Time Warp [Arthur Kirkland] [Past]

[Feliciano Vargas]

Pain.

Sharp pain in his ar-- in the stump his arm used to be.

Sharp pain in his side with every desperate gasp of air he sucked in.

Sharp pain in his heart with every blink a flash of fire and blood and phantom screams.

Everything was pain.

Feliciano clung desperately to the bloodstained mane of his "borrowed" mare, both he and the creature gasping and panting for oxygen as they finally reached the streets of the capital of Spades. The sentry had been riding almost nonstop for over two days, only letting the horse walk when the creature stumbled too much for Feliciano to stay seated on the saddle. Sleep was nonexistent during the trip, and the brunette was visibly sagging into the neck of his steed. He'd torn his sutures at some point along the way, blood slowly seeping into the dirt-stained fabric of his shirt and dripping occasionally upon sweat-soaked hair. The horse stumbled and swayed by this point, froth gathering along its flanks and mouth, eyes wild and chest heaving with every step; but the normally kind noble didn't care. Too focused on his task of reaching the castle, the Hearts citizen was oblivious to the surprised screams and stares from citizens and soldiers alike as he raced through the streets. Time was of the essence.

It was only luck that had the castle open to visitors. Feliciano had only assumed, since Hearts' gates were rarely closed and he'd never actually visited the Kingdom of Spades before. Several guards tried to bar the Jack-to-be's way (not that he could be the Jack now, his arm was gone...!) startling his horse and sending it rearing in a panic. Feliciano had been knocked from the saddle, and the pain jolted into momentary white-hot agony. His ears rang, distorting the world around him as if he were underwater. Still, though, the soldier dragged himself to his feet. Feliciano had a mission.

Side-stepping those guards in the panic caused by his over-exerted horse, the boy continued on. Sweat-slick brown hair clung to a flushed face, eyes wild and panicked and darting everywhere at once without quite taking in his surroundings. The boy was a mess, injured and weak and certainly not in any state for the frantic actions he'd been forcing his body through. He should be in bed.

Feliciano needed to find the Queen of Spades.

It was only by rumor that the former Jack-to-Be knew what the Queen of Spades looked like. Hair like straw, eyes of emeralds, and eyebrows wild enough to be called their own forests, people whispered behind their hands. Relatively long and lean and very pale compared to the the dark colors of his Kingdom and his crown. The man who vanished without a trace over ten years ago, only to reappear, not aging a day. Everyone whispered of magic; a dark, forgotten skill manipulating the very fabric of time and reality.

The Queen of Spades was Feliciano's last hope. The only chance Feliciano had to save the family he'd lost.

Blood dripped onto the stone beneath his feet with every step; an invisible trail compared to the string of startled nobles and servants alike parting in front of Feliciano. No one tried to stop him, too horrified by his bedraggled, bloody appearance to approach. Eventually the brunette collapsed into large doors, knocking them open as he clutched desperately at dark wood to keep himself upright (and smearing blood and sweat against its surface in the process.

A meeting seemed to be taking place in the throne room. Large groups of people hovered around the sole blonde perched on his throne, the one to his left strangely empty. The chatter around them came to a cacophonous stop as the doors slammed open in Feliciano's entrance. Feliciano didn't notice. Wild amber eyes locked upon emerald and Feliciano staggered forward. A bloodstained sleeve swung in the air behind him, fluttering beneath his hand as the brunette clutched at his bleeding stump. "T-The Queen--" he croaked, ignoring the guards who were already trying to yank him to a stop, "I-I need the Queen, per favore--!"

Feliciano's body hurt so badly. His heart hurt even more. His mind screamed for rest, old and new injuries alike flashing beacons of pain. Feliciano couldn't stop. He had to bring his family back. He could rest when they were alive; or he could die trying.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur had been conversing with his advisers and courtiers in the throne room. He had a substantial amount to do now that he was placed back into the seat of power that he hadn’t quite expected to be in once more after the obvious time gap, even if it seemed to him to just be a short length of time. It was difficult to adjust, people that he’d once known were much older, some of the older ones either gone or had completely moved to different stations or even out of the country. Some had passed on regardless of their age, whether from plague or the natural afflictions of a harsh life. Everything, even the minor details of court, had changed in that missing decade. He needed to catch up on more than he could even comprehend in the short bit of time that he'd been back, and everyone in his inner circle knew it. Were well-aware of it, and some were even casting a disapproving shadow over his attempt to pick up where he’d left off, grasping the reigns of his power as confidently as he could, not showing any semblance of anxious trembles beneath the seemingly strong front. Arthur was not someone to be easily intimidated, so he frequently reminded himself. He was going to prove himself to this new court just as he had proved himself to the old one that he'd left behind.

He heard the whispers and he saw the stares; he knew what they were likely thinking. And as infuriating as the situation was, the Queen honestly didn’t blame them for their misgivings. He knew would be thinking the exact same things in their shoes. Arthur was listening to these societal-self-important people; men and women in their high collars, the chains of royal clothing taut about their bodies as they commenced in their first grand audience with the Queen. Arthur was sitting at his throne, a seat that was familiar and also abruptly unfamiliar.

He rested one leg over the other, leaning slightly against the side of the seat, his elbow perched along the arm of the chair. The all-too sophisticated chatter of the nobles was blissfully interrupted by the sound of the doors being violently opened, the clash of wood against stone. Arthur’s attention was caught, his gaze immediately drawn to the bloodied, injured man grasping at the wood of the frame like his lifeline.

Arthur stood from his seat immediately, his gaze now wild with what he was seeing before him. He saw the stark desperation in the man’s eyes more vibrantly than he saw his wounds, as alarming and gaping as they were. And seeing his guards reaching to stop the man from advancing even further into the throne room, Arthur barked an order, ”Stop! Let the man pass.” And ignoring the sounds of disapproval, some verbal, and some only contained in expressions, as he made his way down from his throne, down the steps until he weaved his way through the crowds, most of them parting for him as Arthur forced his way closer to the man.

”Call the court physician immediately,” the Queen called out rather harshly in order to prompt a swift response from nearby servants and subjects. And seeing the direction that their monarch was taking with this situation, one of the guards offered assistance to the struggling man so that he could stand upright with support.

”Sir, we’re getting you medical attention right away. Can you tell me your name and what happened?” Arthur asked because he needed to know, but he also wanted to keep the man conscious and alert while the physician was being fetched. It was clear that the man had lost a lot of blood and it was a wonder that he was standing at all with a recently missing limb. He wanted to get information before the man potentially, incidentally passed out. Also, the fact that the man was calling for him specifically, Arthur wanted to extract why the man had sought him out, whether it was for a warning or a plea over whatever situation he was in.

The area was immediately alive with activity, some leaving for the physician, some leaving for additional assistance, although most were simply staring at the spectacle.

[Feliciano Vargas]

The moment Feliciano caught sight of the Queen of Spades, he lost track of just about everything else around him; vision tunneled down to rich navy and shining silver and bobbing strands of straw hair. Desperation and relief swirled a whirlpool in his chest strong enough to sweep the strength right out of his legs. He stumbled, and wobbled, and it was all Feliciano could do to keep from falling flat on his face. His knee struck the stone as he fell; a pathetic shadow of a true bow someone of Arthur Kirkland's status deserved. Fresh pain lanced up his leg, somehow just as startling and sharp as the rest of every other throb of agony coursing through him.

Still, Feliciano strained to rise to his feet, face red with fever and exertion; eyes wild yet still tracking the Queen of Spades even through the growing crowds. He functioned solely on autopilot, instinct driving him ever forward, adrenaline feeding overworked limbs and keeping him going, going, going. Until Feliciano could bring his family back, he would stay on his feet or die trying.

They deserved nothing less.

Warm hands ghosted over his remaining arm and Feliciano jerked away before they could grab hold, stumbling once again at the sudden movement. He didn't want to be stopped; couldn't be stopped. People were talking around him, but the words resounded like static in his ears. or perhaps that was just the rush of blood through his veins. Feliciano couldn't tell which was which.

The second time a guard reached out for Feliciano, he couldn't get away in time: he struggled a moment against the hands grabbing at his bloodstained pink shirt (was it supposed to be pink? Or had it been white but stained that way over his travels? Feliciano couldn't remember). His struggles were useless; only the careful hold Feliciano found himself in kept the former Jack-to-be from falling over once again.

"Sir, we’re getting you medical attention right away."

Gold eyes finally blinked as the words wormed their way past the buzzing and ringing in his ears. The Queen of Spades had finally broken free of the crowd, and was standing before him. Close enough to touch, if he could. But the only arm free was the one he did not have--the other being held in attempts to keep him on his feet. "Can you tell me your name and what happened?"

It took a moment for the meaning of Arthur's words to make itself known to Feliciano, because he was struggling to actually make his tongue work now that he was here and he had the queen's attention and all he needed to do was ask for help--

"I don't-- N-Not help for me, ve" Feliciano finally managed to spit out, voice somehow even more hoarse in the twenty-step adventure from the door to here, spilling blood every inch of the way into the Spades Throne Room. "M-My family, we were-- V-Ve, my family's--" He kept tripping over the words. The cacophony around them hit a crescendo and not even the Queen of Spades could protect Feliciano from the onslaught of noise; the screaming that's echoed in Feliciano's head ever since he woke up drowning out near everything else.

He was at the finish line, and all he had to do was get the words out. Spit them out like blood at the Queen's feet and pray that Arthur Kirkland was merciful enough to help Feliciano--he had not much to offer now, but he would give his lifesblood to the man if it meant his parents need not lose theirs.

But to do that, Feliciano had to tell Arthur that his parents were dead, and the words refused to come out.

Feliciano's empty stomach roiled, and his useless stuttering cut off into a harsh, gasping sob. Once again, only the guard behind him kept Feliciano upright. "P-Please," Feliciano begged with every ounce of his being; a shade of his former self and a shame to the noble blood running through his veins, but he did not care. "M-My family-- t-there was an attack, t-the house, my family--" Feliciano sobbed again, blindly reaching out to grab a hold of his own shirt, over his heart. The best salute he can offer as he finally drops to one knee and nearly pitching over in sudden weakness. Throwing away any pride he might have had, to focus on delivering his pleas to Arthur, bowing his head. "Please, ve, I-I know you have n-no reason to help me-- but your magic, you can stop it b-before it happens. I swear, a-anything you want, your highness, you can have if you save my family. Everything the Vargases can g-give, you c-can have-- j-just please, please help them, ve. H-Help them l-live, please."

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Arthur Kirkland I'm not 100% sure how quickly news travels between the kingdoms so feel free to have Arthur know or not know wtf my idiot is talking about lololol