Chapter 10
This was a childish manner, an act only children would have the impertinence to behave in such a foolish fashion, and yet he had too. Well, he reasoned with himself, didn't he have the right to be upset, disgusted, repulsed, even angry. Certainly he very well did.
It was for your own good!
The actions taken and proceeded are not to be taken lightly of, and yet the other attempted to reason that there was good intent washed behind, shoved behind those black sleek curtains that he feigned ignorance of existence. Slipping anything into another persons drink was more than an offense, it was just selfish and showed how repulsive some people truly were. Yet, if Yao had advised it, he hated to admit that it was under safe hands with Yao, however that still didn't excuse the actions nor the crime. Potions aren't harmful, and most of the time it's simply a tasteless liquid, with the one commonly used to assist with promoting exhaustion containing pure melatonin, even though the body already produces melatonin throughout the day. It wasn't dangerous, but it was enough to seclude one into themselves and pull their trust back, after all, who would suspect the one person who vowed to protect you.
Stepping against the wall he slipped the gloves off his hands, trying his best not to be overcome by the sheer hatred that coursed through his veins in that moment, his throat enclosing as his mind refused to let go of those words. He couldn't help but look back to the nights they danced, how simple life seemed in the moment as the two fell into one another, the calming nights, now folded in reds and blacks. But there it lay out in the open, the moments when the other had grown angry, violent, never towards him but rather the other party, never letting them have their way had it gone too far. There was a second side to the man he believed he knew, the man he had believed to trust.
Leaning back he felt his hand slip, "God, I trusted him." Despite how much he bargained for control, he could feel tears pushing.
Thunder. He could hear it, rumbling along the halls shaking with an ever violent rage. People would be getting rushed through the doors, unbothered by the rain as it pelted down as it typically did. Another roll came, he could hear rain coming through an open window somewhere down the hall, with a wave of his hand he heard the window snap close, it was best for the palace to not be flooded, surely he could retain respect for those who came before him and the place they once inhabited. The one's who he had read about but never placed a face to their words and names, nor had he seen portraits of the families who once lived in the walls prior to him, which wasn't all too strange. He knew other Kingdoms had their royals painted, however Spade's had never asked for a painter to come in, maybe it was too much of a hassle or simply a waste of time but it had never occurred in all of years. A gust of wind pushed in through the hall, yes that latch had never been properly fixed.
This was his cue to forget about everything that had occurred, to come to aide even in this time which would be insignificant in the long stance of time. He just couldn't move no matter how progressive the thoughts started to come in, one after the other, invading through the stone walls with a pointed tip and coming to land between the hemisphere, moving was not an option for he struggled at the mere thought, seeing the other after everything, knowing what he had done. Logical thought and reasoning were long gone, there were no excuses to be made, everything felt numb.
Why does it hurt so much, he pondered. Had they asked- no, asking was out of the question, he wouldn't have allowed it. Had they figured that though, had someone attempted to be the voice of reason at-least once during the entire plan, surely they both couldn't be so reckless at the same time, there had to be some sort-of balance.
"Arthur?"
That must have been it, he had to have been the voice, when it comes to the throne being distracted the advisor has to step up. Trying to find some reason through the thick forest, the floor covered in a sheet of ice bound to break one in a matter of seconds, yet taking the right steps would lead to the tree surrounded by its own matters.
Power can only be taken in such a situation, no matter how insignificant it may appear to be, if a threat might be posed to either the family or citizens it is an obligation for the property to be pulled from the rightful owner. A grant can be taken depending not only how the circumstances have come to unfold, but rather who was being enveloped by the affair, a grant is placed between one side of the party who is deemed reasonable, while the other will be held accountable for the grant, it's a sacred action as this is made through no other exception, and willingness. This time it was granted with reluctance, Alfred would no doubt attest to this, even as he stumbled through the hall, attempting to withhold any indication of how his stomach turned from the stress of it all once the doors washed open.
Why had he granted such a thing, had he not been in the right space in that moment, had he forgotten his morals and concepts of life. The lives he sworn to protect when he was crowned, the moment he came to grasp the view of what right from wrong was, and how they differed not only through society but between people. Surely he had, there was no explanation for how he had allowed this, it was too late to turn the clock back now, there would be no way to fix this situation as it tended to another individual inside of Spade's heart, who would remain fixated on that individual recalling the event later in life. Nothing was forgotten within her heart, and Alfred would soon be seen as a villain for how he had acted, the opposite of what he had vowed to do, of all the words that he had promised to the other on several occasions despite how narrow the time seemed. Turning back time wouldn't fix this, it couldn't be solved through the whims of magical forces untamed by the constraints of those who would never understand.
"Arthur?" He had to see him, explain the situation. It was wrong, and what he had done was wrong, he wouldn't be shocked if upon immediate arrival worse would be thrown than words, but he needed to speak with him. That was the only thought he could decipher in such this time, it didn't matter if the conversation was filled with spite, anger, hatred, disgust, this didn't matter as long as a small attempt was made. What was he to say, when there was nothing to say. Truly he wanted nothing else besides peace, another month or longer with those negative emotions swirling between them and tearing them apart was something he didn't desire no matter how badly he had screwed up. That was right, he had screwed up, but not just a simple mistake, no, this could lose the bond the two held and most definitely it would.
In the end, the grant wouldn't matter, because even though it wasn't completely his choice he still permitted it. Alfred had knowingly seen the potion slipped into the black liquid, then watched the other succumb to its effects, there was nothing the King had done to stop the actions taking place. Truthfully, it was his fault, he was as much to blame for the crime committed as part of the plan.
His eyes wandered down the hall as someone called out to him, feeling the glass behind still pressed firmly against his hands he felt some form of security knowing that he was still standing. The glass would be tarnished by his fingerprints on the other hand, leaving a mess for someone else to clean up in the morning.
No doubt the pain still plagued him, yet he had begun to come to terms, the numbness no longer having complete control over his thoughts and emotions. Reasoning had pushed through to an angle of miss-kept demeanor, the only way this was permitted was through a grant. Undoubtable though it may seem, Yao was a sensible and reasonable man, but when he wanted what he wanted, there was no stopping him if he held the sights of not only the vision of the Royal's, but the citizens perception. Simply, there was persuasion, a tactic often associated with the Jacks of this kingdom, only Arthur had never witnessed it as often as people would often rave it occurred; however, if he were to ask the other he would simply glance away, and that topic would be disclosed. At first, Arthur had believed that the subject made Alfred uncomfortable, but now it seemed evident that all of the years the Jack and King had lived together, far before the Queen had arrived to the scene, there was the Jack playing his cards one by one to keep the other in line, or possibly, keep his sights on the prize.
This was just another issue, and if not taken by the Jack then truly, someone had involved the Jokers which was worse as a vow would be made between the two to contribute to the deal being made final, these deals were often given as a mystery or hidden under a sugary coating. Under no chance should anyone, especially those who hold a title, take or offer a deal with a Joker, despite how good the deal might seem in that moment it will always end in the fool losing either their identity as a whole, becoming a shell of who they once were, or their heart ripped from them in that moment. Now, the Joker's weren't the only to hold the power of taking someone's heart, which is important for not only high societal knowledge but rather the rest, deals made with certain monarchy figures required the offeree to give their heart, if they were to go against, or leave their deal unfulfilled, their heart would be smashed, killing the person in an instant.
Name's became a powerful tool for Spadian Queen's who found that through someone's name they gained control over the other, despite the status of another this was universal. Thus, Arthur gained few and far names of people, if informally introduced they were not affected, rather it was formal introductions that led to the power being given; often a citizen from each Kingdom would be sent to speak upon who's names belonged to the current authority. The only names Arthur truly had access to were Alfred's, Yao's, and those who had known him long before the mark appeared, trust had been given by the former two in the other only using the ability when truly needed, so far, it had been unused and Arthur intended for it to remain that way. The thought of making someone bend at his own word wasn't a very pleasant thing to have knowledge of, it didn't terrify him but rather felt out of hand, unnecessary, and overall caused him to be uncomfortable.
If Alfred dared to seek him out on the other hand, there was true intention, something Arthur used all too often and would use to find out how this situation was truly supposed to end. He could give the other credit for being so bold, knowing the wrath of the other and yet still choosing honesty, or rather instead he was appeased by the other's halfwitted actions. Regardless of how pleasant the lack of exhaustion, the ability to be mobile, and having the normal functions rather than someone else act as the vessel, had been now that they have come back in full, there was something wrong about how he had been able to slip into a deep sleep after a drink that had been dowsed in caffeine.
He wouldn't be able to fully trust the other at all time's now, there would be no issue if he had to pry his way into the other's mind as long as this never happened. It was Yao he was to be more cautious of, he knew the other didn't mind the extreme when it truly came down to the situation, that was how he had been raised to get the job done effectively. The bond Yao and the King of Clubs have now made more sense, they were similar in some ways yet different in their own ways.
Turning, his eye's met with the King's, who's hand rested on the wall as he stood straight, eyebrows furrowed in worry but never moving closer.
"Jones." His throat restricted upon the words being formed, he refused to show the ache that was washing over him, even as his throat felt close to being enclosed by rope and his heart beat raced. Never wavering his stance he turned to him, running his hands from the top of the coats folds down and pulling them in near his waist.
His hand slipped from the wall, hitting into his side and causing a startle to the already on the edge man, brows pushing together, "Arthur, I need to speak with you." His voice quivered, tongue holding the weight of lead.
"I assure you there is nothing to be said between us." Enclosing the space, he didn't bother to cover his hands, rather letting them to be in full view. Withholding the knowledge of the skin surrounding the nails had dried blood from the time's he would become ravaged by stress, resulting in him biting and peeling the skin off. Giving the resident's of the palace silent indication's of his displeasure.
Even if Alfred had expected the other to be cold he wasn't sure how to respond towards the tone, his eyes tried not to make scene of it but kept fluttering down to his hands. A million thoughts can run through your mind at once, but there's never going to be a thought that seems congruent or fluent enough to say, never one that registers the situation without under handing. He felt his hand leave his side, only to forcefully push it back as he watched the other's stance never wager. All the speeches one could prepare for didn't constant to the person who stood in-front of you, angry yet never showing the slightest hint of slacking.
"Are you waiting for an invitation."
Slipping through he allowed his mind to clear, "I know what I did was wrong, but I need to explain to you,"
His sentence was interrupted, "There's no reason to explain it. You willingly did it, I already know you took a grant. It's clear to me now why you were so absent in those days," The space was closed as Arthur reached up to the other's jaw, "Nothing you say can fix what you've done."
The small gesture frightened the other, almost pulling back before realizing that it would only cause the situation to become worse and he was to be at mercy of the other's anger for these few moments. He wrapped his hand around the other's hand, pulling it away from his face, "You're right, I did take a grant." He watched as Arthur's eye's narrowed, at that his throat tightened but it wasn't enough to make him back down, no this somehow did the opposite of what it's intended to, "However, I did it for a justified reason."
Swinging Arthurs wrist was caught, balled into a first as his knuckles turned white, he tried swinging with his left of for it to be caught by the other. His anger built up and tense, he was beginning to regret not having walked off, "What reason could you possibly have!"
"What reason did I have? Do you even hear yourself sometimes? Do you know how many books could be filled with the reasons I have." Pulling him in he didn't dare to jolt the other, only slightly moving their arms to make it more comfortable and not strain them, "I didn't want to see the person I love place their health into jeopardy, crippling away, watching from the sidelines as you pushed yourself and tripped right into the grave. Don't try to respond with how I could have asked, because we both know that you wouldn't willingly do it, because you're so stubborn that you refuse to recognize when you're hurting yourself." Swallowing he loosened his grip further, withholding any recognition of a cry only to feel his eyes water up, "I didn't want to watch my husband waste away when I could do something about it! Damnit Arthur don't you see what you do, you put on this façade and it makes you so strong-willed that it's dangerous, then you do something like that and almost end up killing yourself!" He let go of the others wrists, "I don't care if you hate me, what I had to see in that time of you unable to-" He cut himself off, unable to finish his sentence, "Stop taking everything on by yourself and just let me help you!" He forced out the other words, forcing the tears that tried to push out back as he watched the other almost stumble back.
Examining the other he noticed the changes from when he had first spoken, clearly having no fears tearing at him as he was swarming in anger, or possibly it was exhaustion. Searching his mind he found nothing, he was "concerned", really? People don't do that when they're concerned. Opening his mouth, he forced his nails not to embed into his skin, the words trying to establish themselves.
"And you know what Arthur," Alfred pushed through, strangulating him from speaking, peering at the other through his bangs he watched as the blue eyed man had his right shoulder at an angle as he changed his position to leave, "I'm fine with you hating me because I would rather you be pissed off at me, and hating my every waking breath, then having to watch your casket be thrown into the water."
Sucking in air he watched the other who was now walking away, the dark blue being pulled from his legs, "Alfred." He could feel his eyebrows push in watching the other still walking, not bothering to hear him out. 'I just want him to understand.' So there really isn't an under lying motive, but that's not enough, at-least stay here, don't run off on your own after having said all of those things. Who would leave someone else in this.
He had heard his name, his heart palpitations increased but he refused to listen. Arthur had never used that, but there was always the underlying fear he would, no trust could form enough to know that at any minute despite how much your mind protested you were under someone else's control at any point. Keeping his eyes forward, he awaited the second call, anything to indicate that Arthur would go against his own morals, but he didn't, and as he rounded the corner he saw the man to be standing with a look that seemed to resonate something deep inside him. Stopping him in his tracks.
"Alfred." He tried to reason, to yell at himself that this was wrong, he shouldn't be having these emotions after what the other had put him through willingly. Raising his head he gazed to the other, who's facial expression had been loose, almost sympathetic. With his stomach turning he fixated his gaze on the others eyes, watching as Alfred's grew in size, his pupil dilating as he quickly let go of the wall walking away with an antsy pace.
Falling back to his original position he couldn't lie to himself, he couldn't trust him anymore, as far as historical books would go to say he was a traitor to the royal family. As far as Arthur was concerned, the prospect didn't bother him, after all, a King isn't to step out of place from their Queen.
"I must say, that was one brilliant performance if I ever saw one. You're really making this too easy for me." A voice brushed into his ear.
Turning around Arthur rushed back, only to trip on his own feet and ending up on the floor. Looking up he saw nothing besides his own startled reflection, clutching his heart he moved to check on his pulse, steadying his breathing before turning back. Nothing.
Pushing out one last deep breathe he clutched his head, "I think that's enough for one day."
Before departing he chanced his time to look back. This day had not only delivered stress but confliction, the only explanation was that its simply a hallucination caused by cortisol having over taken his brains functioning. He wasn't insane, there's no way he thought, laughing at such a ludicrous conclusion, he just needed to get some sleep and water.