Hetalia - Axis Powers 1. Prolouge

The new was silent and swift. I burned through the kingdom like wildfire in the form of hushed whispers between housewives trying to keep their days seem brighter with the daily gossip and men struggling to make time slip by faster as they worked their fingers to the bone in the fields. Within the time that it had taken the sun to rise from its nighttime slumber and to its highest point in the sky, the entire kingdom had heard of the grave, grave news. King Matthias II, ruler of the Land of Spades, had passed away in his sleep just the prior night. It was common knowledge the King suffered from some sort debilitating sickness that bared no name, no description in the medical textbooks, and no knowledge to even the best of physicians. It was only a matter of time before the timeworn king passed, though it still came as a shock when the sapphire bells held in the Time Mages' spire tolled their sad, sad news.

The deceased king was donned in robes of the most luxurious royal blue silks and lain in the bed of the finest of handcrafted boats filled to bursting with twilight roses; the national flower of the Land of Spades. The entire city stood vigil with sullen faces scarcely illuminated by the candles gripped in hand. They watched in reserved silence as the Time Mages lead their ruler through the canals of the capitol city and to the Azurite Sea that lay just beyond the city limits. When the shore of the sea had been reached, the boat was set aflame and pushed into the surf that would carry it too the vast openness that lay beyond where the king could rest in reserved peace in calm, cool waters of a brilliant blue shade.

"Well… that's another one come and gone…" A man observed, blinking his silver eyelashes over his frightfully red eyes. He flipped over onto his back and folded his arms behind his head though he rested on nothing, but the air above the grieving crowd.

"It seems like they die sooner and sooner these days." A younger boy with clear light eyes digressed as he stifled a yawn and joined his similarly dressed companion and turned to lie down on his belly. The old man with the frightful eyes looked idly towards the sky still streaked with the fading pinks and purples of the setting sun. "Who do you suppose will be next, Gilbert?" The boy asked his companion for the sake of asking as he watched the deceased king's lifeless body burn into ash and sink into the depths of the sea below.

"Beats me," Gilbert replied harshly. "How the hell am I supposed to know anyway? I'm a joker, Peter, not a fucking prophet." He huffed, closing his eyes and doing his best to ignore the small pest that served as his one and only companion.

"No need to get all twisted…" Peter muttered half to himself, puffing his cheeks, still rounded and chubby with perpetual youth, into a pout. Peter looked down into the crowd, to the faces flickering to the wavering shadows cast by the dancing flames of candles. Anyone of them… it could be anyone of them…. Though it was more probable that the high council would chose who they wished to take the now vacated throne. It would be the person who would benefit the council most by abiding to their wishes with little to no objection or protest. Peter couldn't even remember the last time a true king had sat on diamond and sapphire encrusted throne built for the king of Spades and he had been floating around unseen for a very long time. For the past century, the only ones that had sat in the highest place of power had been handpicked by the fat, greedy councilmen and not by the will of that land as it had been in times past. It seemed the land had lost its will; either that or its will had been crushed by the oppressive force that governed it.

"There's something strange in the air…" Gilbert suddenly mused aloud, his previously closed eyes opening to half-mast and gazing up to the swiftly darkening sky.

"What do you mean…?" Peter asked as he cocked on thick brow in question.

"I don't know," Gilbert replied, a twinge of frustration in his voice. "I don't know what it is, but something seems different. The scent of the air is different and it's not because of old king inferno down there." The silver haired man spoke as he jabbed a thumb back down to where the funeral boat was finally starting to collapse into the lapping waves.

Peter drew in a breath and tasted the air; trying to understand what different scent it was Gilbert was describing. Now that Gilbert had mentioned it, something did seem different. The scent that wafted on the breeze was clear and not muddled by the choking, smoggy scent it had been these 1past several decades. The air was crisp and calm and held a sort of hidden vigor that Peter had never sensed before. "You're right, but… but what does it mean?"

Gilbert's lips drew back over his sharp, pearly teeth in what must have been a mix between a sneer and a smirk. "It means, naïve little Peter, that things are going to get interesting; really, _really_ interesting."

**I am a despicable human being. I've started another fanfiction when I have already left so many unfinished! You are free to throw bricks at me if you wish for I am terrible.  
>But I couldn't resist! I have been secretly obsessing over the Arte Stella cardverse for quite sometime now and have wanted to write a story to go with it. This is just a prologue for now to see if anyone is interested in it.<br>I promise to try and work on my other stuff soon. I promise! I'm still have terrible writer's block with some of the stories and I only hope I get over it soon for the sake of my beloved readers.**


	2. Chapter 1

When one asks not to be disturbed one believes that others will abide by one's wishes for common courtesy's sake and leave them in peace. Unfortunately, this was not true in Arthur's case. Though he had designated to the entire household- family and servants included- that he required alone time every day to focus on his practices in the art of the Time Mages, it never seemed that he was granted such a simple luxury. Surrounded by every gilded extravagance money could buy and yet one so simple seemed to always be just beyond his grasp.

Arthur was busy concentrating, focusing on the subtle flow and flux of time around him; feeling the way it shifted and swayed with every breath he drew and every quiver of his blonde lashes on the tops of his high cheekbones. The world around him was silent save for the gentle ticking of the clock that lay at the center of the antique oak table he was poised at. There was no other time that he felt so at peace as when he was reacquainting himself with his old friend: time. He felt so completely and utterly at ease, that was, until the door burst open with a force of such magnitude he was ripped from his concentration with unimaginable harshness. "Oi, brat!" A gruff voice bellowed into the hollow of Arthur's private study, reverberating off the forest green walls and coming back to Arthur's ears several times before it died away.

The young man put on his best livid glare and whirled around to gaze at the person who dare disturb him though he knew full well who it was without even looking. Arthur's emerald eyes burned, "What do you want, Aberline?" He demanded in annoyance. "I have specifically instructed everyone to leave me be at two o'clock. Does anyone listen to me?"

Arthur's eldest brother was an ogre of a man with broad, wide set shoulders and an intimidating presence. His hair was short and choppy and was the color of a copper coin that had become worn with the time it had spent clanging around in someone's change purse. His face was long and rectangular with sharp, high cheekbones and a strong, flat nose. Every part of him screamed 'Warrior' and that assumption would be correct. Aberline was only days away from becoming admiral to the Navy of Spades and as such the ginger was even more conceited than usual as impossible as the feat was. "Oh, excuse me, Mary Sue, for interrupting your precious alone time." He replied brusquely, using his thick fingers to stick some air quotes around the words 'alone time'. "Why don't you take the skirt off and act like a man for a few minutes."

The younger blonde lips pulled down into a deep set frown. "Just because I don't look like a canvas bag stuffed with meat does not mean I am any less of a man than you are." Arthur replied curtly, lifting his head high as he stood from his chair and reached to take back the clock at the center of the table. Just because Arthur had a long, slender physique did not mean he was feminine (Though he did rather enjoy embroidery and gardening which weren't exactly the most virile of hobbies).

"Whatever…." The elder man said with a dissuading wave of his hand. "Mother and Father are looking for you and father sounds rather pissed. I don't know what you did, but my best guess is father'll be sending you to the gallows by the end of the night."

Arthur furrowed his magnificent brows in confusion. What could he have possibly done to make his father so cross? He didn't remember doing anything that would earn him the force of his father's rage; he was a very well-behaved, well-mannered gentleman after all. Arthur placed the clock back in its rightful place on the wall above his roll top desk before he stalked out of the room in his elongated, purposeful gait. Undoubtedly, Arthur's father would be his own study, pacing back and forth and puffing away on his hand carved ivory pipe that he had received from a friend who lived in the Land of Clubs.

The room that was Alistair Kirkland's private study was a grand piece of architecture with high, arched ceilings engraved with winding vines of ivy with blooming spade shaped leaves placed every so often. The windows rose up from the floor and stretched to the high ceiling though the half drawn velvet curtains only let in a small fraction of the day's grey light in. The room was musty in scent from the man ancient books stored on its shelves- the books that no one bothered read anymore, but kept in order to make their collection look vaster- and artifacts recovered from a few of the many gem mining sites that the Kirkland family owned. Had this been Arthur's study he probably would never leave and just sit in the velvet upholstered chair placed next to the fireplace and read from the time the sun rose to the time the sun set. Unfortunately, this was not Arthur's study. This study was his father's and as such every instinct in Arthur's body was screaming at him to flee while he had the chance. Alistair Kirkland was not the most nurturing of parents to say the very least.

When Arthur arrived at the study he was sure to knock first and announce himself as was the custom to perform when disturbing the head of the household. "Come in." Replied a voice from within; a voice that put Aberline's brusque, intimidating voice to absolute shame.

Arthur drew in a calm breath and adjusted his tie before he curled his fingers around the gilded door knob and slowly turned his wrist around it. The room was just as he remembered it, but the usually uncomfortable atmosphere of it had been increased tenfold. The fine hair on the back of Arthur's neck prickled and stood with the foreboding chill that clung to the air, but the blonde discreetly swiped a hand over the soft skin to flatten them once more. Odd… his skin was burning ever so slightly….

The young noble held his chin up and pushed back his shoulders as he entered the room to make himself appear unafraid and ready to accept whatever it was his father had in store for him. His mother was sitting on the divan in between the first two windows with her small hands folded neatly in her lap. Charmaine Kirkland was the finest example of the most impeccably mannered beauty the noble world of Spades had to offer. Back in her prime, she was the one lady both men of noble and lower class were trying to marry off. It was only natural that the most eligible debutant would end up marrying the most eligible bachelor and together raise a family that would rule the future of the country.

Charmaine gazed across the room so that her cool jade green eyes met with those of her youngest son's; the only one of her four children that shared the trait. Arthur watched his mother closely. The older woman did not smile nor did she frown, her gaze only remained steady and strong as she had been taught back when she was naught, but a young girl. She ran her thin, slowly aging hands over her paling blonde hair; making sure it was still neat and organized as when it had first been arranged this morning. "Good afternoon, mother, father…" Arthur greeted properly, bending himself at the middle and providing a small bow. No one greeted him back in an equally polite manner.

"Arthur," Alistair started immediately from where he stood in front of the magnificent fire place; his hands folded stiffly behind his back. Leave it him to get right to the point. There was no need for formalities unless it benefited him in some way. Speaking to his children held no such benefit. "Did you notice anything unusual this morning when you dressed?"

It was needless to say that Arthur was confused as to why his father would pose such a strange question. Still, he answered none the less. "No… no everything was it he normally is…" He replied, feeling the skin of his cheeks burning softly.

"Are you sure?" Alistair questioned almost immediately.

Arthur furrowed his thick brows, "Yes… yes I am very sure…" The heat left Arthur's cheeks, but continued to persist at the nape of his neck. Strange, it had been so just before. He was most likely just becoming flustered by the odd questions his father was posing. "Father, I must say I am a bit puzzled as to why you are asking such things. Is there any specific reason for it?"

Alistair Kirkland remained silent and crossed the room at his leisure until he was gazing out the window next to the settee where his wife was poised. The blonde woman looked up towards her husband, stretching her already slender, elongated neck. She batted her pale lashes slowly and sent a silent message to Alistair that Arthur could not decipher no matter how he stared. Alistair did not respond and only continued to gaze intently out the window and over the vast expanses of the manor grounds. "Arthur, dear…." Charmaine started since it didn't appear her partner was going to say more for the time being. "How have your practices been?" The practices the lady was referring to was the art of the Time Mages. The Time Mages were an ancient group distinct to the Land of Spades that practiced the art of controlling the flux of time. Every nation had a special type of magic they specialized in: Diamonds had the ability to manipulate emotions, Clubs had control over the four elements, and Hearts had telepathy and telekinesis. As a young boy, Arthur had been saved from certain death by someone trained in the art of time manipulation. Arthur had just wanted to get a closer look at the endless blue of the Azurite Sea and found that his decision proved to be too dangerous for a young child. The man who had saved him slowed time so that Arthur was suspended in a never ending fall to his watery grave and with the vortex slowed cut through it and pulled Arthur back to the safety of the cliff side. From that day on, Arthur was determined to master the art of the Mages so that, if the moment were ever to occur, he could so for someone else what the man had done for him.

"They are coming along very well. I have learned how to slow the flux and weave my way through it." A rather amazing feat if he did say so himself. Not many disciples of the Mages managed to make it as far as he had come in such a short time. "Though… I do remember informing everyone that two o'clock was the hour I used for my daily meditation and yet Aberline very rudely interrupted." Arthur said as he adjusted the collar of his jacket. It felt as though something was digging into his skin. Perhaps there was a pin left in coat from when he had it tailored or maybe his tie was a tad bit too tight.

"He did because I instructed him to do so." Alistair finally spoke, sharply turning to Arthur like a soldier coming to attention; cold grey eyes like polished daggers. "Your neck is bothering you, is it not?"

"N-No it's just…. Well, yes, but it's just a crick. I must have slept on it wrong…" Why did it concern his father? He had never concerned himself over Arthur's aches and ailments before so why would he now? And more importantly, how did he even know that Arthur's his neck had started bothering him?

"Arthur, stop pretending like you don't know." The elder man growled furiously, his grey eyes smoldering like smelted metal getting ready to be fashioned into a blade.

Arthur's brows furrowed deeper and creased the skin between them. "I don't know what you're talking about, father…."

"Arthur, it's alright, there's no need to hide it." Charmaine continued her husband's thought, rising up from her place on the settee and wringing her soft, lithe hands together. "It is a great honor that had been bestowed upon you." Arthur was unsure of what that look was in his mother's familiar eyes, but it seemed as though his parents were aware of something he was not.

The skin under his collar was searing and nearly unbearable. His breathing was becoming quick and his heart was pounding in his chest. What brought this on all of a sudden? Surely it was just the stress his parents were subjecting him to. "I honestly haven't the faintest idea what you're talking… taking about…" It felt as though his breath was leaving him now. It felt as if it were being sucked from his lungs to leave him abandoned and gasping. His legs became too weak to bear even his meager weight and he fell forward onto his knees. "W-what… what's happening…?" He demanded with as much fury as he could muster which wasn't much.

Charmaine glided up to her youngest son and neatly gathered the skirt of her dress so she could kneel in front of Arthur. She gathered the young man in her arms and pressed his face into her warm bosom as she had often done when he was a child. "S-someone… please… p-please tell…" Arthur practically begged into the soft skin of his mother's chest. The color of his mother's fair skin, the burgundy of the carpet, and the white of the arched ceiling was all blending into on unrecognizable smear. What was happening to him…?

"Shh, hush my dear Arthur…" Charmaine cooed softly, petting his son's golden hair so much like her own when she was young and envied. "There is no need to be frightened…. You are merely changing is all…" Changing? Changing into what? Was he dying? Was that why his heart was working so hard in chest to the point where he felt it would give way any moment. Despite his mother's hushed cooing and crooning, Arthur was terribly frightened. Twenty three… he was only twenty three…. He still had an entire life to live and now it was ending without so much as a single warning. "Arthur… you're changing…. You're changing into a royal…" A royal? What on earth did that mean? Arthur didn't dwell on the statement much longer for he was unconscious before he could really wonder.

***Timeless***

When Arthur awoke next, the first thing he was aware of was that he had been stripped completely naked. The next thing he was aware of was that he, quite frankly, didn't even care. He felt so utterly sated and exhausted that he didn't even notice that next there was a cool cloth being pressed onto the back of his neck. It felt quite good to the tender flesh that tingled with the lingering sensation of being burned with hot coals. He grimaced only slightly at the initial pressure before settling down into the down pillows under his head. His back was aching slightly from the position he had been sleeping in; rolled over onto his stomach with his head propped up on two or three pillows. He groaned slightly before opening his eyes a little wider to gaze upon the place he had been settled.

It was unfamiliar room made entirely of pale cobalt stone lit by a few sparsely placed scones holding equally blue candles that were slowly melting away under the heat of their own flames. The bed he way lying in was grand even for his posh tastes, with four very large oak posts intricately carved with winding vines and roses that held up a satin canopy of a- once again- blue shade. Around the room were various pieces of essential furniture; a wardrobe, a vanity, even a small parlor-like living area was set in the corner. Arthur still was completely unaware of where he was, but he did notice that this room was far too grand to be his own at the Kirkland manor.

"Are you awake now, sire…?" A low voice blew into his ear like a smooth summer breeze. It was not familiar, but soothing none the less to his sensitive, throbbing head. Arthur grumbled softly in response, his throat was so parched he didn't think he could utter a word even if he felt like it. "You are alright now, sire…. We have moved you to the palace where you can rest until you have been completely restored, aru." Wait, did they just say palace? They couldn't mean the…. The royal palace could they? Well, it had to be. Last time Arthur checked there was only one palace in the entire kingdom and that was to be used exclusively by the king and queen of Spades.

Despite his weakened state, Arthur's curiosity of what was happening drove him to prop himself up on his elbows and attempt to roll over. "Please, sire, you're still much too weak from the transformation, aru. You must rest a good deal longer before you are well enough to move about…."

Arthur promptly ignored whoever it was beside him until he managed to sit up enough so he could turn over onto his backside and at least look somewhat more presentable despite the fact he felt like shit and he was stark naked. When he first gazed upon his caretaker, Arthur was sure that it was a female. She had long, midnight black hair flowing off the shoulder in a loose ribbon. Her face was small and rounded with thin, almond shaped eyes the color of liquid amber. What a pretty young lady, Arthur began to thought until he realized that this pretty young lady was actually a handsome young man. Good thing he had spoken his thoughts out loud or things would be terribly awkward. "I… I'm sorry… water…?" His throat was positively killing him and even mumbling the few words he did was an extreme effort in of itself.

The man who was attending to Arthur stood from his chair and crossed the large expanse of the room to where a pitcher had been set on the vanity. The man wasn't very tall; maybe a bit shorter than Arthur himself and Arthur wasn't very tall to begin with. His robes were long and flowing made completely of silk in varying shades of blue. Intricately embroidered onto the pockets and elbows of his waistcoat were golden spades. Who was this strange effeminate man? The man poured a bit of water into a crystal chalice and crossed the room once more to hand it to Arthur. With complete disregard for his manners, Arthur took it and gulped it down as if he had never drunken a thing in his life. The cool water soothed his burning throat to the point where he was able to speak a bit more properly. "T-thank you…" He said softly as he shakily placed the Chalice on the table stationed next to the bed.

"It is no trouble, aru. It is my duty to serve you." The man said as he crossed his arm over his chest and bent himself at the middle in a deep, respectful bow.

Arthur was used to be treated with such mannerisms. He was a part of the Kirkland family, the oldest and most powerful noble family in all of Spades, after all. Still, this was a bit much even for him. "Um… please rise, I… I am a bit confused at this current moment. Would you please tell me where I am and what it happening to me…?"

"You do not know?" The man asked incredulously, arching one thin dark brow in question. "Yesterday afternoon you started undergoing the transformation into a member of the royal party…" And there that word was again: royal. "As a member of the Kirkland family, I am sure you are well aware that King Matthias has passed on, aru."

"Yes… yes I remember attending his funeral…."

"And I am sure you are also aware that when the king has passed the entirety of the royal party is then removed from office, yes?"

Arthur nodded his head.

The man's liquid amber eyes narrowed slightly, "The new royal party had been chosen, my lord, and you are one of them."

**Woo! New chapter! I plan on making these chapters longer than chapters I normally do. I usually try to make chapters three pages at the very least, but I am going to try to make it at least five pages now so you all have more to enjoy in between my bouts of writer's block. In any case, please enjoy the story! Reviews are always greatly appreciated~ **


	3. Chapter 2

This made no sense; no sense at all. Arthur was the youngest son of a noble entrepreneur had no chance whatsoever of being chosen by the high council to take a seat in the Royal Party. Remember, Arthur was a mere twenty three years old and knew not of the old ways when the will of the Land of Spades was what determined who would next take the throne. All he knew was the council choosing who they believe would work to their best advantage and handing them the crown with little to no repercussions or the like. To Arthur, the government of Spades was naught, but a corrupt mass of men doing their best to make their lives as posh and cushy as they could until the day they eventually met their mortal fates as did all men one day.

So… it was possible for anyone to be a royal from the richest, most powerful noble to the simplest, most illiterate peasant…? And like that, the reality of it all struck Arthur hard to the point where it sent his mind careening out of control and desperately seeking from some rational thought to latch onto in an attempt to steady itself.

The first thought that released itself from Arthur's lips was a bit unorthodox and unexpected even to himself. With emerald eyes wide and jaw hung agape, the blonde simply muttered, "Oh fuck… I'm not the king am I?" Arthur was such a terribly private man who thoroughly enjoyed his alone time for all it was worth. Being the king would eliminate him of all of that precious privacy and solitude not to mention it would ruin his life in number of other ways he really didn't care to explore at that current moment in time.

The man at Arthur's bedside seemed a bit shocked by Arthur's rather surprising reaction, but the look glowing in his feline eyes was one of sympathy for his situation, "No, sire, you are not the King."

Arthur's magnificent brows knit together and created a creased line between them. He was rather relieved not to be the king, but… if he wasn't the king then what was he? There were only three thrones in the grand hall of the Spade Palace and one chair had already been eliminated. Arthur didn't even begin to think of the second spot down since if he were to fill that chair it would only earn him a life time of mocking and teasing from his three elder brothers. "So… I am to be the Jack…?" he questioned; trying to hide the strain of his voice that came with desperately hoping he was, indeed, the Jack and not… and not the other thing.

Unfortunately, the man at Arthur's bedside shook his head once more. "No, you are not the Jack either." Arthur's heart sank into the pit of his stomach. "I am the new Jack. My name is Yao of the Wang family. I hail from the eastern most point of Spades in the city on Lenyee." Arthur vaguely recalled hearing of the Wang family from a conversation he had overheard. They were a very large and wealthy family- not noble like the Kirkland family, of course- and owned several acres of land used to grow rice and other such grains. "I experienced the same thing you did only a short week ago. The Time Mages made contact with my family and informed them of my transformation before I was even aware of it myself. They started transporting me here to the palace before it had eve started to speed up my recovery from the stress of the transformation." Yao explained, his amber eyes glowing with the remnants of the fear that had come from such an experience. Arthur hardly blamed the man; he had been terrified as well. Then again, who wouldn't be at the thought of themselves mysteriously dying?

"Alright then… so you're the Jack and I am not the King…. The only thing left is…" Whatever celestial being lie overhead must have seriously had it out for Arthur. No matter how he tried, it always seemed fate enjoyed taking away what dignity Arthur had managed to clutch onto.

It seemed like Arthur did care to continue his statement so Yao continued it for him. "The Queen's chair…" He confirmed with just the slightest bit of pity. Though it was possible for the Queen's chair to be filled by either the female or male gender that didn't mean it wasn't degrading. The past three queens had all been women and the last thing Arthur wished to do was break that chain.

"There… t-there has to be some sort mistake or something. I can't be the Queen; it's just completely irrational and improbable and, and, and-!" Arthur stammered on nervously; refusing to believe that such an event had befallen him. "And besides, why would the council choose me to be Queen? I have absolutely no political standing besides the fact I am of the Kirkland family. I know nothing about running a county or anything of the sort! What was the council thinking?"

"It was not the council that chose the Royal Party this time around…" Yao said quietly, folding his hands into the belled sleeves of his jacket.

Arthur looked at Yao incredulously, "That's preposterous…" Arthur muttered back.

"But it isn't." Yao replied. "… My great Grandmother told me stories her great grandmother used to tell her about a time when it wasn't the council that chose the Royal Party…. She said that the will of Spades chose who she wished to rule her. Those chosen by the land would have Spades markings appear on the body with first initial of their position marked above it." Yao removed his hands from his long sleeves and pushed the right one up his forearm. "You see?" He questioned as he turned over his wrist and there in the middle of his forearm was a simple blue spade and hovering above it was an elegant 'J' marking his position as Jack. "It does not come off; believe me I have tried. It is embedded in the skin much like a tattoo. It is permanent…"

Arthur stared at the mark with curiosity, examining its perfectly curved contours and the millions of winding knots that gave it the appearance of being solid. "I have a mark like this as well…?" Arthur questioned as Yao pushed his sleeve back down.

"Yes, it is on the back of your neck. You can see for yourself, but be careful it's still fresh and tender…" Yao didn't need to warn him; Arthur could still feel the way the skin of his neck was throbbing with phantom pain. Arthur slowly lifted himself from the bed and wrapped the thin sheets along with him so he was covered; Yao stayed close by and ready to catch his Queen should he find walking to be too much for his weak body.

Slowly but surely, Arthur crossed the room with as much grace and dignity as he could whilst draped in nothing more than a periwinkle sheet. He approached the vanity and stared at himself in the mirror that was frosted all around the edges with the shapes of roses. Standing there in the mirror Arthur couldn't help, but take notice of how terribly thin and gangly his form was. He didn't have a strong build, broad shoulders, or muscles like his elder brothers. His gold hair was unruly and never stayed flat no matter how he tried. His eyebrows were dark and thick and what seemed to be perpetually furrowed. He was not impressive in any way, shape, or form. If what Yao said was true and the will of Spades was what chose him to be Queen, he couldn't help, but wonder why it would choose someone like him.

Arthur picked up a small hand mirror that sat on the vanity's surface and held it up so all the images reflected and he could gaze upon a never ending picture of his new reality. There, on the nape of his neck, was a small blue spade with a curved 'Q' hovering above it. Absentmindedly, his fingers traveled up slowly and ran themselves over the mark. He grimaced softly at the sensation the action brought. The mark stung as if it were a burn from a candle and was just as red and irritated. It was so surreal and yet painfully the opposite at the same time. He was the Queen of Spades… Arthur was the Queen of Spades…. Good lord, how could this have happened…?

The young man was soon finding himself in a trance, just staring at the mark marring his pale skin. "I shall leave you alone…. It's a lot to take in…" Yao rose from the chair he had been sitting in and glided across the room to leave out the double wooden doors so Arthur could be alone with his thoughts…. What was Arthur to do? Yesterday his only worry had been focusing on his magic studies and which suit he was going to wear to next week's benefit gala hosted by the Verone family. Now he had to worry about being a ruler, making decrees and enforcing the law and, and… oh lord, an infinite amount of other things his mind couldn't process at the moment.

"I don't want to be Queen…" He muttered softly, half to himself and half to the air around him. If the Land could chose him be Queen it could also hear his pleas. "I don't want to be Queen. I don't want to rule a country…. Take it back… please, take it back…" He begged quietly, voice straining to stay as steady as it was. "I am not meant to be a ruler…. If you keep me as the Queen I will only fail you…. Take it back… for the love of all things good and holy take. It. Back." Arthur's eyes stung terribly. He was so afraid… so afraid of what was to come. He had no confidence in himself and believed that within a month of his reign he would be chased from the capitol city by a mob of outraged citizens screaming and demanding for mutiny…. Arthur could not be Queen; it was no longer just a matter of want.

After several more moments of silent anguish and self-loathing, Arthur managed to drag himself far enough to a pair of clothes that been left out for him. There was a simple button down shirt and a silken waist coat of an indigo hue accompanied by light grey pants. Nothing very royal like, but Arthur preferred it that way; formal yet refined. He held his spinning head in the palm of his hand and took a moment to breathe. He needed to relax. The transformation had weakened him greatly and he found the simple task of standing upright become increasingly difficult. Arthur was about to take refuge on the cushion of a blue velvet chaise when a series of muffled shouts from the hall made him hesitate.

"Sir! You cannot just go barging into the Queen's quarters! His majesty is still very weak and requires rest!" Though Arthur had not known him long, he could tell that the voice belonged to Yao based solely on the strange accent the man's voice possessed.

Arthur's blood chilled at the horribly familiar voice that followed Yao's, "Are you aware of who I am? That boy is the furthest thing from a Queen! I can do what I very well please!" The growl in Alistair Kirkland had grown to a level that Arthur did not know existed. Arthur could feel himself instinctually flinch from the simple echo of Alistair's voice reverberating off the cold castle walls. Fear seized Arthur. His first instinct was to dash for the door and bolt it tight, but because of his disoriented state he was not able to move swiftly enough. Before his fingers even grazed the door's bolt the great mahogany slabs burst open nearly forcing him back with the impact.

"Sire!" Yao's voice rang clear over the chaos as Arthur was quickly pushed away from the door's threshold so Alistair could lock the meddling Jack out. Alistair stood in front of the door like a portentous shadow glaring at Arthur with his cold, grey eyes burning with fury. Arthur's heart pounded relentlessly in his chest, but he stood his ground and remained as dignified as he could though he was nearly quivering. "Guards!" Yao's voice rung again accompanied by the distinct sound of fists pounding on the door. "Guards, the Queen is in danger!"

"Call them off… Call them of now, Arthur." His father growled not as a suggestion, but as an absolute demand that Arthur better not dare disobey.

Arthur swallowed thickly. It took a moment for him to find enough breath so that he was able to speak, "It's alright, Yao, I can handle this…. I will be out shortly."

Yao seemed hesitant, "But, your majesty, I…."

The brunette man was swiftly cut off by his superior, "Do not worry, Yao, I promise that everything will be fine. I shall be out shortly." Yao still seemed hesitant, but was bound to obey his Queen's orders. Arthur sensed Yao's presence leave; a skill he suddenly found himself possessing. It might have been a result of their recent transformations, but Arthur wasn't entirely sure. Now it was just Arthur and Alistair, staring at each other with equally burning gazes. If it was one thing Arthur had acquired from his father it was his piercing gaze. The silence was deafening and the tension was thick as the morning fog on the Kirkland Estate. Arthur's heart pounded furiously and his mind raced with the possibilities of what his father would do next, but he remained composed as he had been taught.

Alistair took a step forward from the door, fists balled at his sides, "You… how dare you…." He growled as he drew closer and closer to Arthur. The younger man became so frozen with fear that he merely stood there. It took all that he had to keep his father's gaze locked within his own.

"How dare I what, father…?" Arthur replied coolly, the blonde struggling to keep his voice so calm and smooth.

"Don't act stupid, Arthur, you know damn well what you dare do." Alistair spat, eyes ablaze. "How dare you conspire against me!" He roared, swiping his hand over the nearby vanity forcing the water pitcher to fall to the floor and shatter into pieces.

Arthur flinched, "Conspire! Why on earth would I conspire against you? You're my father not my enemy!" The Queen shouted back.

"Then why are you now sitting in the Queen's chair? No one gets into the Royal Party without consent from the council. Somehow, you earned their favor to get yourself onto the throne." It was obvious that Alistair was not aware of exactly how it was Arthur ascended to the throne. "You insolent child!" He roared. "You know damn well that I have been waiting years for that daft old Mathias to die! I have spent years earning the friendship and favor of the council so that I would be made the next King!"

Arthur's anger burned within him as he was subjected to such harsh verbal abuse from his father. Wisely, he bore with it… Arthur did not care to revisit what happened when his father was pushed top far. "Father… I have done nothing of the sort. I have absolutely no interest in being part of the Royal Party. If I could reverse it I would at jump at the first chance I was given." It wasn't as if Arthur wanted this to occur. He was chosen by… the will of the land. It sounded so far-fetched and unbelievable and yet it was so. "… I swear it, father… have I ever been a dishonest son…? Do you have any reason to believe I am not telling the truth…?"

Alistair bore a hole into Arthur with those piercing slate eyes. He examined every aspect of his son's expression in search of anything that might hint at the fact he was being untrue. Arthur knew his father would find nothing of the sort and that made him confident. After a several moments of grueling silence Alistair Kirkland released a sign, "Very well…. I believe you are telling the truth, Arthur…" Arthur nearly sighed with relief, but resisted the temptation. "Still, this is a disastrous situation." Alistair huffed, throwing himself down in the corner of the blue velvet chaise and burying his face in his palm. "I have spent nearly all of my adult life trying to curry the favor of the council and now it seems as though that has all been in vain…"

The young blonde hadn't the foggiest what he was to say to console his tyrant of a father, but… he couldn't just stand there in complete silence, now could he? "W-well… you don't know that, father…. After the Queen his chosen the King is chosen, right…? Maybe… maybe there is a chance you could still be the King…?" The idea of Alistair Kirkland reigning as King nearly made Arthur shudder with terror. Alistair Kirkland was not the kindest of men, if that wasn't already obvious. He was the tyrant ruler of his own household already; there was no telling the calamities that would befall Spades if Alistair Kirkland were King.

"I suppose you're right…" The elder man replied, massaging the bridge of his jutting nose. "But we will not know for at least a week if what the Time Mage's say is true…" The boy merely nodded his head in agreement. He had no idea that the Time Mage's were capable of predicting who would ascend the throne next. Perhaps that was why his parents were so adamant about him knowing what fate awaited him; he was a Time Mage in training after all. "But even if I am not to be the next King I can still weave fate to work as I wish it to…" Came Alistair's foreboding voice through the silence of the room.

Arthur furrowed his brows together, "I… what do you mean…?" He asked, voice coming out hushed and smaller than he had intended it to.

A sneer that would even scare off the devil himself stretched its way across Alistair's pale lips, "Why Arthur, I always believe you were the smartest of all my children. You of all people should be able to figure out exactly what I mean."

The younger man gave it a moment of thought. What could his father possibly mean by saying such things? Surely he couldn't mean…. It was then that Arthur came to the realization that this situation was far direr than he had believed at first. It did not matter if Alistair Kirkland himself did not have a place on the throne. The only thing that did matter was Kirkland blood was part of the Royal Party and easily manipulated blood at that. Alistair Kirkland would be a Royal even if that meant becoming one through the puppet that was his son.


	4. Chapter 3

Fate had played a cruel card indeed. In a matter of a few short days, Arthur's meager existence as a noble's youngest son had escalated to being the Queen of the Land of Spades. And not only had this young, naïve gentleman become Queen, but he had also become the personal puppet of his power hungry father, Alistair Kirkland. Oh yes, fate had indeed dealt quite the hand for young Arthur Kirkland, much against the lad's desperate wishes and pleas.

"I am naught, but a marionette… a puppet on strings…" Arthur muttered to himself, feet slowly shuffling on in front of the other as he wandered the blue grasses of the castle grounds. In the past week or so of him being Royal, Arthur had found it rather comforting to wander through the tranquil gardens the graced the property of Spade Castle. The Midnight Roses had close into small buds as per their usual day time routine. Midnight roses only unfurled their velvety petals when the moon's pale light shined down upon them. Arthur sighed softly and stopped by one of the hedges, gently caressing the flat side of this thumb over one of the closed rose buds. Things had grown so complicated as of late. Arthur wished he could curl up like one the Midnight Roses and block out all the harsh, unforgiving light of day. Life would be so much simpler….

Despite the fact Arthur had been Queen for no longer than a few days over a week, he already could feel the weight of his responsibilities. Though the new Royal Party had not yet been released to the public, the council and party advisors were already seeking Arthur's approval on nearly everything. And though the King had yet to be discovered as well, a grand coronation ceremony was already being planned to celebrate the dawn of a new age. The planning committee could not so much as pick a single table cloth without first earning the noble opinions of their Majesties the Jack and Queen of Spades. From the moment Arthur opened rose in the early morning to the time he finally fell asleep (Granted his insomnia didn't rear its ugly head) It always seemed as though someone needed him for something. Sign this paper, review this document, what fabric should be used for the drapes in the library? Arthur was a man who very much so enjoyed his solitude and he had so far received nothing of the simple luxury. It was all the young gentleman could do to slip away from all the pandemonium and disappear into the castle gardens so he may spend some quality alone time with his thoughts…. Unfortunately his thoughts were not so forgiving.

The only things Arthur could think of was just how dire his situation he was and how much he wished for this all to the end up being one god awful dream. Royals were Royals till the clutches of death plucked them from the throne…. Arthur would be Queen for the rest of his life. Every day for next forty or so years of his life Arthur would be constantly called upon when all he wanted was solitude, constantly under the pressure of the council, constantly scrutinized by the judgmental eyes of the public. It was… it was overbearing…. "Fate must hate me…. Truly it must…" He found himself muttering.

"Oh come on, now. I'm sure it's not all that bad." A voice suddenly came forcing Arthur to nearly jump clean out of his skin.

The Queen's wide emerald eyes darted back and forth in search of the source of that voice. Where had it come from? Was he hallucinating from the stress and lack of sleep? Had some manner of specter come to teach him some sort of mystical lesson? No, it was nothing quite so irrational. It was simply a man sitting on the base of a nearby sculpture with one knee curled up to his broad chest. Alfred could not see if face too well with the way the man was positioned, but could tell that his frame was broad and muscular. His skin was tanned and kissed with the rays of the sun in a way that was only possible by spending countless hours roaming out of the safety of the shade. His clothes were tattered, a bit torn, and smeared with dried mud and other various forms of filth. "W-Who are you!" Arthur demanded, voice faltering only a bit in the aftershocks of his initial surprise. "You don't belong here!" Arthur wasn't sure of that. For all Arthur knew, this man could be a groundskeeper, but the Queen had never before encountered anyone else out here all the other times he had snuck away from his duties.

"Well how do you know?" The man replied, still looking away from Arthur and tilting his face up towards the pale blue sky. "I don't think I've ever met you before. So how can I say I don't belong here if you don't even know a thing about me?"

Valid point, Arthur thought vaguely. "… Please excuse me… you merely surprised me and people do not usually react to well to people suddenly appearing out of nowhere…." Arthur compensated though his voice still held a bit of defensive venom. Who was this peasant to say such things to him? He was Arthur Kirkland, son of Alistair Kirkland and member of the noblest and most prestigious family in all of Spades. This peasant was criticizing Arthur when clearly it was the man who had caused the discord.

"It's all good." The man said brightly. "Why don't we start over again?" It was then that the man finally turned to face Arthur and the Queen first looked into his endless blue eyes as pure and clear as the seas surrounding Spades and the sky overhead. "The name's Alfred F. Jones. What's yours, stranger?" The newly named man inquired, a bright, friendly smile spread up on his rather full lips.

It took Arthur a moment to reply as he was momentarily stunned by the shine of Alfred's eyes and the radiance of his smile (Not that he would ever admit that was the true reason for his hesitance). "Uh… I'm Arthur… Arthur Kirkland…"

"You're a Kirkland?" Alfred asked in some awe, his shaggy, wheat blonde hair falling in front of his crystalline eyes.

"Yes…. What of it…?" Arthur's asked, one prominent brow arching in question.

"Nothin'," The lad answered with a little shake of his head. "I think the land where my dad worked was owned by a Lord Kirkland…" He mused, titling his chin up towards the sky and gazing at the clouds that rolled by at their leisure.

Arthur's eyes briefly glanced up at the sky as well. He vaguely wondered what about it that was so interesting that Alfred kept staring at it. "Lord Kirkland is my father…. He owns several pieces of property. Gem mines, farm land, harbors…"

"My dad worked in the mines…" Alfred replied slowly, his long, ashen lashes slowly closing over his eyes and casting little shadows on his tan cheeks. There was something lingering low in Alfred's voice. What it was, Arthur wasn't entirely sure, but… it definitely made him unsure of what to say next.

"Oh well then… I ask you to thank him for his hard work…. The Kirkland Establishment would be nothing without its loyal workers…" It was the default setting for whenever a situation like this occurred. Arthur had been taught to smile, look dashing, and offering a small word of appreciation to feign the appearance of being kind and caring. This was a skill his father had engraved into his brain since the time he could speak….

"As much as I'd love to extend the favor, my Dad's been gone for a while now…" Alfred spoke, looking back at Arthur and offering a small, weary smile.

The young gentleman's cheeks burned softly. He hadn't meant for that, "O-Oh um… then I'm very sorry your loss… I wasn't aware…"

"Enh," Alfred made a small noise accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders. "It's okay, I wouldn't expect you too. I'm not exactly someone on the front page of the newspaper." He said with a little laugh escaping from between his rather white teeth.

Now Arthur was really unsure of what to say. A stagnant, awkward air flooded into the air between the two men making Arthur's palms sweat in the bow tie around his neck suddenly feel all too tight. The young gentleman wasn't very adept with social situations…. "Um… in any case… you do realize that this is the Royal Garden, correct? Civilians are not allowed to be here unless they have been invited to do so by the Royal Party or the High Council." He said very properly,

"Is that so…?" Alfred hummed softly, looking down at the statue base he sat upon and idly scratching at some of the chipping marble. "Still, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be here. My mom told me told me so."

Arthur chewed the inside of his cheek, "… Well um… does your mother have a connection to the council…?" The young gentleman inquired.

"Nope. We've got no one that fancy out where I live. I just came into the kitchen one morning and my mom took one look at me at said, 'Alfie, you have to go the place straight away'." The younger lad explained, mimicking a very stern, proper tone to imitate the way his mother had spoken.

Arthur felt his thick brow arch in question once more. Peculiar, why would his mother ever say such a thing? From what Arthur could tell, Alfred was naught more, but a country bumpkin. What possible business could he have coming all the way here? "… And why would she say that…? Is it work you're looking for…?" Perhaps he had come for employment in the castle. The boy was strong and exceptionally able-bodied as well. Perhaps he was signing up to become a soldier.

"No, not work. I had a job working on a farm back home, but Mom made me quit. She said the new job I would get in the palace would pay way more than digging up vegetables in the fields."

"… And what job is that…?"

"I don't know…" Alfred breathed, shrugging his shoulder slightly as he stood up. "But she said it's got something to do with this." And it was then that the strange country boy peeled back the collar of his worn, tattered shit and revealed a mark on his sun kissed skin. There, on the space just above Alfred's heart, was a small blue spade and hovering above that was an intricate letter 'K'.

**Timeless**

Arthur had suddenly found himself completely and utterly flabbergasted. His eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates and his mouth worked up in down a fish desperate for water. Of all the people in this vast country of Spades, the King had to be this… this country bumpkin! Both the Jack and Queen were of noble lineage, but this… this was just…. Arthur struggled to find the words to describe it. And as his inner turmoil raged Alfred continued speaking. "I got real sick a couple nights ago. I was shaking and runnin' a fever, hell, I couldn't even stand properly. My skin burned so bad and I thought I'd come down with some kind of sickness on the count of me working out in the fields all the time, but then this thing showed up." He explained, giving a brief glance down at the mark on his chest. "D'you know what it means? I've never seen anything like it in my whole nineteen years of livin'."

The young gentleman was still so completely dumbfounded by this information that it took him a few moments to process Alfred's inquiry. "D-Do I know… w-well I… you honestly mean that you don't?" Alfred didn't say anything, just continued to pry an answer from Arthur with nothing else, but the look in his clear blue eyes. Arthur supposed he couldn't blame the younger man. He himself had no idea of what had happened to him when he had begun transforming so how would Alfred? "I… I don't believe it is wise for us to speak of this at the current moment in time. I have to take you inside, bring you to Yao; he'll know what we should do…" Yao seemed to know more about the subject than Arthur did on the count the easterner's old great-grandmother.

Arthur took the younger man by his raggedy sleeve, "We have to move swiftly and be wary of our surroundings. We cannot allow anyone to see you quite yet." And like that he started leading Alfred back down the path he himself had traveled before, being careful to slink along the hedges out of sight from the sentries stationed along the upper castle walls.

"What's the big deal?" Alfred asked rather loudly which forced a sharp, harsh hiss to escape from in between Arthur's clenched teeth. The younger man brought his voice down to a whisper, "What's the big deal…? Does that mark mean something bad…? Am I a fugitive or something…?"

"No, no that's not it at all; it's just… well…" He would just have to break it to him…. "Alfred… you're… you're the new King…. That mark indicates that you're to take the throne as the new King of Spades…"

Alfred's blue eyes spread wide in his mouth hung ajar (A very similar expression to the one Arthur had been wearing only a short time ago). "Are you fucking kidding me!" He shouted very loudly this time which earned yet another furious hiss to cease making noises.

"Shh! Are you trying to get caught!" Arthur breathed in a harsh whisper.

"B-But…" Alfred ad obviously sustained some sort of serious shock from the information which was no surprise to Arthur. The young gentleman had just not suspected him to shout at the top of his lungs.

"Hush now…" Arthur offered a minor soothing word instead of another severe hiss. "The sooner we find Yao the sooner everything will be explained to you properly, alright…?" The young farm boy pressed his full lips together and only offered a small nod of his head as an answer. "Good, now let's get going…" Arthur started moving again, slinking like a shadow along the line of hedges until they came to the gate where he had exited the castle. The young gentleman made sure that the corridor was deserted before stepping inside and dragging Alfred long with him. He proceeded with just as much care through the somewhat familiar corridor that led to the Royal Suites where all of the party's bedchambers and personal rooms were located. Arthur was quite sure that Yao would be in his private study working on his calligraphy or his herbal remedies as he had been with his spare time.

They had nearly reached the correct wing when Arthur saw a cluster of guards and other various persons gathered around the junction between the main hall and the Royal Wing. They were all chatting and laughing and… this was bad…. How could Arthur get around them without drawing attention to himself or Alfred…? And it was then he remembered his practices. "Stay quiet…" He commanded softly and Alfred nodded in agreement.

The Queen drew his pale lids over his jaded eyes and drew in a deep, calming breath. As he relaxed his mind and his thoughts he could feel the gently flux and flow and time moving around him and throughout the corridors of the castle. He could hear the gentle ticking a distant clock quietly muttering into his ears and he focused on it greatly. Now to slow things down…. Arthur opened his hand palm up towards the high arched ceiling and slowly closed his fingers back into the center of his palm. He could feel the chatter or the people growing slower and slower; feel their movements become more and more labored until they ceased all together.

Arthur smiled broadly, happy that he had successfully managed to pull of such a feat. He had not yet had the experience of using his Time Mage abilities in a real life situation before and it was positively thrilling. Alfred had also frozen as he was close enough to be caught in the wave, but as soon as Arthur once again gripping onto his raggedy sleeve the country boy was free of times frozen grasp so he too could move with Arthur through the vortex.

The younger man seemed astonished at the sight and gaped at the frozen, statuesque figures the passed by. "Whoa… how did you do that..? That's… whoa…" Alfred seemed a bit at a loss for words to describe something so remarkable. Arthur was sure that the country boy had never before witnessed something quite like watching a Time Mage at work… well, a novice Time Mage….

"Before I came here I was training to become a Time Mage: one who is able to control and manipulate the time vortex…." Hopefully, whether he was Queen or not, Arthur would continue to pursue his dream of mastering the art, but… he wasn't sure if he would be able to now….

Alfred's clear eyes shone like stars, "Whoooaa…." He breathed out in awe. "That's so amazin'! I've never seen anyone do something that cool before!"

Arthur felt a sudden rush a heat rise on his ivory cheeks. Alfred thought his… his skills were… amazing? The young gentleman had never heard such a thing before…. In the Kirkland family, all males went to serve time in the Royal Army. Aberline- Arthur's oldest brother- along with his other two older brothers, Seamus and Bryn, had all served their time and earned high ranking titles in the process... Arthur had been too frail and sickly to join the military and… and that disappointed Alistair greatly. The older man believed that Arthur's training with the Time Mages was tom-foolery and was an absolute waste of precious time. Still, Arthur was the youngest and not in line to be the next heir to the next head of the Kirkland family so Alistair really didn't care what Arthur did. The man already had three able-bodied boys before Arthur and that was all he needed…. So… never before had someone actually praised Arthur for his practices and it was… it felt… good…. "Why… why thank you…. I practice quite hard so I am pleased that all of it has paid even if just for a little bit…." A small smile graced his thin lips, but he turned his head away for Alfred wouldn't see it.

When they were far enough away, Arthur released the guards from the frozen clutches of the slowed time vortex and the returned to their conversation as if nothing had happened. Perfect. Arthur led the new found king down the long hallway of the Royal Wing. Luckily, the Jack's quarters were first in line followed by the Queen's and lastly the King's located in the deepest parts of the corridor. The Queen drew in a calm breath as he stood stiffly outside of the door to the Jack's study before he brought up a shaky hand and gently rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. "Come in…" A muffled voice echoed from within and slowly Arthur twisted his wrist around the crystal door knob.

"Yao, it's me…" Arthur said quietly as he popped his head in through the open door. The eastern man was stationed at his desk; sleeve pulled up gently and brush in hand. Arthur had obviously caught in the middle of his calligraphy practice as the Queen had suspected he would.

"You're majesty…" Yao addressed formally, still a bit surprised to see the Queen at his study. "Do you require my assistance…?"

Arthur bit his lower lip softly before he spoke, "Yes… yes I am and… I need you to stay quiet…"

One of the Jack's jet black brows arched in question, "… Yes… yes of course, your majesty…. I will be sure to aid you to the best of my ability."

The young gentleman's green eyes darted the floor, "Well I… I think I've found our King…"

**Thank you all so much for your wonderful feedback and reviews! It totally makes all my days that much brighter! Please enjoy! **


End file.
