The Queen's Duplicate [USUK]

Surface Once More

Chapter 23

      In the time he had remained a prisoner within his, suffocating and rather damp walls, it hadn't been even a plausible thought to why he had grown to be so gaunt, believing at first for it to be his lack of consumption, opting for anything to drink rather than trusting what was laid out at most times - fearful that whatever was handed to him with the other around was poisoned. It wasn't until strange events started occurring, flowers surviving in the least unconventional areas, liquid becoming hot at his touch, and the Queen gaining their own powers that had everyone within the Kingdom perplexed, worried, confused, and Alfred often running only to be caught seconds later and dragged to the others feet. 

      Within a matter of days everything pieced itself together: Arthur had never lost his powers, and nor had Alfred, they were simply being drained out of them into this universe, but it had been such a drastic depletion of their magical elements, with those strings becoming attached to their very core after so many years of being on the throne, that in time it stopped taking from what wasn't there, to their physical forms. Once the profundity of not only his state of affairs but how this world worked settled in, nothing felt better than knowing that the Queen had been saved from this further, knowing well of their superiority and expansive, along with complex, length of spells and charms, having been granted nearly all of the power. That while that demon had some access to magic, notably a twisted version of what was granted to Spadian royalty, it was rather constricted to what he could do but nevertheless still containing the ability to frighten the younger male. Having witnessed it for the first time Alfred had been horrified, stunned in a tremendous effort knowing that any sound would only make the case worse, in that moment veering on the brim of meeting a fatal blow, thankful for his voice to be inaudible as the other stood over him after one wrong statement.

      Then there came that merciless day: consent had been removed from the equation on Alfred's end, forcibly dressed into a tuxedo of scarlet and white, a red rose tucked into the pocket. Being pulled aside before the wedding had started, his doom sealed in the second, informed that any sign of mutiny, or hesitance would result in a rather unpleasant night to befall him. 

      Casting his gaze down to the two rings that adorned his finger, sealed on through a charm, they were meant to signify unity, agreement, and commitment. They were none of those things, neither did they hold what the previous one did. Arthur had given him a lasting promise, and still tried even when they were on the brink of disaster, everything they had exchanged had been true, having learned to love every little part of the other including their most disagreeable pieces. 

      When the reception was over there had been complaints and once it was only the two of them the other didn't restrain himself. Slammed into the wall, given no chance to defend himself or set his words straight, being verbally bit into with a condescending tone, followed by ridicule. Leaving him in tears, arms in-front to avoid being suffocated or slapped, collapsing into the night only for hours later to be dragged into bed, the other not caring to soothe him and only doing it for himself.

       'Feeling a hand run through his hair, biting into his hand to avoid crying out further, the other having vowed to protect him, and ensure there would no feelings of trepidation, no matter where or when, or even with whom. Finding an almost humourous light in that vow even in the middle of staring into the others eyes, within a matter of hours they were all broken as he knew they would be, the way he was being coaxed down, knowing even that sadist smiled at seeing him in a broken state. Hearing every word he spoke, incapable of muffling their voice out: 'Honey your soul is golden'. The last thing he had heard through the drowning thoughts and enervation'. 

      While being married to the Queen of Spades also didn't encompass a honeymoon, there remained what this person could never give Alfred: love, trust, promises that wouldn't fall apart. He still recalled seeing Arthur the day of their wedding, the way he had to suppress the urge to cry over how gorgeous he had looked in that moment, saving his amazement for the reception. The way he had laid his hand atop of the Queens as he slid the knife down, which was ultimately a stupid idea as the cut had been rather poor, giving the crowd a good laugh as the two royals became visibly embarrassed at how awful it was. Joining the crowd moments later, the Queen walking over from their spot to take him into an embrace, granting him with a kiss. The couples dance alone being magical, and while he knew the other would deny it with every fiber of his being, it hadn't been them alone forever, recalling how a small child around the age of eight ran out from the crowd. Recalling their shocked expressions, reaching a hand out to the kid, who accepted, Arthur taking the others although there was clearly hesitance from the kid, regardless of how short the Queen was he still remained threatening. The dance reconvening after a little bit of time, avoiding any of the actual dance moves, rather opting for more of a slow dance. As rude or inappropriate it may have seemed, the newlyweds kept their composure, Alfred relenting on his affections, exchanging to squeezing his hand at times, exchanging smiles, pressing their foreheads together before it was over. Bringing the kid back to his guardian who they found to be quite frazzled and concerned over how the two were going to react, he allowed Arthur to ease her, the kid hanging off of Alfred's arm as they spoke, the two having to reassure her that they would undoubtedly have many more dances that would be equally as special. If not better. 

      That statement remained true through the years. By the end of the night Alfred had carried the Queen back to their room, assisting in any way possible to ensure he didn't sleep in formal attire. Falling onto the mattress, Arthur had given him the most fatigued yet delighted smile, holding his hand, barely managing to make it into the other's arms before passing out. Outside of organizing and maintaining the wedding, along with all of the socializing required, they had ended up dancing themselves into exhaustion. At one point Arthur dragging him through the crowd during one of the more busy dances to sit outside on a secluded balcony, letting his husband sit on his lap, gazing up to the sky, talking about anything that might have crossed their minds through the entire day. Only when Yao came to them rather stressed to inform them they had been gone for some time. 

      Never once had their marriage seen an ending, not one by their own hands. This one he wished nothing more for than it to end in seconds, only living with it for possibly a month, this present relationship lasting longer than Alfred could ever want. Having gotten his fill, knowing well the feelings of entrapment, having spent well over two years in this place only now to finally be let out from the walls, which meant being able to explore the gardens without the ultimatum of being executed. Even though they were in an acknowledged marriage, he had been refused the title of King, the Queen claiming it was unnecessary, and would be too stressful, in addition of burdening the others time. Alfred could decipher the truth though, he had nothing better to do, which meant his hobbies had become using the other almost like a science experiment, examining his behaviours and habits, well enough to know that he didn't think it was a waste. It was a fear that with his new position he would interfere in the others plans, meetings, and whatever else he flunked at when making decisions, that in time those powers that had been drained out would slowly begin to return under the newfound title. 

      It was a fear that Alfred would become powerful enough to rule over this hell by himself. But he wouldn't, if he had that much power and could exhort it, he would return to Spades in a heartbeat, taking his magic with him.

      The gardens were unusually still today, there was no bustling of dying roses being painted over to ensure the Queen never noticed, at first Alfred had believed the roses simply never died, until he was proved wrong on one of his getaway walks. Turning into an enclosed area, the opening more narrow than most others offering sufficient obscurity from the other, along with being well hidden out of sight of wandering eyes allowing for him to lose any conscious mind for hours. 

      His eyes meeting with a rose, the paint flaking off, exposing the brown crisped edges. Walking over, reaching out to touch it, only stopping, hovering underneath knowing that if he were to touch it there wouldn't be any resistance, thus falling apart. Sitting down he kept it in his sight, observing it for some odd reason, as if it was apart of him, the way he no longer could feel any sense of peace or care, and how it became increasingly difficult to get out of bed due to his feeble state. Even with the sun shining over him, he could feel a chill overtake him, leaning into against his arm, breathing out a yawn before it caught up. 

      "Alfred?" A voice spoke out, already detecting who it was just based off the accent. It wasn't hard to tell, nobody else referred to him by his name. Laying back onto the grass his eyes closed, indifferent to the lecture that was to come, knowing already he would be crying, there was no use in giving it to the other. Allowing himself to enjoy these few moments before they were taken away, which they always were like it or not.

      A shadow fell over, lifting his wrist as a form of not being resistant, only for nothing to come of it, sitting up he finally opening his eyes, looking up. Heart racing as he looked up, breath caught and scanning the area in a rapid pace. Getting to his feet, the one standing in-front of him crying, choking on an unburdened sob. 

      Reaching out to take him into an embrace he was met with a reciprocation. Only never meeting any physical embrace. Everything shot in one fatal swoop, turning to see the other's back, coat unbothered by the wind, noticing the other was looking down to his hands. 

      Staying quiet for a minute, fighting for any reason to comprehend what was happening, his voice breaking into fragments, "Arthur."