Vow That Doesn't Need A Ring
In the Kingdom of Spades, noble marriages meant something only if you wanted them to.
On the surface, they were solely political, arranged a generation or two before, based on family ties and alliance. You were not required to love your spouse, although many found a close friend and a coworker in them as they grew up together and ran their land and their household.
In companion to this firmly established tradition, the King and Queen were chosen from rotating families through the generations, raised together in the capital city and given a proper education to rule the kingdom. They weren’t allowed to have children, as that would… complicate things; as an insightful, preventative step suggested centuries ago, the King and Queen were the same gender, switching each generation, so even if love bloomed, there wouldn’t be any nine month surprises. As such, instead of gender determining titles, the King and Queen were separated by responsibilities, crucial to and reliant on each other. Although there were many minutiae in the list of differences, the main and most important was the division of the military - specifically, the Queen as Admiral of the Navy and the King as General of the Army. After twelve years of preparation and living side-by-side, the two heirs would decide which one suited each other. Then, the Queen took to the seas, the King to the ever-expanding front lines (for the Spades were conquerors, devourers) for the next twelve span before coming back to the capital to be married and take over the kingdom from their predecessors.
And that’s only the beginning.
``````
Two twelve year old boys sat in the branches of a heavily blooming cherry tree the day before the spring equinox.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” one said, back against the trunk and pulling petals off a leaning twig above his head. The other boy sat forward from where he was straddling the bough at the first’s feet and whacked his hand from the flowers.
“Don’t be absurd, Alfred, you’ll be fine,” he scolded, settling back against a conveniently forking limb. “Everyone will like you.”
Alfred grinned at him. “Ya think so?”
The other boy frowned. “I know so, dolt. You’ve already got half the castle at your beck’n call, and King Bridget loves you.” He made a face. “More’n Queen Magdalena and I, anyway.”
Alfred laughed. One of his legs slid from where it was bent up on the limb down to knock toes with the other’s swinging foot.
“You’re gonna be okay, too, y’know,” Alfred said after a moment of toe-knocking and watching falling petals drift. Arthur shrugged and stared at the tree bark between his splayed knees.
He bit his lip. “Can you promise me something?”
Alfred beamed. “Anything, Arthur.”
“Don’t forget about me.”
Alfred gasped and kicked Arthur’s ankle hard. “Don’t even say that! How could I do that? You’re my Arthur!”
Arthur rubbed the heel of a hand over a burning cheek. “But Al… twelve years is a long time, and I just…” He pulled up one knee so he could bury his face in it. “I’m scared.”
“Hey.” Alfred scooted up the branch closer to Arthur and gripped his upper arms, pushing him away from his knee and locking eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, okay? We’re not gonna forget each other. No way.” Arthur smiled, but it was a little wavery, a little watery.
Alfred sat back and frowned to the side, hands braced on his knees. While he thought, Arthur fidgeted, straightening his clothes (royal blue and royal purple, stained from the climb up the tree and the sneaking dash around the castle walls to their orchard), cleaning the dirt from under his nails, pulling out his heirloom pocketwatch to check the time.
Alfred’s hand snatched out and grabbed his wrist before he could put the watch away, his eyes alight with the spark of genius.
“Let’s trade clocks.”
Arthur blinked at him. “What?”
Alfred laughed and took the spade-shaped pocketwatch from his hand, careful not to tug on the chain too much. “I’ve got that big clock in my room - y’know, the one on the table,” he explained, running his fingers in the grooves of engraving on the back. Arthur nodded, and he continued, “So you take that one on your boat or whatever-”
“-Ship-”
“Yeah, your boat thing - and I’ll take this with me-”
“-so we’ll always have something to remember each other by,” Arthur finished his sentence as comprehension dawned.
Alfred grinned at him, then reached into Arthur’s waistcoat pocket to unhook the chain and draw it out.
``````
It would be the last time they talked for twelve years.
The next day was the Midway ceremony, when the future King and Queen officially chose their titles and went their separate ways. There were a few stiffly rehearsed lines that they recited to the crowd, to each other, to the current King and Queen (an average blonde with a cat’s smile and a stunning, severe brunette, respectively), they then were shuffled away to their waiting escorts, waving at each other over their shoulders as mournfully solemn as twelve year old boys could be.
But in Alfred’s coat pocket and Arthur’s favorite saddlebag, they kept a promise.
``````
Over their twelve years of separation, they had letters (sporadic, whenever Arthur was in port and not fighting pirates or Alfred had a courier to spare and wasn’t fighting the Clubs or the Hearts or the Diamonds or any other enemy). They were small, childish, merely points of contact, but they were something to hold at night and keep in their breast pockets. They talked of nothing - their days, their dalliances, the future. When their reunion date grew close, Arthur sent one last letter from the harbor by the capital on a dirty scrap of paper; “Meet me at our tree the day before.”
When Alfred got the note, he tucked it into the pocket with the watch, pulled it out instead and followed the memorized engravings on the back with his thumbnail. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said quietly.
``````
It was the day before the twelfth equinox again, and it didn’t go as they had planned.
They got to the castle at the same time, early afternoon, their honor escort at their sides and the banners of the ballads flapping in the heavy wind. They came in from opposite ends of the city and were unaware of the other’s presence until the stable yard, when Arthur rode in on the horse he’d had to relearn how to ride and found two sixes of soldiers laughing around a tall, broad blond with eyeglasses he didn’t remember who hadn’t seen him yet.
He sucked in a breath, and Alfred looked over his guards’ heads and beamed brighter than the sun hidden behind the spring shower clouds.
Arthur slithered off his tired horse’s back, letting a nameless stable hand take her away after he slung his favorite saddlebag over his shoulder, something large and metal clunking against his shoulder. When he turned around, Alfred had excused himself and taken a few strides towards him, but was now stopped, standing alone in the dust and staring blatantly.
Arthur jerked his head towards the back of the castle, and he smiled even wider, nodding and jogging to his side as they left the stable yard and ducked between a gap in the wall that still hadn’t been fixed, heading for the orchard without a word.
“You’re shorter than I thought you would be,” Alfred said at last when they reached the first row of trees, smiling at Arthur from his half-a-head advantage.
Arthur slapped his arm. “Twelve years and that’s all you’ve got to say?” he asked, scowling even through his smile. Alfred grinned sheepishly and bumped their shoulders together, once, twice, then reached out and wove his arm around Arthur’s, weaving their fingers together. Arthur jumped a little, looking up at Alfred’s face in surprise; it was turned away, the tips of his ears red. Arthur smiled softly and leaned into his side as they slowly wove towards their cherry tree in the far corner of the orchard.
When they reached it, Alfred swung up into the lowest, sturdiest boughs as Arthur carefully set his bag in the roots, then helped Arthur up, shamelessly holding onto his hand even when Arthur was settled, sidesaddle, facing Alfred.
They stared for a moment, caught up in each other. They laughed and came together, leaning forward to hold each other close, breathing in and never wanting to let go.
“I missed you so much, Arthur,” Alfred sighed, almost hurting Arthur with his grip. Neither cared.
Arthur clutched his shoulders, burying his face in his collar. “Yes,” he whispered.
They stayed that way until Alfred’s back against the tree trunk started to hurt, then they climbed down, brushed the cherry blossom petals off each other’s shoulders, and headed back to the castle and to the resumption of their duty to their kingdom.
``````
The next sunset they were married and took the throne together, accepting the King’s sword and the Queen’s eyeglass with twin bows and secret smiles from the women, who had both aged well in the twelve years of their heirs’ absence. Of course, each of them had seen their own heir in that time, when they were able to get away from the capital and revel in the heady intensity of the sea or the field and advise them, but it was as sporadic as their letters to each other.
Then the party started, and the new King and Queen found themselves pulled apart by people who wanted to meet them, greet them, give a few words of good or faulty advice, weasel in a favor. The night drew on.
When false dawn shone through the high windows, both Kings and Queens kicked the scragglers out of the throne room and left themselves, yawning up the stairs to their beds. The old King and Queen waved sleepily at a split in the corridor and went to their new rooms, leaving the new rulers to find their way to their adjoining set alone.
The Queen’s door was first. “Come in with me,” Arthur said, one hand on the doorknob, the other gripping Alfred’s wrist. Alfred tilted his head to the side curiously.
“Why?”
Arthur opened the door and led him inside. “I want you to help me with something.”
Intrigued, Alfred let himself be led, closing the door behind him as Arthur let go of his wrist and walked to the sprawling desk with the multitude of charts pinned to the wall above it. He opened the largest drawer and pulled out a large round clock. “Do you think you can help me hang this on the wall? I want to get it up before we go to sleep tonight.” He averted his eyes to the floor and shook his hair in front of them.
Despite how tired he was, Alfred laughed and stepped forward into Arthur’s personal space, putting his hands over Arthur’s where they held the clock. He felt it ticking, then realized it was Arthur’s heartbeat in time with the second hand.
“Of course, Arthur. Where do you want it?”
``````
Slowly, they settled into their new roles and got busy, advised by the old King and Queen, who were too active and energetic for true retirement and made themselves integral in the kingdom’s functioning once more. Alfred and Arthur had to make time to see each other, late in the nights when both were at home and not out in the kingdom, alone in one of their sitting rooms, shoes off and eyes closed as they complained to each other about other people or just sat in silence by the dying fire.
They saved the arguing for the daytime.
One night, over a year later, after the Queen had been gone for a month on a harbor inspection along the coast, Alfred was getting ready for bed alone. He had been too busy to find a favorite to keep his bed warm like most of the men his age around, and he wasn’t in a rush.
The door clattered open behind him, and he whipped around, wrist knife flashing and ready. Arthur was there, wet and muddy, cloak dripping on the carpet.
He beamed, previous fatigue forgotten as he resheathed his knife. “Arthur!” Alfred stepped forward to greet him, but stopped at the look in Arthur’s eyes. His face fell. “What’s wrong?”
“I realized as I came home from that God-forsaken trip that this was the longest we’ve been apart since we took the throne,” Arthur said in a bone-chilled voice. His numb fingers quivered at the bow of his cloak, and Alfred moved in to untie it for him, spread it over a chair to the side.
“I guess you’re right,” Alfred responded lightly, guiding Arthur to their couch by the fireplace. It was almost asleep, so Alfred added a log and stoked the embers before joining Arthur on the couch. Arthur curled into his side; Alfred recoiled slightly, surprised, then sat back and gingerly laid his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.
“You wouldn’t think a month would be that lonely after twelve years,” Arthur mumbled into Alfred’s shoulder.
“I missed you, too.”
Alfred had almost nodded off, cheek resting on the top of Arthur’s head, when he asked softly, “Can I try something?”
He jolted awake, and Arthur sat up, eyes glowing in the firelight. He asked again.
“Try what?”
Arthur took a deep breath and unwound his arms from around Alfred’s torso to cup his hands under Alfred’s chin.
Alfred’s breath stuttered, and he swallowed it.
“Oh. Yeah. You can try that.”
Arthur smiled for the first time in a few days, then leant in to kiss him.
``````
No matter what kind of customs marriages may be dictated by in the Kingdom of Spades, things were invariably more interesting when the ruling couple was in love.
Of course, many in the castle and in acquaintance of the two had known of this since far before their marriage, having seen how they pined when they were apart, how they greeted on their reunions. That they had taken this long to realize it themselves was a surprise - but, then again, neither the King or the Queen had ever been known for their emotional insight.
They were so in love it was nauseating.
Now, a kiss could silence one of their many little arguments; a touch to the back or shoulder could calm a temper; a shared smile could lighten a room; a brush of a hand could make them blush. The servants learned to avoid the King and Queen’s tower late at night or early in the morning.
Arthur kept a spray of cloth cherry blossoms on his desk, directly beneath the clock nailed onto his wall. Alfred still kept the latest written dispatch from Arthur in his breast pocket, no matter what it was or when it was (he never told Arthur). They raised the little girls that would follow them with the heavy assistance of the castle staff.
It was meant to last
On the surface, they were solely political, arranged a generation or two before, based on family ties and alliance. You were not required to love your spouse, although many found a close friend and a coworker in them as they grew up together and ran their land and their household.
In companion to this firmly established tradition, the King and Queen were chosen from rotating families through the generations, raised together in the capital city and given a proper education to rule the kingdom. They weren’t allowed to have children, as that would… complicate things; as an insightful, preventative step suggested centuries ago, the King and Queen were the same gender, switching each generation, so even if love bloomed, there wouldn’t be any nine month surprises. As such, instead of gender determining titles, the King and Queen were separated by responsibilities, crucial to and reliant on each other. Although there were many minutiae in the list of differences, the main and most important was the division of the military - specifically, the Queen as Admiral of the Navy and the King as General of the Army. After twelve years of preparation and living side-by-side, the two heirs would decide which one suited each other. Then, the Queen took to the seas, the King to the ever-expanding front lines (for the Spades were conquerors, devourers) for the next twelve span before coming back to the capital to be married and take over the kingdom from their predecessors.
And that’s only the beginning.
``````
Two twelve year old boys sat in the branches of a heavily blooming cherry tree the day before the spring equinox.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” one said, back against the trunk and pulling petals off a leaning twig above his head. The other boy sat forward from where he was straddling the bough at the first’s feet and whacked his hand from the flowers.
“Don’t be absurd, Alfred, you’ll be fine,” he scolded, settling back against a conveniently forking limb. “Everyone will like you.”
Alfred grinned at him. “Ya think so?”
The other boy frowned. “I know so, dolt. You’ve already got half the castle at your beck’n call, and King Bridget loves you.” He made a face. “More’n Queen Magdalena and I, anyway.”
Alfred laughed. One of his legs slid from where it was bent up on the limb down to knock toes with the other’s swinging foot.
“You’re gonna be okay, too, y’know,” Alfred said after a moment of toe-knocking and watching falling petals drift. Arthur shrugged and stared at the tree bark between his splayed knees.
He bit his lip. “Can you promise me something?”
Alfred beamed. “Anything, Arthur.”
“Don’t forget about me.”
Alfred gasped and kicked Arthur’s ankle hard. “Don’t even say that! How could I do that? You’re my Arthur!”
Arthur rubbed the heel of a hand over a burning cheek. “But Al… twelve years is a long time, and I just…” He pulled up one knee so he could bury his face in it. “I’m scared.”
“Hey.” Alfred scooted up the branch closer to Arthur and gripped his upper arms, pushing him away from his knee and locking eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, okay? We’re not gonna forget each other. No way.” Arthur smiled, but it was a little wavery, a little watery.
Alfred sat back and frowned to the side, hands braced on his knees. While he thought, Arthur fidgeted, straightening his clothes (royal blue and royal purple, stained from the climb up the tree and the sneaking dash around the castle walls to their orchard), cleaning the dirt from under his nails, pulling out his heirloom pocketwatch to check the time.
Alfred’s hand snatched out and grabbed his wrist before he could put the watch away, his eyes alight with the spark of genius.
“Let’s trade clocks.”
Arthur blinked at him. “What?”
Alfred laughed and took the spade-shaped pocketwatch from his hand, careful not to tug on the chain too much. “I’ve got that big clock in my room - y’know, the one on the table,” he explained, running his fingers in the grooves of engraving on the back. Arthur nodded, and he continued, “So you take that one on your boat or whatever-”
“-Ship-”
“Yeah, your boat thing - and I’ll take this with me-”
“-so we’ll always have something to remember each other by,” Arthur finished his sentence as comprehension dawned.
Alfred grinned at him, then reached into Arthur’s waistcoat pocket to unhook the chain and draw it out.
``````
It would be the last time they talked for twelve years.
The next day was the Midway ceremony, when the future King and Queen officially chose their titles and went their separate ways. There were a few stiffly rehearsed lines that they recited to the crowd, to each other, to the current King and Queen (an average blonde with a cat’s smile and a stunning, severe brunette, respectively), they then were shuffled away to their waiting escorts, waving at each other over their shoulders as mournfully solemn as twelve year old boys could be.
But in Alfred’s coat pocket and Arthur’s favorite saddlebag, they kept a promise.
``````
Over their twelve years of separation, they had letters (sporadic, whenever Arthur was in port and not fighting pirates or Alfred had a courier to spare and wasn’t fighting the Clubs or the Hearts or the Diamonds or any other enemy). They were small, childish, merely points of contact, but they were something to hold at night and keep in their breast pockets. They talked of nothing - their days, their dalliances, the future. When their reunion date grew close, Arthur sent one last letter from the harbor by the capital on a dirty scrap of paper; “Meet me at our tree the day before.”
When Alfred got the note, he tucked it into the pocket with the watch, pulled it out instead and followed the memorized engravings on the back with his thumbnail. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said quietly.
``````
It was the day before the twelfth equinox again, and it didn’t go as they had planned.
They got to the castle at the same time, early afternoon, their honor escort at their sides and the banners of the ballads flapping in the heavy wind. They came in from opposite ends of the city and were unaware of the other’s presence until the stable yard, when Arthur rode in on the horse he’d had to relearn how to ride and found two sixes of soldiers laughing around a tall, broad blond with eyeglasses he didn’t remember who hadn’t seen him yet.
He sucked in a breath, and Alfred looked over his guards’ heads and beamed brighter than the sun hidden behind the spring shower clouds.
Arthur slithered off his tired horse’s back, letting a nameless stable hand take her away after he slung his favorite saddlebag over his shoulder, something large and metal clunking against his shoulder. When he turned around, Alfred had excused himself and taken a few strides towards him, but was now stopped, standing alone in the dust and staring blatantly.
Arthur jerked his head towards the back of the castle, and he smiled even wider, nodding and jogging to his side as they left the stable yard and ducked between a gap in the wall that still hadn’t been fixed, heading for the orchard without a word.
“You’re shorter than I thought you would be,” Alfred said at last when they reached the first row of trees, smiling at Arthur from his half-a-head advantage.
Arthur slapped his arm. “Twelve years and that’s all you’ve got to say?” he asked, scowling even through his smile. Alfred grinned sheepishly and bumped their shoulders together, once, twice, then reached out and wove his arm around Arthur’s, weaving their fingers together. Arthur jumped a little, looking up at Alfred’s face in surprise; it was turned away, the tips of his ears red. Arthur smiled softly and leaned into his side as they slowly wove towards their cherry tree in the far corner of the orchard.
When they reached it, Alfred swung up into the lowest, sturdiest boughs as Arthur carefully set his bag in the roots, then helped Arthur up, shamelessly holding onto his hand even when Arthur was settled, sidesaddle, facing Alfred.
They stared for a moment, caught up in each other. They laughed and came together, leaning forward to hold each other close, breathing in and never wanting to let go.
“I missed you so much, Arthur,” Alfred sighed, almost hurting Arthur with his grip. Neither cared.
Arthur clutched his shoulders, burying his face in his collar. “Yes,” he whispered.
They stayed that way until Alfred’s back against the tree trunk started to hurt, then they climbed down, brushed the cherry blossom petals off each other’s shoulders, and headed back to the castle and to the resumption of their duty to their kingdom.
``````
The next sunset they were married and took the throne together, accepting the King’s sword and the Queen’s eyeglass with twin bows and secret smiles from the women, who had both aged well in the twelve years of their heirs’ absence. Of course, each of them had seen their own heir in that time, when they were able to get away from the capital and revel in the heady intensity of the sea or the field and advise them, but it was as sporadic as their letters to each other.
Then the party started, and the new King and Queen found themselves pulled apart by people who wanted to meet them, greet them, give a few words of good or faulty advice, weasel in a favor. The night drew on.
When false dawn shone through the high windows, both Kings and Queens kicked the scragglers out of the throne room and left themselves, yawning up the stairs to their beds. The old King and Queen waved sleepily at a split in the corridor and went to their new rooms, leaving the new rulers to find their way to their adjoining set alone.
The Queen’s door was first. “Come in with me,” Arthur said, one hand on the doorknob, the other gripping Alfred’s wrist. Alfred tilted his head to the side curiously.
“Why?”
Arthur opened the door and led him inside. “I want you to help me with something.”
Intrigued, Alfred let himself be led, closing the door behind him as Arthur let go of his wrist and walked to the sprawling desk with the multitude of charts pinned to the wall above it. He opened the largest drawer and pulled out a large round clock. “Do you think you can help me hang this on the wall? I want to get it up before we go to sleep tonight.” He averted his eyes to the floor and shook his hair in front of them.
Despite how tired he was, Alfred laughed and stepped forward into Arthur’s personal space, putting his hands over Arthur’s where they held the clock. He felt it ticking, then realized it was Arthur’s heartbeat in time with the second hand.
“Of course, Arthur. Where do you want it?”
``````
Slowly, they settled into their new roles and got busy, advised by the old King and Queen, who were too active and energetic for true retirement and made themselves integral in the kingdom’s functioning once more. Alfred and Arthur had to make time to see each other, late in the nights when both were at home and not out in the kingdom, alone in one of their sitting rooms, shoes off and eyes closed as they complained to each other about other people or just sat in silence by the dying fire.
They saved the arguing for the daytime.
One night, over a year later, after the Queen had been gone for a month on a harbor inspection along the coast, Alfred was getting ready for bed alone. He had been too busy to find a favorite to keep his bed warm like most of the men his age around, and he wasn’t in a rush.
The door clattered open behind him, and he whipped around, wrist knife flashing and ready. Arthur was there, wet and muddy, cloak dripping on the carpet.
He beamed, previous fatigue forgotten as he resheathed his knife. “Arthur!” Alfred stepped forward to greet him, but stopped at the look in Arthur’s eyes. His face fell. “What’s wrong?”
“I realized as I came home from that God-forsaken trip that this was the longest we’ve been apart since we took the throne,” Arthur said in a bone-chilled voice. His numb fingers quivered at the bow of his cloak, and Alfred moved in to untie it for him, spread it over a chair to the side.
“I guess you’re right,” Alfred responded lightly, guiding Arthur to their couch by the fireplace. It was almost asleep, so Alfred added a log and stoked the embers before joining Arthur on the couch. Arthur curled into his side; Alfred recoiled slightly, surprised, then sat back and gingerly laid his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.
“You wouldn’t think a month would be that lonely after twelve years,” Arthur mumbled into Alfred’s shoulder.
“I missed you, too.”
Alfred had almost nodded off, cheek resting on the top of Arthur’s head, when he asked softly, “Can I try something?”
He jolted awake, and Arthur sat up, eyes glowing in the firelight. He asked again.
“Try what?”
Arthur took a deep breath and unwound his arms from around Alfred’s torso to cup his hands under Alfred’s chin.
Alfred’s breath stuttered, and he swallowed it.
“Oh. Yeah. You can try that.”
Arthur smiled for the first time in a few days, then leant in to kiss him.
``````
No matter what kind of customs marriages may be dictated by in the Kingdom of Spades, things were invariably more interesting when the ruling couple was in love.
Of course, many in the castle and in acquaintance of the two had known of this since far before their marriage, having seen how they pined when they were apart, how they greeted on their reunions. That they had taken this long to realize it themselves was a surprise - but, then again, neither the King or the Queen had ever been known for their emotional insight.
They were so in love it was nauseating.
Now, a kiss could silence one of their many little arguments; a touch to the back or shoulder could calm a temper; a shared smile could lighten a room; a brush of a hand could make them blush. The servants learned to avoid the King and Queen’s tower late at night or early in the morning.
Arthur kept a spray of cloth cherry blossoms on his desk, directly beneath the clock nailed onto his wall. Alfred still kept the latest written dispatch from Arthur in his breast pocket, no matter what it was or when it was (he never told Arthur). They raised the little girls that would follow them with the heavy assistance of the castle staff.
It was meant to last