So yeahhhhh I jumped on the Cardverse-multi-chapter bandwagon just like everyone else. I probably shouldn't have since I have so many other things I need to finish and as such this will likely be kicked to the curb after about three chapters but hey ho here we are anyway. I'M SO IRRESPONSIBLE~ T.T

Blame in equal parts falls upon the heads of Hakuku (for all the Cardverse) and frank-d (for all the Alice in Wonderland crossover). They're both irresponsible too.

Off With His Head

[I]

[In Wonderland they do not dream. It is an odd place, a saturated specimen of a world, strange and bright and nonsensical. There is a saying here, a motto, an oath which runs over tongues as the law of the land:

Here, nothing it what it is - for everything is what it isn't.

Wonderland is the kind of thing born of dreams, a plaything of the wildest fancies of an idle mind, and because it exists, dreams do not. They are not needed. When its inhabitants sleep, their slumber is soundless, sightless, senseless altogether. They sleep as do the dead.

But the King of Spades, he is never satisfied. He has begun to dream - not because he will, not because he can but because he must. He dreams the same scene, night after night. A clearing, a muted sky, a tree which towers. There is no sound, no movement, no clue as to why the image has begun to haunt him.

It means something, you see; and that is why he is so terrified.

Nothing ever means anything here.]

Alfred woke, calm from the wearniness of waking like this every night for weeks, and exhaled, shrugging his broad shoulders into the pillows. At length he opened his eyes, crippled by darkness and short-sightedness so as to pick out only the boldest of creases in the blue velvet hangings of the four-poster.

There was a familiar, ever-present warmth at his side, accompanied by the hush of breathing. His queen was still asleep; on his side, Alfred wagered drowsily, probably with his arms wrapped around a pillow. Arthur had only two or three very precise ways of sleeping. He never slept on his back the way Alfred did.

Alfred shifted quietly, gently, onto his side to face Arthur. It was too early, too dark and quiet, to prod at him, though he was nonetheless tempted. Arthur had a habit of sleeping with a furrow in his brow, so much so that it was beginning to cause a faint but permanent crease between his thick eyebrows. Alfred liked to kiss that embryonic wrinkle, pretending to draw all of the worry from Arthur's skull with his lips. Sometimes Arthur scowled deeper and batted him away, rubbing self-conciously at his forehead; and sometimes he laughed weakly and said he wished it were only true. Alfred liked either reaction. It didn't matter to him.

He was fortunate, he felt. Kings and queens in Wonderland were not known for loving one another; in fact, he thought it fair to suppose that he and Arthur were the only pair in all the four kingdoms who had married out of more than mere necessity. The gleeful truth was that the King and Queen of Spades absolutely adored one another.

He smiled and reached gently, softly, to Arthur's face, brushing from his cheek a wayward spike of fair, feathery hair. Arthur exhaled and lifted his own arm from beneath the silk sheets, catching Alfred's hand; he threaded their fingers together, his eyes still shut. Their matching wedding rings - plain glass bands of gas-blue - gleamed indulgently next to one another.

"Hi," Alfred greeted him quietly.

"Hello," Arthur replied, sighing it. "You were tossing. Restless?"

"I..." Alfred hesitated. Arthur gave his hand a squeeze. "...I had the thing again. You know. The pictures in my head."

"It's called a dream, love." Arthur finally opened his eyes, watching Alfred warily. "This makes it quite a few nights in a row, doesn't it?"

Alfred nodded unhappily.

"Yeah. I... I don't... Yao says I'm perfectly healthy-"

"And so you are."

"But-"

"Now don't fret." Arthur kissed the back of his hand. "We'll soon set you right." He gave a wry smile. "Perhaps it's mere excitement. About tomorrow, I mean."

Alfred shot him a sleepy grin.

"Who wouldn't be excited about being married to you for one hundred years?" He shifted, raising his eyebrows. "Still, wow, when you say it out loud... it sure is a pretty long time, huh? I know it's not as long as anyone else has been married, I-I mean, we're the newest kingdom an' all but even so-"

"It's long enough," Arthur interrupted gently, "to warrant celebration, at least."

"It was kind of a big deal, huh?"

"Naturally. A wedding, a joint coronation and the birth of Wonderland's fourth and final kingdom." Arthur smirked. "I think a centennial celebration is more than in order, certainly."

"I guess so." Alfred turned onto his back again, still holding Arthur's hand tightly in his own. "And Yao's enjoyed himself, at least."

"Well, he does so thrive on organising things - and I'm sure the food will be spectacular. We've all been kept very busy with the preparations, though. The fact that you have started to dream-"

"Stress, right?" Alfred supplied hopefully. "I've been overworked this past week, that's what it is."

"Perhaps. You have been using your brain more than you usually do, after all."

"Hey now..." Alfred gave Arthur a reproachful nudge. "One hundred years hasn't dulled the sharpest edge of your tongue."

"Oh, you know I say silly things sometimes," Arthur replied airily. "I'd be a frightful bore if I didn't."

"You are a frightful bore, Arty."

Arthur gave a prim snort.

"Well, be that as it may," he said, "I know nonetheless how to keep you entertained, Your Highness."

"Yeah," Alfred answered agreeably, feeling Arthur's warmth shift to slide on top of him - the gentle buzz of skin-on-skin, having slept naked after making love. "Yeah, you certainly do know how to do that, Your Majesty."

Arthur kissed him, his lips dry and warm from sleep; the dew of hours-old sex burst between their tongues, stale-breathed but not unpleasant, rather intimate, a little reminder of their dedication to marital duty and the like. Alfred grinned into it, enjoying himself. He and Arthur might have been married for coming up to a century but their union showed no sign whatsoever of losing its spark - they were even still happily at the hand-holding stage. They were well-known for it, in fact, especially when the monarchs of the three other kingdoms were rather more underhanded about their own dalliances. The King of Hearts had chosen a lover in his Jack, the Queen of Clubs was the wife in all but name of the Jack of Clubs, the King of Diamonds had more lovers than he had fingers to count them on and as for the King of Clubs...

Well, he had crossed kingdoms. He and Yao were entangled and did not hide it well.

So it was a privelege, really, to be able to be so open with their affection - and they did not waste it. The King and Queen of Spades wrapped around one another in some such fashion, often in obscure places, was such a common sight that Francis Bonnefoy, King of Diamonds, made quite the sarcastic show of rubbing his eyes in disbelief if he happened to chance upon one without the other.

Alfred shifted further back into the nest of pillows, his fingers feathering into the gentle dip of Arthur's back, feeling the thrum of life at his spine. Their bodies had a perfect natural alignment, the ever-so-slight height difference allowing them to fit like puzzle pieces, a solved and solvent enigma. Alfred drew idle little shapes on Arthur's skin, making him squirm.

"Ticklish?" Alfred teased when Arthur pulled back.

"Sensitive," Arthur replied breathily. "You are right next to my spine."

"Perhaps you're tense," Alfred suggested as Arthur pressed a kiss to his neck.

"If anyone is tense, it's you, love," Arthur hummed in reply, his words whispered into the crook of Alfred's neck. "All those nights tossing and turning can't have done your back any favours."

"Are you offering me a massage, darling?"

Arthur tsked impatiently.

"We'll see." His tone was wry as he propped himself up, taking his weight off Alfred. "Roll over."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Alfred had meant for it to sound sarcastic, derisive, but couldn't muster the scorn into his voice. He did as he was told, settling on his stomach and waiting, pulsing, for Arthur's hands.

They did not come, however; Arthur reclined again, belly-down and stretching himself along the length of Alfred's back. He sighed and settled, his cheek resting on the downy hair at the nape of Alfred's neck.

"Cheap move," Alfred grumbled; though he barely squirmed, Arthur's weight pleasant and assuring and constant. Sometimes they slept like this.

"Hush," Arthur whispered. "I'm concentrating."

Alfred huffed; and Arthur scolded him by pinching him at his waist. They lay like that for a long moment, their breath alternating like a current, dependent on each other - and then finally Arthur put his hands on Alfred's shoulders and squeezed.

"You're tense," he affirmed. "I can feel it even when you relax."

"Massage?" Alfred repeated hopefully.

"I can do you one better." Arthur kissed the back of Alfred's neck. "Shall we take a bath?"

Alfred blinked; then craned his neck to look backwards and up at Arthur, whose white face hovered over him, expectant, like the moon.

"It's four in the morning," Alfred pointed out, frowning.

Arthur shrugged.

"We're the King and Queen of Spades," he replied easily, his mouth quirking at the corners in amusement. "We can do whatever the hell we want."

"That," Alfred announced happily, "feels great."

"I do try." Arthur nipped at Alfred's ear as his fingertips and thumb-pads burrowed against the quivering flesh of Alfred's back, easing along his spine and pressing firmly beneath his shoulder blades. "I don't take any prisoners, of course."

"No, you are a little rough," Alfred sighed, tipping his head back. "But it's what I need. You're getting at kinks I didn't even know I had."

"Your posture is dreadful," Arthur hummed. "You're the king. You ought to stand up straight, you know."

"Hey, I carry the weight of the world on these broad, handsome shoulders."

Arthur gave a snort of laughter.

"If you say so, love."

Alfred grinned and drifted his hand through the water to rub fondly at Arthur's knee. It was dark in the bathroom, the gloam of the moon filtering in blue through the tall stained-glass windows and the marble accents glinting like ice beneath the flicker of the lanterns and plain candlesticks set about the floor. The bath itself was shallow, clear steamy water peppered with blue petals in the shape of the shared emblem - little spades sailing past them like boats. Together they sat at one end, Alfred between Arthur's legs, and bloomed in the silence of each other's company. They would not have a chance to be alone tomorrow, which was how they liked best to spend their shared time, and savoured this suspended moment, this uncommon habit.

Alfred uttered a groan as Arthur siphoned off the very last buried twist to his back, purring as he rolled his shoulderblades.

"God, Arty," he drawled, "you're a saint."

"I trust that's better."

"Very much so, you little genius."

Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's shoulders from behind.

"I do believe you're condescending me," he said drolly.

"Not at all," Alfred replied earnestly. "You know perfectly well how talented your hands are."

"All of me is talented," Arthur sighed. "There are just some parts of me that you haven't much use for."

"Well," Alfred conceded, grinning, "I still like to brag about my intelligent, beautiful and capable queen all the same."

"Oh, hush."

"No, really, you are second-to-none, Arthur." Alfred tipped his head back and turned it enough to kiss Arthur's cheek. "I am the luckiest king to have the best queen in all of the four kingdoms."

"I even beat out two women?"

Alfred's smile grew wry and darkly amused.

"Arthur, my teasing aside, you're the most powerful being in Wonderland," he said. "I think that deserves a little merit."

"I am glad that my dalliances with withcraft please Your Highness so."

Alfred smiled and took Arthur's arm, gently pulling him to face him.

"Everything about you pleases me," he said warmly. "But it's been so long since the war that I guess I forget how ruthless you can be - how strong you are."

"Please," Arthur said dryly, though he smirked all the same, "I'm blushing."

Alfred tugged him closer, wrapping his arms about his slender waist.

"I'll make you really blush," he promised in a low voice, his mouth against Arthur's throat. "You made me feel good - so let me return the favour." He lifted Arthur into his lap with a shallow splash, opening his pale thighs to make him straddle.

"How adolescent," Arthur sighed, settling nonetheless; he put his hands on Alfred's shoulders, fingers curling over their bold curves. "You're going to get yourself all worked up again at this rate."

"It'll be worth it," Alfred murmured, pressing a kiss to Arthur's collarbone. "Almost one hundred years to the day and I still haven't had my fill of you."

"Enough with the shameless flattery," Arthur said, amused, "else I shall think you want something."

"Oh, god, no," Alfred assured him; he briefly lathed his tongue over Arthur's nipples, a dab of affection upon each. "I don't want anything at all - just you. I never want anything except you, Arthur. I'd be happy with nothing as long as you were at my side."

"Just as I," Arthur countered, clutching tighter at Alfred's shoulders, "would consider myself a rich man indeed with nothing to my name at all but your devotion. Given the choice, in fact, I would prefer you to all the riches the world had to offer." He kissed his king. "No greater treasure than you exists, of that I'm quite sure." And, of course, kissed him again, longer, more urgent.

Alfred grinned when they parted, giving a cheerful scrunch of his nose.

"We're utterly revolting, aren't we?" he said chirpily.

"Entirely nauseating," Arthur agreed. "If Francis behaved like this with any of his lays in my presence, I'd break his bleeding nose."

"You've broken his nose for less than that." Alfred stroked at the small of Arthur's back, his fingers beneath the water and nipping at his spine like curious little fish; and presently they slid lower, boldly venturing along the crease of his backside. "You... you'll be nice to him tomorrow, right?"

"Today, you mean," Arthur sighed. "I'm hopeful that I'll have other things to occupy my attention."

"Like cake?"

"And well-wishing toasts and dancing and socialising-"

"You don't like socialising," Alfred reminded him.

"I do when I get to crow over people."

"And what would you be crowing about, my little peacock?"

Arthur grinned against Alfred's throat.

"That the Kingdom of Spades is the greatest in all of Wonderland," he said. "That I am the only queen to love my king with all of my heart goes without saying - though of course we will be saying that I have done so for one hundred years."

Alfred smiled and stroked the side of his face.

"Cute," he said. "Can I ask an unromantic question?"

"Of course."

"I'm... good to just go, right?" Alfred ghosted his fingertips over Arthur's entrance. "I mean, we already... earlier, I-"

"Yes," Arthur sighed, resting his forehead against Alfred's shoulder. "Yes, I'll be alright."

Alfred nodded and shifted forward, taking Arthur by his hips to lift him. He was aroused, ready, desperate, blue petals like painted-on bruises pinned beneath his fingers where they pressed to Arthur's porcelain skin. They clung to his own flesh, too, fairy-footprints up his arms. Their wedding rings shimmered under the swaying water, glinting glass that had seen a century upon these dedicated third-of-left hands. He entered Arthur easily, a warm wet rush and then the swell and lock of completion, the lull of the bath making it a drowsy, dazed sort of pleasure. Alfred buried his nose in Arthur's hair and inhaled the sweetened scent of his skull - his soap and the crisp earthiness of his hair and little glinting fragments of wicked and worthless ideas.

Arthur gave a little sigh, a contented hitch of breath, and drummed his fingers along Alfred's spine, counting out the notches, feeling the life sewn into the length of it. Alfred pulled back from nuzzling at his hair to kiss him for a long moment, biting at his bottom lip on their lazy parting.

"Feels good?" Alfred breathed.

"Yes." Arthur ghosted his mouth over Alfred's jawline. "Of course." He pulled back again, looping his arms about Alfred's neck as they began, at last, to move, the water swaying with them.

"God, you're so beautiful." Alfred held Arthur under his back, making him arch a little, and water flashed across the flattened line of his stomach. "Really, it's almost a sin."

"Soon enough your words will fall from your tongue as solid gold, I shouldn't wonder," Arthur replied breathlessly. "Besides, it is only Time's obedience which preserves me."

"Still," Alfred said; but he did not finish his thought, leaning forwards wrap his arms properly, tightly, around his queen. He pushed onto his knees, holding Arthur's weight on his thighs, and slipped with the water sloshing about them, capsizing the lone blue petals, to put the arch of Arthur's spine to the tub's cool, curved side. Arthur pressed his hands to the bath's lip to anchor himself as Alfred began to thrust more frantically at him, the heat and wetness and pace making them inseperable, utterly indistinct from one another.

Earlier that night they had made love slowly, gently, but now Alfred had time for nobody and nothing. He was strong in his youth, insatiable and impatient with the intent, it seemed, to break his queen in two. Oftentimes he left real bruises as blue as their emblem, symbols of his passion as strange and powerful as he was himself.

"What's your hurry?" Arthur whispered in his ear; Alfred had left marks on his throat, across the slender fan of his collarbone, when he had tipped his head back - and he closed the gap again now to inquire after his impatience. "We have all the time we want."

"Are you sure?" Alfred sighed. His wet hand came to the back of Arthur's skull, clamping against his flaxen hair, an affectionate and agitated stroking. "Are you sure, Arthur?"

"Sshhh." Arthur held his wrist, stilled his hand. "That's enough, darling."

"N-no, I-"

"I said that's enough."

And for all his strength, his very sinew which breached so the boundaries of Wonderland, the flash of his eye or the curl of his mouth, his every step upon the bend of his kingdom, Alfred did not have as much power over Arthur as Arthur had over him.

HEY HEY so that's Chapter One - it's rather short as I'm hoping to keep all the chapters of this fic under 5000 words (very short for me considering my usual word-vomit) so I can just sort of easily dip in and out of writing it when I feel like it but Iiiiiii don't think that's going to happen somehow. Oh well.

Hope everyone's enjoying the sense of oh-so-slight fridge horror lurking somewhere under all this lovey-dovey-ness so far~!