The Queen's Duplicate [USUK]

Belief

Chapter 13

      Sunlight entered through his closed lids, blinding him with a sickening bright red bringing some discomfort, covering his eyes everything went back to a dull grey once again, giving him time to readjust, before slowly cracking to see his hand and the small glints coming from his wedding band. Wherever he was, it surely wasn't Spade's.

      The last thing he could recall from the day was walking back to that damned hall of mirrors at the palace, had that all been a dream? No, he informed himself, because as his hand hit a solid force he could feel the dirt under his nails, and trees could be seen in the distance. How would Yao react? Oh, who was he kidding, he could already see the Jack being outraged, furious that the King hadn't shown up. Certainly he would be storming the Diamond Palace by this hour, or ordering a party to be sent out. The extreme Alfred would often refer to it, having been drug back countless times by these search parties, long before he had been crowned, and a few time's even after his coronation; however, now it didn't seem extreme but understandable due to the circumstances: both holders of the throne were missing, leaving the Kingdom to fend for itself. Yao would be able to do most of the positions, as he often did when one of them would be out too sick to remove themselves from their quarters for more than a mere hour, but not everything could be covered by the Jack. Some of the Queen's duties required magic to be involved, which was only granted to the Queen and at time's the King could take care of these when the position wasn't yet filled, while the King's most important part being a royal signature from one of the main two monarchs.

      How desperately he wished for all of this to be a dream, yet he knew that was not the case unfortunately, this would be no dream only to find Arthur hovering over him in his daywear, informing the other that he needed to get prepared for the day; no, here he might as well consider himself in a different section of one of the four Kingdoms, most likely Hearts or Diamonds, on a search with only himself and no idea of how to return. Truly he had not thought of anything before jumping through that mirror, for all he knew this could even be off of the coast of one of the Kingdoms - stars know how many resorts Francis had that could only be reached by magic.

      Sitting up he rubbed at the bottom of his spine, assuming he must have fallen on his behind rather rough, judging by how fragile it seemed. Tree's surrounded him, that he had known from the trunks he had taken notice of not too long ago, what he had not taken into detail was how twisted they were, almost dreamlike with how their ends turned into perfect swirls. Still, they seemed dead, and he could feel a chill go down his spine as he looked around noticing that despite how bright the sun was in this little spot, each place the trees touched laid a spot of velvet black. This was similar to those nightmares he had as a child, lost in the woods late at night with no lantern or anyone to guide him through the abyss. Nevertheless, as spooked as he was he didn't let this sway his determination as he looked down at his left hand, before patting down his pockets and locating the gloves.

      Choosing a path to his right he stood, brushing off his robes before tucking the gloves safely into his pocket and walking off. He would find Arthur, how long it took didn't matter, he wasn't about to lose to an unprecedented force.

. .

      Once again he was struck, his bottom lip turned to a bloody mess the harder he contained any sound, or had attempted to from what he could only believe to be three hours. He refused to look up to who was inflicted all of this, he couldn't, all he could think about to push away the pain and unforgiving time, was him. That's all he could see even as he felt his side be torn apart, his perfect eyes that told you every little detail, that smile that made the blue flamed candles falter in its presence, golden hair and tan skin. Morning's spent held in his arms, carried and the feeling of safety never wavering; nights full of enchantment as the storms held all of the delightful tunes, and how he was spun in such a gentle way, his feet never touching the floor for less than a minute. Gripping onto the other's shoulders or clung around his neck, his eye's glittering from window to window, the smile never leaving. Oh god, that's all he could think about.

      These past few days were dreadful, full of mocking and belittlement, similar to a child in a family of manipulative thieves, only now for it to escalate to such a point out of the others "boredom". How he wished for the others gentle touch, to turn his head as they stood near the grand windows and pull him into a kiss, holding him close in an embrace that lasted until the sun rose, carrying him back to their room and laying him into the bed to hold him close, never closing their eyes for more than a second.

      A hoity laugh jostled his thoughts, all the memories, "This has been such a joy, truly. Unfortunately, duty calls and I'm never one to miss a trial."

     Arthur's stomach twisted in disgust as he watched the other depart. He felt sick, well that was to be expected he reasoned to himself, as throughout the days he was lucky to get a cup of water. It's not that he had expected to be treated like royalty, despite being apart of the monarchy, no, how could one expect such a thing when being held prisoner. That's the reality of this situation, he was chained to a wall still draped in his (now torn) purple garments, in a moldy cell with his only visitor being the lunatic who took him. He fit the title of maniac better, surely sociopath didn't fit, nor did psychopath, there was clearly no remorse for his actions that was clear, and despite being slightly out of mind, didn't show any signs of relating to a psychopath - not enough therapy could ever fix that man, Arthur feared.

      Attempting to look towards his left hand he was pushed back as a searing pain erupted form his neck, and settled upon feeling for the band that lay around his finger. All he truly had left of Alfred, his beautiful, overly-optimistic lover. His head fell and he didn't bother to stop the dry sobs that left his throat, not having enough hydration to form tears despite his dismay. There was no possible way for him to get out of here, alive that is, and his poor husband is petrified of spirits. A croaky laugh escaped between his wracked sobs, the mighty King of Spades, scared of something that he couldn't be touched by, oh the irony. He could hear the other yelling, fear obvious in his face that the reason wasn't because they were dead decayed corpses, rather he was unable to punch them. Yes, his way's of determining what could be considered a threat could be rather childish but it seemed to work at times.

      He had set out days ago to escape, when his health was still relatively decent, only for it to be futile as he had no ability to use a wider more dangerous set of spells. In the first day he was too shocked by the other's confession and events that occurred prior to, to think clearly, fear running through him and with no way to act upon either of the normal positions given during such attacks, he was forced to stay; remaining pressed to a wall and the heeled shoes starting to bother his feet. Stars, what an odd thing, when he still remained in the court he had the nicest pair of dress shoes money could buy for someone of his status, small details and a beautiful grey with dark blue hues mixed in. Had it been his discontent of his height compared to the other, or wanting better access to the other? He no longer knew the reason giving him no ability to answer, but the heels became apart of his appearance and the other Kingdom's had been astounded to see the other in six inches, almost as tall as the Spadian King, all the while not bothering to address the change, and Alfred never making any mention of them; except, times when snow or ice was thick, to offer a hand so the other wouldn't slip.

      Stars, what had the two been fighting over months prior? Right, King Ivan and his insufferable crush on Alfred. He never did get to kiss Alfred that day, when he had been leaning against the other's throne, how he would curse that Russian if he ever made it out of here. No, he corrected himself, not if: when.

     Nothing would hold him here in this confinement, he would not be pulled away from the sunlight forever and certainly not the one he longed for with every breath. Once he escaped the court, now he would escape from here. Somehow.

     The first step: Figure out how to break free.

      This would be a simple task usually, if it weren't for the knowledge that his magic had no effect here, not only due to this being nowhere near their home, or even in other Kingdom's he figured, but simply due to whatever was in this place draining him to an extent he couldn't manage a simple water spell.

      Alas, this wouldn't stop him from his plans.

     What that maniac had no idea of, was how once either of the Spadian monarchs came in grasp of fierce determination nothing could stop the either. Especially when it pertained to the other monarch.