Alfred, as soon as he stepped outside his tent, almost collided with a very urgent someone. "King Alfred," he addressed hurriedly: Alfred could tell he was a messenger from Diamonds. "The King of Diamonds would like to speak with you and your monarchy as soon as possible."

He left briskly, scurrying along like a mouse. Furrowing his brow, Alfred turned to enter his tent and wake up the Queen, but Arthur was already emerging. "I heard him." Frowning, Arthur murmured, "Is Francis... leaving?"

Torn between his personal desire and his duty as King, Alfred forced himself to reply, "I guess we'll find out." Boots crunching in the snow, both King and Queen crossed the camp and ducked into Francis's tent. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness, Francis made his presence known. The man looked as if he hadn't slept nor eaten, bags under his eyes, blonde hair mussed, and yet he still carried himself with dignity, with an aura of strength.

"I am not one to back out on my word," Francis started. "But we must clear up this... misunderstanding from yesterday." He gestured toward Arthur, eyes softening. "I plan to continue with Spades. Yet if you speak, my Queen, against my coming, I will turn and leave immediately."

So, he was leaving it up to Arthur to decide. Miffed, Alfred glanced at the Queen, shadows accenting his face. His green eyes glittered with remorse as he said, "I would be delighted for you to remain by our side..." he trailed off, glancing up at Alfred and smiling softly. "But my King must agree to this as well. We make decisions together."

Alfred tried to suppress his giddiness, reminding himself to be professional no matter how much a certain human being messed with your heart and mind simultaneously. And as much as he wanted Francis gone... Arthur turning to him was the deal-breaker. "I would hope you accompany us, then," Alfred affirmed, eyes locked with Francis's. Granted that you back off from my Queen, bastard.

Francis understood the message behind Alfred's stare, and graciously nodded. "Then, to business. What is our attack formation looking like so far?"

As if on cue, Yao stormed into the tent, snapping, "Oh, look at this, a meeting. I wonder why the Jack wasn't invited?" Alfred huffed in amusement as aloof, snarky Yao halted beside Arthur, arms crossed against his chest like a whining child. "Alfred has been so busy wallowing in self-pity we don't have an attack formation. Nor a plan. Nothing! We're just waltzing into Clubs."

Alfred rolled his eyes, but it was impossible to be angry with Yao. "We do have a plan. It's just not developed." He took a breath and added, "And Arthur, Yao, and I split from the main force."

Francis's and Arthur's eyes widened comically, and at the same time, each hissed, "What?"

Yao shrugged, eyes closed as he huffed, "We take down Ivan in the palace. Francis leads Spades and Diamonds against Clubs' troops in the capital city."

The King of Diamonds didn't look too sure. "I do not think you are aware of the fact that I haven't led an army into battle in my life," he laughed roughly, incredulously. "I assumed we would follow Alfred. He was the primary war general, after all."

"Can the three of us afford to split off?" Arthur asked, more tentatively than Francis, but just as doubtful. "Yao, you have told me before that you've never met Ivan personally." Yao looked uncomfortable, glancing away and nodding slightly. Arthur continued, "And Alfred has never, either. I am the only one here who has fought with him."

"Ivan has no Queen nor Jack," Alfred pointed out. "He may be strong, but we are equally as strong united."

Yao looked pleased, nodding at the words. "Alfred is right. Ivan is no match for the three of us." He turned to Francis, eyebrows raising. "But we can only go forward with this if you agree to lead the troops."

All eyes turned to Francis. He sighed out, looking down and closing his eyes. "I am simply not a war general. If things were to turn in their favor... I wouldn't know how to handle it."

"You have an eye for detail," Arthur spoke up. "If worse came to worse, you'd know what to do. Trust your instincts."

Although Francis looked pleased, ducking his head, he murmured, "Easier said than done." Coughing, he straightened up, and decided firmly, "So be it. I'll lead the troops into battle."

—

Extensive plans and strategies were given to Francis, who only had mere hours to memorize every scenario possible. Scouts had spied Clubs' army, camping out in the center of the capital city, ready to defend it- penned in by all the buildings. It would be easy to ambush. Francis listened without complaint- Alfred was grateful, and started to see Francis in a different light than he had previously. And there was something... familiar about him as his eyes caught Alfred's. Something...

Now was not the time to reminisce. The march toward the snowy capital city began, and there was a question that still occupied Alfred's mind from last night. Alfred exhaled, breath a visible white puff of air, and turned to Yao, who rode beside him. "Yao."

The Jack glanced at him. Alfred took this as permission to continue, and murmured softly as to not alert the others, "Francis and I discussed something last night."

Eyebrows raising and lips in a taut line, Yao drawled out, "And...?"

"About the Queen. Why we are advised not to get involved." Alfred paused, searching Yao's expression- he seemed indifferent. "He informed me that the Queen- only the Queen- inherits magic."

The unsaid question hung in the air. Yao's golden eyes widened slightly, as if fearful. "What are you saying, Alfred?"

"Just tell me the truth."

Pausing, Yao looked away, gathering his thoughts. "I..." he turned back to Alfred skittishly. "You mustn't tell anyone, Alfred. Do you swear to me?"

Alfred nodded. "Of course. Not a soul."

Yao breathed out sharply. "I... I lied."

Brow furrowing, Alfred tilted his head. "What?"

"I've known Ivan since... since I was young," Yao whispered. "Because I was his Queen."

Stunned, Alfred would have reeled back if he weren't sitting on a horse. Leaning toward Yao, he whispered fiercely, "You what?!"

"I was born in Clubs. I inherited the Queen's birthmark at a young age, betrothed to a King whom I hardly knew. Of course, I didn't know what I was getting into. I could wield magic, and that was enough for me." Yao's shoulders slumped, eyes cast low as he continued. "We... we grew very close. He was very kind to me. It was as if he already knew me." Glancing back at Alfred, he chuckled bitterly, "And it turns out, he did. He knew all of us. He knew-"

Yao cut himself off, trying to avoid Alfred's shocked eyes that searched his. "What?! How? He could see the future?"

"The opposite. He could see the past." Yao swallowed. "And I..."

Alfred whispered, "And you know, too. How? How could you know?"

Their eyes met. Yao's gaze carried a certain regret, a knowledge that Alfred wasn't sure he wanted to discover. "I cannot say, Alfred."

Miffed that Yao would lead him on this far, Alfred asked irritably, "But... how are you here? How are you our Jack? Why did you leave Clubs?" Why didn't you die for your Kingdom, the way Queens are supposed to?

Alfred had tried to solve one question, but he had only immersed himself into deeper confusion. Yao shook his head and looked away, obviously finished speaking. He would come along eventually, Alfred decided, but the questions, the mystery, kept devouring his mind. Yao's gaze at him had been almost... fearful, as if...

As if he doesn't want me to discover my past.

Alfred's fingers curled tight around the reigns he held, musing, I must find Ivan, no matter what. He holds the answers.

Francis, with a jerk of his hand, stilled the troops, his head held high and eyes alert. "We approach the outskirts of the capital city." Turning his horse to face the trio behind him, he stated, "It is time for us to part ways, then."

Alfred rode up beside Francis, their gaze unfaltering. There was something he owed Francis for leading his troops, and clasping the other King's shoulder, he smiled. "We have our differences, Francis. But you are a good man."

Francis smiled as well, blue eyes shining with renewed strength. Arthur also approached Francis, and the two embraced, awkward due to their positions on horses, but powerful nevertheless. Wordlessly they communicated, it seemed, as Arthur drew back, green eyes emotive. Be careful.

And to the castle of Clubs the Monarchy of Spades went.

—

The Palace of Clubs was enormous, made entirely of white stone, something you'd see in a fairytale. Alfred, Arthur, and Yao dismounted on the outer edge of the forest quietly, eyes warily surveying the castle. Arthur slid his hood off his head, snow dusting his blonde hair, and turned to Alfred. "It seems the diversion worked. The guards are gone facing Francis and his army in the west."

Alfred nodded, unsheathing his sword. "That leaves the front unguarded. Let's go."

Walking out from the protective cover of the forest, the monarchy advanced up the slick grey steps that led to the door. Towering above them, the door appeared quite intimidating, and Alfred glanced back at his Queen and Jack. They nodded- there was no turning back now. With a sharp exhale, Alfred pushed open the door.

The palace was dark, as if uninhabited. Alfred saw Yao shift uncomfortably as they walked in. Eerie it was, their footsteps the only sound resonating, clacking on the cold marble floor. Green banners that had once pristinely hung in the ballroom were ripped and tattered. Shadows danced over an empty space that had once sparkled with light, had once brought joy and laughter and dancing- for a moment, Alfred sadly wondered what had happened to change Clubs. Arthur's eyes shifted left and right: he turned around, walking backwards, sword held out in a defensive position as they advanced through the palace.

Front level clear, Alfred gestured wordlessly to the flight of stairs before them. Swiftly, with Alfred leading the way, the monarchy escalated the steps, striding into the second level of the palace. A hallway with several doors was all the stairs had led to. Turning, Alfred mouthed, Ivan has to be in one of these rooms.

Arthur and Yao nodded, following Alfred as they advanced down the hall, each door devoid of a certain King. Alfred grew worried as they reached the last door, suspiciously glancing over his shoulder, and then opened the final door.

Ivan sat on his throne, facing them at the very end of the room, crown on his head. Yao swallowed nervously, and Arthur's lips curled into a snarl. Alfred walked in, straight-faced, blue eyes locked with Ivan's violet in a challenge. He stopped halfway down the red carpet, sword held out by his side, Yao and Arthur slightly behind him.

"Your army is surrounded," Alfred declared, eyes narrowing. "Surrender."

Ivan chuckled, a deep, resounding, berating laugh. He stood, white coat fanning out behind him as he calmly walked down the steps, stopping at the bottom. Dark eyes swept over the monarchy as he completely ignored Alfred's statement. "It is good to see you again, Arthur. Have you reconsidered your position?"

"Like hell," Arthur growled. Alfred quickly recalled the words Ivan had spoken to Arthur- he had called Arthur a friend, had denied declaring war on Spades for simply conquest...

"You cannot hide," Yao spoke up. Ivan's stoic gaze faltered for a moment as his eyes met Yao's. "You must surrender."

Another deep chuckle sounded as Ivan smiled, sickly pleasant. "You truly think it is just us?"

Immediately as he finished, armed men flooded through the door. Alfred turned, eyes wide as he observed them, and then whirled around to Ivan, eyes narrowing. With a growl, he charged the King of Clubs, but Ivan, grabbing his coat and whisking it in front of him, emitted a large, purple transparent forcefield, one that shocked Alfred on contact and sent him falling back.

The forcefield faded away, and Ivan was gone. Stunned, Alfred scrambled to his feet and stood back to back with his monarchy, completely surrounded by the armed palace guards that had seemingly come from nowhere.

What is this? How can every monarch except me wield magic? How could Ivan harness magic?

As if Yao could hear him thinking, he explained, "He learned how to use black magic. That spell warped him to another section of the palace."

Before Alfred could reply, Arthur broke in. "We can hold them off." Glancing at Alfred, he said, "Go after Ivan."

"I can't leave you," Alfred argued. "We all fight together."

"Now's no time for sentiments!" Yao snapped. "Go after him!"

Breaking from the group as the palace guards attacked, Alfred raced out of the throne room, slashing any enemy that blocked his way. Arthur and Yao could take care of themselves- and they were right. Ivan needed to be found immediately. Slamming open every door in the hallway, Alfred searched for the King, skirting down the stairs and into the expanse of the ballroom. There Ivan stood, sword at attention, eyes steely and cold.

"You think you're a hero," Ivan spat viciously. Alfred, taken off guard, glared at him as he continued. "You brainwash my friends into thinking I am evil."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Alfred snarled. "But you are evil."

Ivan lunged at him- Alfred defended himself from the whirlwind of attacks, sidestepping when he realized Ivan was trying to drive him into a corner. Ivan whirled around, attacking again, each blow heavier than the last. Alfred neatly blocked each strong swing, blades clashing and echoing through the hall. Though Ivan was powerful, Alfred had finesse, and eventually drove him back. Glaring at each other and panting for breath, they paused, Ivan hissing out, "You, Alfred- you are the evil one."

Enraged, Alfred lashed out with his sword, taking the offensive. He barely made contact with Ivan's torso before their swords locked, each trying to press the other back. His stronger hand still on his sword, locked with Alfred's, Ivan raised his other hand up, eyes dark, about to throw static electricity at Alfred that would surely knock him out. Alfred, eyes wide, ducked as Ivan's hand wrathfully flung the ball of magic at him-

Alfred heard a loud screech and suddenly flew backwards, pushed by something. He opened his eyes, astonished to see some blue transparent forcefield surrounding him, having protected him from Ivan's dark magic. Two figures fought outside the forcefield: Alfred, scrambling to his feet, saw that Yao had launched himself at Ivan, their swords clashing, resounding through the unlit ballroom.

Ivan defended himself from the onslaught of attacks, too distracted to see Yao hurl his fist, flaming with a blue-electric magic, right into his chest. The force and shock sent Ivan flying back, making contact with the wall, cracking the stone. He struggled to his feet, snarling, "You would choose him over me? Knowing what he did?"

Alfred watched, hands pressed against the forcefield, trying to break out, but Yao wouldn't release him. "The past is the past!" He yelled, voice cracking. "But you are too bitter to realize that!"

The blue forcefield came crumbling down. Alfred picked up his sword, ready to race to Yao's side, but Ivan warped, disappearing with electric shocks resonating after him. Footsteps sounded on the stairs- Alfred spotted Arthur, still at the top of the flight. Yao saw him too, shouting, "Arthur! Ivan's back in the throne room!"

Arthur paused, wide-eyed, hair ruffled, and raced back up the stairs. Alfred raced after the Queen, Yao right behind him, and they flew up the stairs swiftly. Alfred's heart jumped irregularly in his chest, remembering what Ivan had done to Arthur last time, remembering Arthur's words, and the words that Yao and Ivan had just screamed at each other-

The King and Jack barged into the throne room as Arthur faced Ivan, Arthur's sword pointed at Ivan. The King held something in his hand, extended toward Arthur to take- Alfred couldn't see more than a glimpse of the thing before Arthur launched himself forward, attacking Ivan with all his strength. Whatever Ivan had held rolled across the floor, forgotten like a distant memory, and Yao and Alfred jumped into the battle as well.

Arthur was sent reeling backward after Ivan's sword hit his with a powerful blow- but Yao was instantly in front of him, bombarding Ivan with powerful strikes equivalent to the King's, despite his small stature. Ivan's control of dark magic proved far more extensive than Alfred thought- distancing himself from the monarchy of Spades, he whirled his hand outward. Instantly, huge, life-size cards with the symbol of Spades appeared in a circle around them, towering over the monarchy, a ring to pen them in. They started to spin in a dizzying circle.

"What now?" Alfred yelled, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Arthur turned to Alfred, green eyes sharp. "It's a puzzle," he called out. "We have to solve it."

Yao scowled and cast magic at one of the cards, but on contact, the magic merely fizzled out. Alfred's eyes narrowed in on the cards, trying to solve the pattern as they spun by. A King-card suddenly made an appearance, but disappeared just as fast. Glancing at Arthur and Yao, he shouted, "It's the King card!"

Arthur reacted faster than Yao and leapt up at it- with the strike of magic electricity, the illusion of cards vanished, exposing Ivan once again. The monarchy of Spades launched themselves at the King of Clubs, trying to overwhelm him- until everything went wrong. Ivan's fist connected with Alfred's face, sending him to the floor- Arthur, distracted, was then sent flying across the room and into the wall with a flick of Ivan's hand.

Furiously, Yao attacked the King. Blood dripped into Alfred's eye- he shook his head, trying to stand, vision blurred as his heart sounded in his ears. But as he sat up, something touched his back.

Everything rewound into static.

America! A voice shouts. You'll be late for our meeting! Co-

Alfred jolted back into reality, a chill running down his spine, his entire being affected by the distant memory. Turning, he winced at the bright blue light emitting from the strange tube that rolled against the floor- tilting his head, knowing that there was something odd, something so close yet untouchable that haunted him...

"No, Alfred!" Yao yelled, catching sight of Alfred on the ground. "Don't-"

Reaching out, Alfred grasped the tube.

Words fade in and out. Alfred can't tell if he's floating in space or touching ground- everything is upside down, and static pitches increase and decrease. It's terrifying. Alfred isn't sure why the word England stabs through his heart every time it fades in, every time a familiar voice laughs. Isn't that Arthur's voice? One side of him thinks.

He's suddenly in a house, one that is unfamiliar but familiar- he takes in his surroundings, observes knick-knacks and other things undefinable. A picture frame holds two faces- his and Arthur's.

There's a knock on the door. Someone in the house calls out, I'm coming!

Alfred's eyes lock on a petite figure that races out of the kitchen, blonde hair a mess- it's Arthur, without a doubt. Alfred doesn't understand why he's seeing this, and has the presence of mind to let go of the tube. But he doesn't.

The door opens. Alfred's eyes widen- he himself is standing at the front door, grinning. This Alfred leans against the doorframe and lifts into view what he was hiding behind his back- roses. Is Arthur laughing or crying? the real Alfred wonders, as Arthur says, America! and leaps into his arms.

Alfred doesn't remember this, and yet it sends bolts of bittersweet emotion to his heart. Why is he called America?

Time shifts. Alfred feels as if he's lived since time began as he floats in an empty void, staring at nothing. And suddenly, he's in a new room, with technology everywhere- Alfred is bewildered at all of the people in the room, calling to each other from their stations. It is hectic, and Alfred wonders what they are doing.

Someone familiar walks into the picture- Arthur. He's wearing a green military uniform, something that Alfred can never believe was the style in whatever day this is. However, his mirth at the clothing selection is interrupted as he realizes Arthur is nervous, biting his lip, pacing the room, glancing up at some moving screen that takes over most of one wall. People in the room point at the screen, but Alfred focuses on Arthur- focuses as America walks up to his side, a hand on his shoulder. He murmurs, Don't worry, England. Everything will be fine.

England? Who is England? Alfred furrows his brow, confused. Why does this seem familiar?

Sir, someone says, addressing America. The nukes have launched.

America nods, glances up at that big screen, and waits like everyone else. Alfred doesn't understand what they are waiting for, and he grows bored. But then, everyone is cheering, throwing papers and whatnot in joy. Alfred catches a sentence- Russia is gone!

Russia? Who is Russia? Alfred can't think for long, because he sees that one person is not celebrating, arms crossed tightly over his chest. America notices, too, and his joy dies down, withers, warping into a look of concern. He places his hands on England's shoulders, tilting his head up, asking, What's wrong?

Before England can answer, all the cheers die down, because someone calls for America's attention urgently, fearfully. Sir, we... we have a problem.

America leaves England's side. An urge comes over Alfred- he shouts, No! Stay with England! America doesn't listen to him. He skips up the steps to this woman's side, and they observe forms of data, look up at the big screen, which shows an explosion, massive. Even Alfred looks away from England, the screen capturing his attention. The blast is enormous- he has never seen such power. Someone is dead.

-radiation has spread, the woman explains. We've miscalculated majorly... the detonations won't stop...

America!

Everyone looks to England, whose eyes, green and afraid, stare back at America's. Alfred's eyes widen like America's, because England is shimmering. His entire form is fading slowly, but his eyes stare, directly at America as he makes his way down the stairs.

England falls. America reaches out to catch him, but it's too late. England dissolves completely, fragments of white shards sparkling in the air in his wake. He is gone- Alfred exhales heavily, starts to pant as he realizes, slowly, what is happening. What he is remembering.

America falls to his knees, arms still held out, stunned. Everyone in the room is silent. Alfred grips his head, a strangled noise falling from his lips as everything starts to flood his mind. The memory he was in disappears- now he is completely alone, drenched in darkness.

I was the personification of the United States of America. I loved England. I hated Russia. I used the most powerful weapon in the world to destroy him, and ended up destroying everyone. I watched the one I loved dissolve in front of me. I murdered thousands of innocent people.

Ivan was right. I am the evil one.

Alfred dropped the tube and opened his eyes, filled with unshed tears that threatened to fall. Alfred stared at the floor, panting heavily, still gripping his head as his past filed into his mind. Footsteps sounded, and two white boots came into Alfred's vision.

"Now you know," Ivan said bitterly. "Now you understand why I hate you. Why I declared war on Spades. Why I wanted revenge."

Alfred gritted his teeth together, grabbed his sword, and lashed out at Ivan, taking him by surprise. As Ivan stumbled backwards, fingers dipping in the blood Alfred inflicted on his chest, Alfred snarled ferociously, "I am not that man!"

"You killed him!" Ivan hissed, pointing to Yao, who was a crumpled heap on the floor, having been knocked out by Ivan. His violet eyes conveyed despair, loneliness, hatred. "And even in this life, you took him from me!"

Alfred jumped for Ivan, screaming in fury. Swords collided with brutal strength as the Kings fought, each strike after the next sounding louder and shriller than the last. Furniture was shoved out of the way, beautiful glass vases were broken, as Alfred swung his sword with no abandon, his wounds numbed by adrenaline.

He angrily struck Ivan one last time, sending him reeling to the floor, finally unconscious. Panting, Alfred dropped his sword, staring at Ivan's body on the floor. Static flooded his mind- another picture of Russia, dead on the ground, covered in the blood of his people who had also been murdered.

What do I do? Alfred thought miserably, collapsing to the floor, clenching his jaw and his fists. Blood dripped down his cheek, his wound still bleeding out. I wiped out the world for selfish ambition and hatred. I defeated Clubs, but at the highest price possible.

Someone moaned softly from the other side of the room. Thoughts broken, Alfred looked up, catching sight of Arthur, still slumped against the wall where he had been thrown. Heart jumping, Alfred raced over, kneeling at his side, begging in his mind, Don't disappear. Don't leave me.

Arthur's eyes opened, staring at Alfred's face. He huffed softly, "Did... did we win?"

Alfred laughed. Arthur was beautiful. "Yeah." His hands touched Arthur's cheeks, overcome with affection and new feelings for the Queen due to his memory of the past. His thumb smeared blood across a cut on Arthur's cheek. Smiling, Arthur's hand touched Alfred's, pressing his hand close to his cheek, and closed his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"As long as you are." Arthur opened his eyes once more, his words the relief Alfred needed. He tried to forget, just one moment, about his past, and focused on Arthur.

Both leaned forward, eyes searching each other, until Arthur bumped his forehead to Alfred's. So many memories surged through him- so many times he had done this with Arthur, though it had felt like a million years. Maybe it has been a million years since we left our lives as personifications. And now, we are trapped in a new world.

Trapped? Or was this a chance to start over? The King of Spades didn't know. He sought comfort and found it in Arthur, who touched his nose to Alfred's gently before he laughed softly, as if they were acting absurd. Alfred couldn't help but think, I can't lose him. Never again. I can never tell him of our past. "How did you defeat all of those guards Ivan sent at you?"

Affectionately, Arthur buried his face in Alfred's shoulder, exhaustedly mumbling, "Yao did most of the work. We combined a spell." Although blood stained Alfred's coat, he didn't care, wrapping his arms protectively around the Queen, nosing his blonde strands of hair.

We'll all start over, and everything will be fine. Right?