restraints that had fought to hold it down for years.
But then suddenly the truth didn't matter that much anymore. Somewhere along Lovino's time as King, it had occurred to him that he was now a part of something big, something so much more than he could ever be, something that involved generations and generations of people and it would not do to keep on dwelling on his own past after having the future of hundreds placed into his hands. When he first ascended the throne, he had been filled with determination to prove himself to anyone who ever thought little of him, and though it sufficed as motivation to push him to rule the Kingdom at his best, somewhere along it stopped being about him and he realized how much his people had began to matter.
That was it. He couldn't abandon his people. They were his people after all.
"I won't be like the Jack. I won't be a fucking coward, Grandpa. I won't leave my people!" The cheesiness of his words would have made Lovino turn beet-red if not for the situation, but he refused to back down and looked Romulus in the eyes challengingly.
His grandfather stood up slowly, all signs of his usual laid-back self vanishing as he approached his grandson. "You. Are. Going. To. Leave. With. Me. Tomorrow," he accentuated each word forcefully, the area between his eyebrows scrunched up in his anger.
"Make. Me." Lovino copied Romulus' tone and fired back, feeling his toes curl in his leather shoes as tension brew between grandfather and grandson.
Romulus opened his mouth to say something but at that moment, Lovino heard Antonio knock on the door and call out, "Your Majesty! We need to be on our way now."
The tension that had hung palpably in the air dissipated and both men's shoulders relaxed at the interruption. When Lovino looked back at Romulus, the older man looked exhausted, his age showing more clearly than ever on his face. Yet the amber in his eyes shone with something that Lovino identified as pride, for he had seen it being reflected at Feliciano countless times.
"I… I guess I have to go now," Lovino quickly broke the awkward silence, unable to take the look his grandfather had in his eyes.
"I'm proud of you, Lovino. You've grown; your parents would have been proud of you too," Romulus' tone was sincere and no matter how hard Lovino searched for it, held not even a hint of mockery. But it was something different, and Lovino couldn't quite handle different, so he just grunted and went out, slamming the door behind him. He did not notice the painting he had done when he was fifteen and had kept hidden under his bed displayed on the back of the door.
Thank you for reading!