We Serve Together, We Fall Together

/w
     Alfred sighed. Strategizing with the Queen for hours after dinner should have ended was tiring work. He truly believed his plan would work, and he hoped that Queen Arthur would see that too.
     In the meantime, however, all he could do was sleep he stripped himself of his uniform, changing into comfortable pants and opting to go shirtless. He walked to the bathroom attached to his quarters, brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face. It was only then that he looked at himself in the mirror. A black, tattoo-looking mark in the shape of a spade was plastered on his chest. A spade, the symbol of his kingdom. His kingdom. He had been chosen as the next king of Spades.
Alfred stayed staring at himself in the mirror for several minutes, not knowing what to do, how to think. Then he thought of the Queen. I need to go to him, he thought. And so he did. Alfred ran from his quarters to the Queen's chambers. Of the various servants and the like that saw him on his way, only a handful saw the mark on his chest. The rest only saw the army general shirtless and running like a madman.

     Queen Arthur's eyes were tired and threatened to close as he dressed himself for bed. He was exhausted, stressed. It was too much. He needed a king. The sound of quick, heavy footsteps followed by frantic knocking on his door jolted him out of his thoughts. For a moment, he imagined it was a new king, and he chuckled softly. Then he banished such thoughts, and worry flooded over him. Had something happened? Then he heard a slightly muffled "Your Majesty" from the person knocking. It was hard to tell who it could be. The Queen quickly went to the door, taking a deep breath and trying to prepare himself for whatever news he'd be told.
     He was met with the blue eyes of his army general, widened in an indiscernible emotion. Arthur's eyebrows raised in surprise then furrowed slightly in a mixture of confusion and worry.
     "Sir... Jones..." the Queen trailed off as he realized two things: one, the man was shirtless; two, a black mark on his chest that had caught Queen Arthur's eyes. A very particularly-shaped, intricate mark. A spade.
     "You're... you're the king," he said breathily. A feeling of relief and joy washed over him. He had someone by his side now, and it was his current army general. But who would then replace Alfred Jones? The Queen pushed those thoughts away; that would be for later. For now, he had his king.
     "You're not alone, my Queen. You have me," he said, echoing himself from earlier. He took his Queen's hand then, and kissed it softly, then pulled him into an embrace which the other quickly reciprocated. Then the Queen pulled back slightly, briefly confusing the now fated King, then put his hand behind the general's head and pulled him in for a kiss. His blue eyes widened for a second, but he quickly closed them and kissed him back. Maybe it would be okay. The magic of the Suits was indeed mysterious, but it seemed the gods were willing