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“I’m not supposed to be here.”
The room is small, dark, and gloomy. The dim candlelight is barely enough to illuminate it, so most corners remain hidden by shadows. Dust stings his nose, and the smell of wet earth in the air makes it obvious how little used it is. Surely a perfect place for clandestine meetings, just as the other king assured him.
That, however, doesn't stop Alfred's eyes from scanning every nook and cranny. He's not foolish enough to believe he's safe, no matter how much Francis smiles and assures him that it's just the two of them there.
Anyone could be watching, judging him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to deal him a killing blow. He has to be careful, as Arthur has always told him, many will try to trick him and take advantage of his inexperience and naivety. He is not a child anymore, he–
“And yet… here you are.” Francis’s silky smooth voice interrupts his thoughts, diverting his attention from the room and trapping him like a spider’s web. There’s something about this elegant man that Alfred can’t help but admire, even as he does something as simple as pouring him a glass of wine—a wine glass with gold rims and an extravagant, expensive ornament on its base.
No one would think that just a few years ago, his kingdom was the most impoverished.
“I need your help,” he admits, his voice sounding dry, immature. Not even close to the tone his host used. He hates having to be so honest with another kingdom and exposing such a weakness, but he doesn’t have many options left. “My kingdom, my people, my advisors— they all keep telling me that I must follow the path forged by the ancient kings.”
“Ah, yes.” The monarch took a sip from his own glass, and even in doing so, he seemed more elegant than Alfred could ever dream of being. He appeared so indifferent to his words, to Alfred, and it was frustrating because, in contrast, Alfred was giving him his full attention. “Your advisors, the Queen and the Jack. They are wise; perhaps you should listen to them.”
His chair hit the floor with a thud, the sound echoing in the small space.
“But I don’t want to!” Even standing there with a rude and, some would say, threatening attitude, the other blond barely looked at him, why didn’t he look at him? “If I follow their stupid advice, if I let everything continue the same, how will we ever improve?” No, that wasn’t really his concern–, “How… how will I ever stop my kingdom from falling apart? If we continue like this, if I listen to them, our only destiny will be destruction.”
“You can’t fight destiny, little king.”
The taste of blood flooded his mouth from where he was furiously biting the inside of his cheek. He had not slept properly for nights. His gift kept showing him over and over again what would happen if he did not act; it tormented him. And no one listened to him! No matter how much he insisted, how much he tried to make them understand. Yao claimed it was just nerves about his new life, and Arthur thought he just wanted to get attention, to be the imaginary hero of a made-up story.
He had come here because he thought that maybe, of all people, Francis Bonnefoy would understand what his people didn't. He was supposed to. But seeing him now, barely sparing him a glance as he swirled his stupid wine around like it was the only thing that really mattered…
He was tired.
“You did it.” And it’s an accusation born of disappointment, of pain even. He hears himself sounding like the kid he assures others he’s not, and he hates it and regrets everything. Coming here, believing this would serve any purpose, opening his mouth, trusting him even a little. Yet could anyone really blame him? He had seen how the Kingdom of Diamonds changed and prospered under that man's hand, how he forced fate to mold itself into his image and ambitions, and that once inspired him. The monarch was some kind of hero, an idol, the savior that the gods had sent to Diamonds. But maybe he was wrong, maybe it was as everyone said, just a bit of luck. The man in front of him was nothing more than a—
He pauses, blinking a couple of times, unsure of what he’s seeing. In front of him, it isn’t Francis, the extravagant, relaxed and indifferent man he got to know. No. In front of him is the King of Diamonds, the one who took a nation destroyed by past wars, infertile and poor; and he forged it in the Crown of the kingdoms, the envy of every land.
He is the king that made every other monarch bow their heads, only a few years ago, completely changing the game’s field.
He smiles, but not a friendly smile; it’s the smile of a predator. For the first time, Alfred notices that danger was never hidden in the shadows, but in front of his eyes.
Alfred has his full attention for the first time, and he wants to escape from it.
“I did something like that, right?” The man keeps smiling, still sitting on that luxurious chair (or is it a throne…?), and he’s every centimeter of a king and a little bit more. He’s not like Alfred, really not, who is still trying to understand the ins and outs of this lifestyle and could maybe never understand them. It’s… amazing, and a silly part of him wants to bow his head to someone who’s without a doubt more powerful than himself.
(For now).
He doesn’t do it, he will never do it, but that silly part still exists.
“Teach me how,” he demands, asks, and begs, because he’s tired of dreaming with the fall of his kingdom, because he has seen the numbers and the threats that nobody else seems to pay attention to. Because he has begged for someone to hear him out, to stop treating him like an inexperienced kid playing to be king. And this is his opportunity, his only opportunity. “Please.”
“I could, yes,” he says, and something close to hope blooms in his chest. Something is changing the destiny that has been drawn, and the paths are opening in front of him. “but what will I get in return?”
“An ally,” he responds immediately, the only right answer. Alfred’s eyes shine, a possible future, the future he yearns for, it’s showing itself in front of his young eyes, and he knows he has to grab it with both his hands and not let go. “the strongest that you will ever have.”
Francis smiles at him.