"A man who is used to acting in one way never changes; he must come to ruin when the times, in changing, no longer are in harmony with his ways."

It was a simple process, really. When a royal died, the Jokers would come to their kingdom and declare that the royal mark had been distributed amongst the populace of the kingdom. Then a mad hunt would arise, thousands claiming to be royalty ad appearing with fake marks clearly copied from old paintings of the royals that had come and gone with the prior generations.

Arthur Kirkland could give less than a damn about the 'process' right now, he was more concerned about making sure that the metal cuffs weren't digging into his skin. It wouldn't be the first time his skin had been marred by metal, but most of it had been through a fight with swords singing a lovely tune as they collided with each other. Having to explain to his crew later where the new marks had come from would be more than embarrassing.

Then again, his entire crew could be dead. Eirene knows how the navy bastards were going to deal with him, but the stories of torture against pirate captains was enough to send shivers down his spine.

Two hands grabbed his arms roughly, jostling him from his reverie and he is guided out of, what he presumed, was a spell. He wasn't blindfolded, no, but he was currently experiencing the after-effects of a blinding spell. Captain Kirkland of the ship Britannia knew his way around spells, and that the ones the navy had cast was one that would last for a day at most. So far, at least twelve hours had passed, and the spell was falling slightly—every few seconds he would get a brief glimpse of the room he was in, but these seconds were brief and never gave him enough details for him to plan an escape. Now it was too late, the guards not letting up on their vice grips.

The rough treatment didn't surprise him; he had figured out long ago that if he were caught by the Spades Navy, he would be rightfully killed. He only hoped that his crew had gotten out okay. Sure, he was a pirate, but he could still care about the men who said they had families at home and wanted to bring home some gold to help support them.

Far too soon, he was forced to his legs again, letting out a shout at the rough treatment before he was slapped. Arthur grit his teeth but otherwise kept his silence, not wanting to make this whole situation any worse than it already was. He was already guaranteed for death row, might as well make his final hours somewhat easy.

"Get those sodding rags off him, bastard needs to wear normal clothes."

"I have to see the notorious Captain naked? What a bloody honor." Arthur hears two sets of footsteps approach him before his shoulder is jerked back unnaturally. It takes a large amount of effort for him to not shout out in pain, his spin twisting and bending back to try and accommodate for the position. The other guard had moved around to his front and began to unbutton his shirt, the captive man grimacing as he realized just how horrible this whole damn thing whole situation would be. After prolonging it for the stupidest amount of time, the damn guard finished and pulled down the shirt, and Arthur wondered how the hell they were going to get the shirt off around the cuffs on his wrists.

"Sons of Eirene!" The guard behind him jumped back, and the guard in front stood from his position. Arthur let out a sigh of relief, feeling far too uncomfortable with the man about to undo his pants sash.

"What's wrong?"

"His back, look at his back! Sons of Eirene, what do we do?" The guards moved, and Arthur heard the two speaking in hushed tones as he shuffled in place. As they talked, Arthur tried to think of any reason why they would be gawking at his back, but for now he was drawing blanks. Granted, he had been hit on the back with swords and the like, causing many scars to form over the years, but nothing that would cause them to stop the degradation of the captain that had been raiding their villages and destroying ships for years now.

Before he could think of another reason, his hair was pulled. Letting out a yell, Arthur tilted his head back to try and alleviate the pain only to feel the cold metal of a blade pressing against the thin skin of his neck.

"Tell me, captain, were you born in Spades before you turned to the seas?" Arthur held his tongue, a touch of his stubborn nature coming through. The guard growled and applied more pressure against his neck, the prisoner letting out a hiss as he felt his skin part and his blood bubble around the steel. In the back of his mind, he hoped that the blade was clean. "I asked you a question, dog."

"…My mother lived in Sacress before she died from the plague. I had siblings; don't know where they are now though." Arthur ground out, feeling a sliver of relief flood through him as the blade was brought away from his skin. He was then yanked to his feet again and brought out of the room, cursing as his bare foot hit the door frame, a spike of pain running up his leg. The blinding spell faded again, and Arthur glared at the man holding his left arm. His eyes widened when he saw the man's panicked expression, but his sight fell into darkness again, and Arthur growled in annoyance. It wouldn't be impossible for him to undo the spell, but he certainly couldn't do it when he was being manhandled by these idiotic guards.

Another door opened, and the sound of chatter almost immediately silenced itself as Arthur was forced in. As he was escorted, he heard other gasps and offended whispers around him, and that was when a seed of worry was placed in his mind. Sure, he could understand the guards being curious about where he was born—mainly because he'd heard rumors about himself from other ports, and most people had said that only a Clubs could have the gall to destroy so many naval ships—but this many people reacting to his back negatively at this point was just ridiculous. Sure, he'd have his fair share of scars, but everyone's seen scars before, his back shouldn't be that much of a surprise.

It then dawns on him that he's probably being led to his execution early. He doesn't panic, he's mainly just disappointed in himself. He'd figure he'd make it to thirty before he was caught and killed, but twenty-two didn't seem too bad, all things considered.

He's halted abruptly and, once again, forced to his knees. He's starting to wonder if this is a required action when dealing with a prisoner in the kingdom. He grits his teeth and keeps his eyes closed for once, not interested in the chance of seeing where he was.

"What's this?" Says a person in front of him, and Arthur sneers as he hears one of the many accents found in the Heart's Kingdom. "Why'd you bring this guy to me?"

"Well, sir, he…" The guard on his left stutters out awkwardly, and Arthur can't help but roll his eyes. Even the lowest man on his crew could stitch together a coherent sentence. Apparently the second guard has the same idea, and interrupts his friend's panicked monologue.

"We think he has the mark." The hall erupts into an uproar at the sentence, and Arthur hears the distinctive sound of swords being unsheathed before the Heart's man shouts for the whole hall to be silent. Arthur is somewhat surprised that they all listen, but then he remembers the stories of the Trump War that had come and had ended with the plague, and he realizes that being somewhat obedient under this man would make sense.

"Where is it?"

"His back. We were supposed to dress him in prison garb, but we brought him here after we saw it." Arthur feels his head being pushed down until he's looking down at the floor, and the Heart's native moved until he was looking at his back. The pirate's mind races at the implications of the word 'mark,' feeling a sense of dread settle in his stomach. The mark implied a hell of a lot of things, but the fact that a majority of those circulated around him no longer being able to run his crew and be locked to land scared him the most. He wondered if he could get out of his restraints and beat all of the guards to death and escape while he was blind.

Then the Hearts man touched the center of his back, and he blacked out.

When he wakes up he can see again.

Normally, that's a great thing. Waking up and seeing again after those brief glimpses of sight from earlier in the day.

Problem was he was expecting to be in his cell. Right now, he was in a far too fancy room for a prisoner, and he didn't even have his arms tied or anything. The guards were incompetent, but they couldn't have possibly been this stupid to put him in an actually decent room. Pushing off the (silk? Were they fucking silk?) blankets, Arthur stood from the bed and moved to a full body mirror that was hung up on the wall.

He appeared… normal. His skin looked a little bit paler, his eyes duller, but other than that he looked the same way he did two days ago. Running his hands over his back, he could feel the raised skin that showed where scars had risen and healed over, but nothing too shocking if you knew a pirate's life. Furrowing his brows, he remembered the guards mentioning a mark of some sort—his memories after being dragged out of the second cell were kind of hazy—and he turned around, twisting his neck to stare at his back.

He nearly screamed at seeing the Queen's mark on his back. Like all royal tattoos, the kingdom's symbol was clearly the center point, an elegantly detailed spade. In the center was a 'Q,' outlined in the black spade with a royal blue. Wrapping around the base of the symbol and arching above and around it were blue roses, the stems showing off sharp thorns. Prowling down from the edges of the Spade were two panthers, their tails wrapped by around the rose's stems, one expressing fury and rage while the other stared with a borderline creepy calmness.

"Finally, you're up." Arthur's head snapped up and he stared at the man who had just entered the room. His back collided with the cold surface of the mirror once he realized he was looking at the Black Joker, conversing with the Black Joker, and he wasn't dead. "How was your sleep, Aurora? Goddess, I figured that you would pass out after I activated the damn mark, but not for two days."

Arthur growled, forgetting that the man in front of him was one of the most powerful beings alive as he stomped over and grabbed the other's collar. "Get. It. Off."

"What, not happy that you're a ruler now? That you've got all of Spades under your thumb? Please, like that isn't what a greedy pirate like you wants."

"I want to be out at sea, with my men." Arthur emphasized, letting go of the Joker's collar in favor of pacing around the room. "I don't want to settle down with a prick of a King and having to take care of a kingdom. This is not what I want."

"Well too bad." The Joker says, moving in front of Arthur and digging his fingernails into his back, sending a jolt of no no let go bad get off down his spine and causing him to freeze at the familiar feeling. "You have to deal with this now, the plague's ruined everything and nothing good is about to come around. You aren't gonna have a fun time, Captain, you have to deal with the shit that's about to happen."

With a plume of smoke, the Joker teleported away, and Arthur collapsed to his knees, his back arching and distorting the royal mark on his back.