RED SPADE

prologue.

BLANCHA FELT BORED. Her dark hair swished around her, down to her hips, a glossy hue of sable black. "Blancha." There it was again. The yearn of attention from her pathetic admirer.

A smile crept on her lips. She peeled open a black carnation with her fingers.

"Have you come to beg me?"

He was beautiful. Of course he was. Those hungry cerulean eyes. The bow of his lips and sheen of his hair. The way he would roll up those sleeves. Her gaze lingered on his arms.

But Blancha of Spades could not be swayed by just anyone. "How long do you want to play this game of waiting?" His voice was sullen. Empty.

She regretted ever taking interest in him. Oh why did she have to always pick out the pretty ones? They all turned so boring. 

"Just a little more." She could feel him, feel his fingers and his body trying to tug away from their connection. From her. She put a hand on his warm cheek, brushing her thumb on his chin. She directed her eyes to his. Perfect.

"Your hands are cold. Just like the way you treat me." He whispers.

She gritted her teeth. She needed to mend the threads that bound his heart to the palm of her hand. She still wanted him. However much she had gotten so dull and tired of him, he was still hers. "I need you." She says.

Oh. The beautiful lies that danced in slippers and silk. The ones that brightened the jewels in his eyes. She broke down sobbing.

Yes.

Tension. Relief. Tension. Relief. Tension- Relief. His mind was settled.

"Blancha." He held his hand on his heart. Tears slid down easily. Raindrops on glass. She sobbed and tried not to burst into laughter.

What madness!

Didn't he know better than so easily hand over his heart?

She bit her lip to subdue her amusement.

"My heart is yours." He watched her with firm affection. Mesmerised.

"Good."

She turned. Her hand slipping away from his reach.

The heart in her hand tugged and jumped and writhed.

If she was capable of loving anyone.

♠

CHESHIRE SMILED DIMLY at the sight of His Majesty's frantic footsteps. He traipsed up and down the stairs, wearing off the carpet. He muttered under his breath like a madman.

Cheshire let out a gentle mew, and crept towards the frantic king. 

"What is the matter, my grace?"

The king directed his gaze suspiciously towards Cheshire. "You couldn't have done it. You are just a cat." He muttered under his breath. Cheshire grinned haughtily. "Done what, my most honorous majesty?" He was not sure honorous was an actual word, but he was a cat.

Cats were allowed to make a few mistakes here and there. His honorous majesty frowned even more, bristling his fine moustache. "Disappearing princesses, perhaps?" Cheshire guessed. Or, he already knew.

"How did you know?" The king narrowed his eyes. "A little birdie told me." Cheshire raised both paws in innocence. His Majesty scowled. Then he sat at the top stair and put both hands on his head, miserably. How quaint. Cheshire thought in delight.

Mysteries were his favourite. He prowled closer, tail resting comfortably under his backside, he sat next to his majesty. "You can always tell me anything, my most honorous majesty." He smiled widely, showing his sharp white teeth.

"Kitties keep the best secrets."

"What good would it do." His majesty said, in a wretched voice.

"Curiouser, and curiouser-" The cat pondered out loud, "The worn out shoes... the disappearing daughters. The men that fell asleep just outside their door."

"It's madness. They have gone wild."

"And what will you do? The poor prince of hearts is due to marry Dear Princess Blancha."

"I shall think of a way. A way. There has to be a way." The king whispered. He could not dare anger the kingdom of hearts. After all, he owed them so much already. He sighed. Why couldn't he just rest? Kamon Of Hearts was the most eligible bachelor there was. He could get any princess.

"We need to get Blancha back before the second coronation party."

"May I speak my mind, my majesty?"

The king turned his attention to Cheshire. He seemed to finally realised he had been speaking to a cat. "Yes. Spit it out." He said, with kingly grandiose.

"What if we issued a game?"

"What game?" The king said curiously.

"Invite the princes. Say that the ones who can find the reason of the princesses disappearance, can each choose one for their hand in marriage."

"But what shall I do with the hearts?"

"Give them a marionette to play with."

"A-a marionette?" The king spluttered, "Whatever do you mean?"

Cheshire smiled toothily. "Oh. I just know there's a little servant girl who looks exceptionally like a spade girl." The king turned bright red. And then purple.

"That- could work."

"Yes!" Cheshire hissed excitedly, "Isn't it a splendid plan, my majesty?"

 "As if I would take advice from a cat!" The king snarled. His face turned purple. It could work. Something inside him squealed. He was a genius. A genius!

"you shall be rewarded-" The king began pompously, "for your contributions. I daresay you are quite a valuable subject. Cat. From now on, you shall have two pints of sugar milk a day."

Cheshire giggled.

What a fun show to watch.

He thought of the servant girl. Danica.

I've done you a favour, poor Danica. It's up to you now.