Chapter Text
“Have you ever thought about running away?”
The words floated from the young prince's lips with such ease that it startled the listener. When he received no response to his question, he continued, "I know it's impossible, but I think about it. Constantly.”—A pause, then a deep breath—"I want to be free."
Those five words were filled with such longing that it was painful to hear and to speak. Rooted to his spot by the tree, Ivan could only watch as his companion stood and walked towards the edge of the cliff. He reached his hand out, called to him, but no sound came past his lips.
Then, piece by piece, the cliff broke apart. He looked down at the endless fall beneath his feet, and when he looked up once more, the prince was gone, replaced by birds flying across a perfectly peaceful sky.
A strong jolt ripped Ivan from his dreams and out of the haze. He was back inside the padded carriage justling along on the dirt road. The coachman stuck his head through the curtain with a flustered look on his face.
"My apologies, Your Majesty. These roads are hard to navigate. They’re covered in stones so—" Ivan held up his hand to halt his rambling then gestured to the woman sleeping on his shoulder. The coachman quickly averted his eyes then nodded and withdrew from the window.
Queen Erezébet of Clubs was his wife, but she was a woman he did not love in the way a wedded couple was supposed to. He considered himself to be one of the lucky ones. With his father dead, his mother gave him the privilege of choosing a queen. She knew what it was like to be wedded to someone undesirable and she didn’t want her son to suffer the same fate.
"If I may choose, may I choose no one," he had requested when she had told him it was time for him to choose a bride.
"You cannot be a king without a queen”—her voice quivered as she spoke—“It cannot be, Ivan." In her eyes, Ivan could see pain. It was a tradition not even she wanted to uphold. So, reluctantly, he agreed.
But it was a marriage that bound them only on parchment. When Ivan had come to Erezébet with the proposal, the two had agreed that they would allow the other to engage in relationships outside of their union as long as it was kept secret. They had been friends since they were children, so Ivan knew that Erezébet, a woman with no interest in men, would be the perfect choice.
Ivan loved her, but he didn’t love her. He would kill and die for her, but when they held hands and stared into each other's eyes to fool the public, he felt nothing. There was only one person in his heart, and he was on his way to see him after almost a year of being apart.
Tomorrow afternoon, Prince Alfred will be crowned as the new King of Spades. An unfortunate accident had robbed Spades of their king and Alfred was pushed onto the throne faster than the young prince had wanted.
The crowning ceremony would happen first. Then at the banquet following, the new Queen of Spades would be announced. ‘You cannot be a king without a queen,’ his mother’s words echoed inside his mind.
Ivan wondered who the new queen would be. Which fortunate soul would be the one to stand by Alfred’s side for the rest of their lives. To be the one to link arms as they greeted their people. To be the one to share his meals, share his throne, share his bed. The leather of Ivan’s gloves creaked from how tightly his fists gripped his cloak. Jealousy boiled inside of him so fiercely that he found it hard to breathe.
“Ivan”— Erezébet’s hand moved to rest atop his, then one by one, pried his fingers open—“you’re going to wrinkle your cloak. They’ll look down on us if a king shows up with a wrinkled cloak.” Her voice was still airy with sleep and she plopped her head back onto Ivan’s shoulder with a yawn. “What are you thinking about?”
Ivan breathed out deeply, his jealousy evaporating like water on burning rock, then he muttered, “The Queen of Spades.”
“Which one? Acting Queen or the one yet to be announced?”
“Both.”
Erezébet gave an understanding hum as a response as she kicked her feet like a child, watching her dress fluff up. “It can’t be helped, and it was bound to happen one day. You know that.”
“I know that,” he repeated it in a tone that indicated that he knew, but wasn’t pleased about it.
“Perhaps Alfred will get lucky and marry someone wonderful! I heard the ladies in Spades are quite beautiful.”
“Because they are vain. Greedy—“
“And they are not you?” She cut him off before he could grow angry again.
Ivan turned to look at Erezébet’s cheeky face while he had his lips pressed tight with annoyance. “Yes,” he admitted, his face falling from irritation to sorrow. Erezébet moved to place her hand on his chest. When she pressed down, he breathed out and closed his eyes in an attempt to settle his thoughts.
“Rest, Ivan. When you wake, you will see him again.”
And oh did he try. For he knew that if he were asleep, he would be able to see him in his dreams, happy and free. And he knew that when he saw Alfred face to face at the journey’s end, he would greet a soon-to-be king who would carry a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It wouldn’t be the young prince he once knew.
Alfred would have to pretend, just like him. He could already hear it, “I’m so lucky to have them as my queen,” he would say, “I would choose no other to be by my side.” Then he would raise his goblet and toast, to their future, to their kingdom, and to their love.
[-w-]
The ceremony was held at Saint George’s Cathedral at the top of the hill by the mountains. Though it was a place of worship, the building was just as lavish as the royal castle. Panes of colored glass cast whimsical lights onto the pews, and paintings decorated ceilings so high that if Ivan wanted to take a good look, his crown would fall from his head.
They were seated on the balcony, away from all the other guests. It was small, but it was also private, giving Erezébet the chance to gossip without having to worry about others overhearing her.
At this height, he was given a perfect view of the dais where Queen Margaret of Spades stood next to an empty throne. Occasionally, she would turn around and scowl like the effort of holding her smile was too great. Immediately, Ivan knew that something was wrong, or perhaps Queen Margaret simply had a sour personality. Both were equally likely.
“Look,” Erezébet whispered, giving Ivan a nudge as she pointed to the balcony across from them. “Queen Lili’s dress is magnificent. Those Diamonds never miss a chance to show off. When will you take me to Diamonds, Ivan? There’s nothing wrong with the modiste at home, but… oh just look! They never fail to impress!”
“We can go before returning home, how is that?” He told himself it was to please his best friend, but deep down he knew it was to distract himself. A visit to the rich Kingdom of Diamonds, a carriage full of useless purchases, surely that would make him happy again.
Erezébet clapped her gloved fingertips together so she wouldn’t make any noise and squealed quietly with excitement. “Oh thank you, Ivan! You’re the greatest!” She clung to his arm joyously and Ivan had to look away from embarrassment. He saw people below looking at him despite the distance the balcony put between them—some in amusement and some in admiration. “The perfect couple,” others called them, if only they knew.
[-w-]
"We've miscalculated the stars," Erezébet mocked once Ivan had closed the door to their assigned bedchamber, "sounds like a cart of dung to me."
Ivan was in such a daze that he hadn’t heard her words. Mindless, he bolted the door so they would not be disturbed, then made his way over to the window.
“They have quite the nerve canceling an event of such importance. Stars or not, they should have continued!” She paused in front of the mirror and pulled out her hairpins, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. When Ivan didn’t give any response, she pursed her lips and tossed one of the pins at his head. “Ivan, have you fallen asleep again?”
“Perhaps,” he mumbled, and he didn’t mean it as a joke. The cancellation of the ceremony was such a twist that he felt as if he were dreaming. He pulled off his glove and dug his fingernails into his palm.
Pain.
He was awake.
[-w-]
They had waited in their seats for so long that Ivan’s mind grew as numb as his rear. He was tired, hungry, and restless, but as a king, he couldn’t show any of those emotions. Queen Margaret had excused herself for what seemed like an hour ago and her absence made everyone tense. Soft murmurs floated from the crowd below like the hissing of snakes, but Ivan couldn’t hear a word of it, putting him more on edge.
“What is the cause of this delay,” he asked when one of the servants brought him and Erezébet a glass of water.
The woman shrunk back into herself when forced to interact with the king and she clutched her tray close to her chest like it was a shield. “I’m sorry, your majesty. I-I don’t know.” She looked down at the dais, then to Ivan’s feet. “Perhaps Prince Alfred ripped his ceremonial cloak again. I hear that was the reason his speech a few days prior was canceled.” When Ivan furrowed his brows in doubt, she quickly added, “or maybe he’s fallen ill again. That was the reason for his absence at the feast last week.”
“I see,” he said under his breath. “If there is any news, you will report to me.” Then he dismissed her with a simple hand gesture.
“Makes you wonder if he’s even still alive.” Erezébet had meant it as a joke, but seeing the worry etched on Ivan’s face made her regret it instantly. “Oh Ivan, I jest! I’m sure he’s fine. Perhaps he just needs a bit more time to rehearse his speech, is all.”
Letting out a sigh, he reached his hand up to massage his temples as his head began to ache with exhaustion. Then he mumbled, “I pray that’s the reason.”
Silence fell between the two and Ivan distracted himself by watching the people below them gossip and wriggle in their seats as the time dragged on. His eyes wandered up to the ceiling, attempting to imagine how each of one of the paintings had been done. Each stroke of the brush, each layer of paint, piece by piece until a masterpiece was created.
He followed each line, his eyes moving lazily as his mind slowly began to wander. The buzz of noise from below combined with the warmth from his many layers of clothing made it difficult for him to stay awake. "Don’t sleep,” he chanted in his mind. Over and over, until he felt Erezébet elbow him in the side.
“You snored,” she whispered. Ivan’s face flushed. “Kidding. Though, I woke you up before you did. You’re most welcome.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled under his breath, still only partially conscious. “How long has it been?”
Erezébet shrugged, then turned to reach into Ivan’s pocket to pull out his watch. “Over two hours." She stuffed the watch back into his pocket. “Any longer and I’ll eat your cloak. I’m starved!”
“It was your idea to pass on breakfast so you would have more room in your stomach for the feast.”
“Oh I’m regretting it now but I won’t later in the evening when I steal the Spadian's famous veal off your plate because you’re too stuffed to eat it.”
Ivan chuckled, feeling a pang of hunger just thinking about the feast to come. “I’ll make sure I eat the veal first.” He smiled when Erezébet huffed and rolled her eyes playfully.
“Do you think that because we’re royals they will give us a larger portion? Or will everyone be given the same so there’s no favoritism shown? Because I think that—”
“Your attention please!” She was sharply cut off when the priest shuffled onto the dais with a book clutched between his hands. "We've... miscalculated the position of the stars. Today is an unholy day to hold the ceremony. We apologize for our mistake." He bowed his head low, quickly escaping before the fresh whirlpool of curses reached his ears.
As if on cue, Queen Margaret appeared where the priest had been just seconds ago. Her very presence made the room fall silent. "Oh dear,” she gasped softly, her dainty, gloved fingers coming up to cover her lips, “we can't hold the ceremony on an unholy day. I want only what is best for my kingdom. Please excuse their mistake. We shall resume the ceremony tomorrow morning."
And after that, they were ushered back to their rooms like sheep with the promise of good food and entertainment later in the evening.
Unlike some of the nobles who had whispered their complaints on the way to the castle, Ivan didn’t mind the event’s cancellation. It meant that Alfred would have more time to remain a prince. An unmarried prince. Just the thought of it made his heart feel less heavy.
When he turned from the window, he found Erezébet flat on the bed with her hands resting on her stomach and her legs hanging off the edge. “I’m going to rest for a bit. Wake me up when it's time to put my face back on. Or if they deliver food to our door.”
“If it’s veal, I’ll eat before I wake you and leave you the salad.”
“You are free to try it. But I’ll gut you faster than you can chew.” It was a tease—he could hear it in her voice—but Ivan knew that if he tried it, she would be on him like a beast craving flesh. Before Ivan could talk back, she wiggled her body into a more comfortable sleeping position then let out a heavy sigh, signaling she was trying to sleep.
Ivan didn’t try to disturb her. He swallowed down his words and went to sit at the ornate desk beside the window. He had nothing but time until the feast, so he thought to draft a letter to Alfred. And when he was finished, he could bring it to his room as an excuse to pay him a visit.
But once he had set up the parchment and dipped his quill into the ink, his mind grew blank. He didn’t even know where to start. ‘To Prince Alfred of Spades’ was much too formal. ‘Hello, Alfred. It's me,’ was not formal enough. Thoughts filled his mind, so many things to say, but not a single word made it onto the parchment.
He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, but behind him, he could hear Erezébet’s light snores. For a moment, he thought about sleeping as well, but even before he had finished standing, he knew he would be too restless to even close his eyes. Instead, he made his way towards the door and left the room, making sure to close the door as silently as he could.
The hallways are familiar. He knew the way out. But still, he took the long route, his legs moving on their own. All the while, his mind worked endlessly to put his thoughts into words. Those thoughts were so deafening that he almost couldn’t hear that angry shout.
Almost.
His feet stopped moving and he stood in the hall breathing as if his air was limited. He listened to the now hushed voice and moved towards the source. Walking on his toes, he moved through the hall like a ghost until he was close enough to hear the words.
“Are you that incompetent?”
He was close enough.
Pressing his back to the wall, he listened to the voice that he found belonged to Queen Margaret.
“How hard can it be to find one little brat?” Her voice was more restrained now, but Ivan could still hear the anger seeping from it.
“My queen”—another voice, a man, reached Ivan’s ears—“we’ve checked every room in the castle, gone to each one of his previous hideouts, and asked every citizen in town if they've seen anything suspicious. No one has seen him.”
“Well someone is lying. Check every house, inn, and stable, and make sure no one is to leave past the city walls. If he gets out, I'm afraid even the gods won't be able to stop him.”
“Yes, your Majesty. We will do all we can.”
“Well you better do more than you can.” Her voice grew quieter, threatening. “If Alfred isn’t found by tomorrow, I will have you and all of your men on spikes to serve as the new garden scarecrows. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Right away, Your Majesty.”
Only when the two had gone did Ivan remember how to breathe. Erezébet had been right about the stars being a lie, but Ivan never guessed that Alfred would be as bold as to run away on the day of his coronation. To offend not only his own court, but royals from the three suit kingdoms as well.
Alfred was desperate.
The irrational part of his mind proposed that perhaps Alfred had been kidnapped. Merely the thought of it made his mind spin with worry. He tried so hard to bury the voice that told him that, but he couldn’t. The seed had been planted and he needed to find Alfred.
Soon.