|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jun 22, 2015 18:51:42 GMT -5
This would be Arthur’s third marriage and the second coronation for a new King that he had witnessed. He’d seen the preparations before, the flutter of spectacle and energy from everyone in Spades, the fuss with the decorations, the livelihood of the kitchens filled with tantalising smells, and the endless documentation and paperwork that went into making everything official. He remembered his first time when he was younger, his hands sweating as he read the paper with the vows written on it over and over again until the words blurred, reminding himself not look like a fool in front of hundreds of onlookers, and not to lock his knees when he stood before the alter. All of that had been burned into his memory.
This time there was no tremble in his body and only something like quiet duty remained as the servants fussed over his wedding suit. The way his eyes looked past his reflection might have been mistaken as boredom, but was simply more of calm observation and thought. By the time he was finished, his hair had been tamed beneath his crown studded with blue gems, the heavy accessory used only for grand ceremonies. His wedding suit was reminiscent of an older era of Spades, with rows of golden buttons and an ornately coloured sash across the front. Over his shoulders, they drape a rich ermine robe with a long train. He pulled on his thin white gloves as they left the dressing rooms behind.
He could hear the guests through the towering double doors of the throne room where there were unformed guards and soldiers. He’d seen the throne room before he’d been sequestered away. It had been transformed overnight. A long, rich blue carpet had been rolled out, stretching all the way in from the courtyard and down the length of the throne room to the glittering thrones. Lined on each side were the trumpeters and drummers, and behind them the entire room was filled with hundreds of people who would all stand when the doors opened for their future sovereign, a sea of colour and faces. For the moment, they stationed Arthur to the side where they would likely lead Alfred as well, allowing for a few precious moments to themselves before the the ceremony started. Moments without expectations, formality, and officials.
The Queen had only met the prospective King a very small handful of times, only a week or so before the coronation and wedding were to take place. When he’d first heard who it was that was being chosen as King, he’d been initially unimpressed when his adviser painted Alfred's finer qualities to him. However, his first meeting with Alfred had been the only thing to truly change those early impressions. He was young, yes. Not yet trained to take on such a position of power, but those were both things that time would remedy. And the Queen had enough ruling experience to make up for it in the meantime. But most importantly, Arthur hadn’t detected anything off about him—he didn’t seem to harbour a cruel bone in his body and seemed to be sound of mind. Alfred would be easy to mold, or so Arthur was hoping. And though he still needed more time with his future King to know for sure, he got the impression that there was a kindness to him behind all that raw, unpracticed power. A rare combination among the royal courts. And seeing that greatly softened Arthur’s outlook.
He didn’t have much time to himself before he heard the shuffling behind the door he’d just come through, likely the servants bringing in the future King before they could make the final preparations for the ceremony that was expected to begin soon. As he turned, his gaze stopped for a moment over Alfred, both familiar and unfamiliar to the boy he’d met for stiff moments beforehand. The servants had done their part, stuffing Alfred into the formal coronation and wedding attire, brushing him up. He quickly decided that the young man looked rather appealing when polished. Realising he’d been staring for a bit, he recovered with a quick, ”You look—” His mind searched for the right word, nothing too familiar or too formal, but all he came up with was, ”—the part.” And rather impatiently, he waved away the servants to make the most of the quiet moment they had before everything started.
When the doors finally closed, leaving just the two of them, Arthur could almost feel a sigh being loosened from his chest. Finally. No more irritating officials or servants or guests fluttering about for those few minutes. He had to quickly iron out his worn patience when he turned once more to Alfred, green eyes searching his expression, trying to work out where he was at the moment. ”How are you?” Arthur's voice had softened, less formal in that moment. It was probably a good thing that they didn’t leave liquor lying around in this room or he would’ve been tempted to give Alfred a few mouthfuls for any impending nerves. It’s interesting how the roles have reversed, Arthur, for once, being the older, more seasoned one by comparison to his King. He was younger than Alfred when he had his first royal marriage, and he could still remember the uncertainty, the brittle fear, and sweltering nerves beforehand, even after being extensively trained for it. And he wanted to settle Alfred’s as best as he could.
...
Tag // Alfred Jones
|
|
|
|
Post by Alfred Jones on Aug 9, 2015 20:06:52 GMT -5
To say Alfred is panicked would be the understatement of the century. To be more accurate, the heir apparent is terrified, and it shows with the sharp tremble in his hands and shoulders; the way the servants dressing him in his ceremonial attire consistently pulling away with a wince at various shocks Alfred doesn't realize he's releasing. There are at least three or four different robes and coats he's expected to wear throughout the ceremony, and they're all thick velvet and heavy embroidery, and Alfred is already sweltering beneath the layers. The blonde is glad he doesn't have to wear the heavy crown just yet.
Even as they finish dressing Alfred for the beginning of the ceremony, the boy's mind is whirling with all the information crammed into his skull the past week. There's almost too much to remember, and there's a deep set worry that he's going to say or do something wrong; make himself out to be a fool rather than a proper King. Already the pressure of the position is settled firmly on his shoulders, and it's a heavy burden he doesn't know how to deal with. Not to mention that directly after his coronation he has not only the Queen's simple ceremony and a WEDDING to go through.
Not only is Alfred being crowned King of Spades, but he's getting married. Normally, the decision would've been left to the new royal as to his spouse and ruling partner, but Alfred's childhood certainly didn't include lessons on how to rule a kingdom. Therefore, the council deemed it necessary to keep as much order as possible by having the previous Queen, Arthur Kirkland, keep his own throne and aid the heir apparent with his new responsibilities. That's another spot of panic in his growing hysteria, and the blonde can't quite tell if his heart's going to keep racing forever or simply give out, it's stressing itself so much.
Alfred can only barely keep from tripping as he's escorted to a private resting place near the throne room. The rich black of the Royal Robe of the State is stark compared to the rich blue decorations and silver embroidery, not to mention the ermine cloak settled atop that. The blonde is very thankful he was allowed to keep his black leather gloves rather than wear the thin white silk gloves they tried to force on him. They are too delicate and would probably tear beneath the trembling fists he'd tightened his hands into. Alfred is also grateful the resting area is closed off to the large crowd already filling the adjacent hall, so he can have his panic in peace.
In peace beyond the presence of his future husband, who is equally adorned in the riches of the Kingdom of Spades; already wearing his own heavy crown since his ceremony is a formality rather than necessity. The green-eyed man looks good in the finery of his station, though Alfred hasn't ever truly seen him in anything less fine. Alfred, however, feels nothing but discomforted and flustered in his own attire, and the older man's staring doesn't do anything more than upset his nerves more. Feeling a hot flush climb the back of his neck and ears, the king-to-be looks away, leather creaking as he anxiously fidgets in place. "You look the part," Arthur tells him, and Alfred is only minutely calmed by those words.
Is everyone going to stare like that? Alfred's never been one to enjoy being stared at, especially not by strangers. Are they happy to see a new king ascending the throne, or are they derisive of such a "distant" relative taking up the mantle? Are they hoping for him to mess up? Are they going to laugh if he says something wrong, or trips, or something equally embarrassing? Or are they going to take the opportunity to prove he's not worthy of the position and usurp him before he can even be coronated?
The blonde is oblivious to Arthur's searching look, probably taking in the panic in his eyes and the nervous sweat he's breaking into. It's hard to keep his breathing steady, and honestly Alfred would like to take a seat before his legs give out on him. The stress of combat is something Alfred can deal with--this is something so out of his comfort zone that the blonde is half-ready to run (something he hasn't done in years is run from a challenge). Before the death of the previous king, Alfred simply aspired to be a knight, working around the kingdom helping those in need. This? This is so beyond his comprehension that he almost wants to laugh--and so he does. Wide blue eyes finally slide over to glance at Arthur in response to that soft question, a shaky smile on his face. "I have no idea," he replies, a hysterically amused lilt to his voice. With growing horror he's afraid he's going to vomit, faint, or both.
|
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jan 18, 2016 20:02:20 GMT -5
Arthur noticed the way that his future husband fidgeted beneath his stare and he tried to avert it somewhat. They would be seeing a lot more of each other later that evening, and he hoped that whole affair wouldn’t leave the future King too disconcerted. He did see the flush and he did hear the faint shift of his heavy linen and leather as the other man fidgeted nervously, and it rather vividly reminded him of his own experiences with his first time being crowned and wedded. Arthur was hardly more than a child then, and just as seemingly terrified and embarrassed about suddenly taking on that role. It was obvious in Alfred’s expression that a million thoughts were likely flying through his mind, each one making him more anxious than the last. It was all written in his expression and the way he’d broken out into an obvious sweat.
It was perhaps more alarming when he noticed that Alfred’s breathing seemed to grow unsteady. And hearing the near hysterical laugh and response, Arthur glanced about, and after spotting a chair, he pulled it close. ”Here, sit down before you hyperventilate.” His voice left no room for argument, he could force Alfred to sit down if he had to, but he had a feeling that the man would be more than compliant with his request. His body might give out beneath the stress all on its own.
As soon as that was accomplished, Arthur pulled another chair in close, directly in front of Alfred, their knees nearly touching, as he wanted Alfred to listen and focus on him. After Arthur sat down, he took off his own crown, setting the heavy thing on the table gingerly. He also started to peel off his white gloves, laying those on the table as well. He wanted to speak to Alfred as just Arthur and not as the Queen. At least not quite yet and not in this situation. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair as he leaned forward just a touch. Calm green eyes slid over Alfred's expression, and his fingers tentatively reached for the back of Alfred’s leather-gloved hand, tentatively due to the possibility of getting a small shock, and also wordlessly asking for Alfred’s permission. ”As mundane as it sounds, I want to you just breath right now. Drown out everything else. I don’t care if the world is about to ignite; drown it out. And just focus on inhaling and exhaling… Not breathing is making everything a hell of a lot worse.” Arthur was being very informal with him right now, proverbially disrobing from his queenly role and saying whatever he wanted to say in the way he wanted to say it. If they were to be married quite soon, then the two probably had to get used to being informal with the other on a daily basis.
And he continued to be unceremonious, saying a few things that Arthur wished he had heard from someone when he was in Alfred's shoes. He didn’t know if it would be something that Alfred would want to hear, but at least it was someone in this damned court being genuine and straightforward with him before a life-altering event. His voice continued, calmly and in that same informal manner that he would use with Alfred behind closed doors. ”I know how terrifying this is. I was about three or four years younger than you when I was in your place. And although I had more training, I was quite alone and friendless in court after being thrown into it rather unexpectedly. I remember it clearly; it didn’t feel that long ago. And it retrospect, it really wasn’t that long ago.” Had Alfred given Arthur his permission to touch his hand prior, he would’ve briefly pressed his thumb down the back of his hand. He wanted to share that little piece, to give a little more dimension to the complete stranger that Alfred would be marrying soon.
”I know we’re strangers to each other right now, but I also want you to know that you’re not delving into this alone. By any means. I’m here to support you and guide you whenever necessary. Court can be a nasty place, as I’m sure you’ve already gathered or heard, but I’m completely on your side and they wouldn’t dare to challenge or move against you with me giving you my full support.” Arthur wasn’t exactly under the impression that that would happen among their own advisers, courtiers, or even within members of the council; but he said it more to quell any fears that may have been going through Alfred’s head, potentially real threats or not. What he did know to be real was the fact that everyone’s eyes would be on Alfred, likely weighing every word, every glance, and every movement he made. It was a lot of pressure to be carrying, and Arthur hoped that he could carry some of that burden on his shoulders as well, at least to alleviate a breath of Alfred's anxiety in the slightest.
”This is probably all very surreal, and makes little sense, and that’s fine for now. We’ll simply get through this ceremony together and we’ll take it one day at a time after all the formalities. And... I suppose what I'm really trying to say, then, is that if you’re ever completely bewildered or feel overwhelmed—like now, for example—just seek me out, keep your eyes on me if everything else feels uncertain. Trust me to be your most loyal supporter and adviser, as much as you can trust a stranger, in any case… I just wanted to be forthright with you on this matter and be completely open with you.” In this case, it felt very appropriate for Arthur to discard that formality, to show that he was more than willing to be real with Alfred, whether it was about discussing serious matters behind closed doors, the less serious, and everything else in-between.
”I know this is a lot to take in… For what it’s worth, I do honestly think you have potential. Spades has seen its fair share of rulers who expected to be rulers, who were taught, and lived and breathed knowing they’d be in power. I think it will be a more positive change for a ruler who didn’t have those expectations and lofty airs placed on them early on.” His lips curved faintly, this time without any sense of mockery or that dry humour that he was quite known for, more so among the members of the court who were rather close with him. Arthur always meant his words. ”I know it’s a lot to take in. I promise that it slowly gets better from here.”
...
Tag // Alfred Jones
|
|
|
|
Post by Alfred Jones on Mar 30, 2016 17:05:16 GMT -5
Perhaps it's his nerves getting the best of him, or maybe just his youth, or even just his trained deference to authority figures; Alfred collapses into that offered seat almost before Arthur finishes his 'order'. He realizes a moment later that none of those factors are good for a strong, dependable king to have. It's all he can do to stay silent after that. The blonde's large form crumples on itself all the same, pressing his forehead into one trebling fist as he hunches over. The Royal Robe of the State tugs painfully at his shoulders, not quite choking him under its weight. Alfred would laugh at the irony if he could. Not even coronated and his position is drowning him How could anyone think Alfred would make a good ruler? Not only is he lacking any training, but Alfred can't even handle his own crowning! Alfred jumps as something warm brushes the front of his knee, lifting his head slightly. He visibly relaxes as Arthur comes into sight. The older blonde is sitting as well, and in the process of removing his crown and gloves. When the Queen finishes, green eyes turn in Alfred's direction. Alfred swallows thickly at the look, leaning back in his seat. Is this the moment when Arthur tells him that Alfred failed some final test? Has he screwed everything already? Will Spades continue to run without a King? Has he failed everyone? What would Dennis think? Or his parents? The misery must be visible on his face, because Arthur reaches out to gently rest his fingers against once of Alfred's hands. He flinches slightly at the contact, a thrum of energy humming through their shared touch. He doesn't hesitate to grab Arthur's hand and hold it earnestly. It's the most contact he can expect right now, even if the heir-apparent would really like a hug. "As mundane as it sounds, I want you to just breathe right now. Drown out everything else," Arthur tells him with little preamble. It's not the rejection Alfred had been expecting, and he lets loose a heavy sigh; of relief or exhaustion is unknown. His nerves are too short to poke fun at Arthur's next words, but they do make him chuckle weakly: "I don't care if the world is about to ignore; drown it out. And just focus in inhaling and exhaling... Not breathing is making everything a hell of a lot worse."Despite the surprised snort at the unexpected swear, Alfred takes those words to heart. Alfred might have reservations (and some pretty obvious anxiety) over this entire situation, but he doesn't suffer from lack of trust for his queen (and future spouse). He feels safe holding Arthur's hand and closing his eyes. Arthur could've fought for the kingship if he'd wanted it, or gotten rid of Alfred if he disapproves, or is at least ambivalent, to the heir-apparent. The blonde, so far, hasn't done a thing like that. Alfred feels safe, lowering his defenses here. Though he does have to lift a hand to tug at the clasp of his cape; can't follow Arthur's advice if the symbol of his rank is choking him. (Alfred has to fight off a superstitious fear that the robe is saying 'nay' to him, because it's not some magic shit, it's just a piece of cloth) Arthur continues to speak despite Alfred's lack of response; he probably doesn't want any reply, considering the fact he told Alfred to just sit and breathe. So Alfred sits in silence, eyes closed, and listens. "I know how terrifying this is," the older blonde explains. "I was about three or four years younger than you when I was in your place." Alfred's lips twitch a bit; he has to suppress a grin at the little fib. Either Arthur is younger than people (and the records) say, or he's trying to seem younger to make Alfred feel better. Regardless of the king's intentions, Alfred is amused. "--I remember it clearly; it didn't feel that long ago. And in retrospect, it really wasn't that long ago."That admittance pokes a hole right in Alfred's happy bubble; deflating like a balloon. How...does Arthur deal with that, anyway? His whole life was displaced. Arthur was crowned Queen of Spades before Alfred was even born. Technically, his queen is twice his age. Only a few years younger than his parents. Any and all of Arthur's friends are probably with children of their own now. Arthur might've known the up-and-coming heirs of noble families as children or infants; wake up the next morning closer in age to them than their parents. Alfred opens his eyes to watch Arthur now, conflicted emotions clear on his face. After all, Arthur has re-integrated himself fairly well before Alfred was more than a random squire. He certainly didn't need, or probably want, Alfred's sympathy. But if Arthur is to be his queen and husband, Alfred needs to support Arthur just as much as the older blonde tries to support him. Alfred wants to do more. As Arthur brushes his thumb across the back of Alfred's hand, Alfred tightens his grip on the other; always careful to keep himself in check. His queen-to-be seems to share Alfred's idea of support, going by his words. The conviction in dark green eyes soothes the rest of the tension from Alfred's frame. While he doubts his transition to king and into court will go as smoothly as Arthur says, he...trusts Arthur will have his back. It's true that not many would openly oppose someone with the Queen's support. "I suppose what I'm really trying to sa, then, is that if you're ever completely bewildered or feel overwhelmed--like now, for example--just seek me out; keep your eyes on me if everything else feels uncertain. Trust me to be your most loyal supporter and adviser, as much as you can trust a stranger, in any case..."A wry grin twists itself onto Alfred's face. He wants to reply, because honestly, trusting Arthur is the easiest part of the situation (does that make Alfred naive?). Alfred doesn't trust himself. But Arthur has more to say, and Alfred can't bring himself to interrupt; yet, anyway. When the queen isn't poking at Alfred, he can be surprisingly...soothing? Or maybe he's just good at getting Alfred out of his own head. Arthur's next words are...certainly a surprise, though. "I know this is a lot to take in...for what it's worth, I do honestly think you have potential." Arthur is smiling, a small curl of one, but softer and kinder than the smirk Alfred is used to seeing. Something warm settles in Alfred's chest. He feels a bit lighter. Because of this, it takes a long moment of watching Arthur for Alfred to realize the fact he's blushing. It's faint at first, but acknowledging it only strengthens the heat beneath his cheeks. Only now does Alfred turn away, tugging at the clasp of his cape because it is once again tugging into his throat. Alfred is obviously flustered, and he tries his best to distract Arthur before he notices. "I-I think that's the most I've ever heard you say at once," he mumbles, awkwardly clearing his throat. "Never thought I'd get a pep-talk from you, to be honest..." Dennis, for sure, if Alfred had been able to see his old friend. Not Arthur, though. However, the Queen knows exactly what Alfred needs to hear, or at least enough to help him gather his wits. Alfred own voice softens with his next words, turning his gaze back to Arthur. He's probably showing his youth once again, but Alfred can't bring himself to care. "...Thank you, Arthur. I was really freaking out back there, huh?" He laughs, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I just...No, there's no excuse for it, is there? I'm...gonna be king. I have to learn to keep myself under control." Alfred's had that thought before, but his reactions and Arthur's words hammer that realization home. He straightens his shoulders, aiming a grin Arthur's way. The older blonde is putting his trust in Alfred, just like everyone else. How could he betray that trust by letting his thoughts and fears get the best of him before he's even started? "If you think I can do it, then I will." Alfred's words are filled with conviction. There is no 'try his best', now. He has people relying on him; a whole kingdom putting their faith in him. Alfred won't fail them. Not when the Queen of Spades himself thinks Alfred could be a good king. Alfred will not fail them.
|
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jul 30, 2017 13:07:02 GMT -5
Arthur could tell that Alfred was listening to every word he said, although it was far different from the dutiful listening that everyone attempted to appear to be doing whenever members of the monarchy spoke. It truly felt like Alfred was listening to him as Arthur, and not him as the Queen, which softened Arthur's regard for him even further. Although seeing Alfred blush after the slight stare, Arthur also felt a hint of warmth touching his own face. Although Alfred seemed too distracted in attempting to hide his flustered state for Arthur to be concerned with Alfred noticing the reflected color in his own. Even so, Arthur couldn’t help the slight widening of his own smile as he reached over to start undoing the clasp of Alfred’s robe, noticing his fingers attempting to loosen the proverbial noose a few times throughout. ”Here… you don’t need this quite yet anyway.”
After undoing the clasp, the robe hung loosely at Alfred’s shoulders for the time-being, although Arthur could quickly put it back to rights once they were needed to start the coronation.
"I-I think that's the most I've ever heard you say at once. Never thought I'd get a pep-talk from you, to be honest...Thank you, Arthur. I was really freaking out back there, huh?"
Arthur’s attention was on Alfred again with his words. ”It's fine... I'd be more worried if you weren't. But... you’re welcome… I suppose those are the words that I wished I had heard before my own coronation. I was really bloody scared.” Then again, he was just as young as Alfred was when he had gone through his marriage and coronation, and with a much older man in the now distant past. But all of that was behind him now, and he was focusing on having a strong rule with Alfred, and perhaps a marriage that would someday reflect that same strength. He couldn’t quite explain it yet, but Arthur recognized the somewhat hopeful feeling for that as well, particularly when he noticed the differences between this wedding and coronation with his first one. The last one had much worse circumstances, and Arthur was in a precarious position, and yet, against the odds, he came through just fine. This one had better circumstances, in Arthur’s opinion, and he genuinely did like Alfred upon their very first meeting.
"I just...No, there's no excuse for it, is there? I'm...gonna be king. I have to learn to keep myself under control."
”You’re free to be unnerved or worried or frightened in front of me... In fact, I’d be far more concerned if I never saw that side of you. As long as it’s in private… and not in front of anyone else. As much as we want our image to the public to reflect what we do behind closed doors, it doesn’t always align. But, you’re right… you want the people to never doubt that public image you fashion for them.” The unfortunate side of ruling were the politics, but Arthur would teach the intricacies of political intrigue to Alfred over time, and in that time, would protect him as much as he could from the oftentimes fierce words and sour regards of the courtiers, along with how to properly rule Spades.
"If you think I can do it, then I will."
Arthur squeezed Alfred’s hand softly, still feeling Alfred’s fingers clasped with his. It filled him with warmth hearing that from Alfred because it affirmed that Alfred trusted Arthur’s words enough to feel confidence from them. ”I think Spades needs a ruler with a fresh perspective. You didn’t grow up under the constant rulebooks, learning, and constraints that I, or previous rulers, experienced. At times, it was its own prison that lacked the basic understanding of life without those constraints. You can always be taught the rules, of course. But you can’t be taught what you already have that the other nobles don’t.”
Arthur could hear some of the commotion, rustling of expensive clothes, and murmuring outside of the doors that they’d be leaving through together and he knew that their time before the ceremony was running short. He wanted to make those short moments count before they had to don their ceremonial robes once more. ”Is there any other… part of the night that you weren’t sure about?” Arthur asked, knowing that they had other duties to perform as a newly wedded couple. He planned on guiding Alfred through that as well, making it as easy and uncomplicated as possible. Although, since they were both young, and likely to perform as they should, and Alfred seemed to trust him, Arthur didn’t think there would be any issues throughout the evening that would be difficult to remedy.
|
|
