The man, upon grasping the glowing blue tube, was instantly rocketed into some parallel universe of his memory. It rained dirt, smoke clouds billowed- wherever he was had just been completely, utterly devastated. Violet eyes wide, the man wildly looked around, eyes connecting with a tall man, one whom looked quite familiar.

The stare off broke as the newcomer disappeared, his dark, haunting gaze no longer boring into his own. The man's head started to pound: growling out, he sunk to the dirt on his knees, gripping his head. All he could hear was, "This is payback for your sins."

Breathing labored, the man dropped the tube, back in the forest he had awoken in. The snow had stopped, and all he knew from the vision was that this new, seemingly desolate world was a twisted purgatory.

He continued walking, having stuffed the glowing tube in the pocket of his cloak, and the snow picked up again, as if ushering him forward. Minutes faded into hours, until a faint glow caught his eye: feverishly glancing up, he saw a tiny, tiny village.

Trying not to break out into tears, the man ran, feet stirring up the thick snow, gathering attention from the poor people below. But, to the man's relief, they welcomed him, brought him into their arms, and ushered him into a warm cabin. They seemed awestruck, as if he'd been the answer to their prayers- the man didn't understand why.

"Who are you?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

A women, tending the fireplace, glanced at him. "We call ourselves The Others. We know not where we came from, nor why we are here." The words soothed him, yet stirred up infinite questions. At least they shared the same language: the man was reminded of the land that had been destroyed in his induced vision. Perhaps... these were the people who had lived there. Perhaps he had lived there, too.

A young child with beautiful golden eyes stared up at him, touching his knee. The man smiled as they gazed at each other, seemingly entranced. His eyes... they look so... familiar. The boy asked, "What is your name?"

It hadn't been something he'd thought about, but the name instantly fell from his lips as he replied, "Ivan Braginsky."

—

Arthur awoke with a start, eyes darting around the unfamiliar room. He sat up, glancing out the window- he saw a garden maze, a path leading to the town...

I'm not in the town.

Before he could stand, the door opened, and in waltzed Alfred, a glass of water in his hand. "Good morning."

Arthur eyed him warily, accepting the water with no reply. They sat in silence once again, this one not as comfortable as the first time they had met, until Alfred started, "You're very powerful."

"I wasn't aware," Arthur bit back.

"Come with me," Alfred ordered, standing up. Arthur followed him to a mirror on the opposite side of the room- Alfred positioned Arthur with his back to the mirror. "Look behind you."

Doing as he was told, Arthur glanced over his shoulder into the mirror, and saw the black, intricate tattoo spanning across his upper back, right in between his shoulders. His eyes widened, and turning back to Alfred, he accused, "You did this to me! The night we met!"

As if the situation pleased him, Alfred chuckled. "I did nothing. You were simply chosen, my Queen."

Pushing Alfred out of the way, Arthur hissed, "I am not your Queen." He gestured out the window, at the town below. "That is where I belong!"

"You told me yourself that if you could change anything, you would end the war on Clubs." Alfred paused, holding his gaze. "You cannot argue with the birthmark. You are my Queen. And now, if you would cooperate, you may finally have your wish."

They stared at each other from across the room. Arthur bit his lip. There is no arguing with fate. If I have the birthmark... then so be it. But he is wrong in thinking I am his- I belong to no one. Eyes narrowed, Arthur snarled, "I may be the Queen. But I will never be your Queen."

Alfred cooly watched him. "So be it. The coronation is this evening. In the meantime, our Jack, Yao, will try to quickly introduce you to things. Try your best not to get lost, sweetheart." With a smug smirk, he opened the door and stepped out. Bristling, Arthur clenched his fists, trying to control the embarrassed flush dusting his skin.

As Alfred stepped out the door, breathing out heavily, Yao leaned against the wall, remarking, "By the look on your face, I assume that didn't go well."

Raising his eyes, Alfred grumbled, "Good luck. He's... spirited."

Yao clicked his tongue. "I assume that's a euphemism? I've handled royals longer than you've lived. He won't be any different." Stepping into the room, Yao yelped and ducked down as a vase was hurled at his head. Standing up and briskly brushing off the non-existent dirt on his clothes, he snapped, "Sheesh! I'm not the King!"

Arthur glared right back. "You're the Jack. Is there any difference?"

Rolling his eyes, Yao muttered, "Fine. We'll do this the hard way." He brought his hands to the side, fingers flexing, and a yellow, flaming ball of energy materialized in between. He launched the fireball directly toward Arthur, who, on pure instinct, closed his eyes and crossed his arms in an x. Blue electricity, much like the strange static he'd used hours ago, surged from him, absorbing the ball on contact.

Yao shook out his hand, drawing closer. "I can utilize magic, like you. The King can't. There's a difference," He huffed, tossing his long hair over his shoulder. Arthur narrowed his eyes, the static disappearing from his figure. "Do you understand now?"

"What do you want?" Arthur avoided the question.

"To have your respect." Yao lifted his head. "Since I will be responsible for honing your abilities. Our King must have told you how powerful you are."

Crossing his arms, Arthur decided that he liked this Jack more than the King, however childish that was. "You're my teacher?"

Yao walked to his side, staring out the window. "What do you see down there?"

"My village."

"I will teach you how to protect them." Yao turned to him, golden eyes shining. "I will teach you how to carry yourself like a royal. I will teach you how to be the Queen of Spades."

Just as Arthur had felt familiar with Alfred, he thought he'd known Yao before. He allowed himself a soft smile, glancing at Yao. "I'm afraid I might not live up to your standards."

Yao shrugged. "Eh. They never do."

—

The castle was more massive than Arthur had imagined. He was sure he'd get lost as Yao briskly pointed out different rooms, corridors, hallways, and Arthur wondered if he'd ever learn the names of all the royals and servants that walked by, hurriedly preparing for his coronation. All manner of thoughts passed through his mind, the foremost being, How the hell did this happen?

He had no more time to think as Yao ushered him into the fitting room, where the servants forced him in front of a mirror and started dressing him in the most fancy clothes Arthur had ever seen in his life. He held out his arms for the longest time as they fitted him, trying to be tough against the strain. Glancing at Yao, who was holding a clock and muttering about how they didn't have enough time, Arthur griped, "I can dress myself."

"I would hope so," Yao dismissively huffed. He walked over and shooed away the servants, claiming everything looked perfect. Arthur took the moment to gaze at himself in the mirror- I don't belong in these rich clothes. I barely recognize myself. The black Spades emblem was printed on the left side of his purple cloak, which almost touched the ground, tied in the middle of his chest with an absurdly large white bow.

Arthur's contemplating was interrupted as Yao grabbed his arm. "Come with me."

"Do I have a choice?"

The Jack didn't reply, dragging him out the door and down more halls. Arthur gazed up at the high ceiling, still in awe of the enormity of the palace, when a familiar voice chimed, "And you look stunning."

Whipping his head around, Arthur tried not to look as flustered as he felt. His eyes met Alfred's. Stubbornly, he clenched his jaw and grated out, "Thank you." Bastard.

Yao sensed the tension and snapped his fingers, a motion that Arthur assumed meant, follow me. Alfred picked up on it, too, and followed the Jack, both monarchs trailing on his heels like confused puppies. "Straight after the coronation, we'll have a meeting to sort out just how we want to handle Clubs. Have either of you thought over your foreign policy? Maybe battle strategies? My King, you were once leading general of the Royal Spades military, so I'll pray that you have that settled."

Alfred coughed and glanced at Arthur, obviously trying to plead for help. Arthur glared back at him, hoping his look communicated: I just got here, stupid!

Yao turned around to face the two floundering monarchs, walking backwards. "Neither of you have the slightest idea?"

"We should advocate for peace," Arthur tentatively began, sparing a glance at Alfred. "Unless we are directly threatened or indirectly threatened through our allies."

Both were silent. Arthur awkwardly fiddled with his sleeves, hoping that he didn't sound stupid. A grin spread across the Jack's face. "You're the first monarch to ever mention peace." Looking to the King, he raised his eyebrows. "And you?"

Alfred's eyes met Arthur's, and he gave a sideways smile. "I agree completely."

"You two are unlike any monarchs I've served," Yao commented, turning around again. They stopped at the largest stone door Arthur had ever seen in his life. "I'll leave you here to discuss your plans. My King, I'll need you through those doors in an hour for the coronation." He walked away swiftly, leaving the two monarchs alone in the hallway.

"You know, you don't have to be so mean to me," Alfred commented, blue eyes boring into Arthur's.

"You don't have to be so arrogant," Arthur shot back.

Alfred smiled, running a hand through his hair. "We've known each other for a day, and you already assume I'm arrogant?"

"I don't assume. I know." Arthur's lips quirked. "Embellishment can uplift an ego sufficiently."

At that, Alfred laughed, the ridiculous laugh Arthur couldn't have forgot. "And even though you know I'm the King now, you still say such things?"

"Well, I couldn't lie." The banter was something Arthur wasn't used to, but enjoyed greatly. As insufferable the King was, he provided a sense of wit that Arthur couldn't help but appreciate. He felt himself smiling, staring up at the man, who just shook his head and grinned.

"So, when can I be accepted into your friend circle?" Alfred asked, circling around the shorter.

"At this rate, not until I'm dead."

"Come on." Alfred stopped pacing, and grabbed Arthur's hands, much like he did the night they first met, the night when Arthur's world was peaceful and just as it should be. "If we're partners, let's at least try to get along."

"Oh, so we're partners now? I thought I belonged to you."

"Possessive adjectives, article adjectives- I wasn't aware of how demeaning they could be. My mistake," He chuckled sarcastically, still holding Arthur's hands in his. "Truce?"

Arthur rolled his eyes in an exaggerated display of irritation. Maybe the King was growing on him. "Fine. As long as you enlighten me on your so called 'battle strategies.'"

A hand slapped over Alfred's chest dramatically. "You wound me. I was general, for your information. Until I woke up and found that birthmark." He glanced away, almost pointedly. "I understand how you feel, being thrown into a position that you never wanted."

So, we both hate our roles. Fantastic, we'll be a swell monarchy. "You were still nobility. It must not have been that much of a change," Arthur pressed.

"Maybe not," Alfred conceded. He bowed suddenly, to take his leave, and pressed his lips to the back of Arthur's hand. "Until tonight-"

"Arthur," The shorter broke in. "Please. Call me Arthur."

Alfred smiled, standing straight. "Only if you'll call me Alfred."

They watched each other in some sort of haze, until Arthur broke away with an embarrassed cough. Alfred walked out of the corridor, his boots clicking against the marble as he exited. Alone, Arthur felt almost vulnerable in the massive castle, and sighed out, trying to gather his thoughts.

—

Heart threatening to jump out of his chest, Arthur walked down the aisle to the altar, fanfare raining around him, flowers being thrown behind him.What is this, a bloody wedding? He mused, trying not to glance around at all the commotion and reverent looks people gave him. The shock was now setting in- Arthur thought he might collapse. His responsibilities before had consisted of loading and unloading crates of supplies onto ships: overnight, he'd been thrust into the position of Queen. He had an entire Kingdom to protect, and that Kingdom was on the brink of war with an insane, revenge-driven King of Clubs.

Breath, Arthur reminded himself as he approached the priest, kneeling down on the steps as the man spoke the sacramental Latin phrases that Arthur had to repeat and honestly had no idea what the hell he was saying. But it was over in what seemed like seconds, and there was a crown on his head, and people were repeating after the priest, "Long reign Queen Arthur!" as he turned to face the large crowd who had gathered in the hall.

While the people celebrated for the second time that week, the monarchy gathered in the war room, sitting at a round table with all manner of advisors. Arthur was relatively silent, still trying to take the circumstances in and adjust to the heavy crown resting on his head, catching bits and pieces of conversation floating across the room. Arguments formed, and advisors were shouting at each other from across the room: it turned quickly into chaos. Bewildered, Arthur watched with wide eyes, when the person beside him slammed his fist down onto the table- it was Alfred, quieting everyone with a simple noise and an effective glare. The authoritative presence the King held was surprising to Arthur: his diagnosis of Alfred had been mild-mannered, goofy, able to hold his own in a debate, maybe a tad prideful.

"I may be the King, but I'm a general before that, and it's common knowledge that a Kingdom divided is weak," he stated, eying everyone cooly. "While we fight amongst each other, Clubs advances. For all we know, they could be ransacking our allies, and we're arguing here like sitting ducks! We are the greatest Kingdom in this land. But if we allow Clubs to take advantage of us, we will loose that status. The Queen and I are aware of this." He spared a glance at Arthur, and asked, "Do you have something to contribute?"

No, you idiot! Arthur wanted to shriek as he stood from his seat. "If we are as great as you say we are, we should counterattack at once. I may not be a royal, but I have something that only commoners have, and that's common sense." He earned a few chuckles from that, and his confidence grew. "If we wish to preserve ourselves, then we must obliterate the ones who wish to destroy us, and we must do so with as much strength and finesse as possible to show we are not a Kingdom to trifle with."

Alfred was grinning, and said, "You already speak with the skill of royalty."

Arthur wasn't sure why that made him pleased, as he was still convinced he was a commoner, but words from an advisor drew his attention. "But we mustn't jump into battle without a plan, and the Queen is hardly familiar with war. This may all sound winning, and forgive me for speaking harshly, but you are both new to your positions, and you do not fully understand what responsibilities and consequences war can bring."

"I know full well the consequences war can bring." Alfred's eyes narrowed. "The birthmark chose us. I may be more familiar with war than the Queen is, but you have not seen with your own eyes his unbridled power."

"Power?" The advisor scoffed. "Power that is not properly honed by royalty is useless."

Arthur's temper got the best of him, and he growled, "I took out all of your royally trained palace guards sent to molest me. Do tell, minister-" his hands supported him as he leaned over the table slightly, eyes narrowed- "am I still useless because I have not been royally trained?"

Everyone was silent. The advisors looked among each other, then back at the Queen, who calmed and drew back from his threatening stance at the table. One spoke, looking to the King, "And you?"

"In the time the troops are assembled and trained, and spies have been sent out to track Clubs' movement, Yao and I will have the Queen prepared for war." Alfred stood straight, clapping his hands. "Meeting adjourned."

As the advisors started murmuring to each other and gathering their things, Arthur turned to the King, voice low. "I thought that would beYao's job. Not yours."

"Yao will teach you magic. I will teach you how to fight." Alfred smiled, as if trying to lighten the air. "And, I think they like us," he added sarcastically.

Scoffing, Arthur followed Alfred out of the room and down the long hall, their black boots echoing loudly against the marble floors. He opened his mouth to say something, when he caught Alfred's gaze, and instantly had some type of flashback. It was the same face, same eyes, same smile- in a different place, a place he was certain he had called home. Stumbling backwards, Arthur breathed out sharply, and felt Alfred's hand grip his arm, steadying him. "What's wrong?"

Arthur shook his head blearily, blinking rapidly. "N-Nothing. My mind must be playing tricks on me."

"You look pale," Alfred noted, still holding Arthur's arms. "But you must be overwhelmed."

Nodding, Arthur tried not to lean into the taller, instead opting to pull away. "I'll be fine. Just point me to my chambers, and I'll be on my way."

Laughing softly, Alfred murmured, "We are the King and Queen, Arthur. We share a room, by design."

Arthur tried to beat down the embarrassed flush that crept up his neck, snapping, "Then, lead me there, for God's sake." Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Alfred continued down the hall, Arthur trailing quietly beside him. Who is forced to share a bed with someone they barely even know? But, at least they aren't forcing me to actually... do something with him. Those thoughts made him blush even more, and he prayed Alfred wouldn't turn around and notice.

Eventually, Alfred pushed open the door to their shared chamber, and pointed to the bed. "Go ahead and get comfortable. I'll be back." With that, he shut the door, and Arthur was left all alone in the spacious room. He couldn't believe that all this was his: a huge bed, the biggest bathtub he'd even seen, and the door leading out to the balcony showed the village, alight with celebration- the luxury was almost too much to take in. Arthur slid off his coat, folding it on a nearby chair, and searched through the dark room for something comfortable to sleep in. And something decent, Arthur thought,even though I hate sleeping with a shirt on.

There were only Alfred's sleep clothes in the drawers, to Arthur's dismay, but supposing he didn't have a choice, slipped on an over-sized shirt and grey sweatpants that fit better than he thought they would. Hoping that he would fall asleep before Alfred returned, Arthur tried to grow used to the ridiculous softness around and beneath him as he laid down.

Alfred walked in again with a glass of water in his hands, murmuring, "Are you asleep?" as he sat down, weighing down his side of the bed. Awkwardly, Arthur shifted, squeezing his eyes shut, and let a soft hum fall from his mouth in affirmation. Alfred leaned over him, and Arthur had half a mind to slap him at the close proximity- but, as he rolled around onto his back, about to snap at the King, he saw the glass of water he held out. Alfred was smiling, shadows accenting his face. "Drink. I told you, I know how you feel- this was what I wanted after the coronation."

Trying not to look desperate, Arthur took the glass and sat up ever so slowly, facing Alfred. "I assume you took our conversation to heart?" he teased, sipping the indeed refreshing water.

Alfred raised his eyebrows, grinning. "Already did. Now I'm just trying to get you to warm up to me."

Biting his lip, Arthur shot back for argument's sake, "You're not doing a very good job."

"Oh, really?" Alfred laughed. "Then what can I possibly do?" He laid down beside Arthur, making sure their legs didn't touch in the slightest, to Arthur's relief.

"Well," Arthur put a hand on his chin, "You could start by taking away the blasted tattoo on my back."

Turning on his side to face Arthur, Alfred hummed, "Nah. I don't think you really want that, anyway."

"How do you know what I want?"

Alfred shrugged, still smiling as he closed his eyes. "Because you're like me."

Arthur didn't agree with that, but was too tired to argue further. Turning around so that his back faced Alfred, he closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

—