Crown Prince Alfred of Spades was born in the midst of a war. He remembered none of it, of course, as he was only an infant at the time, but it was the worst war that any of the Four Kingdoms had ever faced, and the only one in which they had all stood together on the same side, and so in all the history books it was penned out as the Great War. It was indeed a great war- hundreds of thousands of men marched out together, arrayed in blues and greens and reds and golds, and though they were all somewhat different, they faced a common enemy, and fought side by side as friends.

Their enemy was the Fey. Each of the Four Kingdoms had dealt with them before, but none were quite sure of what exactly the Fey were. Judging by appearance alone, they were obviously not Human, though could perhaps pass as one when disguised, and their abilities were far beyond what limited magic Humans possessed. They were strange, they were different, and as far as the Kingdoms were concerned, they were dangerous. There had always been stories of children stolen away during the night, and strange faces peering in through windows, and whispers of mutilated bodies found deep in the woods. All of it was the Fey's doing, of course. There was simply no other option.

And so, when a band of Fey came upon a small village at the outskirts of the Kingdom of Diamonds, the situation began tense, and finished bloody. The five Fey and several villagers died in the fight, and everything was cleaned up and mourning was taken care of, and that might have been one sole, isolated incident which would have been quickly forgotten on both sides had there not been one small problem. One of those dead Fey was royalty.

The war began in the Kingdom of Diamonds, and heralds were sent out to the other three Kingdoms, requesting their aid. One by one, they all joined. First the Spades, and then the Hearts, and finally, after nearly a year and many rumors of a possible alliance with the Fey themselves, the Clubs. The Great War lasted for seven long years. Countrysides were ravaged, villages destroyed by both sides, whole sections of forest burned clear to the ground, and the Four Kingdoms won. It wasn't that simple, of course, as any schoolboy could have said, as there were a great many important battles and brave generals and key turning points, but in the end, victory went to the Humans.

This was what was written in the history texts, and what every tutor would attempt to teach his students, and so this was the history that Crown Prince Alfred grew up with. The Fey were evil, nasty creatures, everyone said. They were driven back into the deepest, darkest parts of the forests and warned never to show their faces in Human territory again, and it was all for the greater good. And Alfred believed it, for what reason did he have not to? Why would anyone lie to the Prince? Though he had to admit, he did find it a little strange that all the paintings and tapestries that depicted the Fey showed them as miserable, snivelling little things. He couldn't help but wonder why Kingdoms as strong as the Four would be afraid of such weak creatures. But that was beside the point.

What mattered was that Alfred grew up listening to his tutors, listening to his parents, listening to the guards and the soldiers who had been a part of the Great War, and by the time his seventeenth birthday came around, those ideas of the Fey were ingrained into his mind. He dreamt of going off on a great adventure and doing away with all of them, returning back to the castle as a mighty hero and warrior worthy of having hundreds of songs and stories told about his grand deeds. With the Fey gone, he thought, there would be nothing else for people to be afraid of, and the Kingdoms could live in peace and prosperity.

And then, of course, because the world never spun quite like anyone expected it to, Alfred met one. A Fey, that is. And that is where their story really began.

Hunting had always been one of Alfred's skills. Ever since he was a little boy, his father had taken him out on each hunting trip into the royal forest, and so he quickly became adept with a bow and arrows, and soon was able to outshoot even the Spades Kingdom's most renouned archers. It easily turned into one of his favorite ways to pass the time, to the point where, if someone was unable to find Alfred within the castle walls, they would immediately assume he had gone off hunting in the woods. No one was particularly worried about that- the Prince had proven time and time again that he was fully capable of taking care of himself, and besides, the royal forest was heavily guarded around its borders and nearly impossible for anyone to sneak into unnoticed.

Alfred was hunting that day. He'd gone off in the early morning, long before most nobles would even have considered setting a toe out of bed, dressing himself in clothes warm enough to keep him comfortable in the chilly autumn weather. His servants, used to him coming and going as he pleased, just nodded when he told them to tell his parents where he'd gone if they asked. It wouldn't likely be necessary, but Alfred liked to keep on top of those kind of things, just in case. And so off he went, saddling up his horse in the stables and riding out into the forest, bow and quiver and hunting knife strapped to him.

The woods were bright with red and gold leaves, sparkling in the morning sunlight, and Alfred took a moment to appreciate them as he slowed his horse to a stop and dismounted. The other hunters would not agree, but he found that going by foot led to much better and much more interesting hunts. He tied up his horse to a nearby tree, making sure to give enough room to wander around a bit and graze, and made his way deeper into the forest.

The first signs that something was different that day was the birdsong. Normally, Alfred would start off on his hunt to the chiming of a few birds here and there, just enough of a backdrop of sound to mask any missteps he might have made. But that morning, the noise seemed to ring through the trees like drums, complete with a cymbal crash every now and then and possibly even a few trumpets blaring out a harmony. It was so shocking that Alfred nearly tripped over a tree root that he knew was there and that he always made sure to look out for. Still, it was just a minor annoyance, and something that Alfred could easily count as a relatively natural occurance, so he didn't dwell on it long.

The second sign, however, was far more worrisome. After what must have been hours of moving quietly through the woods, careful not to make a sound that could have been heard over the orchestra of birds, Alfred still hadn't come across a single animal. Even the birds who must have been making all that racket never showed themselves. Alfred, who had never been known for his patience, was quickly growing more than a little irritated. Returning back to the castle without anything to show for his hunt would have left him humiliated in front of his father and the royal hunters, and he refused to allow them the satisfaction. He would keep trying if it took him all night!

A few hours later, he was beginning to greatly regret that pride. Even though he had done everything right, and had made almost no mistakes, he still hadn't caught a single thing. Cursing, he kicked at a clump of fallen leaves. He was the Crown Prince. This kind of bad luck was not supposed to happen to him. The whole ordeal was so disheartening that he almost went back home right then, even without any prize.

That was when he heard the sound. It was so different from the constant birdsong that at first he thought he was imagining it, but then Alfred heard it again, something deeper and more rhythmic, almost like a human voice, though he couldn't make out whether or not there were actually words. Yet it was more than enough to grab his attention, and so Alfred crept forward in the direction from where it seemed to be coming. No one but royalty and those they specifically invited along on their hunting trips were allowed into the royal forest, and as Alfred had come out alone, there should have been no one else in those woods. Someone, or something, must have snuck past the guards, and Alfred wanted to see what it was.

His target was in a clearing. Alfred drew to a halt behind one of the trees around its border and peered into the open space. There, sticking up out of the middle, was a rather large rock. And there, tugging at his leg, was a young man, probably no older than Alfred himself. The man must have been the owner of the voice Alfred had heard, for a steady stream of curses was pouring out from between his lips. Alfred couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He did his best to force it back into a neutral expression.

"Hey," he called out, stepping forward into the clearing, "what do you think you're doing? This is royal property." The man immediately froze, and Alfred held back a chuckle.

After a few moments of what seemed like some kind of internal dialogue, the young man turned and regarded Alfred coolly, his eyes narrowed as he took in the fine clothing and weaponry. "Well, I would gladly leave and get out of your Royal Highness' way if I wasn't so unfortunately stuck here." He pulled at his leg again, and this time, from closer up, Alfred could see the thick coil of rope wound up around his calf.

The laugh refused to be held back this time, and Alfred nearly doubled over as he let it all out. "You got yourself stuck in a hunting trap?" he managed between guffaws. "What kind of an idiot are you?"

The stranger flushed bright red. "I beg your pardon? It's not my fault that some ridiculous hunter decided to set out a trap right where anyone could have been walking!" His struggles against the rope became fiercer and more desperate.

"But no one should have been walking here," Alfred pointed out, still grinning. "This is royal property after all." He strode forward, though it was less purposeful than his movements before and far more meandering and lazy. Strutting up to stand just beside the stranger, he peered down at the man's bound leg, humming lightly to himself.

The man stared at him. "So are you going to just stand there and look, or do you intend to do anything helpful?"

Alfred shrugged. "I don't know, I'm still deciding."

"You what? Oh, for the Lady's sake… That's what I get for trying to get help from a noble." The stranger let out a frustrated groan and went back to pulling futilely at his bound leg. Whichever hunter had set the trap must have known what he was doing.

Grin slipping a little, Alfred turned to stare not at the trap, but at the stranger himself. He certainly didn't look noble, dressed in rough clothes and with a bit of dirt smeared across one cheekbone, but that wasn't what really drew Alfred's attention. No, what caught his eye was the strangely pale skin, and the wide, vibrant eyes, and the slight point at the tip of the man's ears where almost all Human ears were more round. Alfred might never have seen one before, but he recognized all the signs. "You're a Fey," he said accusingly.

The stranger paused in his movements, though he didn't look up from his leg. Finally, he turned brilliant, cold green eyes towards Alfred. "And you're a Human," he said. "What's your point?"

"My point?" Alfred snorted. "You're a Fey. You were banished from Human lands at the end of the war. You could be arrested and killed just for showing your face out of your forest. What are you doing here?" His hand slid down to rest on the handle of his hunting knife. He'd heard all the stories about how sly and quick the Fey could be, and he wasn't about to let this one get the upper hand, whether he was trapped or not.

The Fey watched his movements carefully, still unmoving. "Are you going to kill me, then?" he asked, his voice neutral.

"I should," Alfred replied. "I have every reason to. You're trespassing, and you broke the rules of the treaty. I could kill you right now and no one would even tell me off." But he didn't draw out his knife.

"Well, if you're going to do it, hurry up and get it over with." The Fey met his gaze evenly, unwavering strength pulsing in his words, even as his jaw clenched with nerves. In that moment, Alfred felt as if he was looking into a mirror. He'd seen that exact same expression on his own face more times than he could count, whenever he was preparing himself for some feast or party or meeting that he didn't want to go to but that he couldn't avoid. And in that moment, the Fey, despite everything that Alfred had ever learned, looked so incredibly Human that he didn't know what to say.

"So?" asked the Fey after nearly a full minute in which nothing happened. "What are you going to do? If you really want to kill me, do it now and don't make me wait around for it." His gaze searched across Alfred's face, flicking down to where his hand still rested on the knife before meeting his eyes again.

"I should," Alfred said again, slower this time. But even he could hear how the confidence in his voice sounded forced, instead of the headstrong declaration from before.

The Fey obviously noticed it as well. "Go on, then," he urged, eyes bright. "Kill me. Show me what a tough, manly Human you are. Slaughter an innocent, defenseless person and do it in the name of justice. Go on."

"Shut up," Alfred snapped at him, drawing the knife from its sheath and brandishing it menacingly towards the man. But the words had already sunk into his mind, and something uncomfortable and almost painful twisted around in his stomach. Had he been anyone else, he might have realized the awful sensation was guilt, but being Crown Prince and all, Alfred had never truly experienced it before. He'd never had anything to feel guilty about.

"Well?" The Fey had been silent for a moment, but now his mouth was twitching slightly at the corners, and his eyes were glittering unnaturally in the late afternoon sunlight. "Come on, are you going to kill me or not?" There was laughter in his voice.

Alfred hated him. He hated him more than he had ever hated anything in his whole life, except for maybe the creepy King of Clubs, and that was saying something. And he would honestly have loved nothing more than to plunge his knife right into the Fey's chest and kill him then and there, because he really wouldn't receive any punishment for doing so. But he couldn't. That moment of familiar emotion, of Human emotion, had shattered his resolve. He groaned and pressed his free hand to his forehead. Everything had seemed so straight and simple before- Humans were good, the Fey were bad, end of story. Now, though… In one fluid motion, he swept the knife downwards. The Fey gasped and flinched.

And then nothing happened. There was no blood pouring out of gaping wounds, and no choked last words as the Fey writhed in the pain. No, there was just Prince Alfred, looking incredibly annoyed, and quite rightfully so, and a very confused Fey who kept glancing from the knife back up to his face, and a cleanly cut rope laying broken on the ground.

"Are you going to run away and make me chase you or what?" Alfred asked snootily once the silence had drawn out too long. "I didn't kill you, so you should be happy and be in my debt. I expect you to obey everything I tell you."

The Fey looked at him, then down at his newly freed leg, and his lips twitched up into the most irritating, obnoxious smile Alfred had ever seen before. It dripped with pure disobedience and disrespect, and that was only reinforced when that mouth opened to speak. "Like that's ever going to happen." Before Alfred could even muster up the breath to yell at him, there was a flurry of motion and the Fey was off running, vanishing deeper into the forest.

Alfred cursed, kicking at the ground in his anger and very nearly striking it against the rock beside him. The Fey had gotten the upper hand after all- Alfred had expected him to run, but he'd completely forgotten about the superior speed and agility that the Fey possessed. There was no way he would be able to catch him now, especially in the forest. But he was Alfred, and he was the Prince of Spades, and he couldn't just let that stupid Fey get away from him like that. "Hey!" he yelled out in the direction that the Fey had fled. "Hey, don't think you're getting out of this so easy! I'm going to get you someday!"

There was no response for a several long moments, and Alfred was just beginning to wonder if the Fey was already out of hearing distance when he thought he saw a flash of brilliant green amongst the fiery autumn leaves. He whirled towards it and it was gone, but then a mocking voice rang out through the woods. "I'd like to see you try, idiot."

If Alfred's parents were alarmed by the sight of their son storming into the dining hall later that night, his hair tangled with leaves and face smudged by dirt and lips turned down into a frown that may well have been a very regal pout, they did a good job at hiding it. His younger brother Matthew, however, did not, staring at Alfred as if he'd grown a second head. Alfred studiously ignored them all and sat heavily down in his chair. He tore his food up and then barely at any of it, and left the table before anyone else even though he'd been the last one there. The Queen cast a wide-eyed look over at the King, who shrugged. Hopefully it just had something to do with him growing up. Seventeen could be a very stressful age for young men, after all.

A/N- This is what I've been working on for the past month! A Secret Santa gift for Binnin on LJ. The original prompt was simply young Prince Alfred meeting and falling in love with Arthur, and then somehow managing to get his parents' approval for marriage. It, er, sort of ran away with me... I hope Binnin likes it anyway, and I hope the rest of you do, too.

Oh, and I just kind of ran wild with the idea of the "Jokers", aka Gilbert and Peter, who weren't linked to any of the card kingdoms, and came up with the Fey. Yeah, haha, I'm a little crazy.

Anyway, this story is nearly finished being written, so there shouldn't be too much delay in updates!