King's Gambit

Dreaming Audities

A hoard of Card's cavalry surrounded two royals, one held in the arms of the other, stuck in the middle of a wasteland. A once fruitful landscape of lush green had been marred by death, brought upon by the pursuit of power, the resting place of thousands. Horse hooves clacked and kicked dust into the purple sky as they circled Arthur. A slow-building, suffocating sense of dread bubbled deep in his core. An ugly red stained the hands of Spade's queen as he gripped onto his last hope.

The air was thick with smoke and ash. But the details didn't matter.

The rest of Cards would be upon them. And Alfred would die. He would die in the arms of his queen. He would die, struck down while fighting so hard for the future he knew the Arcane needed. Alfred would die incomplete and unsatisfied.

Alfred would die because of him.

As he lay there, plagued by a mortal chest wound, the rogue king gripped his queen's sleeve, tugging at the edges.

It was a nightmare. Gods, it had to be.

Arthur's heart was hammering in his chest, sweat slipping down his forehead, and dirt scraping into the fabric of his trousers. His hands felt sticky as he held Alfred, and everything he touched felt wrong. There was a buzzing to everything that felt so very wrong.

A short distance away, just within Alfred's view, his clock lay dormant. The hands had stopped just short of midnight, cementing his fate. Yet, the face still glowed its mysterious cerulean blue, keeping Spade's flame alive. Alfred tried lifting himself from Arthur's hold only to groan and slump back, expression knitting into a distressed grimace. "It's alright, love. Everything's going to be alright," Is all Arthur could say to soothe him.

"Art," Alfred tugged on his sleeve again, his words coming out as nothing more than a whisper, "You ok?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. You look like crap." Alfred tried laughing at Arthur's response but found that a small smile was all he could give. The beads of tears that welled in the corners of Arthur's eyes overflowed and slid down his cheek, only to be wiped away just as quickly as they had fallen.

"Been better. Though..."

"Just a few scrapes and scratches. I'm not the one with a hole in my chest."

Alfred took a breath, feeling the blood from his wound slick between his fingers.

"I'm proud of what you've done, you know." Arthur's words became shaky, gripping tighter onto Alfred, refusing to let go. He didn't know how long he had left. "I've got it from here."

Simple words did not settle Alfred, letting his grip slip from Arthur before reaching out to his clock. A shaky hand summoned the ornate relic, causing the thrown-aside object to shudder, floating off the ground and into the king's hand. Heaving a shallow breath, Alfred pressed the King's Clock to Arthur's chest, "Do somethin' for me... would you?"

Leaving Alfred to rest in his lap, Arthur put his hand over the other, keeping the clock close, "Anything."

Alfred closed his eyes for a moment. He reopened them to look into Arthur's with a feeble smile. It was at that moment Arthur realised just how worn Alfred was. He was no longer the ignorant and restless king consort. The stresses of his time had sanded off most of his rough edges, leaving behind an enlightened young man who had grown too fast. His messy, dirt-dusted, bloodied hair, the lines under his eyes, and the dimples that creased as he smiled made Alfred look much older than he was.

"Make things right again. For Cards."

As the words left Alfred's lips, the King's Clock began to turn, glowing a bright, brilliant blue. Panicked, Arthur felt the weight in his hands become non-existent, the buzzing he had felt started to disappear, but so did the world around him. The horses ran their circles but their run came to an abrupt end. All the screaming, the crying, all the fighting, the chaos, it all... just. Stopped. Reality burned away at the edges as life escaped him, the Alfred in his arms slowly faded, and Arthur hopelessly clawed the air to try and salvage whatever he could. "What? Wait wait, I don't. I'm not-"

Alfred's presence was replaced by another, with a firm hand on Arthur's shoulder, a voice with no face reminded him. "Wake up, Arthur Kirkland. You are not finished. Live, and that will be enough."

"But Alfred..."

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Arthur opened his eyes to the royal library, sore from falling asleep on the hardwood table. Having looked at the stacks of books surrounding him, he grimaced, slumped in his chair.

He must have been up late again.

But that dream... it was so vivid. So real. Arthur had been getting a lot of them lately. They were odd at first, sparse with random nonsense, extreme lucid dreams. But over time, they had become longer, more detailed, and quite the concern. They had escalated from flying bunnies and rainbow unicorns to the death of a king he hadn't even met yet. And when he woke, he was always met with a chilling breeze.

Concerning indeed.

But he was interrupted mid thought, "The maids have been looking for you everywhere," Right. He was still in the library.

Coming to his feet, Arthur stretched and cracked his neck, distracted from his previous thoughts, "Thank you, Yao. I would have spent the rest of the day here." The two walked off towards the door, leaving a glance for the hoard of literature Arthur had been occupied with the night prior.

The Jack of Spades scoffed and shook his head, "You are too busy to do such a thing. And I hope you don't plan to be late to his royal highness' crowning."

"I have no such plans."

With a pull of the handle, Yao opened the door of the library for Arthur, "Let us be going then."

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That's KG's first chapter/prologue! I hope to tell Alfred and Arthur's story in a unique way, and I hope everyone enjoys it as well! Can't wait to reveal what's next :)

-Toast

[Cross posted on AO3]