The children have returned to his shop. Well, perhaps they are more adolescents than children, but when you have been walking the dark for as long as Seam has, everyone younger than yourself looks like a child. They are still sweat-streaked and apple-cheeked with effort, their clothes and skin nicked here and there with the blast of a club, the edge of a diamond, the sharp tip of a spade.

They tell him what they have done, and he is impressed.

So few things surprise him nowadays; even new events seem overcast with a pall of déjà vu. It has been so ever since he walked out of the underground prison cell, and he knew that it would be, for the prisoner confined to that cell had told him. But this is unexpected. This was something that – though it must have been written in destiny – he did not expect to occur.

Now they are asking him a question about Jevil, and Seam's lips purse, tugging at the stitches on one corner.

"A friend…?" he echoes. "Could I consider him a friend…?"

The performance was almost done. The kings sat on the edge of their thrones, hands already poised to applaud.

With a flourish, Seam sent out a final burst of fireworks, dazzling sparks that flickered and cooled long before they had a chance to singe any exposed skin. Jevil leapt up just in time to be at the center of the last firework, and he somersaulted in the air, drawing appreciative "aaaah"s. Then he dropped down like a stone, only to land deftly, deliberately, in the palm of Seam's outstretched hand. He held out his arms and created a final arc of hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades.

Seam and Jevil smiled as the sound of clapping bubbled throughout the throne room. Seam took a bow, which was just low enough to be respectful without displacing Jevil…

As they often did after a performance, Seam and Jevil retired to Seam's room, taking up their positions on either side of Seam's ornate chess set. Jevil always played back; Seam always played red. They were the two best chess mavens in the entire kingdom.

Jevil had actually beat Seam, once, but today the game ended as it usually did: in a standoff. Driven back to the point where further moves would yield no results at all, Seam crossed his arms, trying not to smile. "Stuck again, I see."

Jevil grinned, revealing his mouthful of jagged yet endearing teeth. "At least we're stuck together, aren't we?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Jester?"

"You tell me, Magician."

And later, Seam was never sure which one of them leaned forward first – perhaps they'd both leaned closer at the same time. Nor was he certain about which one of them instigated the kiss, a soft brush from lips to lips, light and brief…yet tingling with the anticipation of emotions being fully realized.

It was the King of Clubs' birthday, and Seam and Jevil had long been rehearsing a grand performance, perhaps the most elaborate one they'd ever put on. Now it was nearly showtime. Seam had ducked behind the curtains set up in the throne room, ears twitching as he listened to the murmur of the party in waiting, wondering where his partner had disappeared to.

On cue, he felt a familiar tap on his shoulder. Jevil's smirking face stared into his. "How about a kiss for luck?" he whispered.

Seam kissed him, and he didn't care if the royalty and royal guests just beyond the curtain noticed them. Why would he? Love knows no shame.

One day, walking in the halls, the King of Spades grunted as he passed Seam. Seam stopped in his tracks and turned, his ears pricking up.

"You've made an interesting choice of lover, Magician," said the King, wryly.

Seam tilted his head, unperturbed. "We don't get to choose the things we love, Sire."

"I met someone today," declared Jevil, as he reclined beside Seam in bed. He seemed fuller of nervous energy than usual; his tail lashed back and forth. "Someone interesting."

"Oh?" Seam, who had never pretended to know the future – who would have admitted, under duress, that his famous cartomancy fortune-tellings were just cold reading and pomp – felt a sudden inkling of dread, and he could not have explained why. "Anybody that I should worry about?"

Jevil cackled. "Don't be jealous, my Seam! You know that you're the only one for me."

He wasn't lying, but Seam should have worried, anyway.

"You are the only one who can do this," said the King of Diamonds.

The King of Clubs nodded all three of his heads. "We're depending on you."

"I could never do it," said Seam, knowing that Jevil had beaten back each of the kings in turn, secretly pleased that it was so. "He and I have always been too evenly matched."

The King of Hearts made a soft sound of distress.

Then the King of Spades butted in. "But you won't have to defeat him, Magician. Why do you think we're asking you? He won't fight you. He'd never lift so much as a finger against you, and you know it. All you have to do is lock him up and give us the key."

Seam stared at the floor, his fur bristling. "No," he said softly. "I won't do it."

"It's for his own good!" cried the King of Clubs. "You've seen what he's like now. Aren't you frightened of what he's become?"

Seam didn't look up. Yes, he was scared, he could admit that to himself…but it didn't mean that he was going to go along with this. Jevil trusted him…

"I still won't do it," murmured Seam.

"Oh, that wasn't a request, Magician," said the King of Spades, showing all of his teeth in something that was not quite a smile. "It was an order."

Seam smiles just a little, gives his head a gentle shake. Such ancient memories turning over in his mind…and what would be the point of sharing them? The way these children are, bruised and battered and triumphant, they would never believe that Jevil was ever a creature capable of love. Or that Seam was, for that matter. Understanding will come with age, though, and one day they will know that their actions are futile, and that all creatures have a little love in their lives, however short.

So, a friend? Could Seam consider Jevil to be a friend…?

"Perhaps," says Seam, indifferently. "Perhaps not."