Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“COME ON, COME ON [Mike], DON’T DO ME DIRTY LIKE THIS!”

The turn of the century had not been kind to Spamton G. Spamton. One would argue that the majority of time in his life hadn’t been much of a cakewalk either, but this… this was getting up there. 1997 had been something else . It was phenomenal. It had been so good, Spamton had actually forgotten that he had lost everything meaningful in his life. His old home, in the Shopping District, with the other Addisons… What did he give a damn? They abandoned him. The least he could do was never show his face around them again. Well. He was starting to realize perhaps this line of thinking was flawed, when Mike stopped calling.

“PLEASE, [Mike], PICK UP THE PHONE, [please please please]... I’M RUNNING OUT OF [time]!”

1998 had been good (not perfect, which he couldn’t help but resent a little), but nothing held a candle to ‘97- and on New Year's Day 1999, the phone went dead. He’d only wanted to wish Mike a happy new year- a toast to a prosperous decade- but mid-conversation, the line cut off, as if through an act of godly intervention, and then he was gone. He would never come back, but in his fear- and in his loneliness- Spamton never stopped trying.

But there was nothing but garbage noise.

“[Mike] IF YOU DON’T PICK UP I’M GONNA LOSE EVERYTHING!”

He spoke as if such a thing were miles away, but in reality, those inches were creeping up on him. Without his benefactor’s intervention, Spamton had nothing. All he could do was fall back on his old techniques- and the meager amount of things he had been taught- but in the long run, every single thing backfired stupendously. His sales and profit margins were plummeting, and suddenly he had massive quantities of overstock he couldn’t sell even with a seventy-five percent price cut, to the point where he was begging Queen to borrow the acid river, just so he could do something with his leftover automobiles from last season.

“Hmmm… You Can Use It Now, But Don’t Forget Our Agreement Spammy~” she had said to him, reaching down to run a hand through his hair while he begged her, on his knees. Then, she gripped tight, and he could feel strands pulling out of his scalp that he refused to acknowledge. Showing any sign of weakness in front of Queen was a bonafide death sentence.

“Your Scrap Heaps Won’t Be The Only Thing Taking A Swim If You Don’t Straighten Up And Fly Right~”

Spamton couldn’t help but feel offended at her terminology. Scrap heaps. He tuned and cared for every one of those cars up until the day he really, REALLY hit it big- made sure they were all running smooth as buttered code. When life became more about the deal than about the product, he stopped, seeing that work as being beneath him in the wake of his success. Perhaps it was that neglect that led to his downfall. He liked to believe that. He liked to believe that perhaps it wasn’t entirely because of Mike’s absence- which had darker implications.

Maybe it had always been Mike. Maybe it had only been Mike. Maybe he’d never been a big shot at all. The thought, as he clung to the phone, was making him sweat. When he’d arrived home from the Colour Cafe that night- of which he was in the process of being tentatively banned by Swatch (a cruel fate indeed, that he couldn’t even cast away his sorrows in the embrace of a dry martini)- he’d found a knife sticking out of his door through a note on the Queen’s letterhead, reading one simple thing:

Sales Report Tomorrow Precious Sweetie Darling Baby Gravy, Bring Your Best Work - Queen

The bottom was burned off, and stained with green.

The problem was, he had no best work to show. The millennium was turning over, and he had had almost the same sales now as he did before he’d even met Mike… maybe even worse. An entire year had passed, and he could tell that he was at the very end of his last rope. The noose was beginning to tighten, dangling over a river of acid, and Spamton was unsure whether he’d wanted to be cut down, or left to dangle, and the only thing he knew anymore was that it would be a cold day in the server room before he went back to the other Addisons begging for help. Not after everything that had happened. It was no longer even a matter of pride, although sins did crawl upon his back at the thought, but there was always the possibility of roping the others into his mess if they decided they really would help. A part of him- the smallest iota of his smallest baby toe- cared that they not be in way of Queen’s wrath when the piper came calling.

He was such a good person.

Spamton slammed the receiver down, picked up the phone again, and dialed again. He knew he wouldn’t get an answer, deep down, but he had to do something . Anything to distract him from the knocking on his door.

Wait.

He hung up and slowly stood, edging to the door slowly, and picking up a fireplace poker as he did so. The apartment was already dark, and practically ransacked as he had begun covertly selling his personal possessions to make it seem even remotely like he was turning some sort of profit. He no longer owned anything in gold, and he was down from twenty pairs of shoes to just one, and the heel was beginning to pop off the left one. Spamton pressed his back up beside the door, and he held the poker aloft- she was early.

“WHO IS IT? WE’RE [closed for renovations]!”

“Don’t I know it.”

Spamton chewed on his lower lip, and with a jaw like his, that could leave some serious damage. It was only Swatch, but he still didn’t lower his guard. “WHADYA WANT, SWATCH?”

“I brought you something for the occasion. Please put down your weapon and open the door.”

Huffing so hard he blew out steam, Spamton lowered the poker and opened the door just a crack, just enough to make sure he was alone. After assuring that he was, he pulled it further just to take in the sight of the Head Butler standing before him, holding a plate with a silver dome over it. The birdman lifted it off, revealing one of Spamton’s favorites: real prime rib, mashed potatoes, and baby shoes. Spamton looked up at him, confused, but the smell was intoxicating.

“DID QUEEN SEND YOU?”

“No, Spamton, she did not,” Swatch replied, holding out the tray to him, which due to the past few days of starvation, Spamton took eagerly.

“IT’S NOT POISONED?”

“I cooked it myself, Spamton, would I do that to you?”

“I DUNNO, SWATCH, YOU [tell it to me straight]?”

Yet before Swatch could even properly confirm anything, Spamton sunk the fork into the tiny shoe and popped it into his mouth. The taste was ridiculously nostalgic. Suddenly he remembered the Addisons, against his will, and ate two more voraciously.

“Don’t eat it too fast, now.”

Spamton swallowed. “...WHY?”

“I wanted to bring you something to help soften the blow.”

“WHAT BLOW?”

“Spamton,” Swatch said, as evenly and pleasantly as the Head Butler of the Queen could, but still with a marked sympathy that made Spamton’s hair stand on end. “You know.”

“HEY- HEYHEYHEY!” he shouted, coveting the meal as he dragged it closer into his chest, as if afraid Swatch was going to take it from him. “MY [sales] ARE ON THE [up and up again], YOU’LL SEE! TOMORROW I’LL HAVE THE BEST [#$%!] MARGINS TO REPORT SINCE [1997], YOU’LL BOTH SEE!”

It only took a gentle poke into Spamton’s apartment for Swatch to tell that that was far from the truth. “Are you religious, Spamton?”

“WHY?” he sneered.

“I’m only going to say… perhaps now will be the last opportunity you’ll have to make peace with your god. Good day, sir. Sleep well.”

He turned and left, his long tail feathers dragging behind him, just off of the floor to keep from getting filthy. Spamton watched him leave, clutching the fork so tightly he thought he might bend the fine silver as he slammed the door, and ate like a rabid animal. When he was finished, he sighed, kicking the platter away as he ran his hands down his face, trying to think of a plan- and in the end, he couldn’t even really manage that, so he did the only thing he could. He clasped his hands together in front of him and clenched his eyes shut, muttering to himself.

“[Please…],” he prayed, “PLEASE, GOD IN [HEAVEN], I KNOW I DON’T DESERVE YOUR GUIDANCE, BUT GOD, I NEED HELP… I’M ABOUT TO [?#$%!] DIE HERE, I KNOW THAT’S NOT YOUR MO… LETTING DARKNERS DIE, THAT IS…”

He was completely talking out his ass at this point, but he was terribly desperate.

“I’LL DO ANYTHING, [anything]! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, MAKE HIM PICK UP THE [ringringringringring…]!”

It was just then that the most peculiar thing happened. More peculiar than anything Spamton had ever experienced. More so than even the first time Mike had graced him with his presence. 

The phone rang, and it scared the shit out of him.

It was easy to get excited, hopeful even… it might have been a telemarketer for all he knew (as the years began to creep up on Cyber World, the City became infested with them, like roaches- except they had to pay rent), but at the same time he dove for it, grabbing the receiver to lift off the cradle and slam it against his ear. “HELLO? HELLO? [Mike]?”

“Hello, hello?”

“YES, I’M HERE, [Mike], I KNEW YOU’D CALL ME BACK! IT ONLY TOOK YOU A WHOLE [#$@!] YEAR BUT I FORGIVE YOU!”

A gentle chuckle filled the receiver. “Oh, I'm not Mike…!”

Spamton felt his shoulders tense. “DON’T [keep breaking my heart], [Mike], I’M IN A BIT OF A [rock bottom] PREDICAMENT, HERE!”

“The last I checked, I was certainly no Mike! Not from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes… but if you don’t WANT to hear, hear me out, perhaps it might be better if I up and away…”

“[NONONONONONO]!” Spamton bellowed, in a way that he was certain would affect the other residents of the Mansion, but he hardly cared at that moment, “NO DON’T HANG UP! YOU [little sponge]!”

He clutched the phone cord tightly, his body shaking from it as he thought he’d break his teeth from grinding so hard. “TELL ME WHO YOU ARE…”

“Heehee! That’s hardly important right now, isn’t it? I just know I found this number by chance! It led me to you! Surely that must be a twist of fate?”

“I HAVE NO [#@$@#] IDEA WHAT YOU’RE SAYING,” Spamton replied, feeling the overwhelming sensation that he was talking to a child who was just slamming their fingers against the keys, hoping for someone good to terrorize. He’d been praying to Heaven, did Hell pick up his call? “FORGET IT, [all kids eat free on Wednesday], DON’T CALL THIS NUMBER AGAIN! I’M WAITING FOR AN [important information coming up next, don’t touch that dial]!”

“I can help you.”

Spamton’s blood went cold, his fingers winding themselves up in the cord like tiny serpents at the hiss of a voice that came through the receiver. Oh yes, he was definitely speaking to a devil.

“...EXPLAIN THE [terms and conditions].”

“Are you sure you want to hear them?”

“DO I WANT TO HEAR YOU OUT, OR GET THROWN [six ways from sunday] INTO A RIVER OF ACID?! I THINK I’LL AT LEAST LISTEN.”

The voice laughed, and lord, did he hate it.

“You’re struggling, I can appreciate that. Me too! Now listen closely, stranger…” 

Spamton nodded, and he could feel himself beginning to sweat.

“You’re doomed!”

He groaned. “I KNOW THAT , YOU LITTLE [worm]-”

“But you’re not dead yet!”

“YES, I WOULD LIKE TO LEARN HOW TO NOT [affordable funeral costs available now]!”

“I guess the question is- how badly do you wish to not die? Will you be willing to suffer? Will you be willing to leave everything you’ve ever known?

The voice spoke with a faint echo behind it, as if in a large cave, and he could swear that he heard a chorus of repeating words from far in the distance. He was tugging on the wires so tight he thought for a moment he would rip them out of the phone. What was this voice playing at? Then, it said something that hit like a blow to the heart.

“What will you be willing to do to chase an opportunity?”

Spamton swallowed, feeling his life slipping from between his fingers. It was insidious, and he wasn’t one for get-rich-quick schemes, even if he’d advertised them on a regular basis before his ascension. He’d tasted ambrosia, and it had turned rancid on his tongue… but he would give anything to drink from that cup again. The decision he made was rash, but he stood behind it.

“[Anything], KIDDO.”

The voice giggled, pleased with his response. “There is a way out of your Kingdom, paved with blue gold. You want that, don’t you?”

“YES, DUH, OF COURSE I WANT IT!”

“Will you do whatever I say?”

“FOR AN [opportunity of a lifetime]? I DON’T SEE HOW I HAVE A [choose your own flavor]!”

“Heeheehee! Then listen close and listen good! I hope you like walking!”

Spamton held the phone close to his ear and swallowed as the thing began to speak, filling his mind with indelible directions that clung to his brain like honey, sinking deep inside and passing through him like the breath of a monster. He may as well have been made of candy floss for the way he deflated over at every pause and giggle from the interloper, but strangely enough, it seemed to stick in his memory with little effort.

“Shall I repeat?”

“ONE MORE TIME…”

So it did. “Now remember- bring nothing, and don’t go off the path~”

“A-AND THIS WILL GET ME BACK TO THE [top shelf]? THIS’LL MAKE ME A [BIG SHOT] AGAIN? I’LL HAVE A JOB? PLEASE, [HEAVEN], PROMISE ME!?”

“I’ll see you on the other side~”

The receiver went dead.

“Oh Spamton Sweetie Honey Piece Of Shit Open This Door! It’s Time For The Progress Report On Your Quotas!”

Queen swirled her glass of battery acid as she rapped on the apartment door with the back of her fingers, and took a sip with her other hand. So Spamton was playing hard to get, huh? This wasn’t unusual. Oftentimes, he would make himself scarce if something wasn’t going his way, as he had the uncanny ability to shove his tiny body perfectly into anything roughly the size of a breadbox, but this time it was no laughing matter. (His) sales were at an all time low, (her) profits were plummeting, and Queen was quickly becoming a laughing stock among the peons for having trusted and formed such a camaraderie with him in the first place. She had given Spamton G. Spamton anything he wanted- all he had to do was not fail, and he hadn’t simply failed, he’d succumbed like a computer under the duress of a virus, and there was no malware protection on this earth that would be able to restore him.

Her patience had reached its end, and so had his rope.

“Swatchling, Please Do Be A Precious Dear And Open This Door For Me. I Know I Am Fully Capable But I Need A Hand Free For This…” she said, clenching and unclenching her fingers- unassuming at first glance, but capable of tightening enough to crush a Swatchling’s windpipe in one fell swoop. This was why, when bid to do exactly what she desired, the servant did, although they expected a much higher resistance than the one they received, when the door very gently swung open at the lightest intrusion. 

“Oh, That’s Different,” she observed, sipping her battery acid. “Well You Know the Protocol, Head To Toe, Chop Chop! Get His Ass.”

The apartment was a mess. The platter of eaten food was left over, and the phone had been pulled off the hook, the receiver cut cleanly with his steak knife. Paintings (decorative and expensive), had been torn asunder, and his closet was still full of clothing. Only his single pair of dress shoes and a cloak seemed to have absconded. The Swatchlings in charge, and even Tasque Manager, were baffled. Truly, Spamton had nowhere else to go, not without having to confront the Addisons again, so where…?

“Hellooo What Is The Hold Up?” Queen asked, sticking her head past the threshold to scan the room with her facial recognition. She knew all these apartments, so scanning was a simple act, but it did not soften the blow when she realized the ease of use meant it was even obvious to her: Spamton was gone. She straightened up, finished sipping her acid, and smashed it against the floor, the fiery plume bursting upwards in a shock.

“My Loyal Subjects, Please Fan Out Through The Area And Try And Find Him, I Am Feeling An Aneurysm Coming On…”

The Swatchlings fanned out, and Tasque Manager gripped her whip with a flourish, spinning it faintly as it crackled to life with power. “Fear not, My Lady Grace, we will find him.”

“I Hope So, For The Sake Of All Of My Staff~”

“Although if I may, My Lady Grace, perhaps this is a good thing.”

“Oh It Definitely, Without A Doubt, Is A Good Thing, But Tasque Manager, I Can’t Let Him Go Without A Fight,” Queen said, patting her servant’s cheek with a smile. “It’s The Principle Of The Thing.”

“One bad apple spoils the bunch!” 

“Exactly, Now Set Your Whip To ‘Maim’, And If I Hear Screaming I’ll Come Running~ You Think You Can Run Away From Me, Cutie Sweetie Gravy Email Boy, We’ll See~”

The problem was that Spamton had done just that. He’d taken his last good cloak (he had been told not to bring anything, but getting out of the City unrecognized would be hard without some form of concealment), and ran like his ass was on fire, exiting the Mansion and making his way west like the voice on the phone had told him. He avoided the main streets, and the Shopping District (the last thing he would need is any of the Addisons having a change of heart about the situation and attempting to stop his exodus, or worse, ratting him out to Queen), and did his best to remain resolute as he stepped out into the Cyber Fields. He was hungry, and tired, and all he had left to his name was his dealmakers, but his benefactor had been extremely clear: keep going, and don’t look back.

He was probably walking into his death, but to be honest, whatever waited for him on the other side was probably better than burning to death in acid, with Queen’s laughter being the last thing he’d ever hear. If he was to pick his own death song, he’d want a nice ballad, sung by a beautiful Darkner with a real voice, and not a text-to-speech adapter- but now wasn’t the time to think about that.

Spamton wondered what kind of job was waiting for him across this path of blue gold, as the voice had promised. Perhaps a managerial position? Maybe a high ranking sales guy? Or census, even, he could do census. Keeping track of things was perfect for him- he kept all his own records in the auto dealership by memory. His was eidetic, and it had its ups and downs. For one thing he could remember every sneer and inflection in his newest helper’s voice whenever he asked a question- every giggle echoing in his mind. It was fine. It was no Mike, but it was fine. 

Mike. The only thing that stilled his steps was the thought of that bastard. As much as he wanted to loathe the man, leaving the City meant he was effectively giving up on ever hearing from him again. He wanted to shriek with contempt, but at the same time, perhaps this was a good thing. Maybe Mike never really had cared about him, as he had so foolishly fooled himself into believing. Maybe all he had been to him was a toy to get his sick kicks from the very beginning, and he’d been too filled with awe to realize it. Spamton tried not to feel regret- did nothing but weigh you down, in the long run, but if he had one regret to his name…

He certainly wouldn't say it out loud.

“GOD THAT [little sponge] HADN’T BEEN KIDDING…” he murmured to himself as he trudged through the Cyber Field, keeping himself relatively separate from the other Darkners that inhabited it. “I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT A [hot new automobile].”

Yet he persisted, all the way to the west, far away from anyone who had tried to stop him and question just where he was trying to go. This was a mission, a pilgrimage. He didn’t need anyone's assistance but his own. Of course, he thought that, until he got to the end of the world.

The platform at the end of it all was tall and dark, sitting precariously over an abyss that even Spamton would be afraid to look into for fear of what he’d see peering back at him. It reminded him of Queen’s basement, and the whispers he’d heard about what was down there, but at least the basement had a bottom. This... 

He swallowed. Thank god he wasn’t afraid of heights. The voice’s instructions echoed…

Now when you get to the end, place one foot in front of the other, and let go.

Let go, huh? 

Spamton turned around, looking at the pulsing lights of the Cyber City behind him, and even the way the Field stretched out behind him. How desperate was he to grab those silly strings? To taste that ambrosia again? A better question would have been how desperate was he to not become Addison soup- now that he had run off and made a scene, there was no doubt Queen would be even more angry, perhaps even bump up his punishment to a good dismemberment before being thrown into the drink. He inhaled deeply, and found himself toeing the line over oblivion. Which would have been a more pleasant death? 

And god, he wished he had someone singing to him right now.

Clenching his eyes shut, he placed his hands over his face, and listened again to the voice in his head.

Now when you get to the end…

Spamton shuddered.

...Place one foot in front of the other…

It hovered precariously.

...And let go.

His body crumpled into the darkness, his cloak billowing out around him as he twisted, and let his back fall first. For all of his confidence when it came to decisions in 1997, it flickered away like a candle in a storm. He couldn’t bear to look. 

He fell into it- like a fever, or a hot new black friday special.

Spamton never saw any blue gold, but he supposed that was more of a metaphor than anything. There was no treasure to be had at falling off the edge of the world, especially when you did it to yourself. Still, he would have liked a little fanfare at the very least. A single biblical horn or drum beating through the descent. It would have really livened the place up a bit.

He supposed he would have to take the grass at face value.

His dealmakers had been thrown off in the fall, and he lifted himself up carefully to shake his head free of the soft blades when he came back to consciousness. Nothing was broken, but it was remarkably difficult to break an Addison, that way. With his bad vision, all he could make out was the softness he’d landed in, and the blood all around him. 

Wait. Not blood. That was just his eyesight playing tricks on him again, like that time the Blue Addison had dipped his hand in anti-theft dye and tried to fool the nearsighted Spamton into thinking he’d cut off a finger in a vicious product-tagging accident. He’d gotten back at him for that, but there was a reason Spamton was banned from selling clothes.

No, the surrounding Forest was simply all red, and a shade of it he usually never saw in Cyber World. Dark, broody- not at all bright and popping like the neon signs he was familiar with. For one thing, he’d never seen so much metaphorical greenery in his life. The trees were lush and puffy, and the branches hung heavy with star-shaped fruit, and he could just barely make it all out, if he squinted, just like he could make out the dealmakers shuffling towards him in a way that made him jump.

“WHO THE [99cent] [!?!%!] IS THERE!?” he shouted- not really intending to, but in his blurry vision, in this unknown land, and him weaponless, anything was a potential threat. He heard a small trill, and after realizing he wasn’t about to be destroyed, reached down to grab the dealmakers, and place them back on his face. Clarity flooded his vision, and he could just make out the blob-like form of the rabbit at his feet, having just nudged over his glasses in a small desire to help.

“OH!” he exclaimed, and bent into a crouch as if to get a better look at the Rabbick. “WHAT ARE [you]? [Soft and marketable], IS WHAT YOU ARE!”

The Rabbick undulated at him faintly, and before he could reach out and grab for it, it zipped away with shocking speed, trailing into the Forest. “HEY WAIT A MINUTE, [money maker], COME BACK!”

Momentarily overcome by his classic urges, Spamton hugged his cloak around him and took off, following the creature. As he did, he looked around him- back and forth, up and down, trying to make heads or tails of where he had landed. It didn’t feel like Hell. For one thing, it was balmy- cool even- unlike the way the City could get oppressively hot, filled as it was with moving cars and mechanical parts. It made sense, being in a forest and all.

Perhaps this was Heaven, but that also seemed unlikely. For one thing, Heaven was supposed to be bright and filled with light- that’s what Mike had promised. That if he only was a good enough salesman he could reach it. This was dark, even compared to his own Dark World. Again, he was in a forest. 

So he followed Rabbick until it dove into a bush, and Spamton refused to degrade himself by digging into it… today.

“HUMPH!” he huffed. “YOU’LL FIND [ungrateful clientele] EVERYWHERE, IT SEEMS!”

At least the chase had managed to alleviate his nerves, momentarily, as panic began to sweep over him the further and further he went into the forest. What if he had allowed himself to fall into an uninhabited world? What if he was the only one here who even knew how to speak? It seemed unlikely, seeing as the creature he’d met had known enough about glasses to realize he needed them, but everything that saw him seemed to prefer to observe from a distance rather than engage him in a deal. He wasn’t surprised- he did strike an intimidating figure- but a little engagement would have been nice.

“What do you think? He’s kind of cute.”

“LOOKS LIKE A WET DOG.”

“Don’t be mean…” 

Spamton blinked, quickly alerted to the fact that he was hearing actual speech surrounding him on all sides, and he bit his lower lip. Well, be careful what you wish for.

“H-HEY!” he shouted. “IF YOU’VE GOT A [good deal], COME OUT AND [tell it to me straight]!”

“Ooh, he’s got some fang!”

“TINY VOICE FOR A TINY MAN!”

“I think he’s just scared…”

“I AM [not] SCARED!” he shouted back, and groped at the ground, near the trees, until he found an errant branch, and held it aloft. He should have brought that poker. The trees and bushes erupted in giggles- some tickled, some wicked, and one just faintly nervous.

“YOU THINK I’M SCARED!?” Spamton bellowed, “I USED TO WORK [retail], TOOTS! YOU’RE NOTHING!”

“Toots!? How charming!”

“TOOTS!? HOW VULGAR!”

“...Toots…? How… confusing.”

The slam of a paw before Spamton was enough to make his lips quiver into a frown, as Clover slowly emerged from her hiding place, and suddenly three heads were bearing down upon him, each one with a curious, different expression that rotated hypnotically, and more importantly, each head was the size of his torso.

“Start running, cutiepie!”

“START RUNNING, RUDEBOY!”

“Um… run… I guess…”

She didn’t have to tell Spamton twice as he tucked the stick under his arm and fled, pursued by a cat. He wasn’t sure how far he ran, all that he knew was that incessant giggling eventually got softer and softer, and eventually died down, but then he’d reached another god forsaken thing in this strange land.

A puzzle. Good lord, but it had to be a puzzle. He recognized the card suits, but sighed roughly, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his face. It looked as though solving it was inevitable, if he wanted to proceed. He was close to civilization, he could feel it. Also- anything to get further away from the Darkner who had been chasing him.

“[!@#?]... WE AIN’T GOT PUZZLES LIKE THIS IN THE CITY…” he murmured, dragging his feet as he went from button to button, shifting the suits, trying to figure out the solution. He began to pant, shaking his head as his clouded mind struggled with it, moving sluggishly. This… didn’t seem right. For one thing he hadn’t run that far, it made no sense that he was so addled. It wasn’t until he slammed his fist onto the puzzle for a third time, failing it yet again, that he looked down at himself, shifting his cloak to do so.

His eyes widened, and his heart hammered at the sight of the petrified stone that had encased, or perhaps became, his foot- and it wasn’t stopping there. “O-OH SWEET EVERLOVING GOD…!”

Spamton forwent the puzzle, instead going straight to the gate to fall down upon it, and slam his fists onto the entrance. “OPEN UP! SOMEBODY! THERE’S GOTTA BE SOMEONE THERE! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF [[HEAVEN]] I’M TURNING INTO A [half-price pond stones]!

He wasn’t sure exactly what he dreaded more- seeing Clover again, or seeing literally any other Darkner as he dragged himself to his feet, and like that, could feel it creeping across his thighs, and up to his waist. He began to breathe heavily, the sudden lethargy becoming clear to him as he hacked up his lungs a little, and realized dimly that he had been played. 

By everyone. First by Mike, then by Queen, then by this new mysterious voice… one would have thought that he had learned his lesson the first time- but the fact remained that against all of his opinions of himself, Spamton was just kind of gullible. Pink had said so, one day- perhaps it was just the nature of peddling his kind of content. He tried to walk, managing to swing his legs one in front of the other by throwing his hips into it, his body feeling heavier and heavier the closer and closer the stone came to reaching his head.

“SOMEONE [press F1 to help]!” he begged, “ANYONE! CAT LADY, I’M TALKING TO YOU!”

Finally, Spamton had to stop, mid-gait, and with his body anchored to the grass, he turned his gaze up to Heaven, and reached for it, just high enough to be able to see his fingers turning gray as the stone completely subsumed him.

“Baabaa!” 

“Yeseth, Lancer, that wouldst looketh good in thine garden, thanketh thee.”

The blue skinned, blue attired gentleman bent down to grab the flowers as Lancer- a bouncing baby not more than a few months old belonging to his illustrious King- gestured to them happily and wildly. He was holding the infant on his chest, strapped carefully and allowing him to forage with his own two hands, searching for things to keep the Castle joyful. It wasn’t always easy, but the King wasn’t going to do it. He shoved it into a basket, and continued on. The Scarlet Forest was always a fine place to look for this and that- it was quiet, save for the occasional braying fangirl, and Rouxls found he could let himself enjoy the relative familiarity of it all. His feet plodded in the grass, heralding his arrival to Clover, who simply swished her tail back and forth idly, and giggled at him.

“Goode evening, my lady,” he said, tossing his hair back as one of the heads swooned, and the other heads rolled their eyes. He tried not to fraternize with commoners as much as physically possible, but in the way of being the King’s closest confidant, sometimes it was unavoidable- especially now, of all times. He let one of his long, elegant gloved fingers slip into Lancer’s grasp as the child grabbed for something to hold, and cooed to him gently as he approached the gate, looking to check on the puzzle. What he wasn’t expecting was quite what he’d come across…

“Bababauh?” Lancer babbled.

“I willeth say…” Rouxls murmured, stepping closer to revolve around it, investigating. It was unlike any statue he’d certainly ever seen- a facial expression so full of desperation, and longing, and even something like surrender as it reached to the aether, as if searching for something to hold in the last possible moment of its existence. It seemed to drown in emotion, the body language and face so detailed it seemed real- like it might pop back into existence at any given moment and inquire about its whereabouts. Lancer reached out, and grabbed its long, pointy nose with a squeal of delight.

“Ah, ah-” Rouxls murmured, taking his hand from it. “Be gentle…”

Chewing on his lower lip, Rouxls reached out, and ran his fingertips over the statue’s delicate hair, each strand lovingly crafted in stone, seemingly strand-by-strand. Even studying it, he couldn’t make heads or tails of what it was meant to convey.

So he did what any self-respecting lover of the arts would do in his situation- he didn’t wait to see if it belonged to anyone. He dragged it all the way home, and situated it in the Card Castle’s garden courtyard, where it could stand and be truly appreciated.

Chapter Text

The Spade King’s private Garden could not have been more radiant if it had been spun from the finest sugar, swept down from Heaven itself. It was filled with flowers and red foliage, and extended outward in a large rectangular shape that took up the most hidden place in the Castle. Each plant and tree had been painstakingly picked out by the royal family and transplanted with care, even before Lancer had even been born- and now, there was a strange statue just… sitting in it.

“What, in the name of God’s red earth, were you thinking, bringing that thing into my Courtyard?”

Rouxls felt a bead of sweat run down his neck. When he’d placed the statue, he had done so under the impression that it was a fine piece of art that someone had abandoned, and that bringing it into the King’s possession would offer a bit of a change in decor from the usual mournful affair. Not to say it wasn’t beautiful in the courtyard, but it had been stagnant for some time.

“I thoughteth perhaps it would be a unique changeth of pace for thou, my liege,” Rouxls justified. “Thou’s Garden has been the same since…”

“Don’t.”

Rouxls shut his mouth and swallowed. Touchy subject. The King stepped into the Garden, up to the statue, and flicked it across the head. His strength sent it almost toppling over, and Rouxls ran to grab it, reorienting it carefully. It was enough to make Spades chuckle darkly.

“Were it not for your loyalty, I would almost assume you cared more about it than me.”

“No, of course not!” Rouxls cried. “It’s justeth such a fine piece… ‘tis wouldeth be a shame if it were damaged like that.”

“Whatever.”

Recently, the King only entered the courtyard for one reason, and it stood in the middle. The mausoleum was tall and decadent, beset on all sides by carvings of intricate shapes (mostly spades, as was the crux of the royal family’s insignia), as well as its own bust of a figure who looked very much like the Spade King himself. Her eyes were lost to darkness, much like his own, but the King knew where to find them, always- and he would gaze into them, as if perhaps if he did long enough, she may blink first.

But she never did.

“‘Tis not your fault, and thou knows it.”

Spades turned to the side slowly, where Rouxls was standing beside him suddenly. They went through this at least every other day, now- a marked improvement to the every single day that had occurred since the attempted assassination. Rouxls words were a balm on the King’s psyche, even if he did know the truth: even if it had been a mistake, it was he who had been the target, and it had been his fault, but the loss of the Queen of Spades did little to curb his brutality. Those who had been captured and convicted of the murder were given a trial (which lasted about five minutes with a defendant who had been at the business end of his whip about three minutes in), and publicly executed, and at the end of it all, the reason for the attempt on his life never came to fruition. They hid their loyalties, and he didn’t wait to find out who had sent them.

Perhaps they were ones of his own. It didn’t stop him from abducting every other monarch in the land, and imprisoning them.

Spades felt a gloved hand against his arm, dimly taking a moment to recognize Rouxls even though the man was standing right next to him. “Let us away from here, pleaseth.”

With a grunt of agreement (if you could call it that, it was most like just a noncommittal noise, but Rouxls would take it), Spades turned away from the mausoleum and went with the Duke, flicking the statue again as he did so. It wobbled a bit, but Rouxls didn’t dare go to it. The King was waited on by his servants, but Rouxls knew this game. He stood by, watching as Lancer played in the same room, and watched butterflies outside the window, and occasionally tried to suck on the furniture (which Rouxls put a stop to because no one else would). The King had never been the most attentive parent, but with the queen’s passing, his rule was all he seemed to care about… except in those late nights, when he would stand above Lancer’s cradle, and simply watch. Rouxls liked to think he was keeping guard. 

“You are all dismissed,” said Spades, pinching the bridge of his nose as he cleared out the room. “And take Lancer with you.”

Rouxls picked up the infant, and held him against his shoulder.

“Not you. You stay.”

He swallowed, and passed Lancer to a Hathy (they were quite reliable), watching as the door closed, and he was alone with the King. This was another thing that was happening, more and more frequently. Still, Rouxls smiled, and turned around, opening his arms to his King jovially. “Whateth can I do for thou, my liege?”

Spades gestured for him to come closer, and he did. “I’ve got something for you.”

Oh no.

The King rose and went to the side of his gargantuan bed, pulling out a wooden box that was the colour of blood. Most wooden things in the Castle were that colour, seeing as the trees were about that shade. Rouxls was silent and still as a string of gold and jewels was wrung around his throat, left to weigh heavy on his chest, beset with the symbol of the spade. The King was delicate as he worked, his massive hands going behind his neck to clasp it together, and two of his knuckles brushing his fine, snow-white hair away from his face as he pulled back. 

“Ah, beautiful.”

“‘Tis very kind of you, my liege,” Rouxls finally said, not looking at it.

“A gift,” said the King, grinning in a way he was convinced seemed tender, but in reality, was more predatory than anything else. “Why do you never wear any of the gifts I give you?”

Rouxls breath caught in his throat. Back in his own quarters, he had a box filled with these sorts of things. Ribbons beset with dark spade-shaped crystals, pearl necklaces, broaches embedded with sapphires. All things that the King had claimed were arduously claimed from other Worlds, and every single one of them, he recognized as having belonged to the Queen of Spades.

“It is… noteh conducive to my work to weareth such finery on the job,” Rouxls lied. “It wouldst get caught in my puzzle mechanisms, and Lancer wouldst try and eat them.”

The King’s hand was about the size of Rouxls’s entire head, perhaps even bigger, and when he pressed his palm against his cheek, there was the slight notion to be afraid… but he had been through this so many times now, he could act without that fear. It was simply going through the motions at this point.

“There is no one here, now.”

Rouxls swallowed, watching as the King took his gloved hand and bent to press his lips to it, holding his breath. There were many things he wanted to say, but in the graces of his liege, he knew he couldn’t. It might, at the very least, get him thrown into the dungeon.

“I haveth to go,” Rouxls slowly pulled his hand from the King’s, leaving him still bent, and the King let him go. He always let him go, convinced that one day, he could persuade Rouxls to stay, and every time, the Duke rebuffed him. Unseen, a grimace passed over his face. “Call upon thee if thou has need of me.”

“Keep the necklace… it suits you.”

“Thanketh thou, my liege.”

He tucked it into his uniform and went about his day. Rouxls liked to imagine that sooner or later the King would run out of jewelry and stop doing this, but the fact remained that the queen had many, many baubles, all of which he’d gifted to her at one point. It would never end. This would never stop, and though the King was always cordial, it didn’t stop Rouxls’s skin from crawling. 

Even if he did feel that way- if he could feel such a way- all he would ever be was a substitute, and even if subjecting himself to becoming a consort would give him anything he could ever desire, it didn’t change the fact that it would be hollow from the start. The thought of being a doll for the King’s misplaced adoration, playing house in a dead woman’s shadow… He felt a bit sick.

Later that day, after recalibrating his puzzles (simple as they were they did require a modicum of upkeep), and vandalizing other ones (to keep Darkners on their toes), he busied himself with duties around the Castle. As the Duke, he held power over most of the servants, and although airheaded, he enjoyed telling them what to do. There was only one servant who, despite Rouxls having absolute authority over, did not listen to him at all.

“Heeheehee!” laughed the jester- the squat joker currently juggling colourful scythes in the Courtyard to Lancer’s utmost delight. The baby squealed, clasping his hands together, and when Rouxls caught sight of this, he immediately bound out into the Garden, and snatched up the infant. “Aww, but we were having such fun, fun!”

“Do NOTEH act unwise aroundeth ME, thou ruffian!” Rouxls barked, holding Lancer close to his chest, even as the baby whined and stuck out his little tongue. “Thou couldeth HURT someone, playing a stunt such as that! Whateth thou dropped one of those things upon thine poor childe’s head?! Thou might cleave it open! Thinketh of the King!”

With the Queen of Spades gone, the King had grown despondent- if Lancer also perished, he might declare a war just to feel something. Upon who, it didn’t matter. He would surely tear the world apart in his grief.

Jevil cared not about any of that rabble, and simply waved his hand, letting the scythe vanish into thin air. “So what? Wouldn’t you enjoy a little bloodshed, bloodshed, my precious Duke?”

“NO!” 

Lancer loved Jevil, it was an unfortunate side effect of the jester’s magnetic personality. The magic he was capable of was envied across the land, which was why the King attempted to make him a member of his court- but in the end he made a lousy advisor, preferring on every occasion to turn his meetings with the King and his fellow affiliates into a joke. So he did the only thing he could think of besides banishing the little man- he fed into his needs. He made him the Court Jester, and it took to it like a duck to water. As a result, most adored him, some were annoyed by him (mostly Rouxls), but to Lancer, he may as well have been family.

There was only one individual in the Castle who was more powerful than Jevil, and it wasn’t even the King. They kept to themselves at the best of times, however.

“Thou knoweths such stunts are not permitted in the Garden,” Rouxls sneered. “Even for the purposesth of entertaining the young prince. He has a bedroom for that.”

“Aww!” Jevil cried, “but the colours, colours! The lush red leaves! The decadent smell of nature! So much better than a stuffy old bedroom!”

“Leaveth!” Rouxls demanded, pointing to the main entrance. He had no idea if Jevil was even permitted out here. This was a private place, after all. Clasping his hands to his mouth he giggled, and turned to flee, his tail whipping back and forth as he did so, jingling all the way. Lancer, at the sudden loss of his entertainment, began to cry. Rouxls lifted him up into the crook of his arm.

“Thereth, thereth, my darling…” he cooed, swaying side to side as he hummed gently to the infant, and let him grasp his finger tightly. Lancer had a surprisingly strong grip for such a young age- it was hard to tell which parent he inherited his strength from. “Thou will be a powerful King, one day…”

Lost to his reverie, he didn’t notice the sound of smashing until moments after it occurred, and Rouxls lifted his head to whirl around, seeing the jester standing over the statue he had painstakingly brought into the Garden in the first place lying on its side, knocked over and partially broken. He hid his tail, in a way that could be construed as bashfully apologetic, but Rouxls knew better. “Oopsie!”

“Get out!”

Jevil fled the scene, giggling in his guilt, and the Duke placed Lancer down in a soft patch of grass to attend to the mess. “Ugh, that little cretin, looketh what he’s done to you…”

To get some leverage, though perhaps not as smart as he could have been in the face of the already damaged object, Rouxls grabbed it by the head to hoist it up, but grimaced as he felt something wet on the side of the stone. The head of the sculpture had hit a rock on the way down, and a piece had broken off. Perhaps he could have Malius come in to repair it… It must have landed on a worm or something- the Garden was ripe with them. When the statue was righted, he sighed, and brushed his glove off on his thigh, but was perturbed when he noticed the debris wasn’t wiping off, and when he looked down at himself, he felt himself go cold. It was no crushed worm.

Blood, warm and sticky. It made him grimace. Magic, surely- did that clown do this? He turned his head back up to the state, revealing that it was dripping blood in a rivulet from where it had been struck, and his eyes went wide. This was… not normal. This was cursed.

“Guhbah?”

Rouxls whirled around, putting his hand behind his back as Lancer was teetering over, crawling in a half-lopsided away and making noises with mouth as he wished to catch sight of what was happening. So, he scooped him up in his clean arm and brought him inside, placing him into the care of one of his innumerable nannies before returning to the Garden, and throwing a sheet over the statue. There was only one Darkner powerful enough to lift a curse like this.

Luckily for him, they were always looking for ways to occupy themselves.

When Rouxls pulled the sheet away from the sculpture, Seam was dubious. They were the Court Magician, and incredibly strong for the things the King had them doing half the time- truthfully, they deserved higher praise for their work, but only a few people had ever actually seen them in real action. It was by chance Rouxls had witnessed them acting as doctor to Jevil that one time he had sliced his hand clear off his body during a new, elaborate trick gone wrong (the King had enjoyed it nonetheless, and it never actually came to light whether he was or was not aware the carnage was real). They hadn’t even needed to sew, or anything of the sort. They merely recited some gobbledigook, held the hand with laced fingers against Jevil’s severed wrist, and the flesh knit back together on its own, not even leaving a scar (which saddened Jevil- it would have looked fetching).

Since then, Rouxls covertly went to Seam whenever something dire came up that couldn’t be cared for by the normal Court of Rudinns and Hathys, or even Malius. Particularly whenever Lancer accidentally injured himself. The less the King knew, the better.

“Wherever did you find this, Rouxls?” Seam asked curiously. 

“Outeth in the Scarlet Forest, standing alone by the gate,” Rouxls answered honestly. The magician hummed, walking around it, their elaborate robes dragging behind them. Seam wasn’t exactly tall, and the tailors never seemed to be able to make anything that suitably fit the Darkner. Their body seemed to crumple and straighten up at the oddest of times, as if made of weary fabric. “I thoughteth it looked artistic, so I broughteth it home, thinking it wouldst please the King.”

“Now we all know that’s a lie,” Seam replied, tilting their head to smile at him. “You did it for yourself.”

Rouxls looked scandalized. “Iseth it a crime to wanteth nice things to one’s name?”

Seam just smiled. “You have plenty of nice things, Duke, the King makes sure of it.”

Rouxls swallowed. “Things thateth are mine… not remnants of another’s life.”

“Of course.”

Truthfully it made no difference to Seam. The King’s behavior was beyond them- they existed to perform magic, not insert themselves into the royal’s personal affairs. Although the queen’s death had affected them all, they were content to stay in their corner, practicing and honing their skills and doing whatever the King requested, same as it ever was. This, however… 

Finally, a true test of their skills.

“I can cure this ailment, but not here,” said Seam, rubbing their chin in thought. “I would need my more proper tools.”

Seam hadn’t always lived in the Card Castle. Before they had been recognized as the force of nature they could (potentially) be, they lived in a simple hovel where they worked on the majority of their craft. It was jam packed with tools and trinkets and objects, all of which were capable of magic they deemed either unworthy of the King, or the King unworthy of them. The only one privy to such things, somehow, had been Jevil, and now- as the Duke of Puzzles brought the statue wrapped in drapery to the old home of the magician in secret- so was Rouxls.

“You didn’t need to wear that, my Duke,” said Seam with a smile as Rouxls pulled down his hood, and Seam ripped the sheet off of the sculpture, admiring the arm that was still outstretched desperately to Heaven.

“Thou King grows nervous wheneth I leave without warning,” Rouxls replied. Spades always wished to know where Rouxls was, at all times, especially if Lancer was with him (which was often), but right now Lancer and Spades were both sleeping sweetly in the nursery, flanked with guards. It would be fine.

“Afraid what the King would believe if he caught you putting forth such effort towards a statue over him?”

Rouxls inhaled deeply, his hair standing on end. “Nothingeth of the sort.”

“Mmhm!”

The Duke looked over Seam’s shoulder, which was easy enough given his height, but Seam commanded a presence, and when they lifted paw to give him a light smack on the cheek to stop being nosy, he complied. Rouxls took a seat on the other side of the room, trying not to let his nerves get to him. The slow drip of blood hadn’t stopped from the statue’s head since he had smuggled it out of Card Castle- how long were sculptures supposed to bleed after being damaged, anyway? Was it a long time? 

“Iseth… iseth this normal?” he murmured.

Seam laughed. “No! No, Heavens no, Duke of Puzzles, this is not normal at all… the direct opposite in fact. Hoho, is this normal, spare me, please…”

“Then whateth IS this?” Rouxls asked, “iseth it cursed? Have I doomedeth the royal family witheth my impulsivity?” 

“Oh, you desperately want me to say yes, don’t you?”

“No!”

Seam chuckled, and shook his head. “No, it’s much more mundane than you’re worried about.”

“A statue that bleeds, and you consider it mundane?” He would admit he hadn’t the magical prowess that Seam possessed but he was rather positive that such a thing was hardly what he’d consider normal. 

“Do you have something I can perhaps utilize as a charm?” asked Seam. “I’m afraid I have nothing suitable, at the moment.”

Rouxls felt along his uniform, looking for something. Truthfully he was in a bit of the same boat- he didn’t really wear baubles, and if he tore a button off of his uniform, the King would surely notice. “I don’t, I don’t think-”

His hand fell on his chest, and he swallowed. Seam cocked their head. “Oh? Something at hand?”

Slowly, Rouxls undid the first few buttons of his uniform, and pulled it apart to reveal the golden necklace the King had placed upon him earlier that day, and the spade that hung down upon it. Seam pulled away from their work, and stuck his nose close, peering at it with a chuckle.

“How beautiful- the Spade Queen’s, if I am not mistaken…” He reached inside, and grasped it, plucking it off of the chain with ease as Rouxls covered himself, quickly buttoning back up as Seam held the spade up to the heavens, as if to peer through it. “What is this, you think? Blue gold?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“You don’t want to, even if you could.”

The way Seam could read people made Rouxls glower. Either he was truly an open book, or there was something about Seam that lended itself to slightly more devious magic. Then again, as he watched them turn back in all their finery, with the black spade sewn into the back, he couldn’t help but wonder if beneath the paltry parlor tricks the King had him performing, Spades knew there was a being of true strength within. The spade charm flickered with light as Seam worked, sewing it carefully into a leather strap as they bounced gently, repeating words back and forth.

“In this charm of blessed gold,

Melt the stone that covers cold,

Reveal the flesh that lies within,

Protect them when the walls turn thin…!”

Seam laughed, watching as the charm in their paws began to shimmer and quiver, and Rouxls had to stand up, the light echoing in his eyes as it floated and turned. Every inch of the thing became suffused with magic, and when they turned around to let Rouxls bear witness, their fur was standing on end, and they were smiling raucously, and Rouxls… suddenly felt extremely nervous. Oh, what if this had been a bad idea? If the King discovered it…

Suddenly, it dimmed, and fell into Seam’s paws, the only light remaining that was about the size of a pinhead, beating gently like a heart for a bit longer, before it was gone. Rouxls breathed deeply, his normally half-lidded, dream-like eyes wide as saucers as Seam carefully approached the statue, and wove it gently around its throat in a thick, indelible knot. 

“...Whateth did that do?” Rouxls asked, finally raising his brow. Seam pressed a finger to their muzzle.

“Shh.”

“But-”

“Hush.”

Rouxls wrapped his arms around himself, feeling a line of himself running down his throat beneath the mutilated necklace, melting like nervous candle wax. It took a while. In fact, an hour and forty five minutes had passed before he twitched his hand forward, approaching the sculpture. “I ameth taking this back… helpeth me place it back into the chain…”

As his fingers nearly came in contact with the charm, the statue blinked at him, and he nearly fell backwards in shock. Seam grinned triumphantly, but you’d hardly notice from the subdued way they carried themselves. One blink, then two- then, he could have sworn he saw the fingers twitching, and slowly, vindictively forming a fist. Breath invaded the sculpture, the chest rising suddenly, the cloak it seemed to be wearing beginning to move, and the fine stone strands of hair beginning to stand on end from it. Rouxls and Seam both observed the sculpture’s gray veneer beginning to fade into pure white as it tugged its arm down to turn its hand over and over, and watched as the dissipation occurred. Of course, in the nature of statues turning back into living men, one occasionally forgot how to remain upright, and when the stone had fully vanished and changed him back into a Darkner, Spamton slipped and tripped over himself, and landed at the feet of the two of them. 

“OW, [!?%&]!” he shouted, pressing his face against the ground for a moment as he wiggled a bit, and kicked his feet, trying to get some feeling back into them. “ WHAT THE [fifty percent off]!?”

“Easy, stranger,” Seam said, bending to grab Spamton and tug him upright. “You’re more lost than you know.”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” he shouted, slapping his paws away, and narrowing his pink and yellow eyes. He was immediately rounded upon by Rouxls, who grabbed his wrist deceptively roughly for his swain countenance.

“Donteth thou DARE lay a hand on the Royal Magician!” he growled, which was much less intimidating than his grip, regrettably. “Unlessth thou wishes to returneth to the Garden as a fixture!” 

Spamton glared, but without his dealmakers, he could barely make anything out standing so tall above him. “I’M [shaking like a polaroid picture] IN MY BOOTS, BUDDY.”

“Thine name is Rouxls Kaard, and thou will addresseth me properly!” he snapped back, before placing his hand on his chin thoughtfully. “Whateth strange vernacular…which Kingdom do you hail from? Clubs? Hearts?”

“WELL, THEY USED TO CALL ME A [heartthrob],” Spamton said with a leering grin. Rouxls took a pause, before turning back to Seam.

“Changeth him back,” he said, “I fancied him better as a statue.” 

Seam laughed, and placed the dealmakers back on Spamton’s face, adjusting them gently. “Something tells me you need these.”

“HEY THANKS [kitty cat],” he said, before recoiling slightly at the full sight of the environment around him. “HOLY [cungadero], WHERE THE HELL AM I?!”

“This is my home, in the Field of Hopes and Dreams, although most simply call it the Field- and I am afraid that you are far away from home, stranger.”

“GOD, I HOPE SO…” Spamton said, placing a hand on his chest to try and catch his breath, before it creeped up and touched his throat, where the spade charm sat nestled just under the collar of his cloak. “WHAT THE [@#$%] IS THIS, NOW? SOME KIND OF [astrology thing]?”

(Before hitting it big, he had made a small name for himself selling ‘activated’ birthstones to suckers... before someone actually asked what that meant, forcing him to abandon the endeavor.)

“I wouldn’t remove that,” said Seam. “Or else you really will suffer the consequences.”

“LET ME GUESS, I’LL CHANGE BACK INTO A [pond stone]?”

“Perceptive!”

“WELL, I DID KEEP EMAIL RECORDS METICULOUSLY.”

Rouxls kept exchanging glances between Seam and Spamton, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. He was… unsure of what to do, now, but even in his nerves, he still reached up to touch the wound that was left on Spamton’s head from his tumble, pulling back more blood. “A puppet that bleeds…?”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A [puppet]?” Spamton hissed, but Seam soon pressed their palm to his temple, and muttered something, and the fabric-like flesh knit back together, until it was closed, and they blew softly against the skin, banishing the bloodstains. “WOW, NEAT [cheap trick] YA GOT THERE, KITTY, HOW MUCH?”

“How much what?”

“HOW MUCH [generosity] YOU WANT FOR FIXING ME UP?” he asked, pulling the cloak around him as he narrowed his eyes. “NO SUCH THING AS A [free lunch].”

Seam laughed. “I have no need for your money, stranger, besides, I wouldn’t know where you would even find any.”

“I’LL GET SOME, I’VE GOT A [sweet new job] WAITING FOR ME! SOMEWHERE AROUND THIS PLACE…?” Spamton said, before brightening, “IS IT YOU?”

“Am I what?”

“ARE YOU THE ONE THAT CALLED ME?”

“Called you on what?”

“THE TELEPHONE, KITTY CAT!”

“What is a telephone?” 

Spamton’s face fell, and Rouxls was covering his mouth, trying to keep the laughter within as the businessman realized just how far from home he actually was. “YOU’RE… YOU’RE [playing me like a fiddle] RIGHT? RIGHT?! WHAT’S A PHONE , WHAT’S A PHONE!?”

“My apologies if it is an item of great personal importance to you, but I have simply never heard of such a device.”

“THEN HOW DO YOU DARKNERS [communicate] HERE!?”

Rouxls couldn’t hold it in anymore, he chortled, pressing his hand to his chest as though he thought his lungs were about to escape. “Oh spareth me! I may bust a gut!”

“WHAT KIND OF ACCENT IS THAT?!” Spamton replied desperately. “OH, GOD IN [HEAVEN], DID I [got off at the wrong stop]!? NO, NO I COULDN’T HAVE, I FOLLOWED ALL THE [terms and conditions]!”

He gripped his face, shaking a little, and Rouxls’s laughter wasn’t helping matters, not even as Seam placed a paw on his back. “Let us calm ourselves. You are no longer stone, and that is meant for celebrating.”

“EASY FOR YOU TO SAY!” he shouted, “YOU’RE NOT STRANDED IN THE [middle of nowhere] WITH [nothing]!”

“Have you truly nothing to your name?”

“THEY TOLD ME NOT TO BRING ANYTHING!”

Rouxls wiped a tear from his eye, unable to simply quell his guffaws. “Thou is certainly in a predicament, then.”

“NO [@#!?], PRETTY BOY!”

“There is no solution that will be found by yelling,” Seam said, still grinning. “Although if it helps you feel catharsis, I suppose I can’t deny you the right.”

“NO… NO… I’M FINE…” Spamton pinched the bridge of his nose, “IT’S FINE. I’M [finer than frog’s hair], REALLY, I JUST NEED TO [acquire] MY BEARINGS…”

Pop ups were flickering in the air around Spamton’s head, advertising curious things that neither Seam or Rouxls had ever seen before. Things like ‘anti-depressants’ and ‘calming massage therapy’ and ‘for a good time call XXX’. They flickered in and out of existence, and when Rouxls stuck his fingers through one that was lingering, his hair stood on end- quite literally.

“GOD DAMMIT!” he shouted as the static got him through the glove, and he shook out his hand. “Thou commandeths powerful magic!”

“MAGIC? WHAT ARE YOU [small fries only]?” Spamton replied, raising an eyebrow as he shook away the pop ups. “EVERY ADDISON CAN DO THAT.”

“Addison? I’ve never heard of such a kingdom.”

“WE’RE NOT A [kingdom], WE’RE A [family]!” he replied. “I’M FROM CYBER WORLD.”

“Cyber World…” Rouxls mused. “What direction does that lie?”

“UHH…” Spamton looked down, thinking back to the directions the being on the phone had given him. “EAST.”

“Hmm… nearest the Diamond Kingdom…” he said, “but thateth is where I hail from and I have never heardeth of a Cyber World.”

“He is not from this plane of existence,” Seam said, reclining against their desk. “That's why he turned to stone.” 

“THAT SO, KITTY CAT?” Spamton drawled, “YOU KNOW WE’VE GOT CATS WHERE I’M FROM, TOO, ONLY THEY DON’T TALK AS MUCH.”

“What a pity- cats often have so much to offer.”

“...WELL THIS HAS BEEN [revealing] ENOUGH BUT I REALLY SHOULD [abscond],” Spamton said, tugging on his cloak again as he began to storm out, indignance following him like a shadow.

“You won’t get far,” said Seam, “not past the maze in the Scarlet Forest.”

“I WAS [born and raised] IN A [city that never sleeps]! I THINK I CAN HANDLE A LITTLE MAZE!?”

“It does not matter much, all roads lead back to the Card Castle.”

“...CASTLE, YOU SAY? NOT LIKE A [bouncy castle], A REAL CASTLE?”

“Where the King of Spades and his Prince reside, yes.”

“WELL, HELL,” Spamton sighed, “JUST WHEN YOU THINK YOU’VE [press the escape key to continue] THE MONARCHY.”

Seam paused in his thoughts, and after a moment stepped past Spamton to seek out Rouxls, and grabbed him by the uniform to tug him down, and whisper in his ear. His eyes went wide, and he gestured at Spamton. “He is a commoner!”

“So was I, once upon a time.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A [piece of trash]?” Spamton stammered. “I’M RIGHT HERE, YOU KNOW!”

“Of course, of course,” Seam said, waving his paw at him, before turning back to Rouxls. “It could be a boon to you…”

“Howeth?”

“The King is always seeking amusement… distraction from his woes. For once, that might not have to be you.”

Rouxls had to consider it, pursing his lips a moment before straightening up, and brushing himself off. “Stranger…”

“ENOUGH WITH THE [usernames]!” Spamton said, “THE NAME’S SPAMTON G. SPAMTON, [number one rated salesman1997 and beyond]! AND IF YOU’VE GOT SOMETHING TO SAY TO ME THEN [say it to my face]!”

“...Very welleth…” said Rouxls, letting out a perturbed huff. “Thou said thou was looking for a job?”

“I HAVE A [profession], I’M A SALESMAN!”

“Buteth thou has no wares.”

“I MEAN- I MEAN- I MEAN-” he paused, grinding his teeth a moment, “NOT RIGHT NOW.”

He glanced back to Seam, who nodded.

“I knoweth of a place we could useth thee.”

“OHO, LET ME GUESS,” he replied, crossing his arms and smirking at Rouxls, “YOU WANT ME TO COME TO YOUR [castle] WHERE I CAN LIE PROSTRATE TO SOME [malequeen] LIKE A TWO-BIT [unpaid intern], IS THAT IT?”

Rouxls couldn’t help but look a little offended, but he nodded all the same. He would scream into a pillow later. “Yeseth, in no uncertain terms. Thou obviously has no love lost for thous own royalty, but you willst have a roof over thous head and fine clothes on thous back, not to mention food in your stomach…” 

He bent over Spamton, who stood his ground fearlessly. Honestly the man looked like he could fold like a card table- he wasn’t some giant cat hydra. “WHAT’S THE CATCH, [dollface]?”

“Thou will be expected to work. Thou art familiar with work, yes?”

“BUDDY, LISTEN-” Spamton said, gesturing wildly, “I HAVE BEEN [working] SINCE MY LITERAL BIRTH- I’M NOT AFRAID TO GET MY HANDS DIRTY.”

“Then thou has no reason to say no~”

Spamton clammed up, and reached up to fix his hair. It normally stood in place almost perpetually with pomade, but becoming a statue and then unbecoming a statue had mussed it up. “HEY KITTY, YOU UH, WANNA GIVE ME A HAND HERE WITH SOME OF THAT [ages three and up] MAGIC?”

“Hmm…”

“COME ON, HELP YOUR OLD PAL SPAMTON OUT!”

(Rouxls snorted.)

“It could be arranged,” said Seam, and flicked out their paw, and from the burst of magic from it, they may as well have slapped Spamton across the face. The resulting strike not only fixed his hair, but blew his clothes clear off, and wrapped around him with new ones. Rouxls averted his gaze in politeness. When the magic faded Spamton was coughing like he’d gotten caught in the exhaust of one of Queen’s limos, and looked down upon himself in his new uniform. It was pink and yellow like the dealmakers, and matched Rouxls’s from root to tip, all the way down to the conspicuously tight trousers and lack of pockets. Each button that went down his front was that of a gold spade, and it went all the way up to his chin, covering up the leather collar with the spade bauble he was forced to wear.

“WHAT THE [liquidation sale! All things must go!] IS THIS!?” he inquired, turning around and looking at his coattails. “I SAID FIX MY [lustrous hair], NOT DRESS ME FOR [band camp]!”

“If you’re going to work for the King, you must look the part,” Seam explained.

“SO YOU MAKE ME LOOK LIKE THIS [tall glass of goo]?!”

“Thine uniform is timeless,” Rouxls grumbled. 

“BESIDES, I NEVER SAID [request accepted]!”

“You will,” Seam replied, “it makes no difference to me, but your health and wellbeing may be put under pressure if you refuse.”

“IS THAT A THREAT?”

“Not from me,” Seam reassured him, “but this place is dangerous, to those who don’t know its boundaries.”

“BUT-”

“Take the job, Spamton G. Spamton,” Seam said, cocking their head as they grinned at him cheekily. “A man needs shelter.”

“...OH FOR [&^%$!] SAKE FINE, I’M ALREADY [!!@#?] DRESSED FOR IT…” 

The castle was impressive, and Spamton had to admire how the guards parted like the sea when Rouxls stepped through the door. He could feel the tight collar against his throat under the new uniform tethering him to this world, and as he followed, he racked his brain trying to figure out how he could possibly find the Darkner who had contacted him. If there were no phones, how could they have done so in the first place? Had he really fallen off the wrong cliff, and landed into a completely different universe? Were they waiting for him elsewhere, or worse, would someone else get his job…?

“Dost thou remember what I told thee on the way back here?” Rouxls said. 

“NOT A GODDAMN THING, [blueberry].” Rouxls let out a sigh of frustration, and poked Spamton in the neck.

“Thou can NEVER leteth the King see the bauble that’s keeping thee from turning into stone,” he said firmly. “Twas meant for me, and holds great sentimental value. Ifeth he discovers I allowed it to be usedeth to thaw thee, I mayeth well never smell fresh air again.”

“HE’D KILL YA?”

“God, I hope so.” 

“HMM.”

“ Thou wouldst not fair so well, either, Spamton G. Spamton.”

“OKAY, I GET IT, NO [showing off the merchandise],” he grumbled. 

“And straighten thous posture! Thou wishes to maketh a good impression!”

“THIS IS HOW I ALWAYS [walk about town]!”

Rouxls grabbed him and placed a hand on the small of his back, bending it suddenly, and cracking it so firmly a flashing pop up for chiropractors popped out of Spamton’s eyes, and when he blinked it away, he smirked up at Rouxls. “YOWZERS, [angel], WHERE I COME FROM YOU BUY A GUY DINNER, FIRST.”

Rouxls flushed intensely. “Shutteth yon uppeth.”

The throne room was always a bit intimidating, but Rouxls entered it like he belonged there, his arms wide open in an open, but firm stance. After glancing at him one more time, Spamton mimicked the gesture, but Rouxls glowered at him. “Findeth thine own stance.”

Spamton made an irritated noise, and after a moment of thought, placed his hands on his hips in his practiced salesman’s gait. Rouxls sighed, it would have to do.

“WHERE IS MY DUKE!? ROUXLS KAARD!”

Spamton watched as Rouxls firmed up, and did the same, pushing out his broad chest that the uniform could barely contain. He wondered if perhaps the kitty had had a sense of humor. When the King of Spades finally did appear, Spamton looked up, and up, and suddenly realized why Rouxls had been so serious about not upsetting him. The man was a tank.

Queen could probably still take him, though. One way or another.

“Kaard! Where have you been?!” he said, his voice dark and rumbling, and honestly it would have worried Rouxls less if he had been yelling.

“Merely performing mine rounds,” he replied, “improving mine puzzles.”

“Your puzzles are simple, what could have possibly taken so long?”

Oh, but that did hurt a little. Luckily before he could think of anything else to say, Spades leaned over him to observe Spamton standing behind him, and grimaced.

“What is that?” he said, as if referring to an insect. “Looks… familiar.”

Before Rouxls could properly explain, Spamton reached up to clear his throat, and with a flourish, he swept his arm above him, and revealed the most gargantuan pop up he’d ever conjured. It blinked with neon lights and words, in pink and yellow:

SPAMTON G. SPAMTON! BIG SHOT EXTRAORDINAIRE! 

I CAN GET YOU WANT YOU NEED!

CARS? LUXURY HOMES? ALL THE LATEST TECH?

CALL SPAMTON NOW AT XXX-XXXX!

[Restrictions apply results may vary]

Rouxls looked absolutely mortified, but the King merely seemed confused as his brow furrowed. A nearby Hathy holding onto Lancer shielded the baby’s eyes from the bright lights. 

“ALLOW ME TO [introduce myself], YOUR HIGHNESS!” Spamton bellowed, “NUMBER ONE SALESMAN OF THE NEW MILLENNIUM, SPAMTON G. SPAMTON, HUMBLE AND AT YOUR SERVICE!”

“You brought a soliciting magician into my home?” Spades drawled to Rouxls, who straightened himself out from the throat-cutting motion he had been making, signifying Spamton to stop, please for the love of god. “Have you become simple?”

“I canneth explain.”

“NO NEED TO EXPLAIN, YOUR HIGHNESS, IT’S A PLEASURE TO FEAST MY [dealmakers] ON SOME REAL ROYALTY!” Flicking away the pop up, Spamton lowered himself into a bow. “I TELL YA WE DON’T HAVE [kings] LIKE YOU WHERE I’M FROM!”

“What royalty do you have in your kingdom?” he asked, bearing his teeth. “I was unaware there were any left roaming about.”

“YOUR HIGHNESS, YOU WOULDN’T [believe it or not] IF IT TOLD YOU!” he stepped forward, flashing a broad smile. “SO TELL ME, WHAT’S A GUY GOTTA DO TO GET A JOB AROUND HERE?”

“A job?” Spades asked, before busting out in laughter, the mouth on his stomach- which was at eye level with Spamton and didn’t do much for his nerves- opening as well, wide enough that it looked as though it could swallow the Darkner. “What job could I possibly have? I already have a magician and a jester.”

“NOW HOLD ON, YOUR HIGHNESS, I MIGHT NOT LOOK LIKE MUCH BUT [good things come in small packages]!” Spamton exclaimed. Rouxls, subsequently, looked like he was about to die. “GIVE ME A CHANCE NOW, AND YOU WON’T REGRET IT LATER!”

“Heh…” the King turned back to Rouxls before gesturing to Spamton with his head. “You brought him here, for what purpose?”

“Welleth…” said Rouxls, tossing his hair back. “‘Tis but a poor merchant with no wears, a worme out of the dirt. He is desperateth, I thoughteth perhaps he may be of amusement to thee, my liege. He is titleless, and a commoner, buteth they can be so surprising.”

Spamton kept his grin going, in spite of his displeasure. If either had been close enough to his mouth, they might have heard the creaking in his tense jaw. “I HAVE A TITLE, ROUXLSY.” 

That made both Spades and Rouxls turn back to him- the Duke in surprise, and the King in curiosity. “ Salesman is notteth a royal title,” Rouxls replied, sweating.

“OH? DID YOU THINK I WAS JUST A SALESMAN?” Spamton said coolly. “NOT SO, DUKE, FOR YOU SEE, MY TRUE TITLE, MY MORE PROPER [name on the dotted line]...”

He sent up another flourish of pop ups, this time rolling and winding up and down like kaleidoscopic slot machines, each one stopping on a card suit before shifting, and landing on familiar black symbols, accompanied with words:

THE

ACE

OF

SPADES

“Whateth.”

The King blew out some steam. “Ace, hmm? And what, pray tell, does an Ace do within the royal court?”

“WHAT [doesn’t] AN ACE DO?” Spamton replied, and banished the pop ups in a flamboyant explosion of spades. Across the room, Lancer squealed and clapped, and after a moment, the King gestured his head, and the Hathy glided over with the infant, who stared up at Spamton in awe, babbling. “HM? OH HEY YOU [little sponge]!”

“Do that again. Smaller,” Spades demanded. Spamton straightened up, and inhaling deeply he conjured another pop up, this time for baby clothes. Lancer reached up, and Rouxls chewed his lip as his little hand reached up for it, only for Spamton to pull it away.

“[Look, don’t touch], [little sponge]!” Spamton said, bringing up pop up after pop up, and indulging in the moment to show off. After all, this was a place where nobody knew what Addisons were, so this must have all seemed very exciting. Any sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic, or something like that. All he knew was that Rouxls looked pissed, and he liked that. After a while, the King crossed his arms, glancing between the two of them, and back to Rouxls, who every time he did so, managed to put on the same smiling, impassive face, even as he felt himself melting like an angry candle.

“You seem… talented… certainly unlike anything i’ve seen…” Spades declared. “Perhaps I could find a place for you.”

“YOU BET YOU CAN! I’M A [wild card], BABY! I’LL DO ABOUT ANYTHING!”

The invitation ended up being far too sumptuous for the King to turn out- and there was an underlying desperation in Spamton’s tone, like Rouxls had said, and he couldn’t help but find it terribly beguiling. As far as a servant went, it was exactly the kind he wanted- and Lancer seemed to enjoy his antics. Perhaps Jevil could use a new pet.

“Very well,” he said, and took a look back at Rouxls. “I trust you will be taking responsibility for this… Ace?”

“Excuseth me?” Rouxls said, voice cracking in a way that made Spamton snicker.

“You brought him here, it is your duty to uphold,” the King answered. “Control him. Keep him out of trouble-”

“HEY, HEY, YOUR HIGHNESS, I DON’T NEED TO BE [put on a short leash]!”

“-Or it’ll be his head.”

“...WELL HELL, LEASH ME UP ALL YOU LIKE! [The safe word is kromer]!”

Rouxls loosened his collar a little, and nodded, especially when Spades leaned down close to him, and whispered in his ear.

“And if this works out… it may proffer us some more time to ourselves…”

Spamton could read Rouxls’s expression, even as the Duke tried to hide it, and could sense something amiss. He immediately went to Spades and pulled up another pop up, this time one for buying and selling gold. “HEY, YOUR HIGHNESS, WHY DON’T I SHOW YOU A COUPLE MORE OF MY [tips and tricks to improve your PC]?”

“Hm? Yes… show me.”

Spamton, as it turned out, could talk the talk, leading the king onward and away from Rouxls as the Duke excused himself, went to his quarters, and immediately screamed into the thickest, finest pillow he had.

God.

Dammit.

Chapter Text

Spamton was a salesman, he was a big shot. The top of the top, nothing could touch him. Even Queen ate out of his hands, and when he made a deal, he always, always got the better half of the pie.

That was another day. Today, he was scrubbing the throne room floor clean of debris and scorch marks after an accident with a volatile spell accidentally cleaved Seam's head open. He had his sleeves rolled up, and he was still in his uniform, although you couldn't tell, at that rate. It was covered in gunk.

"Well!" Seam said as they patted the crown of their head, where a patch had been sewn into it. "Sometimes magic is more guesswork than anything else, hehe."

"NO [$!&#!] KIDDING?" Spamton grumbled, before turning back up to Seam with a grunt. "CAN'T YOU BLOW ON THIS CRAP AND JUST… [clean dirt and grime in seconds with our new formula]? IT WAS YOU THAT DID IT!"

"The King has commanded me not to," Seam replied. "I need my rest, and besides, he wants you to earn your keep, here."

"THIS IS [!&&!$?!], I'M AN ACE!" Spamton grumbled, but let no one say he was a quitter. He cleaned that whole floor from top to bottom, even though he was wearing it by the time he was done. He looked down at himself, angered, his face covered in red splotches in his embarrassment.

"[!?!?!]!"

"That reminds me, come with me, Ace of Spades, I have a surprise for you."

He was wondering why Seam was still there, watching and waiting, as they retreated to Spamton's chamber. He grabbed the bucket of water as he went, and dumped it in the garden. Seam gave him a look.

"Ho, don't let the King catch you doing that."

"WOULDN'T BE THE FIRST TIME I’VE GONE [behind a boss's back] WITH SOMETHING…" Spamton said, though he took the bucket with him to cover his tracks. Spamton had been given a nice place to stay, at the very least. Ironically it didn't hold a candle to his apartment in the Mansion- it was highly antiquated- but the bed was large and comfortable, which he was glad for almost every night after a day of working, and the window looked outward over the Scarlet Forest, which was nice. He'd seen and heard about this thing called 'nature' through pop up ads for vacation homes in rural areas, but he'd never beheld any of it himself personally (even the Cyber Field wasn't really what he'd call 'nature'. Nature didn't have giant teacup rides). 

Then again, he doubted any of these Darkners had ever been to a city proper, either. To see the foliage up close felt like a privilege, something even Queen couldn't have given him. He felt smug about it. Seam took him to the other side of the room where a wardrobe was waiting for him, and threw it open, allowing Spamton to see the array of clothing the Magician had conjured up for him. It had been easy, but he hadn't actually asked Spamton about his fashion sense. Everything in there was either pink, or yellow, or both. Then, when they saw Spanton visibly grimacing, they smiled. 

"Pleased?"

"NOTHING IN [the new black]?" Spamton asked, reaching out to pull out a solid yellow shirt, pursing his lips faintly. He supposed beggars couldn't be choosers, and Spamton had been wearing the same uniform for almost a week now (were it not for Seam’s good graces, it would be filthy by now, and he was mentally racking up the things he owed them for their assistance- it wasn’t looking cheap), but some variety would have been nice. Seam chuckled, and flicked out a claw, touching it and tugging at the collar. The yellow began to bleed away, until there was nothing left but solid black. It would have to do.

"THANKS, KITTY," he said, tossing it onto the bed and beginning to undo the uniform. "UGH…" 

As he got off the coat, Seam suddenly appeared before him, and was poking their nose into his neck. It was enough to make him yelp. "DO YOU MIND?! THAT'S NOT [free real estate]!"

"Shush," Seam replied, investigating the spade-shaped stone. It shimmered faintly, but vanished when he looked too closely. "Hmm! Still working as intended."

"CAN I REALLY [never, ever] TAKE THIS OFF?"

"Not unless you want to suffer the same fate as before, although that's none of my business."

He growled faintly, and waved Seam off. "WELL, [that's all she wrote], I GUESS. I'M GOING TO TAKE A BATH NOW. IF ANYONE NEEDS ME, HESITATE TO ASK."

He hadn't managed to even get half-way into the tub before he was being rang for. Literally- there was a bell in his room above his bed, and when he was needed, it rang, and he was too short to reach it. At one point he'd knocked it off the ceiling with a chair, but by midnight it was chiming again, and he'd gotten a scolding from Rouxls from it.

"[@$&#?!#^#^@!?!] MAGIC!" He exclaimed, before scrubbing himself down as quickly as possible, dressing in his new black shirt and two-toned trousers, and following the tone of the bell to his destination. It brought him to Lancer's nursery, which did make him breathe a small sigh of relief. Lancer he could deal with- he was a sweet little sponge, and he didn't talk back. Unlike…

"Thou art late, knave!" Rouxls declared, rocking the crying infant as he sneered at Spamton. "The bell hasseth been ringing for twenty minutes!"

"I WAS TAKING A [soothing bath], ROUXLSY! I WAS COVERED IN [!$?!?] FROM CLEANING UP THE MAGICIAN'S [hot mess]!" He cried.

Rouxls scowled. "The Court Magician saved thous' life! Treateth them with some respect!"

"YEAH, YEAH," he replied, paying him no mind. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE KID?"

"He is starving. Go to the kitchen and prepareth him a bottle."

"WHY CAN'T YOU DO IT?"

"Do I LOOKETH like I can do it?!" Rouxls growled, trying to keep his voice low so as not to antagonize the infant further, and failing entirely. Lancer whimpered. "Fetcheth me a bottle, post haste!" 

Spamton bore his teeth a moment before beginning to leave, reaching up to try and fix his wet hair as he did so. "WHY DOESN'T THE KING FEED HIS OWN SON?"

"Thous King is busy! Kingdoms do notteth rule themselves!"

"SOUNDS LIKE A REAL [hyperlink blocked]," he said, narrowly avoiding the pillow Rouxls had thrown at him through the threshold. This was beyond humiliating- he had advertised himself as an ace- a man of all trades who could be used for anything, anything at all- and here he was, boiling a baby bottle so some prissy Duke didn't have to. 

Who was he, Swatch? At least Swatch commanded a veritable army of attractive servants beneath him.

When he brought it back to Rouxls (which was all the way on the other side of the Castle), he placed it down, and Rouxls took it up, but he furrowed his brow as he did so. "Thiseth feels… very hot."

"YEAH, FIGURED IT WOULD [rock-a-bye baby] FASTER," Spamton replied. Rouxls painstakingly rolled up his glove (while holding onto the crying, wriggling infant, which even Spamton had to admit was impressive) and tested it, before hissing.

"'Tis too hot!" He said, shaking the bottle in Spamton’s face. "It will burneth him!"

"NO IT WILL NOT!" Spamton seethed. "YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW HOW TO [boil a bottle]?"

"Humph! Evidently not!" Rouxls said. "Maketh it again!"

"OH, NO, NOT HAPPENING!" Spamton argued. "JUST LEAVE IT OUT TO COOL FOR A BIT!"

"The milk musteth be fresh, knave! Art thou insisting I serve the Prince olde milk?"

Spamton was gritting his teeth. "[No], ROUXLSY, NEVER."

"Then maketh it right this time."

"I AM NOT GOING ALL THE WAY BACK THERE BECAUSE YOU [get off] ON NOT BEING THE [castle bitch] ANYMORE."

"I BEGGETH THOUS PARDON?!"

"YOU HEARD ME."

Lancer was wailing now, and Rouxls instead thrust the child into Spamton's arms. "I willeth tend to the task myself, thou witless buffoon! I hope I can trust thee not to harm him in my absence!"

"LEAVE IT TO ME, PRETTY BOY," Spamton drawled as Rouxls stormed out, except in his fury, he forgot the bottle as he did. "...OH HONESTLY!"

Rouxls was an expert at this by now. His bottles were meticulously the perfect temperature every time, and the only time he worried was when he got about halfway back to the nursery, and realized Lancer was no longer crying. His eyes went wide as he broke into a sprint, and slid into the doorway to the sight of Spamton sitting in the armchair by the window, feeding the infant with his own bottle.

"Whateth…" Rouxls hissed, "Art thou doing?"

"FEEDING THIS BABY, [what does it look like]?" He replied, not even bothering to look up at Rouxls. "I TOLD YOU THE MILK WAS [the perfect temperature]."

"Art thou mad?! It was incredibly too hot!" Yet Lancer continued to guzzle it. "Whateth if thou hurt him, didst thou think of that?!"

"[It's fine], [blueberry cheesecake]," Spamton insisted, his patience running thin.

"I donteth know whateth I expected from someone as irresponsible as thee!" Rouxls stammered. "Thou jumped off of a cliff to getteth here, it makes sense thou doesn't know how to care for a child, thou can barely care for thouself!"

Spamton, face impassive, silently pulled the bottle from Lancer’s mouth, and squeezed it tightly. The result was a jet of the stuff splattering over Rouxls's body in a white streak. Rouxls screamed, taken off guard, and looked down at his sullied uniform.

"OH, MAYBE IT WAS [too hot to handle]," he said with a smirk as he resumed feeding Lancer. "UNLESS YOU’RE WEAKER THAN A BABY, NOT THAT I'D BE SURPRISED-"

He was cut off by the entire bottle of milk splattering him in the face, as Rouxls sneered at him, and held the now empty bottle aloft. Lancer squealed with laughter, and milk dripped from Spamton’s hair as he stood up and ripped the nipple off of the bottle with his teeth, and proceeded to throw that back at the Duke. All that could be heard from the nursery was raucous yelling and laughter, until Rouxls could hear savage foot falls banging down the hall.

He quickly bent to button up Spamton’s shirt, covering his choker. "Hideth this!"

The door was thrown open violently shortly after, revealing the visage of the King as he took in the scene of the two men covered in milk, holding empty bottles, and his son, also drenched with the stuff.

"My liege, I canneth explain!" Rouxls attempted, before the King barged in, and grabbed Lancer from Spamton before grabbing the puppet by the face tightly.

"What happened?" He demanded.

Spamton could feel a bead of sweat roll down his face. "[Accidents happen], YOUR HIGHNESS!"

"An accident?" He drawled before rounding on Rouxls. "And I suppose you had nothing to do with this, Duke?"

"I…" He looked at Spamton, who was averting his eyes, his arms wrapped around himself. "He is telling the truth."

"What sort of accident could have possibly transpired that resulted in a mess of this CALIBER?!"

"Twas the littleth one, my liege," Rouxls said, bowing his head. "The nipple waseth not secure on the bottle, and he pulled it off. It drenched us both."

"Then why are both empty?"

"Twas a faulty bottle, the othereth one."

Spades was not convinced, or impressed. He tucked Lancer under his arm, "clean this mess, and then clean yourselves, or you'll both be sleeping in the Forest tonight!" 

He stormed out, and Rouxls sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose exasperatingly. Spamton bit his lip. "UH. THANKS."

"I only did that because I waseth afraid he would break thous head, and then whateth help wouldst I have around here?"

"HEH. WELL, I WON'T [look a gift horse in the mouth]. GOT ANY MOPS?"

"It is in the carpet, we willeth have to scrub."

"GOD," Spamton whined. "HAVE I NOT SCRUBBED [until it shines like new] ENOUGH TODAY?"

"Be thankful thiseth is our only punishment."

The good news was that it was a nursery, it was designed to be easily cleaned, and while they did, Rouxls tried to keep silent, but questions echoed in his mind.

"Thou could have justeth remade the milk, and this wouldn't have happened."

"YEAH, RIGHT, YOU'D HAVE FOUND ANOTHER REASON TO [chew me out], DON'T KID YOURSELF."

"Thou has little faith in me, I see."

"YEP."

"Hah! Thou doesnteth even know me."

"I [know all about] DARKNERS LIKE YOU."

"Howeth?"

"OH COME ON- [crawled up from nothing], GOT A [BIG SHOT] TITLE, CAN'T PASS UP AN OPPORTUNITY TO PISS ON THE [little guy]? [Angel], THAT WAS ME!"

Rouxls laughed. "Hah! Truly thou revealseth to know nothing! I was born into Dukedom!"

"REALLY? 'CAUSE THE KING DOESN'T TREAT YOU LIKE YOU DID."

Rouxls clutched the scrub brush tightly, the milk soaking through his uniform. "He doesth whereth it counts."

"UH HUH. YOU LOOK MORE LIKE A GLORIFIED NANNY TO ME."

"And thou art nothing more than a vile merchant!"

"HEY, I'M AN ACE, REMEMBER?"

"The lowesteth card in the deck!"

"I PREFER TO THINK OF IT THE OTHER WAY 'ROUND~"

Rouxls scoffed. "Thous ego is commendable, I shall offer you that."

"YEAH, [look who's talking]."

The Duke smirked. "I wisheth I had a bucket of milk, perhaps I could drowneth thou in it."

"HEY WHERE I COME FROM, [some people pay good money for that sort of thing]."

Rouxls laughed, and Spamton had to admit, it was easy on the ears. "Thou art disgusting!"

"HEY, [I'll be here all week]~"

Only when the nursery was so clean you could eat off of the floor were Rouxls and Spamton allowed to leave it, and several Head Hathys were brought in to inspect it. Between the two of them, they managed a half-way decent job, and were allowed to leave after the second attempt.

"THANK GOD," Spamton bellowed as they were released, running his hands down his face. "I THOUGHT WE'D NEVER GET [outta dodge]!"

"Thine King must be more angry thaneth I imagined… I suspect it would be best ifeth we avoided him, unless we are called for."

"YOU THINK YOU GOTTA TELL ME TWICE?" Spamton replied, feeling the milk that had gotten sticky in his hair. Damn. That would take forever to get out. Rouxls wasn't faring much better, but he still walked with an exaggerated air of dignity. "GOD, I'M GOING TO GET YOU BACK FOR THIS, [angel]."

" Thou started it. Besides, I already lied to my liege for thee, what more couldst thou want?"

"OH, I'LL THINK OF [something], TRUST ME, I'LL THINK OF-"

"Heehee, good morrow, my filthy subjects!"

Spamton stopped in his tracks, staring up at the jester as he swung down from the ceiling, appearing before them and stopping Rouxls as well. Jevil grinned a wicked, gleaming smile at the two of them, his tail swishing back and forth hypnotically, but it seemed for all his surprises, Rouxls simply huffed in annoyance.

“Jevil,” he replied flatly. The joker giggled.

“Why, you look a fright!” he exclaimed, “did you fight, fight? Did you fight without me? I am offended, offended!” 

Rouxls continued his back and forth with Jevil, cool as anything, but Spamton… not so much. He was too busy staring up at the jester, trying to keep his expression even as tremors ran through his body, shaking him from toe to tip… and even then, his expression twitched uncomfortably, and soon he was frowning very deeply. He lifted one heel off of the ground, prone to run, when to his horror, Jevil suddenly noticed him, and dropped down from the ceiling to smile toothily in the puppet’s direction. 

“Ahh! The Ace of Spades, Spades! How good it is we finally meet!” he exclaimed, and Spamton felt as though his chest were crumpling in on itself. He tried to hold his ground, but at a few more steps closer, Spamton inevitably took a step back, dragging his feet as he did so. Jevil just cocked his head, and smiled even more widely, showing off his thick, devilish fangs. 

“Ooooh… you don’t like jesters?” said Jevil, and suddenly, his face was right in front of Spamton’s, who was beginning to sweat so profusely he was staining the collar of his dress shirt. “Or do you just not like me?”

“P-PLEASE…” Spamton stammered, reaching up and gripping his chest. “G-GET AWAY…”

Jevil lifted his arms and conjured the devilsknife, sweeping it around and ever so gently catching Spamton by the back of the neck with it, drawing him even closer. For all his fear, he was too anxious to resist. “Oh! Ace of Spades! I am sad, sad, at the thought!” 

Rouxls had been staring, watching the scene unfold, and he knew what he could have done. It probably would have been satisfying- but in the end, what he actually did was reach down and grab Jevil by the back of his collar, and hoisted him up to eye level. The jester giggled. “You will cease,” he commanded, with all the countenance of a true king. “The Ace is off limits, dost thou understand me, Jevil?”

The joker gasped, and placed his hands to his mouth in mock offence. “You would ruin my fun!? Again!? Have you no soul, soul, my inestimable Duke?!”

“OFF LIMITS!” he cried, “and if I catcheth thee tormenting him unjustly again I willst be sure to alert the Magician.” Seam seemed to be the only Darkner who could get anything through to Jevil, or that Jevil even remotely respected. Even the King of Spades seemed to be virtually nothing on the joker’s radar compared to the cat. Rouxls’s threat was enough to make him huff, and stick out his tongue at him- so long it nearly flicked over his cheek mockingly, but Rouxls held him at arm’s length, and then dropped him unceremoniously. Casting one final look at Spamton, Jevil turned away and zipped down the hall on all fours like a possum, and vanished around a corner. 

“Whateth is wrong with that creature?” Rouxls said, shaking his head before turning back to Spamton. “Art thou alright?”

He didn’t expect to see the sight he beheld. Spamton, for all his boisterous behavior and asinine comebacks, was crouched on the stone floor with his hands over his head, shaking violently. His chin was tucked against his chest, and he whimpered so quietly, it was almost inaudible- but Rouxls heard it, because he bent down to his level, and placed a hand on his back. “Spamton? Thine Ace?”

A sharp inhale of breath was his answer, as Spamton pressed his hands against his face. “‘Tis alrighteth, he’s gone. He willeth not bother thee any longer. Notteth under my watch.”

Peeking out from behind his fingers, Spamton tried to hide the tears pricking the corners of his eyes, and instead sniffed, and turned his head to wipe them away. “THANKS.”

“I waseth… unaware thou had such a worriment.”

“W-WHAT? ME? AFRAID OF SOME TWO-BIT [birthday clown]?!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking. Rouxls raised an eyebrow, and Spamton gripped at his own chest. “...PLEASE DON’T [tell all exposé].”

“I wonteth… though I’m afraid I cannot account for Jevil’s wandering tongue.”

“[!?!$!]...” Spamton muttered, and slowly stood up, wobbling a little. Rouxls also straightened up, brushing himself off. Lord, but he would be pleased to be rid of these milk-stained clothes. As he continued on to his chambers, he heard Spamton’s voice behind him. “HEY [angel]!”

“Hmm? Whateth now?”

“WE’RE EVEN.”

Spamton couldn’t say that his relationship with the Duke improved that day, but he definitely looked at him with slightly newer eyes. For one thing, he hardly ever saw Jevil after that day, save for the occasional moment he walked in on the joker conversing with Seam, but he was sure to make himself scarce. Besides, he had bigger things on his mind.

He had decided that he couldn’t possibly stay acting as the King’s bitch forever (that was Rouxls’s job, and he’d hate to encroach on his position), and was determined to devote himself to picking up his pieces. He just needed to find something to sell. This was proving, unfortunately, to be difficult. For all of his pop up ads and pitches, many of them were in fact inert in this world- the way a window would stay open even if the connection went down, until you attempted to navigate away from it. A frozen moment in time. It wasn’t like he could simply promote a timeshare or strange tea (which was a shame, because he knew the Addison’s tea would be a huge commodity for royalty), he would have to get creative.

It took almost a fortnight of scavenging scrap, and he had to leave the Castle to do so at times (Seam had given him directions to a very promising dump), but luckily, in between his work, he was getting used to the labor he was forced into under the King’s fickle whims. As it stood, three weeks was enough to prove he was capable of being more than just a butler, and soon the King had him performing more important tasks, like giving his opinion on business decisions, and managing very minor finances. This was all well and good, and hopefully he would be able to fully graduate from shining Spades’s boots soon- the only times he grew irritated was when he was forced to work with Rouxls…

...But even that was getting a little better, day by day. After the milk incident (and less spoken of, the Jevil incident), the two had developed a rapport with one another that each found at least somewhat tolerable, if not sometimes even fun. Not always as smoothly as the King would have liked, but as it stood, it was better than them throwing things at each other. It was the third day in a row Spamton had refused to leave his quarters for a meal, but when a Hathy attempted to bring him something, he simply snapped at her, and informed her that he was busy, and to ‘put it in the fridge for later’. Later never seemed to come. 

“The Ace is starving himself,” Spades drawled one evening as Spamton refused to come down for yet another meal. “Rouxls, do something. Take him something to ensure he does not expire on us in his impudence.”

Huffing, Rouxls piled on a combination of everything on the menu and brought it to Spamton’s chamber, kicking the door faintly. 

“WHAT?”

“Openeth the door, Spamton,” Rouxls declared. “Thou art going to eat.”

“I’M BUSY!”

Rouxls sighed. “I am givingeth thee until the counteth of three…”

“PFFT, OR WHAT? YOU’RE GONNA [spank me]?”

“Oneth…”

“I’M NOT AFRAID OF YOU, ROUXLSY.”

“Two…”

Spamton didn’t reply, and Rouxls didn’t wait for three. He lifted one of his long legs, and smashed it against the door with shocking strength. It was enough to startle Spamton, who jumped up as Rouxls kicked the door again and again, slowly forcing it open.

“...ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, [angel]! CALM DOWN YOU [!?%!?] [cassowary]!” Spamton grabbed the knob and twisted it open, and Rouxls looked down, surprised. Spamton was absolutely covered in grime, dressed in nothing but his uniform’s trousers and a white undershirt that was meant to go under the uniform and nothing more. It was tight, and quite revealing: the broad curve of Spamton’s chest curved downward to his snatched torso, and showed off a decadent amount of white, dirty, fabric-like flesh that Rouxls had to avert his eyes from for the sake of decency. The spade collar sat at his throat, bobbing a little as he swallowed, and he glowered up at Rouxls, who was still holding the overflowing tray of food, perfectly balanced. “WHAT?”

“Thou King has demanded that thou eat, before thou wastes away. Thou mayeth have been offered new privileges, but that willst change if thou begins to show vexatious behaviors…” Rouxls looked over his head, quite easily. “Whateth art thou doing in there…? Thou have been acting strange… donteth think I do not notice these things.” 

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Spamton opened his door to allow Rouxls inside, revealing the savage state of his quarters. Scrap parts and metal were strewn all over, and the carpet was splattered with small black stains here and there, that upon closer inspection, appeared to be oil. Engine oil. He placed down the tray, and kicked the door shut before giving Spamton a look. “Hast thou been pilfering mine workshop?!”

“NO, [angel], NEVER,” he lied, and Rouxls reached out to pinch his cheek tightly. “OW!” 

“Do notteth lie to me.”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, YEAH, BUT I NEEDED IT,” he exclaimed, slapping away Rouxls’s gloved hand. His arms were exposed as well, his shoulders and biceps deceptively thick where you could see them, and Rouxls suddenly knew why, when he turned to return to his work. Sitting in the center of his chamber (which was not an especially large chamber, but big enough to accommodate the vehicle) was a small car he had been constructing in every waking moment of his free time. He slipped down under it, and proceeded to continue tinkering, and for a while, Rouxls simply watched as Spamton hummed and tapped his foot jovially, as if the Duke wasn’t even there. He coughed conspicuously, and Spamton ignored it, until he placed his foot on the creeper and slid him back out from under it, peering down at him with a smile. “WHAT?”

“As mucheth as I approve of the company of a fellow machinist, I ameth here to assure that thou eats , and so, I willst not leave until thou does.”

“YOU’RE NOT MY [mother’s day gifts fifty percent off this weekend only], ROUXLSY!” Spamton jeered, before raising an eyebrow at him. “WAIT, FELLOW WHAT?” 

“Thateths right.”

“[[YOU]] BUILD THINGS?”

“Art thou not aware of mine full title?” Rouxls touched his chest, offended. “I ameth not simply a Duke! I ameth the Duke of Puzzles! Who dost thou believe BUILT all of those?!”

Spamton shrugged. “I DUNNO. COULDN’T HAVE BEEN THE KING, ROYALTY DON’T BOTHER THEMSELVES WITH COMMONER [*&^%$] LIKE [crosswords, puzzles, and more!].”

“And whoeth builds the puzzles where THOU art from?” Rouxls demanded.

“UHH…” Spamton mused, and shrugged again. “BEATS THE HELL OUTTA ME, THE MICE, PROBABLY.”

“I donteth know what that means,” Rouxls replied, but reached down to grab Spamton by the front of his shirt, and dragged him to his feet.

“HEYHEYHEY, I’M NOT DONE!”

“Eat,” Rouxls commanded. His long fingers sank easily into Spamton’s undershirt, and his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips as the puppet glared up at him, meeting his eyes fearlessly. They stood like that together, unblinking, before he sighed, and nodded reluctantly. Rouxls released him, and he strode over to sit at his desk, and begrudgingly grabbed the closest thing to him- a Dark Candy designed merely to be a garnish- to sink his teeth into it. His jaw moved curiously, seeing as it wasn’t completely attached to his face, and his eyes flew open. 

“Thateth… was supposed to be a garnish…” Rouxls informed him, chuckling a little. Spamton smiled.

“IT’S FANTASTIC!” he exclaimed, “IT [fits in your hand], IT’S [sweet, but not too sweet], IT’S [adorable]! IT’S [marketable]!” He slammed his fist on the table. “WHERE DO I GET [100 of these little bitches]?”

“They groweth on trees in the Scarlet Forest,” Rouxls said, sliding into a seat across from him to be sure he consumed the whole plate. “Thou won’t find much of a market for them, here.”

“...OH.” Well. Another potential idea down the drain.

It took a while, but eventually Rouxls pointed at the automobile. “Whateth is that?”

“...IT’S A [brand new automobile], [angel], A CAR!”

“Automobile…” he pondered. “I… see.”

“YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?”

“I canneth piece together the portmanteau.”

“WELL!” said Spamton, “YOU’RE NOT AS DUMB AS YOU LOOK!”

“I canneth sayeth the same,” he replied, smirking at Spamton. “Thou built it all on thous own?”

“YEP!” he replied, grabbing a piece of fruit to bite into. “I USED TO WORK WITH CARS ALL THE TIME, BEFORE I [sold them to the highest bidder]. [[BIG SHOT AUTOS]] IT WAS CALLED! IT WAS EASY IN CYBER CITY, I HAD HELP, NOW IT’S JUST ME. RIGHT NOW, I’M JUST MAKING IT TO SHOW OFF TO THE MASSES.”

“For whateth purpose?”

“TO GET [back to the top]!” Spamton said. “THIS PLACE [sucks and blows], ROUXLSY! IF I’M GONNA EVER BE A [BIG SHOT] AGAIN, I NEED AN ANGLE! I NEED A GIMMICK! I CAN BE THE ONLY DARKNER IN THIS ENTIRE KINGDOM MAKING CARS! IMAGINE THAT!”

While Rouxls was displeased by his description of Castle life, he couldn’t help but admire his fortitude. “Thateth is… all welleth and goodeth, I suppose. Anything that alloweths me to see thee less… howeth does it run?”

“PARDON?”

“The car… doeseth it run on magic, or through a clockwork mechanism? I am curious.”

Spamton paused mid-bite. “UHH… I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU'VE GOT ACCESS TO [electricity] IN THIS PLACE?”

“Seam mayeth be able to help… alleth of our machinery runs on magic.”

“THEN THAT’S WHAT I’LL USE! YOU SHOW ME WHERE I CAN GET [gas at the pump] AND I’LL HAPPILY CONSENT TO IT.”

“I do noteth know what that is.”

“THEN I AM PREPARED TO DO WHAT I GOTTA,” he insisted triumphantly, “I JUST NEED TO FINISH THIS BABY, FIRST.”

“How mucheth longer willeth it take?” Spamton shrugged. Rouxls sighed, and reached up to flick off his dealmakers. Spamton yelped and covered his eyes. “Thou look exhausted- not sleeping or eating for the sake of building this thing?”

“GIVE THOSE BACK!” he shouted, snatching them away from Rouxls. “AND ANYWAY, I CAN’T JUST [rest and relaxation], THIS COULD BE MY TICKET OUT OF HERE!”

“Or to an early grave.”

"[Here for a good time, not a long time], ROUXLSY."

"I ameth still not leaving until thou eats the entire plate."

He watched as Spamton stood up and brushed off his hands. "THEN YOU'RE GONNA BE HERE A WHILE, [pudding pop], I'M GOING BACK TO WORK."

"Fineth."

"FINE."

So it went. Rouxls sat across the room while Spamton worked, his chin in his hands. He drummed his fingers on the table a bit impatiently, but when he caught on that the puppet wasn't going to budge on this, he shifted to be closer to the mechanism, walking around and peering at it. It wasn't until Spamton began groping for a tool he needed, which was just out of his reach, did Rouxls pick it up to slide it over to him.

"AW, THANKS, [dollface]... HOW'D YOU KNOW THIS IS WHAT I NEEDED?"

"Didst thou hear me? I ameth a machinist as well… I knoweth all these tools." He swept his arm out in a wide gesture, and Spamton blinked a moment, before grinning.

"THEN TAKE OFF THAT [pristine clean] UNIFORM AND GET DOWN HERE."

"I beggeth thous pardon?!"

"YOU’RE GONNA BE MY WRENCHMONKEY."

"I buildeth puzzles, not… whatevereth this thing is!"

"THEN YOU CAN LEARN! BESIDES, IT'S LIKE PUTTING TOGETHER A PUZZLE! JUST COMPLICATED- ARE YOU IMPLYING YOU CAN'T SOLVE A [difficult] PUZZLE?"

Rouxls’s uniform jacket hit the floor before Spamton finished the last syllable in 'puzzle', and he peered out from above at the sight of Rouxls in his own undershirt, his body sloped elegantly beneath it as he bent and wriggled his way beneath the car, shoulder to shoulder with Spamton. This close he could even smell him- he was sugary sweet.

"[Holy cungadero]."

"Now, showeth me this puzzle I cannenot solve, thou supposed Ace of Spades," he growled. "And we shall see who is truly more of an imbecile than they appeareth!"

Spamton adjusted the dealmakers and smirked. [Deal or no deal], THEN~"

As it turned out, with Rouxls’s help, the act of construction sped up almost twice as fast. His puzzles may have been simple, but he could work when he chose, and in the end, provided some significant input to Spamton’s machinations. Sometimes, unprovoked, he would place his hands into the innards of the vehicle, tweaking something small, and though they came back dirty, it was always better off for it.

"HANG ON, [angel], YA GOT SOMETHING ON YOUR FACE."

"I most certainly doeth not…"

Spamton reached beside him and wiped his thumb over his cheek, leaving a dark oil stain in his wake. "HUH! GUESS YOU WERE RIGHT!"

"Thou worme!" Rouxls declared, yet somehow, he found Spamton’s laughter contagious, and gave a gentle chuckle with him from the little prank.

"HEY!" He said "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO LAUGH!"

The Duke only laughed harder, and to be honest, that's what Spamton had been hoping for. A chance to break the tension. When they pulled out from beneath the car he slapped the hood, grinning wildly from ear to ear.

"I THINK WE'RE ABOUT [ready to ship] THIS BABY!" 

"It is a marvel of engineering…" Rouxls replied, walking around it. Spamton pointed at him and winked.

"AND YOU WOULD LOOK RIGHT AT HOME IN [[BIG SHOT AUTOS]], [greasemonkey]!"

Rouxls paused, and looked down at himself. He was covered in grime, grease, and oil, and his hair was a mess- a far cry from the normally prim and proper Duke he normally appeared. At first, he seemed mortified, until Spamton swung an arm around him. 

"HEY, [no worries], ROUXLSY, WE'LL HAVE YOU [nice and squeaky clean] BEFORE YOU HAVE TO MEET THE KING AGAIN, YOU CAN EVEN USE MY BATHROOM!"

"I haveth my own, but, thanketh you."

They were interrupted by a long growling sound, and Spamton looked down at himself. "WAS THAT ME OR YOU?"

"I… donteth know."

"...[!?!&$!] IT, LET’S EAT! I'M FEELING [peckish]!"

Rouxls couldn't help but find the affair all a little obscene. For one thing, now that they weren't working he could properly see the other man, and could take in the sight of his well-constructed countenance. With his hair askew and sweat clinging the undershirt to his body, it was truly hard for Rouxls to obscure his gaze, except when he turned his head away to bite into a piece of fruit, and then it was Spamton's turn to stare, and chuckle.

"Whateth?"

"COMMONER LOOKS GOOD ON YOU."

Rouxls blushed hotly, before reaching up to smooth his hair down. "Lout…"

"THAT'S ME, BABY."

It was only a few days longer that it took the two men working to complete the vehicle- they needed to make a key, and fix up the paint (a fetching blue and white, the King’s colours), but soon enough it was sitting pretty in Spamton’s quarters, and he eyed the thing with pride. 

“It is pretty,” Rouxls commented at the sight, trying not to sound too impressed.

“PRETTY? IT’S GORGEOUS!” Spamton replied, crossing his arms. “ONLY ONE PROBLEM- NOT SURE HOW WE’RE GONNA GET IT [onto the sale’s floor] TO SPADES!”

“We?” Rouxls asked.

“YEAH, WE,” Spamton replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Rouxls glanced away, before smirking. “Yeseth, it’s true. Thou wouldst still be working on it without my intervention.” 

Seeing more of Rouxls’s egotistical side was always a treat. Really, he did remind him of himself. He bet the Duke would have done either great in Cyber City, or he’d be living in a dumpster begging Swatch for scraps. How humorous. Spamton heard Rouxls snap his fingers behind him, and could practically feel his smiling eyes boring into the back of his head for a moment.

“I shall return!”

“YEAH, YOU BETTER!”

The longer Seam got to know Spamton, the more pleased they were to work with him. For one thing, Spamton was highly amusing, and just a pinch disconcerting. Not as much as Jevil was, but to be perfectly honest, there was a nice mid-point in personality between Rouxls and the joker, and that’s where Spamton fell. They could enjoy it without being too worried about any explosions. Mostly.

“There!” Seam said with a smile as they held the car in their paws. “It is done.”

“...YOU MADE IT [miniscule]!”

“Hoho, I did, didn’t I?” Seam chuckled, “all the better to pull out dramatically at the last second.”

“WHAT ARE YOU, [marketing]?” Spamton asked with a sneer, but it was hard to keep the smile off his face as he took the car- now only really large enough to fit in two palms. Rouxls bent over him, and grinned.

“‘Tis adorable, Seam, excellenteth work as always!”

“Think nothing of it, Duke of Puzzles,” said the cat, grinning broadly so you could see the orange fabric inside. Spamton wished that they didn’t do that, but he wasn’t really at liberty to put an end to their good time.

“NOW YOU’LL COME ALONG, AND MAKE IT [big] AGAIN WHEN WE SAY SO!”

“I can only offer my best,” Seam replied. Spamton smirked at them. This was the best idea.

When he requested an audience with the King, he found him in his quarters with Lancer, who was chewing on a pillow like a large marshmallow in utmost glee. Spades watched on, amused by his antics, even as Rouxls smiled nervously, giving his normal open gesture. Spamton held the car behind his back, and Seam was lingering in the threshold, awaiting an order. 

“Spamton-” Rouxls murmured before the King really took notice of them. “This room is not large enough to embiggen thous vehicle.”

“THEN WE’LL JUST HAVE TO [drag him out kicking and screaming] IF WE HAVE TO!” he whispered back. Rouxls knew he was kidding. He hoped he was kidding. The puppet cleared his throat, and Spades turned to look back at them.

“Ah, Duke of Puzzles, and Ace of Spades…” he drawled, turning fully in his armchair to steeple his fingers, and highly curious about their arrival together. “Working together at last?”

“[Better the Devil you know], YOUR HIGHNESS!” Spamton quipped, giving Rouxls the littlest of elbows to the side. The Duke grinned broadly, rolling his eyes a little. “YOU’RE PROBABLY WONDERING WHY I [called you here today]!”

“I will admit, the curiosity was getting to me,” he replied, smiling in a way that he was so sure seemed encouraging, but in reality came out as a wicked little smirk. Delight glinted in the dealmakers.

“WELL THEN!” he cried, “[feast your eyes on this baby]!”

It wasn’t anywhere near as dramatic as he’d liked. Nothing could beat the motion of grabbing a sheet off of a full-sized brand new automobile and throwing it into the aether, thereby showing off every inch of the beautiful metal beneath. Yet, as it stood, he liked to think this was a decent enough compromise as he held out the miniature model, and gestured to it widely. Pop ups and fireworks flared around him in the way only an Addison could manage. Rouxls couldn’t help it, he had to hide a snicker or two.

“THIS THING IS GOING TO [revolutionize your morning commute]!” he exclaimed as Spades slowly rose from his seat, and strode over to them. “A BONAFIDE POWERHOUSE ON FOUR WHEELS, THIS SWEETHEART’S GOT FOUR CYLINDERS, TWO-FIFTY HORSEPOWER, PLENTY OF LEGROOM AND HEADROOM- OF COURSE YOU CAN PUT THE TOP DOWN IF YOU REALLY NEED MORE… AND THE BEST PART IS, IT ALL RUNS CLEANLY ON [real and sustainable fair-trade] MAGIC!”

“...It is a toy.”

“IT’S JUST A [prototype]!” Spamton replied, keeping up with that award-winning (losing? Rouxls couldn’t place his finger on it) smile in spite of the King’s dismissal. Spades reached down, and grabbed it, lifting it up to observe, and at one point placing it between his two enormous hands to bend gently, which made Spamton sweat a little. “FEAR NOT, YOUR HIGHNESS, THAT’S [100% real] CARD KINGDOM METAL FROM ONLY THE FINEST OF SOURCES!”

(Rouxls, of course, did not say anything about much of it coming from a dump, or cannibalized puzzles, and thankfully neither did Seam, who was only keeping half an eye on the entire exchange anyway.)

“WHY DON’T WE TAKE IT OUTSIDE, GROW IT UP A BIT, AND YOU CAN GIVE IT A [ride around town]? LITTLE TEST DRIVE WILL [convince you]! I’LL HANDLE IT ALL FOR YOU, EVEN! I’M A PRETTY GOOD [chauffeur], AND I CAN EVEN TEACH YOU! HELL, I CAN TEACH ANYONE! I CAN OPEN A DAMN [DMV] IF I HAVE TO!”

(That was another thing Rouxls hadn’t inquired about that made him pale a little. Sure, the thought of being able to ride in one of these metal carriages was beguiling but who in the world knew how to operate one besides Spamton? He’d been so caught up in the euphoria of the building process, he’d forgotten to ask.)

Spades just chuckled. “Why would I do that?”

“...WHAT?”

“It’s the perfect size… for Lancer.”

“EXCUSE ME?!”

The infant was already sitting up on the bed, playing with his feet as Spades returned to him, and placed the car down on the bed. Lancer immediately picked it up and hugged it to his chest, before falling over with a giggle. Spamton looked positively horrified.

“IT'S NOT A TOY! IT'S A [genuine hot rod]! LET ME JUST MAKE IT BIGGER!”

“No. I like it the way it is.”

“BUT- BUT- BUT-” Spamton stammered, and he could feel a glitch coming on. It only happened when he was extremely stressed, and he had to grab his head to keep it from really showing off. Rouxls gazed at the normally cool and collected salesman in surprise. “IT’S MADE OUT OF [metal] AND FILLED WITH [oil]! IT’S [not suitable for ages three and below]!”

“Hmm… Seam!”

“Yes?” called the Magician from the doorway.

“Lancer-proof this toy.”

“Hmm? If thou wishes.”

“NONONONONONONONONO!” Spamton cried, running his hands down his face as Seam crossed the room to take the car in his paws, and sighed, glancing apologetically at Spamton before waving his paw, and expunging the nasty goop from the vehicle. It landed on the carpet, and Seam blew delicately on it, expelling the mess. Dammit, wasn’t the Magician supposed to be in his corner?!

“It should be suitable now,” they assured him, and gave it back to the baby, who had been whimpering without it. He immediately closed his mouth around a headlight with a giggle, chewing on it. 

“Poor child is teething,” Spades said with a chuckle. “Isn’t this lovely, Rouxls? Now he will not attempt to chew on your puzzles.”

“Thateth is a boon, indeed,” Rouxls declared, before glancing down beside him, and realizing that Spamton was already gone. 

It took Rouxls a while to find the puppet after he had fled the audience, but ended up eventually locating him in the Courtyard, sitting with his knees against his chest, and staring out into the distance. He wasn't quite sure what to say. They were… tentatively friends… maybe? Perhaps. Did they even like each other? The question was up in the air.

He went to him anyway. Not because he was overtly concerned, or anything. "Ace of Spades?"

"OH JUST CALL ME SPAMTON," he groaned. "I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS [!*#&?], ALL THAT [elbow grease] FOR NOTHING! AND A BABY? DUMB [!#%$?] IS GONNA HURT HIMSELF!"

"Lancer will be safe, I assure you. Besides, the King enjoyed it, and the Prince as well…"

"SO WHAT?! YOU THINK I CARE WHAT HE THINKS?!"

Rouxls looked offended. "If thou gives a care to one's own wellbeing, thou will at least pretend to do so."

Spamton sighed and rose, wandering deeper into the Garden, and Rouxls followed. "A TOY… A [hot new toy this holiday season]... I CAN’T [!$&?!] BELIEVE IT… WE SHOULD HAVE MADE IT [bigger] EVEN WHEN HE SAID NOT TO!"

"To directly disobey thous King to his face is worthy of terrible punishment," Rouxls warned.

"[Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven]," Spamton grumbled, and placed his hand tightly against the first hard surface he came to, which widened Rouxls’s eyes as it was the Spade Queen's mausoleum. 

"Be careful!" He shouted, and grabbed Spamton to drag him away from it. "Thateth is the Queen's resting place…"

"QUEEN, HUH?" Spamton replied, his eyes falling upon the bust of the Darkner whose body resided inside. "[Hochi mama], WHAT A LOOKER!"

That earned him a smack upside the head from Rouxls. "Showeth some respect to the departed!"

"[[OW!]] FINE! FINE!" He ejaculated, before straightening up and stepping forward. He then proceeded to bow deeply, eyes cast towards the ground. "FORGIVE ME, YOUR HIGHNESS… I DIDN'T MEAN ANY DISRESPECT. PLEASE ACCEPT MY [sincerest apologies]."

Rouxls softened a little, watching the display. "That's more like it… she is sorely missed throughout the Kingdom, everyone wished to attend her funeral, buteth the King refused to maketh the affair public. Only he and the royal court attended."

"HOW'D SHE DIE?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Spamton straightened up and walked around the mausoleum, taking in the sights, then, he turned to Rouxls with a smile. "THANKS, ROUXSLY."

"Whateth for?"

"CAN'T GET INTO IT RIGHT NOW, BUT I'LL [lay out the details later]!" He didn't even stop to say a proper goodbye before leaving, and Rouxls felt more than a bit… concerned… about that.

“-AND IF YOU [direct your attention] TO THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE CASTLE, HERE, YOU’LL SEE IT’S GENUINE SPADE DESIGN, WITH DIAMOND INFLUENCES…” Spamton was absolutely talking out his ass as he led the gaggle of Darkners through the Castle, but they held onto his every word. It wouldn’t be the first time he faked things to get something he needed, and the Dark Dollars burning a hole in the breast of his uniform was enough motivation to at least try and sound like he knew what he was talking about. Besides, this was just the appetizer of the tour. The Rudinns and Jigsawrys did seem impressed, however.

“AND THIS-” Spamton said, gesturing into the deep red Courtyard filled with all variety of foliage from across the Card Kingdom, “-IS THE GARDEN. PLEASE [proceed in a single file line towards the center].”

Spamton continued, pointing out flowers and trees and absolutely making everything up. He had no clue what the true names of these flowers or plants were, but that didn’t matter. They were foreign enough to commoners that he could say whatever he wanted. Hell, he could have named one after Rouxls if he really wanted to. If he wanted to. It took a little bit before they arrived to the mausoleum, and he bowed gently at the bust of the Spade Queen. 

“HELLO, [queenie], I’VE BROUGHT GUESTS!” he said, and gestured out towards it. “AND HERE WE COME TO THE QUEEN OF SPADES’S FINAL RESTING PLACE. HER FUNERAL OFF LIMITS, MANY DARKNERS WERE [denied] THE CHANCE TO SAY GOODBYE PROPER… WELL, FOLKS, THOSE DAYS HAVE COME TO AN END! NOW’S YOUR CHANCE TO-”

“SPAMTON G. SPAMTON!”

Spamton huffed, “GREAT, HERE COMES THE [fun police].”

Rouxls slammed a hand onto his collar and tilted his head up to face him, his face twisted in anger and worry. “Whateth have thou done!?”

“I’M GIVING A [tour], WHAT’S IT LOOK LIKE?”

“This- this place belongs to the King! It’s highly privateth!” Rouxls stammered, watching as Darkners were swarming around the mausoleum- looking at it, touching it, and kneeling in front of it. “Oh no… oh no no no, thiseth is highly improper!”

“WHO CARES? BUSINESS IS MESSY.”

“Spamton!” he sneered.

“WHAT?” he replied, tilting his dealmakers down to peer up at him. “I’M JUST DOING [what I know best], ROUXLSY… BESIDES, IF YOU WANNA GET MAD, BLAME THE [King].”

“What?!”

“UH HUH. ASSHOLE’S SO OBSESSED WITH KEEPING [everything to himself] HE’S DENYING AN ENTIRE KINGDOM THE CHANCE TO MOURN. I’M [helping everyone] FOR A [very fair price].”

“Thou art charging to put the Spade Queen’s body on display!?”

Spamton reached into his uniform to pull out the wad of Dark Dollars, and one IOU, with a smirk. “NOT DOING SO BAD EITHER.”

“Thous King is going to murder thee…” Rouxls said, chewing on his inner cheek as he watched the group. For all his concerns, they did seem respectful. He thought about Spamton’s words, and he had to admit, he had a point (and he couldn’t believe he was even thinking that). Everyone deserves a chance to grieve, whether Spamton was being performative or not. What a treacherous thought.

“YOU’RE NOT GONNA [rat me out], ARE YA, ROUXLSY?”

“...Not unless I have to.”

“REALLY?!” Spamton cried, beaming up at him. “YOU WON’T REGRET THIS, WE’LL SPLIT THE PROFITS [50/50]!”

“I haveth no desire for thous money, keep it.”

“SUIT YOURSELF, [angel]!”

This continued for days. Spamton would sneak random individuals into the Courtyard to see the Spade Queen, and Rouxls would turn a blind eye. The only time he ever spoke up was when Spamton was blatantly wrong about a subject.

“Actually, thiseth architecture is more akin to that of the Clubs school of design…” 

“...WELP, YOU HEARD HIM! [Direct all your questions, comments, and concerns] TO THE DUKE, HERE!”

“Spamton!”

Perhaps even more outrageous was that they managed to keep all of this from the King for as long as they did… but all good things had to end, and some were more disastrous than others. Rouxls had attempted to stop Spades on his way to the Garden while he knew Spamton was exercising one of his little ‘tours’, but in the end it was to no avail, and the roaring anger of the King was enough to startle everyone into a panic, including Spamton. The only thing he could do was grab the Spade Queen’s bust to keep it from being knocked over in the ensuing alarm, and in the end, when the party was chased out, being led away by Head Hathys and chaperoned by Rouxls, the only one left in the Garden was Spamton, clutching the bust of the Spade Queen with a practiced smile.

“YOUR HIGHNESS… [let’s talk about this]!” he said, in a way that felt like it might persuade a group of Darkners at a board meeting, but wouldn’t quite work on a King. He knew it wouldn’t work when, shortly after being allowed to place the bust back on its pedestal, he was grabbed by the hair, and dragged unceremoniously away.

Spamton knew when he was in deep shit. He knew it when the time share scam went bust, and he knew it when he accidentally gave his phone number to four Swatchlings at the same time after the Addisons abandoned him in a drunken stupor. 

He knew it when Mike stopped calling, and he knew it now.

He kept his head bowed while the King glowered at him, beating his fingertips against the arm of the throne irately. Rouxls was standing to the side, keeping his expression neutral, but he could feel sweat running down the back of his neck.

"...FOR THE RECORD, YOUR HIGHNESS, I CAN EXPLAIN-"

"Shut. Up."

Spamton swallowed. "I WAS JUST DOING WHAT I KNOW HOW TO DO, YOU GOTTA [write what you know], AFTER ALL!"

He grinned a tentative grin, and whirled his fingertip, a cavalcade of pop ups appearing in his wake. Spades wasn't amused. "The Courtyard is private- it belongs to me and my most loyal subjects and caretakers. It is A SACRED RESTING PLACE! When, in the name of this red land, did you think bringing gawking commoners into my most important place of mourning was a GOOD IDEA?!"

Rouxls winced a little, but Spamton stood his ground… the problem was he was doing it in all the wrong ways. Instead of groveling he placed a hand through his hair, and brought another up to conjure more pop ups and alluring windows.

"YOUR HIGHNESS, PLEASE, IT WAS SIMPLY A [business venture] THAT WENT… A LITTLE AWRY- BUT IT COULD ONLY [improve your image in the public eye]! THINK ABOUT HOW GOOD YOU WOULD HAVE LOOKED, LETTING COMMONERS IN TO SEE THE QUEEN?"

Spades rose to his feet, and stalked over to Spamton. The mouth on his stomach was opening wide, showing off rows of blocky, large teeth as a chain-like tongue spat out of it, with a sharp spade-shaped blade at the end.

"YOUR HIGHNESS, PLEASE-"

"Are you mocking me, you impudent little Ace?"

"NOT AT ALL-!" He said, but was partially cut off when Spades grabbed him by the face, knocking the dealmakers clear off. His mouth was muted by his palm, leaving the King to lift the chain and touch the tip to his cheek. Rouxls backed up slowly, before turning and fleeing quickly.

"Do you know what could have happened if one of those little monsters crawled into the mausoleum? The damage they could have done? To the construction? To the body?!"

More frantic pop ups were emerging now, his anxiety advertising things such as cheap funeral costs and discount coffins. Spades growled, the blade pressed into his cheek and threatened to herald blood, and Spamton went through his mental rolodex to pick a god that would have him.

"My liege?" 

"WHAT, Duke?!" The King roared, turning his head to the side, and dropping the chain in surprise, letting the mouth on his stomach slurp it back up readily. Rouxls stood by the throne, his arm draped upon it decadently. He wasn't wearing his uniform, instead he was in a shirt made only of the finest material Seam could conjure, the neckline plunging scandalously down his chest, revealing that beguiling slope to his body. Resting like iron weights upon his collar was a necklace of the largest pearls Spamton had ever seen, ornately arranged from a far away land. The King immediately dropped Spamton to his knees, allowing him to scramble for his dealmakers, and went to Rouxls.

"You're… you're wearing…"

"Indeede," he declared, reaching up to touch them with his elegant fingers. "I thoughteth the time was right."

Spades reached forward, and took his other hand within his, stroking his knuckles with his thumb as gently as he could muster. "It looks grand on you."

"Thanketh thee, my liege," said Rouxls, before flicking his eyes over to Spamton, as if to relay a message:

Go. Now.

Spamton mouthed words back to him:

NOT LIKE THIS!

"Ace," said Spades suddenly, before turning to him. "Consider this… a warning."

"WARNING…? YOU NEARLY [killed] ME!"

"Do you want to push your luck?"

"I-"

"GET out…" Spades drawled, and Rouxls nodded to him. He mouthed words back to him:

Go. I'll be fine.

Spades turned his face back to Rouxls, who smiled, and feeling more defeated than he had since fleeing Queen, Spamton pulled himself to his feet and sulked his way out.

Spamton banged his fist on the door to Rouxls’s chamber with purpose, anger and something like fear crossing his expression. He hated this, and in some ways, he hated himself for letting it happen. 

"I ameth indecent!" 

"ROUXLS, IT'S [accept no substitutions]!"

A moment passed, before the door opened, revealing Rouxls was not actually indecent at all, he merely looked haggard, and tired. "Spamton."

Spamton muscled his way inside- rather comical looking for the height difference. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!"

"He waseth about to shatter thous face, I could thinketh of nothing else better to do."

"YOU STUPID…" Spamton ground his teeth, clenching his fists. "DID HE…?"

"Thine King is a gentleman… he wouldst never lay a hand on me I wouldst not wish for," Rouxls reassured him truthfully. He owed to to Spamton to be honest.

Spamton clammed up, and sighed. "NEVER DO THAT AGAIN. I DON'T CARE IF HE'S ACTIVELY PUSHING MY [expiration date]!"

"Twas fine, I can attend to mineself. He is justeth lonely."

Spamton swallowed, and felt a white-hot blush rush up to his face as he prepared himself for what he was about to say. It was the hardest thing he'd ever said, up until that moment.

"I'LL BE GOOD."

"Pardon?"

"I SAID I'LL BE GOOD," he repeated, "I'LL BEHAVE ON ONE [terms and conditions apply]..."

"Humph. Whateth is that?"

"NEVER, EVER WEAR ANY MORE OF THAT CRAP- NOT FOR HIM. I CAN TELL YOU HATE IT. PROMISE ME, ROUXLSY."

"Spamton…"

"PROMISE!"

A bell began to ring over Rouxls's bed, accompanied by an infant's wailing, and Rouxls stood, moving past Spamton quickly. "I haveth to go."

"WE'RE NOT DONE [negotiating] YET!" He cried, and took off after Rouxls, all the way to the nursery before the Duke slammed the doors in his face. Well. If he thought Spamton G. Spamton was giving up without a fight, he had another thing coming. So, he sat there, occasionally peering through the keyhole as Rouxls comforted Lancer.

He sat there for a while, his thoughts punctuated by the baby's sobs. Poor thing must have felt a little sick, and sighing, Spamton conjured up a pop up of something fun and kid-friendly with a bright array of colours, and opened the door a crack to head inside to help.

Music filled the room. Too soft to be heard through the thick doors, but with them opened, more than able to glide out on an angel's wings. He paused, they didn't have tape decks in this world, did they? Glancing inside, he peered out at Rouxls as he sang to the child, rocking him sweetly, and melody as sweet as sugar dripping from his lips.

"Hush my darling childe close your eyes,

Thy heart is always with you, keeps out the dark that lurks outside,

You're safe inside my watchful gaze and arms to hold you tight,

I'll be your lustrous guardian to protect thee from the Light…"

Rouxls smiled, and a pop up shot out of Spamton’s temple. HOT SINGLE DADS IN YOUR AREA! CALL XXX-XXXX OR CLICK TODAY!

"And even if I should fall in battle by the sword,

My heart will beat forever from within these blessed halls,

A lullaby to guide you, and the strength to march you on,

If you listen very closely, then I'll never, ever truly be gone…"

The door slammed shut, and Rouxls held Lancer close to him in shock as the baby cooed. He ran all the way back to his chamber, which was still a mess of grease and oil (he REALLY needed to call Seam), and slammed his face into a pillow, feeling like an absolute heel. Much later that night, when he was still awake and pondering, a small letter slipped beneath his door, and he leaped up to tear it open. 

'Spamton,

I promise to adhere to your terms regarding the jewelry. Never pull a stunt like that again.

Rouxls'

The next day, Rouxls found a note of his own stabbed into his door with a fork from the kitchen on no such fancy letterhead, but he knew exactly who it was from. It smelled like fading cologne and engine grease.

'ROUXLSY, BLUEBERRY, BIG SHOT-

COME TO MY ROOM TONIGHT.

TELL NO ONE.

GOT A DEAL FOR YOU.

SPAMTON'

Chapter Text

True to his word, Spamton made a marked effort to better his behavior. He did virtually everything asked of him without any backtalk, cutting-corners, or complaints, to the point that he was even promoted for his virtue. No longer was he scrubbing floors or cleaning up after Lancer (which Rouxls was still stuck with, of course), but operating as the King’s financial consultant. This was more of what he was hoping he’d be doing from the start- if Mike had taught him anything, it was how to move money around, and he was good at it. Upon giving a successful report, occasionally Spades would give him a jovial pat on the head as a reward- among other things that Spamton was much more interested in.

“Good job,” the King drawled, and held out the wad of Dark Dollars to him, which the puppet grabbed eagerly. One of the perks was that he was being paid for his work now, which had shocked him to no end, particularly when he discovered that Rouxls, and even Seam, weren’t.

“I have been here so long, it doesn’t bother me,” Seam replied when Spamton brought it up to him. “He knows this. Although… The reason he does not pay the Duke may be more insidious.”

Spamton growled faintly under his breath. He was getting a little sick of the way Spades treated Rouxls. He knew entrapment when he saw it- all it did was remind him of Mike. Unfortunately, Rouxls didn’t seem to mind it, himself.

“Thou King knows whateth is best for me,” he had said one day when Spamton had brought it up, the two of them watching Lancer dig in the Garden- really just pull up grass and drop it repeatedly in front of him, which to him must have been the most enthralling thing he’d ever seen. Spamton cast Rouxls a look.

“HE TREATS YOU LIKE A SERVANT, AND YOU THINK THAT’S [knowing what’s best for you]?”

“I ameth a servante!” Rouxls argued. “I knoweth thou wishes to look outteh for thee, but I implore thou trusteths me on this. The King wouldst never harm me. Now, telleth me more about this Cyber’s World?”

Spamton didn’t believe that for a second, but fighting with Rouxls would inevitably lead to an altercation. It always did. So, he took up his question with gusto, as he did every time Rouxls asked. He liked explaining the intricacies of his home Dark World, especially to someone who would listen, and more and more frequently- as he and Rouxls spent more and more time together- he would be asked to elaborate on his origins. The Duke wanted to know everything, from Queen and the Mansion, to the Addisons, and even the puzzles. Especially the puzzles- it was Rouxls’s favorite part. He found the mechanisms involving the mice fascinating. 

“Working animals into the puzzle itself… how curious! Perhapseth I can do such a thing with the Rabbicks.” 

“IF YOU CAN [catch them], THOSE ARE [slippery little varmints]... NOW, ONTO MORE IMPORTANT MATTERS, ROUXLSY…”

“Oh Lordeth, here it comes…”

“ABOUT THE OTHER NIGHT…”

It had been days since Rouxls ended up going to Spamton’s chambers to inquire about his hastily written note to him (and why, of all reasons, he stabbed it into the door when there was a perfectly good crack beneath the door to slide it under. He would never be able to live this down from Jevil, who routinely asked why he wasn’t allowed to put utensils in things), and then immediately regretting it. 

“IT WAS URGENT,” Spamton had promised. “ANYWAY, YOU GOT A SET OF PIPES ON YOU! THE VERITABLE VOICE OF AN [angel], ROUXLSY, AND I THINK, YOU AND ME? WE CAN MAKE SOMETHING OUTTA THAT TOGETHER, LIKE- HEY [where are you going]?! I HAVEN’T [finished the pitch yet]!”

“Hast thou not learned a thing?” said Rouxls as they watched Lancer rolling around in the ripped up grass. Honestly, it was just easier to let him do what he wanted and give him a bath later. “After both of thou’s business ventures failed miserably, thou’s new plan is to involveth me?”

“THIS ONE WILL ACTUALLY BEAR FRUIT, [new blue raspberry flavor],” Spamton argued. “YOUR VOICE IS [Heavenly], YOU GOTTA BELIEVE ME.”

“I knoweth my voice is wonderful,” Rouxls said, smirking a little. Spamton laughed. 

“CONFIDENCE! GOOD TO HAVE! YOU’LL BE GREAT [live on stage]!”

“I knoweth it is wonderful, but iteth is not for the masses.”

“...WHY?”

“It just…” Rouxls sighed. “Iteth just isn’t.” 

Spamton hated that. He hated when he could just tell that someone was hiding something from him, and it was awful that it was Rouxls. He ended up resting his chin on his hand, watching as Lancer was yanking a worm up out of the ground and shoving it into his mouth. “YOU GONNA LET HIM EAT THAT?”

“Wormes art good for him, they are filled with protein and other nutrients,” Rouxls replied pointedly.

“WHAT, THEY [part of your balanced breakfast]?” Spamton snickered.

“Yeseth, actually. Only the finest imported wormes are brought into the Kingdom for mine enjoyment.”

Spamton snorted, and laughed a little before realizing Rouxls was being completely serious. “...REMIND ME NEVER TO [kiss you].”

“Ugh,” Rouxls said, rolling his eyes, “verily so.”

“I FEEL LIKE YOU OWE ME JUST FOR [cursing me] WITH ME THAT KNOWLEDGE. COME ON, WE’LL SPLIT THE PROFITS.”

“Iseth money all that matters to thee?” Rouxls finally asked. Spamton shrugged.

“I’M AN ADDISON, SALES ARE [my life],” he replied. “I’M PRETTY SURE I’VE EXPLAINED THAT BEFORE. IT’S NOT ALL ABOUT THE [kromer] THOUGH.”

“Iseth that so?”

“YEAH,” Spamton said. “BACK WHEN I WAS IN SALES, ALL I CARED ABOUT WAS [the freedom].”

“Freedom?” Rouxls laughed. 

“YEAH, FREEDOM, YOU KNOW, LIKE THE [opposite] OF WHAT I’VE GOT HERE?”

“‘Tis not so bad, being a member of the Court,” Rouxls argued. “There is prestige.”

“PRESTIGE DOESN’T [you scratch my back, I scratch yours], ROUXLSY,” Spamton replied. “IT’S A USELESS, MADE UP WORD. IF YOU REALLY WANNA MAKE IT IN THIS WORLD YOU GOTTA BE A [[BIG SHOT]].”

“Howeth does thou acquire such a title?”

“YOU GOTTA [walk the walk] AS MUCH AS YOU [talk the talk],” Spamton instructed, “YOU CAN’T BE BORN INTO PRESTIGE, YOU GOTTA [earn it], WHICH IS WHY YOU SHOULD LET ME BE YOUR [agent].”

“I cannoteth speak with thee about this nonsense any longer,” Rouxls exclaimed, before rising from his seat to go and pick up the infant, and brushing the debris off of him. “Art thou ready for a bath, little one?”

Lancer spit up a little in response, and laughed. Rouxls made a face. “SINGING HAS GOT TO BE BETTER THAN GETTING HORKED ON BY A BABY ON THE REGULAR, ROUXLS.”

Rouxls said nothing, he merely walked past Spamton and vanished down the stone corridor, and the puppet fell back into the grass a moment, staring up at the ceiling. What on earth was that man so afraid of? Oh, wait… of course.

“[!$?&?!] SPADES…” he growled. It had to be him. It couldn’t be a natural stagefright. If Rouxls had enough confidence in his own power to pull off that stunt with the pearls, he definitely had enough to perform in front of a crowd.

Throughout the time since then, Spamton couldn’t keep that incident out of his mind, and truthfully, he could understand why the King had been distracted enough to let him, of all Darkners, off the hook for the stunt he pulled. Rouxls had been… gorgeous in that get-up, with the delicately exposed skin- smooth as silk- and the way his hair fell about his shoulders like spun sugar. The way his tight trousers accentuated his waist that was normally hidden by his uniform, and the damned necklace… it all came together so well, that even discovering all that jewelry had once belonged to the queen didn’t even change Spamton’s opinion on the fashion.

“THE KING IS SICK,” Spamton murmured, “YOU DESERVE TO BE DRAPED IN [luxury fashion on sale now], SURE, BUT IT SHOULD BE YOUR OWN STUFF… YOU DESERVE TO [be your own boss].”

“Have you considered telling him that?” Spamton scrambled onto all fours like a feral thing, looking up behind him at Seam’s sudden appearance. They were smiling, bedecked in his spades-adorned robes, and Spamton could feel heat rising in his face.

“[!?#$!] KITTY CAT, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE?!”

“Oh, long enough to hear enough.”

“SUPER…” Spamton growled.

“I see the bauble is still working well. Haven’t turned back to stone yet.”

Spamton always felt that thing around his neck, even when he slept. He fucking hated it, but there was nothing to be done. He had no idea if there was even a way to get back to Cyber World at all, and if he did, what would be waiting for him there besides an acid bath? “MIND NOT TELLING ROUXLSY?”

“Your feelings mean very little to me,” Seam assured with a smile. “Perhaps you should tell him yourself.”

Spamton cackled, “TELL HIM WHAT?”

“That you enjoy his company and that you wish to work with him. He might listen, if it’s from you.”

“WHAT, [little old me]?” Spamton huffed, “DUMB BASTARD ONLY WANTS TO LISTEN TO [king shit].”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“WHAT, ARE YOU IMPLYING SOMEONE HERE [cares about me], SEAM? SEAM?” Seam was gone. “EH, [!#$!?] MAGICIANS.”

Of course he needed another thing to preoccupy his mind. So Rouxls cared about him, huh? It made sense… After all, even before the incident in the throne room, he stuck his neck out for his sake many times in the month Spamton had been operating there. He saved him from Jevil, when he could have just let the jester terrorize him, and he never, ever refused Spamton the chance to interact with Lancer. He found it difficult to focus on his courtly tasks, and found himself staring into space more often than not, thinking and twirling his pencil over his knuckles. He really did hate it.

“Why so distracted?” asked Spades one day, leaning over him to check on his work. Spamton, who had been doodling in the margins of form, quickly snatched it up and shoved it into his breast pocket. “What are you hiding?”

“NOTHING, YOUR HIGHNESS, [my brain’s not in my head] TODAY, IS ALL…”

“I noticed,” he said with a smirk. “Something on your mind? Or someone?”

“...WHAT?”

“I know that expression. You’re deliberating on another Darkner. Don’t fret. I suppose I can let you off the hook for being in love.”

“E-E-E-EXCUSE ME?!” Spamton stammered. “WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, YOUR HIGHNESS, DON’T KID YOURSELF. I’VE GOT [business on my mind], I’M JUST A LITTLE [scatterbrained] TODAY.”

“Whatever,” Spades drawled, “just don’t make any mistakes… This business is important.”

“ALL [business] IS IMPORTANT,” Spamton argued. Spades laughed. 

“It is. I like your dedication, Ace. I’m sure whichever Darkner is in your sights will be a lucky one, if they can get past your insipid behavior.”

Perhaps a compliment (backhanded as it was) from Spades would have gone over well a month ago, but as it stood, all he could think about was Rouxls. It got to the point that the next time he saw the Duke, he asked him point-blank: “DON’T YOU THINK YOU DESERVE [better]?”

“Pardon?”

“YOU HEARD ME,” he said, “BETTER. BETTER THAN THIS PLACE. DON’T YOU THINK YOU DESERVE IT?”

Rouxls laughed, “looketh around thee, there is no place better!”

“I AM [looking]...” Spamton said, “YOU KNOW WHAT I SEE?”

“Whateth?”

“I SEE A MAN WITH STRENGTH AND TALENT WHO DESERVES TO HAVE HIS [name up in lights], AND YET IS SOMEHOW WILLING TO SETTLE FOR BEING TREATED LIKE A [hyperlink blocked].”

Rouxls stared at Spamton, and swallowed a little before casting his eyes to the floor. “...Thateth is very kind of thee.”

“WHAT ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF? IS IT SPADES?”

“...Thou King does notteth wish me to performeth for others. My duty is to offer my performances to him andeth his family alone, since the time of the Spade Queen.”

“...WHAT.”

“Thou heardeth me, ‘tis simple,” Rouxls answered, placing his hands on his hips, “honestly, I think it’s rather fair.”

“ON WHAT [[hyperlink blocked]] IS THAT FAIR?!” Spamton snarled, “YOU’RE NOT SOME TOY THAT SOME [?!#$!] OVERGROWN IDIOT CAN KEEP ALL TO HIMSELF!”

“Spamton! Showeth some class!”

“NO, DON’T YOU GET IT? HE’S USING YOU!”

“Of courseth he is using me, knave, I am meanteth to be used, I am his Duke!”

“YOU’RE A DUKE, NOT A PUPPET!” Spamton cried out, perhaps a little more desperately than he’d meant to. “YOU GOTTA GRAB LIFE BY THE [silly strings], ROUXLS, NOT LET IT [pass you by] BECAUSE SOME SELFISH KING IS HOLDING YOU BACK!”

“It is my DUTY as his DUKE to tendeth to his family and maketh him puzzles! Thateth is IT! Mine feelings are irrelevant.”

Spamton knew what he wanted to say, but he also knew that if he did, Rouxls would never speak to him again. He just reached up to adjust the dealmakers with thought. “I’D HAVE NEVER KNOWN.”

“Excuseth me?”

“YOU HAVEN’T MADE A [full priced] PUZZLE SINCE YOU [saved my bacon] IN THE THRONE ROOM.”

Rouxls took a pause. That was… technically correct. Ever since that incident his puzzle brain had suffered, to put it lightly. Suddenly he was mixing up his card suits and building mechanisms backwards, and making all measure of stupid mistakes. He had simply had too much clouding in his mind, as though it were filled with candy floss. “We alleth have our bad days.”

“BAD WEEKS.”

“I willeth bounce back!” Rouxls replied defensively. “Thingseth have been peaceful! Mine puzzles have not had dire need, recently. ‘Tis thrown me off of my game, that is all!”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK?” Spamton said, going in for the kill. “I THINK YOU’RE STRESSED.”

“Really?” Rouxls deadpanned. Spamton nodded.

“LOOK, I’M [apology request sent] THAT I’VE BEEN SUCH A BASTARD, RECENTLY…” he finally said. He hated apologizing for anything, but sometimes one had to compromise. “BUT WITH THE WAY YOUR PUZZLES HAVE BEEN SUFFERING, I THINK YOU NEED TO [take a vacation] FROM YOUR [for work related concerns, please press one now].”

“Hmm…” Rouxls murmured, brushing his hair from his face in thought. “Theyeth sayeth the best way to conquer an artist's blocketh is by avoiding one’s art. To give oneself time.”

“OR FOCUS ON [another genre].”

“Why dost thou want me for thou’s little singing project?” Rouxls asked, finally. “I am sureth there are plenty of other Darkners who wouldst jump at the chance to become iconic.”

“...BECAUSE I LIKE YOU AND I WANT TO WORK WITH YOU.”

Rouxls laughed, “we already worketh together.”

“NO, WE WORK AROUND EACH OTHER,” Spamton said, gesturing widely with one hand. “LATELY I’VE BARELY [see no evil] YOU.”

“Thinges have been busy… dost thou mean to tell me thou truly cares?”

“...YEAH,” he admitted. “AND TO BE [perfectly honest salesman] WITH YOU… I REALLY THINK YOU DESERVE TO JUST… NOT HAVE TO THINK ABOUT BEING A DUKE FOR A WHILE.”

“I liketh being the King’s Duke.”

“HAVE YOU TRIED [anything else]?”

“Notteth as such.”

“THEN HOW DO YOU KNOW?”

“...Thou art never going to let up on this, art thou?”

Spamton smirked, “WOULD I BE [number one rated salesman1997] IF I GAVE UP ON THINGS THAT EASILY?”

(He didn’t tell him about 1998 and 1999.)

Rouxls was silent for a moment, thinking to himself. He brought a fist up to his mouth to nibble on his glove in a way Spamton had noticed him doing a few times before. Never before the King, but always when it came to making difficult decisions. “I willst be breaking a significant Castle rule ifeth I do this.”

He knew he couldn’t grace him with platitudes and promises that the King wouldn’t discover them, so instead he said: “THEN BREAK THE RULE. DO IT. THE KING WON’T HURT YOU. YOU SAID IT YOURSELF.”

That was true. He was too precious in the King’s eye to deliberately harm him, no matter how angry he got. At least, he liked to think so. In the end he ended up glancing down at Spamton in his pink and yellow uniform, gazing up at him, and with something behind his eyes that could almost be construed as pleading. No one had ever pleaded Rouxls Kaard for anything. “...Thiseth means that much to thee?”

Spamton rubbed his temples. To be completely honest, it wasn’t even completely about the kromer or building a brand anymore, although those were both still very important. “YES, OKAY?”

“I meaneth that much to thee?”

“I MEAN… YOU DON’T NOT MEAN A LOT TO ME.” Smooth.

“...It musteth be kept a secret from the King, as close to the breast as possible. Willst thou be mine confidant?” 

Spamton lit up, his dealmakers almost gleaming like spotlights. “ABSOLUTELY, [angel]! YOU CAN TRUST OL’ SPAMTON G. WITH ANYTHING! ‘COURSE IF WE’RE GONNA HAVE A VENUE WE NEED AN AUDIENCE! WE’LL [hammer out the details] AS WE GO!”

Rouxls was always used to being the audience, never commanding one, but with the way Spamton was prattling on, and slamming a hand onto his back to lead him away, he had to confess that he seemed to know what he was doing- and in spite of himself, it seemed rather… thrilling. The fact that he was so blatantly going against his own laws, and that Spamton seemed to… genuinely believe in him, and thought he was owed it, even, after a lifetime of dedication. 

Who knew… perhaps it would be fun for a lark.

“THIS AFFAIR IS GONNA BE REAL [hush hush], SO WE NEED TO TAKE THAT INTO ACCOUNT WHEN PICKIN’ A [venue]... SO HERE’S WHAT I’M THINKING: WE SLIP A LITTLE SOMETHING INTO THE KING’S DRINK, AND WHEN HE’S OUT OF IT, WE DO IT IN THE GARDEN- [ow!]”

Spamton grimaced as Rouxls grabbed him by the cheek, making a face at him. “Dost thou have a death wish?”

“OKAY, OKAY, BLAME ME FOR HAVING [ambition]!” he pouted. “HOW ABOUT THE DUNGEON? WE CAN GET THE OTHER THREE KINGS IN ON IT.”

“The sameth problem persists, and we art NOT drugging the King!” Rouxls looked around nervously, “dost thou have any idea whateth would happen if anyone even caught breath of you sayingeth that?”

Spamton thought about it for a moment. “I SUPPOSE IT WOULD INVOLVE [pain and irritation in my guts]?”

“If thou kept thou’s guts within thou’s body, yeseth,” Rouxls replied direly, “ifeth thou wishes me to do this, it cannot be anywhere within the vicinity of the Castle… nor during the day.”

“YOU KNOW, SEAM WOULD PROBABLY, ABSOLUTELY HELP-”

“We art not drugging the king!” 

“OKAY, OKAY! WELL THEN, I’M OPENING THE [suggestion box], ROUXLSY, YOU THINK OF A PLACE.”

Rouxls placed his fist by his mouth and inhaled deeply. This… might be difficult. The King had reach almost everywhere throughout the Card Kingdom- there were few places he overlooked. The Maze, for one, but traversing it was a challenge even if you did know which way to go. The Field was similarly troublesome- big and open and dangerous. Then, Rouxls snapped his fingers, which was enough to alert Spamton’s attention. “YEAH?”

“The Great Board.” 

“GREAT BOARD?”

“‘Tis a large place just past the Scarlet Forest. The Ponmen reside there, usually. It is rather covert, and the King usually ignores it. I liketh to taketh walks through it, wheneth the puzzles are inactive.”

“COVERT, YOU SAY?” Spamton stroked his chin in thought, “SOUNDS PROMISING.”

“And if thou depends on word of mouth exclusively ‘tis a good way to get it out into the Field beneath the King’s nose.”

The puppet lit up, clenching his fist with a smile. “[Angel]! YOU BIG, BEAUTIFUL FOOL! YOU REALLY [work smarter not harder]!”

“Well, I tryeth…” Rouxls said, grinning as he preened internally, and batting his eyelashes gently. “Oneth question, however…”

“YEAH?”

“How willeth we spread the word of thou’s plan ifeth we are to keep it secret from the King?”

“YOU LEAVE THAT TO ME, ROUXLSY,” Spamton said. Rouxls was dubious. “...WHAT?”

“Thou art too bombastic, surely word will arriveth back to him somehow.”

“HAVE SOME [faith] IN ME! I BUILT A WHOLE [hot rod] IN MY ROOM WITHOUT HIM EVEN GETTING AN INKLING! I CAN DO THIS. BESIDES- A [specil performance] FROM A [secret Darkner], HIDDEN DEEP WITHIN THE CASTLE, [never been seen before]? [Dollface], DARKNERS WILL [eat that up]!”

“I can leaveth the Castle wheneverth I wish, Spamton,” Rouxls said, unable to keep from laughing at his exaggerations.

“MAKES THE WHOLE OPERATION SEEM MORE [enticing], LIKE IT’S A REAL [once-in-a-lifetime deal you don’t wanna miss]! IT’S THAT [forbidden fruit] ANGLE THAT GETS THE BLOOD PUMPING!”

Spamton paused, and twittered his fingertips over his face. “HMM… WHICH DO YOU PREFER? THE [Angel] OR THE [Songbird]?”

“For whateth?” Rouxls asked, raising his brows.

“YOUR STAGE NAME, ROUXLSY.”

“Why dost I need one? Everyone willst know that it is me the second I step on stage.”

“HAVEN’T YOU EVER [been to a show], ROUXLSY? YOU NEED SOMETHING [sweet and savory] THAT [pops] WHILE YOU PERFORM. SOMETHING TRULY [specil] THAT’LL MAKE DARKNERS REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE…”

“If Rouxls Kaard, the Duke of Puzzles, iseth noteth enough for individuals to identify me or remember who I ameth, on or off of a stage, theneth thateth is truly the problem of the audience, not I.”

“IF YOU’RE GONNA DO THIS, YOU MAY AS WELL LET YOURSELF HAVE A [for a good time call-!]!” he replied with a smirk. Rouxls steepled his fingers together and rolled his eyes a touch, even as the faintest of blushes stole over his features. Unfortunately, Spamton saw that, and grinned triumphantly.

“Thou can chooseth one for me. Dost that satisfy thee?”

“PERFECTLY,” he exclaimed, “[Angel] IT IS.”

No Darkner throughout the Card Kingdom knew quite what to make of Spamton. He was loud, grandiloquent, verbose, and depending on the Darkner in question he was speaking with, highly annoying. You could never tell which would think that until you interacted with them, however, so he would have to take his chances. It was why when he returned to the Castle after attempting to ‘get out the word’ on the upcoming performance, he was grinning broadly, and clutching his dealmakers in one hand with his other hand covering his left eye.

“Spamton!” Rouxls exclaimed, breaking conversation with Seam as he passed Lancer to the Magician, and fled away to the injured Ace.

“WE GOT OURSELVES A VENUE AND AN AUDIENCE, [angel]!” he said, nodding vigorously. “AND ABSOLUTELY NO POSSIBILITY OF WORD GETTING BACK TO THE KING.”

“Whateth happened?!” Rouxls said, grasping his hand to pull it away from his face, and revealing the eye that had almost completely swollen shut, flustered and purple from the strike he’d taken.

“JUST WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU [hit the bricks] SOMETIMES, IT’S [nothing]!”

Rouxls grimaced, and growled a little as he took the broken dealmakers from Spamton, and brought them over to Seam. “Canneth thou fix them? He needs them to see.”

“Oh, easily,” said Seam, holding Lancer over their shoulder in one arm and taking the dealmakers with their other paw. “I will adjourn to my workshop and repair them. Don’t go anywhere, now.”

“WAIT YOU CAN’T JUST [fix me up for a nominal fee] RIGHT HERE?”

“You would think that, but, not so~” Seam replied, with a twinkle in their expression. “Rouxls Kaard, you should attend to the Ace. I will keep an eye on the Prince.”

Lancer was already snoozing happily as Seam trotted off, humming to him. Rouxls simply sighed, and pointed to Spamton. “Stayeth there. I know thou willst not be making any grand attempteth to flee because thou cannot see past arm’s length. I willst return promptly.”

“IT’S JUST A BLACK EYE!” Spamton’s words died on his lips as Rouxls left, and he leaned against the wall, blushing. What was Seam playing at? They could fix this easily, but instead they were leaving it to Rouxls? “[!#$?!] CAT…”

“They say if thou speaks ill of a magician, it willst come back to them tenfold.”

Spamton looked up, just barely making out the blurry blue figure that was the Duke before he felt the soft touch of the cold cloth against his eye, and it did feel much better. Rouxls’s other hand cupped his face as he tended to him, and Spamton could feel his breath catching in his chest, the other man so close he could see him even without the dealmakers. All he could do was swallow, and close his other eye, his lips forming a thin line while Rouxls rolled his eyes. 

“Donteth be embarrassed… ‘tis a nasty bruise.”

“YEAH, YEAH,” Spamton murmured.

“Thou art lucky, thereth does not appear to be any blood. Thou won’t be losing thou’s sight.”

“YEAH…” 

“‘Tis tender to the touch, though. It will take some time for the swelling to go down.”

“[Yeah…]”

“Art thou listening to me?”

That’s the trouble, he really wasn’t. He was disheveled and dirty and injured, but all of that seemed miles away when Rouxls was so close, and he desperately wanted to pretend that this was a side of him only he was privy to… but that wouldn’t just be naive. It would be stupid. He just- almost scandalously- liked being cared for. The only people who had ever really treated him with such softness were the Addisons, even when he was a BIG SHOT- and even then, it was dog-eat-dog in Cyber City. Your image meant everything.

It meant everything to Rouxls as well, and yet, there he was. So close and sweet...

“Duke of Puzzles.”

Rouxls startled, rising and stuffing the towel into his breast pocket as the King raised his eyebrow at them. Rouxls obscured Spamton from the King’s gaze, allowing him to nearly hide behind him easily. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothingeth, my liege,” Rouxls replied, and gave Spamton a small pat on the face from behind with his fingertips. He took that as a sign to leave, slinking off to find Seam and get his eye fixed proper. When he finally did arrive at the overcrowded workshop filled with trinkets and baubles, and many, many books, he stomped in, and nearly tripped over a cauldron.

“Careful, now,” Seam warned. 

“YEAH, YEAH, WHERE ARE MY [dealmakers], KITTY CAT!?” Spamton hissed, and SEam placed a paw over his eye to easily fix the swollen bruise. Spamton snatched back the glasses and perched them on his nose, giving him a flustered look around. “WAY TO BE A [stereotype].”

“How so?”

“A CAULDRON? REALLY? YOU MIX YOUR LITTLE POTIONS IN THERE?”

“Extremely volatile ones,” Seam replied, smiling, and suddenly, Spamton was sorry he asked. “I used to use it for scrying, but that was a long time ago.”

“WHAT, YOU MEAN [time traveling]?”

“Don’t be silly, Ace, time travel is impossible.”

Spamton looked into the cauldron, but discovered it to be empty, to his disappointment. “I wouldn’t stick your head in there, lest you wish to become soup, hehe… it’s been some time since i’ve made anything in there… it must be hungry.”

Making a face, he pulled away, and after a moment longer, he stormed over to glower at the Magician. “YOU COULDN’T HAVE HEALED MY EYE BACK THERE FOR ME? IT WAS A [fixer-upper] FOR YOU!”

“I’m sure I could have, but then you wouldn’t have had the time.”

Steam nearly shot from Spamton’s nose, “ARE YOU [playing games] WITH ME, KITTY?”

Seam’s one black eye shimmered faintly at him, as they passed a teething toy to Lancer, who was resting on his workstation table. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“I’LL [perhaps] YOU INTO [next week] IF YOU TRY THAT AGAIN.”

“I would hate for things to come to that.”

They were calm, and collected, and it drove Spamton nuts. He was bad at intimidation anyway, considering his size, but Seam was only a bit taller than he was. They could have at least pretended to be shook up. In the end Spamton just growled, and turned to stomp away angrily.

“I’m quite looking forward to the Duke’s show.”

“YOU CAN’T COME,” Spamton replied, “THE DUKE, THE ACE, AND THE COURT MAGICIAN ALL VANISHING FOR HOURS AT THE SAME TIME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? IT’S [social and political suicide].”

“Oh, i’ll be there. You won’t see me, but i’ll be there.” Spamton stared at them. He was starting to hate this cat. Shutting the door behind him he slipped away to his quarters, where he was in the process of dismantling his desk. He had work to do.

It seemed to take Rouxls forever to pull himself away from the King… which he couldn’t help but find almost treacherous that he was even thinking such things. Even with the King’s… behavior… he had always wanted to be useful. To find ways to please that weren’t about filling the hole left by the Spade Queen, but now… Something was different. He was excited about something other than puzzle crafting! Other than being a Duke, even! Who had done that?

Spamton had, actually. A little cretin who had apparently fallen from the sky.

He brought his fist up to his mouth to nibble on his glove, walking the empty halls at night. His eyes were kept peeled, lest he run into the jester lurking around a corridor, until he arrived at the strange Darkner’s quarters, and knocked deftly.

“COME IN, ROUXLSY.”

Rouxls swallowed, and turned the knob, pushing the heavy door in and watching as Spamton worked on something as he sat on the bed. It made sense that he was handy- after all he built an entire car, which judging from the couple hours he’d spent under it with him, was a decently complicated effort. Spamton was currently working with some kind of wire, stringing it along something the Duke couldn’t see as he stepped further into the quarters, before he finished, and held it in his lap to brush his roughened thumb over it testingly. None of the other Addisons had such rough hands, but he held them with a mote of pride. For one thing, it meant it didn’t need a pick.

“WHAT BRINGS YOU TO MY [humble abode at this hour]?” he said, out of his uniform, so you could see the twinkling of the blue gold spade flush against his throat. Rouxls swallowed. 

“I wasth just… thinking.”

“OH, I HATE THAT, IT SHORTENS YOUR [rapidly shrinking life expectancy].”

“Yeseth I am beginning to believe that,” Rouxls said, and pulled up a desk chair to seat himself before the bed, lacing his fingers together idly. “I am justeth wondering… ifeth we should really do this.”

Spamton paused, and looked up at him. His hair was still askew, and he hadn’t tried to fix it the whole day, too busy as he was working on personal projects. “NOW, DON’T PLAY GAMES WITH ME, [angel], WE’VE GOT A [full house] WAITING FOR US IN A COUPLE DAYS.”

“Whateth am I supposed to sing? Lullabies? Sometimes Lancer can barely tolerateth them.”

“I KNOW YOU’VE GOT MORE THAN JUST [songs for children ages one through five], I’VE HEARD THEM.”

“Thou has? When?!”

“REMEMBER WHEN YOU TOLD ME TO [never pull a stunt like that again]?” Spamton replied, rolling his eyes a little with a smile dripping with sleaze. “YEAH, I DID.”

“Thou worme!” Rouxls declared. Spamton just shrugged.

“HEY, I HAVEN’T HEARD [good] MUSIC SINCE MY TIME IN THE QUEEN’S MANSION- YOU CAN’T BLAME ME FOR WANTING TO [keep the momentum going].”

“How many times did thou spy on me?!”

“JUST A FEW TIMES,” he admitted honestly. “ACTUALLY I THINK YOU WERE SINGING FOR THE KING, ONCE OR TWICE. COULDN’T TELL THROUGH THE DOOR.”

Rouxls covered his mouth, swallowing, and he was about to scold him before the gentle plucking of strings broke his concentration, and he watched Spamton on the bed tune the instrument he had constructed in his lap. “Oh… thou madeth that?”

“YOU NEED SOMEONE TO [accompany] YOU, AFTER ALL.”

“Accompany me?”

“WHAT, DID YOU THINK I’D LEAVE YOU UP ALONE ON A STAGE [like a dying fish]?” Spamton murmured, “YOU CAN’T SING WITHOUT AN INSTRUMENT.”

“I haveth nevereth put any of mine songs to a melody!”

“HEY, [first time for everything], [angel].”

He clutched his chest, his thoughts quickly stirring around in his head violently as he tried to think of just what to say or do. In the meantime, Spamton’s hands picked up the pace, gliding across the strings eloquently as he strummed the guitar. It wasn’t a pretty instrument, but the sound was shockingly decadent, and Rouxls leaned over to watch him work. “WHAT?!”

Rouxls smiled. “Nothinge, justeth… watching your playstyle.”

“I MADE A GUITAR FROM [scratch like mom used to make], AND YOU’RE FOCUSED ON MY HANDS?” he said, unable to keep from chuckling a little. “YOU’RE [killing me].”

“I nevereth said it was not impressive!” Rouxls exclaimed, laughter bubbling up in his throat at Spamton’s flustered veneer. “I justeth… thiseth is all happening so suddenly… I haven’t even had a moment of time to practice.”

“YOU DON’T NEED THE PRACTICE,” Spamton said, “YOU PRACTICE ALL THE TIME.”

“Aloneth, yeseth, but to music? Ifeth I maketh a fool of mineself it will most certainly reach the King’s ears that I attempted something so foolish, and then…” 

“IT WON’T,” Spamton said, dragging his hardened thumb over the strings, lost in thought. “I TOLD YOU WE’RE SAFE.”

“Thou doesn't knoweth that. Whateth did thou get? A few Darkner’s words? Whateth if something happens to me? Whateth if something happens to thee? Thou art already on thin iceth.”

He paused, and looked up at Rouxls before reclining against the bed, smiling up at him leisurely, though it couldn’t really mask the anxiety in his eyes. “I’M NOT [worried].”

“Thou must be.”

“YOU’RE [in too deep now], ROUXLSY, YOU CAN’T BACK OUT.”

“I canneth and I shouldeth, Rouxls murmured. 

“YOU WON’T.”

“And if I do? Thou will have no show without me!”

Slowly, Spamton placed down the instrument, and pulled himself up. What he did next, he wasn’t even sure he realized the magnitude of it when he did it- only after the fact did he panic- but right then, he slipped his hands over Rouxls’s and held them within his own. They were smaller than the Duke’s, but coarse and hard. Difficult hands, not like the smooth, supple skin of the other man. It was partially from the fabric-like flesh of his body, partially from work.

“YOU’RE GONNA DO THIS. YOU’RE GONNA PERFORM, AND YOU’RE GONNA [bring the house down]. YOU’RE GONNA GIVE THESE DARKNERS SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT FOR [weeks and weeks]- AND NOT BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO, EITHER. IT’S BECAUSE YOU [want it]. MAYBE [you never knew you wanted it], BUT YOU WANT TO BE NOTICED. YOU WANT DARKNERS TO SEE THE EFFORT YOU PUT INTO [everything you do], AND THAT’S NOT GONNA HAPPEN [behind these walls].”

“Thou speaks with such confidence. Thou knows nothing about me.”

“I DO KNOW YOU.”

“How?”

“BECAUSE THAT WAS [me], DAMMIT!” Spamton exclaimed. “I ONCE WANTED SOMETHING SO [!?!$!] BADLY I GAVE UP EVERYTHING FOR IT- MY ENTIRE [lifetime warranty], MY [friends and family discount]- EVERYTHING. I [sold my soul] TO BE A [BIG SHOT], [angel], AND- AND YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW IT BUT- I’M GONNA GIVE YOU [everything] SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO… TO… TO...”

Words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them, clutching Rouxls’s hands more and more tightly as he spoke, and his heart hammering so loudly he thought the Duke would be able to hear it himself.

“YOU GOTTA [believe in me].”

“Thou art trembling.”

“YEAH, YEAH, I GET A LITTLE [addlepaddled] WHEN I THINK ABOUT IT…” Spamton muttered, foisting his gaze away from Rouxls’s. It was hard to think, and suddenly those hands slipped away from his, though they didn’t go far. One thumb found its way under his dealmakers, and stole a tear that was pricking the corner of his eye. “THANKS.”

“Wouldst thou do it again?”

“HUH?”

“Wouldst thou selleth thou’s soul again for such a thing?”

Oh, god, but he wanted to take that hand again as it lingered so close to his face. He could feel a prayer curling up in his stomach, and threatening to burst out of his chest like a heart on a string.

“OH, YEAH. I’D DO IT ALL AGAIN [for the right price].”

Rouxls blinked, and chuckled at him. Not in a mocking or pitiful way, but filled with empathy. “Thou art insane.”

“THAT’S ME, BONAFIDE [out of this world].”

Rouxls laughed, bringing his hand up to his mouth to try and quell it, and Spamton picked up the handmade guitar, strumming it gently. “HEY IF YOU’RE SO WORRIED ABOUT [putting in the work], WE CAN PRACTICE SOME TONIGHT… GO ON, BELT SOMETHING OUT.”

“I ameth afraid alleth I can think of right now is… nothing good.”

“IT’S ALWAYS GOOD.”

“Oh?”

“IT COMES OUTTA YOUR MOUTH, BABY.”

Rouxls clenched his eyes shut, and laughed heartily again, desperate for a moment of peace as Spamton kept hitting him with one liners. Spamton was just happy he was making him laugh. He opened his mouth to sing anything before the puppet hushed him.

“NO, DON’T GIVE ME [words], JUST HUM IT, I WANT TO BE SURPRISED~” He was never one for preparing things ahead of time, anyway. If he was, he never would have said yes to…

That seemed so far away, right now.

“WE REALLY SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN YOU SOMETHING LESS [band camp] TO WEAR, ROUXLSY.”

“Mosteth of whateth I own are uniforms, canneth thou blame me?”

“NO NO, JUST [spitballing].”

“Eugh…”

The Great Board had never been so packed with Darkners who weren’t Ponmen, and Rouxls couldn’t help but preen inwardly about it, more than a little bit. Spamton rolled his eyes, and nudged him a little. He himself was wearing his black button-down, exposing the choker on his neck, which looked rather fetching in the red and white light emanating from the Board. It was late- incredibly so, as they had both been sure to steal away into the night as soon as Seam assured them that the King was indeed asleep, and Lancer had taken a nice warm bottle of milk and cream.

Rouxls was trying desperately to ignore what would happen if the King did wake up and inquire for him, but Spamton was just thrilled at the sight of the crowd. Oh, he’d missed this.

“I hopeth thou realizes how dangerous thiseth is.”

“I KNOW, ISN’T IT?” he replied, “MAKES YOU FEEL [alive], DOESN’T IT?”

“...It sorteth of does,” Rouxls murmured, a smile creeping over his lips as he pulled his hood down. 

“JUST FOCUS ON PROJECTING. YOU KNOW HOW TO [project], RIGHT?”

“Of courseth!”

“FANTASTIC, [angel]!”

When it was finally time to go on, Rouxls found himself oddly at peace. It shocked him, frankly, and if it weren't for Spamton’s contagious attitude he wouldn't have done this in a million years. When he stepped onto the stage and pulled down his hood he was surprised at the sheer number of Darkners who had arrived, and felt his confidence bolster. He pulled his hair back from his face as Spamton addressed the crowd eagerly.

"MY [esteemed guests]!" He brayed. "YOU KNOW YOU'RE [thank you all for coming] SO I'LL SKIP RIGHT TO THE END!"

He strummed the guitar a bit, in a melody Rouxls recognized as being one of his own.

"YOU'RE IN LUCK TONIGHT, FOLKS, BECAUSE WE GOT A BONAFIDE [royal] HERE TO GIVE YOU A LITTLE SLICE OF [HEAVEN] [for your pleasure]... I PRESENT TO YOU, [nothing up my sleeve], THE [Angel] OF CARD CASTLE!"

Flaring pop ups and fireworks erupted from Spamton as he introduced the Duke so raucously, and Rouxls had to admit it was thrilling, even if some members of the crowd weren't impressed. Many of them, however, were, at both the uptight Duke's appearance, and Spamton's showmanship.

"GO ON," he whispered as he began to play anew. A slower tune more befitting Rouxls's song. "THEY'RE WAITING [for you]."

Oh, if this went bad, Spamton would be sleeping in the Forest for life . Rouxls swallowed, and opened his mouth, and began to sing.

"Does my heart have any bearing on your conscience?

Treat me well or treat me wrong, it matters not,

My loyalty was never truly in question, 

Yet I yearn for the strength to reach my peak…

I canneth be everything you ever wanted. 

I canneth be a servant or a ruler, or a Duke...

Don’t let fear keep thee from giving me the privilege 

To rule by thous side,

I won’t breaketh from the pressure or the terror,

But I’ll shatter from thou's apathy,

Would it insulteth thou if I said it any plainer…?

I’ll shatter from thou's apathy…"

Spamton fluttered his fingers along the strings, closing his eyes as he played out the melody. Rouxls really could project, which was good, because he didn't have the resources to build a microphone. He just listened intently- both to Rouxls, and the silence that had befallen the crowd.

"Thou rules with strength, thou rules with power,

Such a shameth the sight of thou tears me asunder,

I gaveth my life to rule beside thee,

But do mine sacrifices even really matter...?

I need to know… am I a shadow…?

Am I the remnant of a past thou needs to borrow?

Thou sayth thou likes to see me, but is it really for me?

All the niceties don’t say a single thing.

There’s nothing left inside of me to offer...

All the pleasantries don’t say a single thing."

He held onto that last note for a while, and once it was clear it was the end proper, the crowd erupted into applause, much like how Spamton assured him they would. Spamton gestured to the Duke, pop ups firing up behind him for ticket sales.

"THE [Angel] OF CARD CASTLE, FELLOW [valued customers]!"

He placed his hand onto Rouxls to push him into the shadows of the Great Board, the closest thing to a 'backstage' they had. They were barely illuminated back there, if only by the glint of the dealmakers. Rouxls was laughing, and Spamton felt his heart flutter.

"BOLD MOVE, ROUXSLY."

"I knoweth! I waseth so certain something wouldst go wrong!"

"I'LL SAY. I MEAN, MAKING YOUR FIRST [hit single] AN ANTI-KING SONG IS REALLY [pushing the envelope]! GOOD JOB~"

Rouxls sputtered a bit, placing a hand on his chest. “Twas not Anti-King!”

“OHOHO, YES IT WAS~ BE CAREFUL, [Angel], YOU MIGHT END UP STARTING A [revolution]!”

“NO!” Rouxls exclaimed, “‘twas just… something I haveth been working on for a while… Something I haveth kept inside.”

“AND DID IT FEEL GOOD TO LET OUT [these great savings]?”

Rouxls didn’t answer, nibbling on his glove, the only sound between them at that moment being the rhythmic clapping of the crowd of Darkners outside. Spamton gestured with his head. “THEY WANT AN [encore].”

“Whateth?”

“WHAT, DID YOU THINK YOU’D GET AWAY WITH PERFORMING JUST ONE [number one hit single]?”

“I donteth know if I haveth another one in me!”

“OOH, YES YOU DO~”

He ended up having more than one. In fact, he had quite a few, and his natural showmanship exposed itself raucously, to the point that he wished he had a sword or something, just to point it heroically at the sky. His songs were all notably melancholy- thoughtful and sometimes sad, and Spamton reflected it in his instrumental. By the end of the night there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, and Spamton and Rouxls were trudging back to the Castle hours later, with Spamton flicking his fingers through a hefty wad of Dark Dollars with his guitar strapped to his back.

“LOOK AT ALL THIS [DELICIOUS KR0MER]! [Angel] I COULD KISS THAT PRETTY MOUTH OF YOURS!”

Rouxls smiled, and chewed on his lip a little, treacherous thoughts crossing his mind a moment before he shook his head.

Rouxls wanted to say that this would only be a one-time excursion. It was highly improper and went against so many Castle laws it made his head spin in private, but when Spamton approached him with news of another venue, there was the part inside of him that leapt in excitement. He hid it well, though.

“THEY WANT [more, more, more]!”

“Whoeth does?” 

“EVERYONE!”

So they did, and although Rouxls put up a fight, Spamton managed to drag him back to the Great Board again and again, to the point where he really was beginning to run out of material. Spades often didn’t mind the same songs (especially if they were the ones the Spades Queen used to sing), and Lancer was an infant (he was content with nonsense words and baby talk), but to appease a fickle audience, he began putting pen to paper to construct new music. However, he only shared the notes with Spamton, not the lyrics, so every performance was a surprise to the puppet- sometimes a shock.

It would have been fine if this happened twice, or even three times, but it went on for quite some time. Once a week, Rouxls and Spamton would sneak away from the Castle under the guise of darkness to visit different places throughout the Card Kingdom, and for all of Rouxls’ fortitude, catching sight of Spamton on the night of a show would make him smile, excitedly and tenderly, even in front of the King. The worst part was that Spamton would smile back, usually as he left the room, turning to tilt his head back at him. Rouxls considered himself not particularly easy to fluster, but sometimes he would inhale deeply, and have to look away.

“YOU GOT ANY [new material] FOR US TONIGHT, [Angel]? OR WILL IT BE A NIGHT OF [everything old is new again]?”

“I haveth a new song.”

“WONDERFUL! WHAT'S THE TEMPO?”

“Upbeat. Bawdy, even.”

“OHO, SOMEONE’S [cutting those strings loose].”

Rouxls stepped onto the ‘stage’, which on the Great Board was really just a square that wasn’t affected by the light puzzle, but it may as well have been one with the way his audience surrounded him in a crescent. He reached up to pull off his cloak, and let it fall away from his shoulders dramatically, revealing the fine shirt he wore beneath, with the puffy sleeves and plunging neckline. Spamton recognized it from that fateful day in the throne room- he never thought he’d be able to look at it in any light other than distaste, but now, as he flung animations and pop ups behind Rouxls to illuminate him, he could see it with different eyes. He began to sing.

“So lately thou’ve been offering me Heaven,

But does thou heart ignite with passion like before?

Has thous past taken you down a peg, unto a fit of pique,

And do you yearn for the same guidance from... down below?”

Spamton joined in shortly after the first few lines, playing exactly as Rouxls had instructed him to, with upbeat tempo and an excited flurry of strings. He knew he should have been keeping an eye on the audience, but all he could look at was Rouxls.

“Thou once said that it’s sick to serve in Heaven,

‘Tis better to rule in Hell a million fold, well~

I plant a kiss upon thous sultry lips,

Once more, again,

‘Till there’s no preaching from thou’s pretty mouth at all~”

The puppet swallowed, feeling himself beginning to sweat. It was no secret that he had said that, and spoke of Heaven. He had to keep playing, though, even if he wanted to strangle the taller Duke.

“And if thou’re nervous, that’s alright, 

I’ll keep thee close and hold thee tight,

There is no shame, asking for help will save us both~

Thous body is a symphony, a cacophonous delight, 

So close thous throat and save us both,

Delightful dancing of the darkness swirls around,

Lips and tongue to teeth and cheek,

And into the heart of evil we’ll be found.

Thou once said that it’s sick to serve in Heaven,

‘Tis better to rule in Hell a million fold, well~

I plant a kiss upon thous sultry lips,

Once more, and then again,

‘Till there’s no preaching from your pretty mouth at all~”

Rouxls’s eyes glimmered, and he glanced over at Spamton, who was bobbing as he played, and he could tell he was struggling. He caught his eyes for a moment, and turned back to his playing quickly. Their audience was clapping along with the music jovially, and it took every ounce of Spamton’s self-control to keep his pop ups civil… at least until they were backstage, and he could avert his eyes from Rouxls altogether. 

“Whatst did thou think?”

“GOOD, IF A BIT MEAN.”

“Whatst could thou ever mean byeth that?”

“OH, NOTHING…”

A pop up appeared in front of Spamton, blinking beguilingly. BIG SHOT DATING! FIND YOUR TRUE LOVE TODAY!

Spamton slammed his palm into it, banishing it into the aether, and turning quickly to hope to God that Rouxls hadn’t seen. Luckily he was rolling his sleeves up, revealing his forearms, bare and smooth. Spamton smiled. On other Darkners, the image was silly, but on Rouxls…

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, [Angel]?”

“I ameth feeling… confident.”

“YOU DON’T NEED TO [show skin] TO LOOK CONFIDENT,” he said quietly.

“I knoweth,” he replied, “besides, iteth is not much more than whateth I am already revealing.”

That was true, you could already see at least part of his chest in that get up, and that sliver of skin would haunt Spamton in his bed at night, staring up at that bell above his bed, and for the first time in his job, he wished it would ring- but only for one Darkner. He slammed a hand over his face, rubbing faintly to try and banish his thoughts, but the more he did, the more little windows would pop up, revealing gifs of fluttering hearts and advertising terrible, illicit websites. 

“[!?$#!] OFF!” he hissed as he shook his hand at them, thrusting them away until he thrust the covers over his face. “I HATE THIS. I HATE YOU, [Angel]- ROUXLSY- ROUXLS KAARD!”

So he told himself that, again and again, until he fell asleep, but the first thing he did when he saw Rouxls the next day- even in service to the King- was smile, as if he hadn’t seen him in years, and he knew he was in deep shit. He had to turn away, though, and quell his staring when the King cast him a look, raising his brow, and Spamton quickly strode from the room, his arms full of papers from various financial decisions of the King. In the end, Spades just chuckled.

“Poor bastard.”

“Whateth, my liege?”

“The Ace of Spades is in love.”

“Excuseth me?” Rouxls asked, his eyes going wide.

“You can see it from across the room, the way he stares into space. His expression is tender, and distant. He’s thinking about someone. He has been for a long time.”

“...I see…” Rouxls murmured, holding his open and wide stance easily as he cast his eyes to the floor. It took him a while, but he eventually lifted his head and closed his eyes. “‘Tis none of my business.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Of course, my liege.”

Spades kept his eyes on Rouxls, and Rouxls could feel them upon him- hovering and dangerous. Over the last week he had kept himself closer to Rouxls than ever, and it was becoming more and more dangerous to abandon the Castle with Spamton for their performances.

“We mayeth have to stop this,” he told him one day, as they approached the Great Board.

“WHY? WE’RE MAKING [hot deals]!” 

“The King is suspicious… I thinketh he may know.”

“THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE. THE BASTARDS [got no vision].”

Rouxls didn’t respond to that. “Thiseth will be our last show for a while.”

“ARE YOU [serious complications may occur]?!”

“Yeseth. Thou art in danger.”

“WHAT, ME?”

“The King wouldst never harm me, but thou… thou art… what is it thou always say? Free real estate.”

Spamton scoffed, blushing a little. “FINE, FINE- BUT I HOPE YOU REALIZE THE [KR0MER] YOU’RE [giving up].”

“The money doesn’t matter.”

“...[No, it doesn’t]. I JUST HOPE YOU HAVE A REAL [show-stopper] PLANNED.”

Neither Rouxls nor Spamton had the heart to break it to their loyal audience that night. They would have to come up with a way to do so after the show. Rouxls simply sang as he always did, his song loud and boisterous, and Spamton noticed, more than a bit angry.

“If hurting thee is such a crime

I hope thou strikes me down,

This faketh love is killing me

And you’re too dumb to know,

Don’t offer me thou’s freezing hands,

Or smileth with those teeth,

I’d rather be laideth lowe

Then suffer any more of thou’s infernal grief!”

His face was twisted in a scowl. Normally he sang to let out his repressed feelings, and tonight...

“My heart is not thous playground

I never loved thee anyway,

Thou take thous tawdry hands

And leave them whereth they may!

Taketh your fingers from thine face,

And taketh thys feet so far away,

Or else I'll take a blade

And give thou what I have been wanting since that day!

Now ‘tis not too hard to phrase it 

But doubly it hurts,

I’ve gotteth another in my sights but they’re dumber yet, thou know,

The heart i’ve got inside is made of steel, 

But it’s stilleth sugar sweet,

I’ll taketh him to Heaven 

I’ll taketh him to Heaven

I’ll giveth him his Heaven…” 

His eyes opened, seeming to address the audience, but Spamton stared at him, his heart in his throat as he felt Rouxls’s back bump against his own, projecting in a cacophony. Spamton flushed, and leaned back against him, playing quick and dirty, and smiling to himself. A hopeful little grin.

“My heart is not thous playground

I never loved thee anyway,

Thou take thous tawdry hands

And leave them whereth they may!

Purgeth the thought of me far from your head,

Hell or high water, come what may,

Or else I'll take a blade

And giveth thee what I've always wanted to this day!

I’ll giveth thee what I've always wanted to this day-”

A scream cut through the crowd, shocking Spamton so much he tugged hard on a string, and snapped it in twain. A dark figure could be seen in the audience, parting like the sea as Rouxls slunk back, going into a more proper stance as a force of habit, his eyes wide with terror, and before he could react properly, a chain with a spade-shaped tip flung out and wrapped tightly around Spamton’s waist, and dragged him into a moist, toothy oblivion. 

“Oooh, you are in trouble- trouble!”

Spamon groaned loudly as he woke up, grabbing his head and discovering the remnants of saliva still clinging to his hair and uniform. His guitar was gone, presumably digested, and he was alone in a cell, the corners filled with moss and dark stone.

“WHAT’S GOING ON??”

The jester behind the bars giggled, and Spamton swallowed, quickly backing up to the other side of the cell as Jevil grabbed the bars and practically stuck his head inside.

“The King is sooooo upset, upset!”

“YEAH, I GATHERED…” Spamton stammered, trying to get as far away from the joker as possible, but the cell wasn’t that big, and Jevil was soon conjuring the devilsknife before him, twirling it around his hand with a giggle.

“The Duke is sad, sad!”

“WHERE IS HE?!” Spamton exclaimed, “WHERE’S [The Duke of Puzzles]?” If Rouxls ended up getting hurt because of his transgressions…

Well. He would simply commit regicide. 

The devilsknife swung eagerly, and sliced cleanly, and the bars of the cell yielded to it like butter. They snapped in twain, leaving a spot just big enough for Spamton to squeeze through- though he didn’t until Jevil had stepped back far away. 

“You’re free, my terrified Ace!”

Spamton couldn’t look at him- not out of disgust (a little out of disgust), but his phobia grabbed him, even in the face of Jevil’s kindness. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?”

“Would you believe I was sooo bored, bored?”

“YEAH, SURE, WHAT ARE THE [terms and conditions apply]?”

“Keep me amused, Ace! Do not let me down~!”

With a giggle he bounced up onto his tail and scurried away down the hall, and Spamton simply stared at his capricious savior, though he was happy as anything to see him go. It took no time to flee the dungeon, ignoring the faces of the other incarcerated individuals down there as he went back to the Castle, looking for Rouxls. It was dangerous, he knew the smartest thing to do would be to just flee… but he had to see. He had to know. 

Luckily, finding him was easy. All he had to do was follow Lancer’s crying, and sure enough, there was Rouxls, trying to comfort him. He was so busy he didn’t even notice Spamton at first, cooing and singing to the infant- but suddenly Lancer broke out into a grin, and Rouxls turned to see the source of the sudden delight of the child. His eyes widened. “Spamton!?”

“HEY [angel].”

“Whateth art thou doing here!? How didst thou get out of your cell?!”

Spamton crossed the room, going to him and placing his hand on the baby’s head, watching as Lancer chewed on his own fist and beamed up at him. “IT’S [not important], ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

“Of courseth I am fine! Thou needs to leave!”

“I KNOW, I JUST…” 

“No excuses! Go!”

“BUT [angel]-!”

“Donteth maketh this harder than it must be…” he said, his expression twisted into one of grief. “Pleaseth, go find Seam. They willeth help thee.”

“[Angel], WAIT-” 

“ACE!”

His blood went cold as he felt the vibrations of the King’s footfalls approaching, and the clattering of the chains behind him. He whirled around and immediately flung up a massive pop up for downloading RAM, which didn’t stop the chain so much as slow it down a little as it phased through it, just giving him enough time to push him and Rouxls out of the way. Lancer began to wail.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT OF YOUR CAGE?!”

“YOU ALMOST HIT HIM YOU CRAZY [!#?!?!]!”

“GET AWAY FROM THE DUKE, YOU INSOLENT FOOL!”

“YEAH, [make me], [king shit]!”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Spades drawled. “The Duke has a duty to uphold, his loyalty is not in question! Even in the face of your temptations, he knows his true calling!”

Spades threw the chain again, and this time Spamton wasn’t quick enough. It phased through his ad, and smacked him in the cheek, grazing it and slicing open the tough, fabric-like flesh. Rouxls watched, stunned, and did his best to try and calm the flailing infant.

“HE BELONGS TO ME!”

“YOU GOT [a lot of nerve], YOU [!?#$]!” Spamton shouted, grabbing his cheek as blood seeped through his fingers. “YOU’RE SO BUSY BEING FUCKING [100% bittersweet chocolate] ABOUT YOUR DEAD WIFE YOU MAKE EVERYONE’S LIFE A LIVING [Hell in a handbasket]!”

Rouxls wanted to slap his palm over Spamton’s mouth to keep him from digging his own grave further, and Spades roared as he threw out the chain again, but this time Spamton was ready for it. He threw up a pop up, and fled, casting Rouxls one last glance over his shoulder before he did so. There was nothing to be done about it- the Duke wouldn’t throw himself into danger while holding a baby. The King rounded on Spamton, leaving Rouxls in the ruined nursery, but as they approached the first flight of stairs, a tail fell down from the ceiling, and smacked him in the back of the head. Spades stopped, and turned around, just in time to see Jevil swing down from the ceiling, waving at him happily.

“Hello, my vindictive King, King!”

“WHAT, JEVIL!?”

“He’s getting away!”

Spades growled, and turned, stomping down the stairs- but Spamton was smaller, and more nimble, and in his egress, slipped out of a window to plummet into a bush, and hid there until the King and his search party had stalked by- easily the rest of the day, before stumbling out, and dragging himself the one safe place he could think of in the entire Kingdom for a treasonist like him.

“That’s a nasty slice you’ve got there,” Seam had said, placing their paw over it gently to heal the wound. “Whatever did you do to deserve it?”

Spamton didn’t answer at first, merely wishing he had a phone on hand. “JUST A [liquidation sale], KITTY CAT.”

Rouxls had just finished fixing up the nursery again when he was called into the throne room, leaving Lancer in the care of a Head Hathy as he appeared before the King, who was still so angry he could barely see straight. It was over. He had heard his music, he had seen him with Spamton, he was as good as dead. Yet when the King’s eyes fell on him, he smiled.

“Rouxls Kaard, my ever present Duke.”

“Yeseth, my liege.”

“You’ve been with us for quite some time.”

“Sinceth I was young, yeseth.”

“And you recognize the true purpose of your position, do you not?”

“Of courseth,” he said, nodding. “I tendeth to the royal family and maketh puzzles to protect thee.”

“And that is the key word, Duke. Protection.”

He swallowed, not liking at all where this was going.

“The Ace of Spades is a traitor. You I can forgive, for having fallen under his insidious influence, but he… I’m afraid there is no such thing in his future.”

“I donteth know where he has fled, my liege.” 

Spades reached down, and pulled something from beside the throne that made Rouxls pale. The blade was long and sharp, with a spade-shaped tip, and a black hilt, with a spade nestled at the base. He rose, and went to Rouxls, and placed it under his chin to lift it so that he might stare into his beaming, terrible mouth filled with horrible, sharp teeth.

“As my Duke, it is your duty to protect our family.”

“I donteth understand.”

“Find the Ace,” the King ordered, and held the dagger out for him. Rouxls took it obediently. “I know your loyalty is not in question, Rouxls Kaard, and to show your dedication to our Kingdom, and to my rule, you will end his life, and bring me his head.”

“W-Whateth!?”

“He is a traitor, he is dangerous,” Spades drawled. “You’re bigger, you’re stronger. He’s manipulated you. Are you not angry?”

“I- I haveth nevereth taken a life, personally, my liege! I maketh puzzles!”

“Then think of it like a puzzle.”

“I cannot do this…”

“Yes, you can,” Spades insisted, “think of our family. Think of the threat he poses. To me. To Lancer.”

“He’s… he’s not dangerous, my liege! He’s justeth a mere ignorant fool from another Kingdom!”

“Fools like him can be the most troublesome,” he replied. “As my Duke, it is your sworn duty to obey my rule, is that not correct?”

“It… it is…”

“Will you turn your back on me, now, at the darkest of times?”

“...No, my liege.”

Spades tucked a lock of snowy hair behind his ear, as Rouxls stared down at the weapon.

“Bring me his head, and your loyalty will never come into question.”

Rouxls gripped the hilt tightly, his-half lidded eyes trained upon the spade in the handle, expressionless.

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

It wasn't that Rouxls didn't go look for Spamton- he did- he just didn't do a very good job of it. He didn't move far from the Castle, he didn't interrogate any guards or commoners who witnessed his fleeing, and he dedicated more time than ever to Lancer, just to avoid his order. Yet still, as much as he tried to put it out of his mind, it crept its way back in, in his dreams, and sat on his chest like a demon.

Rouxls could feel Spamton’s hair in his hand, and the vibration of the blade as it plunged into his throat, working up his arm. The dagger was an extension of his flesh, and no matter where he intended to touch- to hold, or to warn- the outcome was always the same: his royal blue hands covered in blood. He awoke with a fright, sweating, with tears pouring down his face in rivulets. The Duke clenched the sheets tightly, his shoulders trembling, and he stepped out of his room to pad down the cold stone corridors, all the way to Spamton’s room. He stood in a cloak and nightgown, looking around at the disheveled quarters, and felt the blade strapped to his leg. The King insisted he wear it at all times, in case the Ace returned- in his words- and it weighed Rouxls down like a ball and chain.

"...Oh, Spamton… whereth art thou?" he murmured as he sat on the bed, and let himself flop over to bury his face into his pillow under the cover of night.

(Night in the Card Kingdom wasn't much different from the day, except the darkness became cacophonous. Riotous. Being caught outside was like looking into an abyss, yet somehow, everyone knew when it was day again.)

It smelled like grease, and the last fleeting indulgence of cologne. He couldn't sleep, not after a nightmare like that, so he just hummed to himself- a small comfort. The guitar he'd made had been crushed by the teeth in the King's stomach maw, so he didn't even have that to hold on to. He had no idea how much he would end up missing him, and he hated it. He hated him.

"How dareth thou do this to me…" He whispered, his voice filled with sorrow and ire. "How dareth thou…"

He thought about little, fleeting touches, and pop ups he didn't understand (still convinced it was some very crude magic). About impassioned defenses of Rouxls to Rouxls himself, and smiles. Always that smile- but not his practiced, big shot smile. Spamton had a ridiculous little grin that he thought Rouxls couldn't see at the best of times, but every time he caught it out of the corner of his eye, and filed it away for a rainy day. It had been raining more and more often, lately.

Rouxls had to flee back to his room before the King woke up in the morning, or at Lancer’s first cry, and did his level best to try not to get caught, until the night he went in there, and began to rustle around, making a mess of things, trying to find some clue to his whereabouts.

"What are you doing in here?" Said Spades, causing Rouxls to drop what he was holding in shock. 

"Nothingeth," he replied. "Merely searching for a clue. A way to findeth Spam- the Ace."

It technically wasn't a lie, he just didn't tell him why. Spades entered, looking around, and reached up to place his massive hand on Rouxls's shoulder, brushing his thumb over his neck. He shivered. "Afraid? I cannot blame you."

Rouxls nodded. He technically wasn't lying about that, either.

"Don't worry… it's simple…" said the King, and leaned close to Rouxls, dwarfing his body as he reached down, and slipped the blade from his leg sheath. He felt the knuckles grazing the back of his leg, and glanced to the side as the King pulled away, and picked up Spamton’s pillow tightly, as if by the throat. Rouxls's eyes widened.

"You take hold of his miserable little body, and-" Spades drawled, and sunk the blade into it. He watched in horror as the King annihilated his only comfort in the wake of this whole affair, and finally tore it asunder with the terribly sharp dagger, feathers falling like a blanket of snow around them both. His expression was impassive, but he was wailing inside as the King placed the hilt into Rouxls's hand, and patted the side of his face.

"Like so," said Spades.

"...Yeseth."

"I trust you, my Duke. I trust you won't betray us. Lancer and I. Not for some lowlife traitorous bastard."

"I wonteth."

He could feel his breath on the crown of his head, and his thumb passed over his chin, and treacherously, he contemplated something truly awful. He could have plunged the dagger into his heart, and ended it all right there… but he was his King. Even if Rouxls was realizing his true nature- past all of the excuses he had ever made for him- his arm wouldn't move. He was bound by servitude, and he could have sung about it all he wanted, he could never force himself to act on such a thing. When Spades was finally gone and he slipped the dagger back into the sheath, he went to the eviscerated pillow, and picked it up, and he dragged it to his face- but tears wouldn't flow. He refused, lest the King was listening.

The next day, he left the Castle, vowing not to return without Spamton’s head, and Lancer wailed in protest.

Seam may have had everything they could have ever wanted in the Castle, but for the sake of privacy, their hovel was still far superior. Currently, that was what they needed as they poured over their ancient tomes, playing with curios and reciting spells, trying to see past the Dark. They had heard of mysterious baubles, capable of seeing into another world like shards of glass, and if he could find one, or create one, perhaps then…

"Seam?"

The Magician took pause, and turned to the entrance of their home, closing the book before them. "Ahh, the Duke of Puzzles, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Seam always spoke with a sweet, disarming smile that made it easy to trust them, even when they were transparently hiding something incriminating. Then again, Rouxls couldn't judge. They both were, after all. He pulled his hood down and slipped inside, and looked around at the general mess of the place. It was distasteful, the state of it all, but he had no time to judge the plush cat.

"Iteth is about the Ace of Spades."

"Have you found him, Rouxls?" They asked. "I know your heart is heavy with a most gruesome task."

"...Thou couldst not even imagine…" Rouxls replied. "I needeth to find him."

"And the King sent you to me? Hehe, how curious."

"No, I haveth come to you," he insisted, and stepped forward to hang his head. "Pleaseth… help me find him, if just for the privilege to sayeth goodbye."

"And you will carry out your orders?"

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. "I ameth boundeth by my…" He couldn't even finish the sentence. And Seam placed their paws on him comfortingly. 

"Come. Let me make you a mug of tea."

Rouxls had no idea what Seam had put into the drinks, but it calmed him immensely, and it gave the Duke the lucidity to think straight. As he sipped, Seam watched, and as Rouxls opened his mouth, they cut him off.

"I know where Spamton is."

"Thou do?!" 

"Of course, I hid him, after all."

Rouxls balked. "'Tis treason…"

"The King's law means very little to me, in the long run," Seam confessed. "I follow no law but my own… whatever that is, who's to say? Right now, it merely says to help him find his way home."

Rouxls placed his hands behind his back, looking anywhere but at Seam. "Thateth is for the best. He was truly too big for this world."

"Did you ever tell him that?"

Rouxls chewed on his lower lip. "I haventeth told him nearly enough."

Seam slipped off of their chair, and tugged Rouxls down, placing a paw to the side of his head, and whispering into his ear. A strange spell, privy to only them, and Rouxls's eyes lit up in a flare of white light, and suddenly as it appeared, it was gone.

"The Maze?" He murmured incredulously.

"It is a veritable labyrinth of twists and turns… although, I suppose that is the definition of a maze…" they chuckled. "Some of the alcoves there have been buried for centuries- overgrown and unkempt. Only a fraction of the Maze is capable of commute by Darkners such as us. I merely stowed him into such a safe place while I found him a path away from here… and now, you too know the way. What you do with that information is none of my business."

"The King willeth not rest until he haseth his head…" Rouxls said, "he willeth not believeth that he has returned to his home world… I promised thateth I wouldst not return without it."

"...Why?"

"I kneweth such a thing would giveth me ample time to locate him and… figure... something out."

"Didn't think it through very far, did you?"

Rouxls grimaced and looked away. "Shutteth yon uppeth."

Seam laughed, and scratched at the patch on their head. "Pay my accusations no mind, Duke… actually… if it's buying time you want, I may have a solution that could help us both… I will need something from you in return, however."

"Whateth?" He asked, more eagerly than he meant to. "Pleaseth… I willst do anything to helpeth him and end this nightmare."

Seam grinned, and gestured for him to come closer, and when Rouxls did, they reached down to his leg to unsheath the dagger, and plunged it into the Duke's chest.

The Maze was thick and beset with all varieties of trees and flora, each creating a thick blanket of red that overtook the entire landscape. There were places impossible to see the sky through, the canopies were so rich and full, and as Rouxls walked through it according to the directions Seam had given he clutched at his chest, where he could feel the heavy weight of the blade beside his heart.

Quite literally.

"Ofeth all the ways to hideth a weapon…" Rouxls grumbled. He supposed it made sense, in some God forsaken way- Seam was just like this. At least it was painless, and necessary. If Spamton knew of his duty… he may hate him all over again. It took a long time- longer than Rouxls had imagined it would from the simple way the route was offered to him, and the longer we walked, the more and more riotous the reddery became. At one point, he could have swore he saw a vine or two moving towards him, but he was resolute- after all, he knew the way.

He didn’t stop until he pushed himself through a wall of plants that had grown over- it was the way Seam said to go, after all- and suddenly he was met with a crude campsite, where someone had thrown together a bed of nonsense that almost appeared like a nest of stolen blankets and cushions from around the surrounding area, and piles of Dark Candies. The slipshod state of the place solidified it in Rouxls’s mind: this had to be him. He wasn’t there, though, perhaps out foraging as the Candy would suggest he had taken to, so he stepped forward into the alcove to investigate. There was nothing of value, except his uniform jacket. 

“Iseth he running around naked?” Rouxls thought to himself as he picked it up. It was filthy, no doubt from rummaging through the underbrush, as he heard a rustling behind him, and whirled around just to see Spamton himself pushing himself through the plants with his arms full of more Candy. It made sense- a single one couldn’t possibly be enough to fill a grown man, no matter how tiny he was.

“[!$#!?!] PLANTS… I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE [wonders of nature]...” he grumbled before lifting his head, and everything fell unceremoniously from his arms. He was in an undershirt, at least, and his two-toned uniform pants, but he only had one shoe, and was scuffed up from wrestling with the environment. Sometimes literally. “ROUXLS…”

Rouxls felt the knife in his chest, but nothing could distract him fully from the hammering of his heart. Spamton stepped over the piles of nonsense, and went to him, quicker than he wanted to, but at least he stopped before he could throw his arms around the man. Long moments passed, of him staring at Rouxls and Rouxls staring at him, and as he was about to speak, Rouxls beat him to the punch by pulling him into an embrace, though he had to practically kneel down to do so.

“Thou art alright, oh thank God.”

“HOW’D YOU [find great deals near you]?”

“Seam told me where you were,” he said, seeing no reason to lie. Spamton, on the other hand, cursed up a storm.

“[!?#$] CAT PLAYS BY THEIR OWN [terms and conditions]...” he grumbled, even as he wrapped his arms around Rouxls and buried his face into his shoulder. Rouxls was always impeccably groomed and he always smelled like fruit- it was a comfort. Next to him, he couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Even as an Addison, he tried to keep himself decent, but it looked like he had been through the ringer. In Rouxls’s arms, he forgot all about Seam very quickly, merely closing his eyes, and treacherously letting his face nuzzle against the Duke’s neck. Rouxls allowed it.

“We misseth thou, at the Castle.” 

Spamton let out a bark of laughter, “NO YOU [don’t], STOP [lying].”

“Welleth… alright, someth of them do not misseth thou.”

“TRY MOST OF YOU,” he said, and he meant to pull away in disgust, but he only gripped him tighter.

“Wouldst thou believe that I misseth thee?”

“...MAYBE…”

Rouxls slowly pulled back, and Spamton could feel his warm, spun-sugar hair brushing against his face in a terribly beguiling way. His eyes fell closed, and he reached up, his fingers curling into it for a moment, until it slipped between them like falling snow. He clenched his eyes, as if blinking out the stars before turning to walk around him, and picking up the Candies to throw them into his pile. “I neededth to see you.”

“WELL YOU [saw] ME, YOU’LL WANNA GET BACK TO YOUR [king shit] NOW.”

“Spamton,” he said, rising to his full height. “I…”

“WHAT?” he said, clenching his fists as he turned back to him. “WHAT ELSE COULD YOU POSSIBLY NEED TO [say it to my face], ROUXLSY? [Sooner rather than later] I’LL BE HOME GETTING HUNTED DOWN BY A DIFFERENT MONARCH, SO IT’S BETTER IF YOU JUST… IF YOU JUST IF YOU JUST IF YOU JUST…”

He lifted his forearm to wipe his eyes under the dealmakers. 

“IF YOU JUST IF YOU JUST IF YOU JUST …”

He had to stop as he felt a hand combing through his hair, his glitching quelled almost instantly as his breath tore in and out of his chest furiously- but not because of Rouxls. He couldn’t stay mad at him, even if he wanted to. His hair was completely free of product, and had been for a while, leaving it fluffy and hard to manage. He looked like some kind of clown around town.

“I donteth wanteth to leave… not justeth yet.”

“COME ON, ROUXLSY… DON’T [do me dirty] LIKE THIS…” Spamton replied, and closed his eyes to tilt his head and nuzzle into his palm as his gloved hand moved to his cheek. “GOD, IF ONLY YOU HAD MET ME WHEN I [was somebody]... WHEN I HAD [the whole world on a string]... MAYBE THEN I COULD GIVE YOU WHAT YOU DESERVE.”

“Art thou joking?” Rouxls said, smiling a little. “Thou art an Ace.”

“YEAH, YEAH, THE [lowest card in the deck]...”

“Or the highest,” Rouxls corrected, and leaned down to let his lips linger softly in his hair, his other hand squeezing his broad shoulder tightly. “The only card that can trumpeth a King…”

Spamton wanted to pull away, to yell, to do something other than tilt his head up, and brush his face over Rouxls’s, tilting it so that he could linger so close to him. “ROUXLSY… BABY… [angel]...”

“Shh…” he hushed.

“JUST GO…” Spamton murmured, “PLEASE, I’M [begging on my knees]...” 

Rouxls didn’t leave. All he did was linger, afraid that even the slightest of movements would break the fragile moment. Spamton hated it… for once in his life he was trying to do the right thing, and here was the Duke, making it so incredibly difficult to fall back into old habits. He wasn’t the kind of person to turn down anything, especially if it was something he wanted so badly he could die. When Rouxls did pull away he sighed in relief, but his eyes shot open when he saw him tugging off the jacket of his uniform, revealing the dress shirt beneath, and pulling off his gloves with a motion that somehow looked so elegant. Everything looked elegant when Rouxls did it, god DAMMIT.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING…?”

“Makething myself comfortable.”

“WHY AREN’T YOU LEAVING?”

“Maybe I am notteth ready to go back… art thou kicking me out?”

A pop up popped up in front of Spamton’s chest. ALL ALONE ON A LATE NIGHT? He banished it.

“YOU… KNOW I [can’t pass up these great deals] EVEN IF I WANTED TO.”

Rouxls just smiled, and walked past him, further into the alcove. “Ifeth thiseth is to be our last night together… I wanteth to make it count.”

Spamton didn’t answer that. He knew it was true. Rouxls had his everything back at the Card Castle, and hopefully sooner rather than later, Seam would be sending him back home (and thank god for it, he was getting sick of living off of Dark Candy). This… really would be their last time seeing each other. So, he took off after him, all the way to the middle of the alcove and sank down onto his nest bed as Rouxls sat beside him, smiling sadly. Without the top of his uniform, he looked just like any other Darkner. Maybe… maybe Spamton could pretend he was. Just for one night.

“Telleth me again about how thou used to be a Big Shot.”

He laughed. “COME ON, AREN’T YOU [sick to death] OF THAT STORY?”

“Sicketh to death of thee? No, I do not think so.”

Never passing up an opportunity to talk about himself, Spamton regaled Rouxls yet again with the story of his growth from simple unlucky Addison to the purveyor of Big Shot Autos and close friend of the ruler of Cyber World herself. He ended up speaking passionately about cars and the act of selling them, spreading his arms out widely, and conjuring ads that showed off what he looked like in his little red suit. Rouxls smiled widely, and laughed a little, and that little laugh changed his ads into ones for half-priced Valentine’s Day presents and illicit hotlines. He sighed wistfully, and began to swipe them away before Rouxls grabbed his hand, and stopped him.

“I haveth always been curious about these…” Rouxls said, before reaching out, and hovering a fingertip over a button that read TELL ME MORE…

“NO NO NO DON’T CLICK THAT…!”

It was too late. Rouxls’s finger came into contact with the ad, and as it did, hundreds more seemed to spring into existence, powered solely by Spamton’s heart. They all fluttered with hearts and cherubs, shooting holographic arrows through the air on tiny little wings (all of which looked suspiciously like Spamton). 

LONELY HEARTS GOT YOU DOWN?

FIND THE PERFECT VALENTINE’S GIFT!

RENT WEDDING DRESSES AND TUXEDOS! 25% OFF!

Spamton looked nervously at Rouxls as the light bounced off of their faces, but Rouxls was looking at them like you looked at the stars, and with the way the glowing, pixelated surfaces bounced off his hair, it looked like he was wearing a halo. He began to breathe hard again, more pop ups rising around them until the air was clogged with them.

FREE PSYCHIC READINGS! FIND YOUR TRUE LOVE TODAY!

The puppet waved his free hand, trying to get rid of them, but in the nature of spam ads, all it did was spawn more. At least they backed off a little, giving them some room to breathe. “[Angel] LISTEN, I MEAN, THESE SHOW UP FOR EVERYBODY, IF YOU HADN’T OF [click today!] I COULD CONTROL THEM BETTER BUT…”

Rouxls squeezed his hand, staring into his face. Spamton had to swallow, but his mouth and throat felt very dry. Drier yet, when Rouxls lifted his other hand to tilt up the dealmakers, and gaze into his pink and yellow eyes properly. “DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, [angel].”

“Howeth else am I supposed to look at thee?”

“LIKE YOU HATE ME.”

“Whyest would I do that?”

“BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE DOES,” he murmured. “IT’S SO MUCH EASIER.”

“I couldeth never.”

“PLEASE, DON’T…”

He didn’t stop him as lips touched his face, just beneath his eye. He trembled a little, and glanced down at him- the man was so close he could see him without the dealmakers, and he dropped them into the grass to slide his hands up his shoulders, and stroke his neck as Rouxls peppered kisses across his face, his forehead, his jaw… his mouth. Kissing a puppet was bizarre- but no one could ever say Spamton G. Spamton was a quitter. The salesman brought up a hand to rest in his hair, and tugged him closer still, returning his embrace with slow exuberance.

“YOU’RE TERRIBLE, [blue raspberry]...” Spamton muttered as his head went back, and Rouxls kissed deeply and sweetly over his neck. “HERE I AM, DOING MY [best] NOT TO- NOT TO- NOT TO- OH [god in H E A V E N] [angel]!”

“Hmm?” Rouxls hummed, looking up at him from where he was teasing his teeth over the crook of his neck, his dream-like expression and that peek of blue collarbone making Spamton’s heart throb… among other things.

“...TELL ME YOU WANT ME…” he begged. “ME. SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. I NEED IT LIKE I NEED [a million bucks], ROUXLSY, I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE [lying to my face]...!”

He lifted himself up and kissed him again, and slammed him back down into the nest of blankets. It was a bit difficult to maneuver, with Spamton’s long, pointy nose, but Rouxls managed with finesse.

“I do needeth thee,” he whispered, so close that no one could hear even if they weren’t alone, a ways away from civilization. A ways away from the harsh realities of the Card Kingdom. “Foreth some time now thou have swam in my blood, and rendereth me a fool. Aftereth everything, can thou really turneth me away?”

“YOU KNOW I CAN’T, DAMMIT,” Spamton said, frustrated as much as he was addle-paddled. “YOU KNOW I CAN’T YOU KNOW I CAN’T YOU KNOW I-”

Rouxls kissed him silent, and his glitching subsided. He pulled back once it was alright. “Spamton. Whateth a curious name that is…”

“I MEAN… IT’S FUNNY BUT IT’S [mine].”

“I knoweth,” Rouxls replied, his fingers gently brushing the bottom of his undershirt, and teasing just beneath it. Spamton could feel his fingertips just touching the fabric-like skin of his torso, and shuddered. “Thateth is what makes it lovely.”

“THEN SAY IT.”

“Spamton.”

“LIKE YOU MEAN IT, [angel].”

Rouxls chuckled, bending down and whispering his name into his ear again and again, and letting his body press down upon him. It made the puppet shudder as he let his hands glide up his chest, and tease a button open on his shirt- and then another, and another, exposing the other man. He nipped at his slender throat, and Rouxls tilted his head back from it, allowing him full access to the warm, smooth slope of his body.

“GOD, I’VE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS…”

“How often?”

“A LOT.”

“Dost thou… do anything about it?”

“[Once you start, the fun don’t stop!], DON’T TEASE ME, [angel]!”

“I will teaseth thee all I wish~”

“YOU’RE MORE TROUBLE THAN YOU’RE WORTH!”

He didn’t mean that, and luckily Rouxls just laughed. All of that laughter filled his heart to the brim, and he could have lived off of it for years. It felt like a feast, not just of the Duke’s body but of the sheer presence of the man, and he made sure to savor it. As lips trespassed over delicate skin and surged lower and lower, he felt like a real big shot again. He’d had beautiful things in his arms before, and his appetite was wild, but none like Rouxls. None ever felt like Rouxls. Next to him, he realized how many of his past flings had just been going through the motions, looking for a warm body to accompany him throughout the cold, Cyber City nights. This was full of heat, and then, the Duke touched him eagerly. Needfully- like he was more than a name, especially now that his name meant nothing in the eyes of almost everyone. Almost everyone. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that now, of all times, would be the time he finally found someone he could feel like this with, after chasing success for so long. He would end up thinking about that after they finished, with Rouxls curled around him like a suit of armor, pressing his chest into his back. A heartbeat reverberated through him, and he just stared out at the red trees and hanging vines and flowers. He supposed nature could be beautiful, in the right circumstances. Rouxls was caressing his fingers over his whole body, and it was easy, when he fit against him so well. 

“Art thou alright?” he murmured, curling his arm around his neck gently to tuck his head close to his ear. “Thou art very quiet.”

“I’M [better than ever], [angel],” he confessed. “JUST… TRYING NOT TO THINK ABOUT TOMORROW.”

“I knoweth… me too. Rest, now. Tomorrow is hours away, still. Hopefully, Seam will have cometh through.”

Spamton sighed, and pressed his face into a pillow he’d stolen from some Darkner’s home on the way to Seam’s, thinking he might need one, wherever he was going. He slid it over a little, that Rouxls might share. Sharing. Good lord, he did have it bad.

“ROUXLSY…” 

“Yeseth?”

“...NAH.”

“Whateth?”

“NOTHING, JUST SOME [tightness and weight in my chest].”

“Shouldeth I be concerned?”

“I’M TOUGHER THAN I LOOK.”

“I knoweth. Go to sleep.”

Rouxls must have had some kind of power, because after he said that, sleep came easy for Spamton. He laid flush against him, snoozing gently, and Rouxls kept his eyes closed and his breathing as even as he could before pulling away, and sitting up to roll Spamton onto his back. His head fell to the side, exposing his neck, and all while holding his breath, Rouxls reached his fingers into his chest with a moment of discomfort, to drag out the spade dagger, as Seam had shown him how to do.

Then, his eyes brimming with pent-up tears, he brought it down upon Spamton, and sliced.

“Duke of Puzzles, what a surprise.”

Rouxls stood before Spades in the throne room, his expression blank as he held up the sack he was holding, and dropped it at the King’s feet. Lancer, tucked within Spade’s arm, was chewing on his little fist, and looked curiously upon the two of them.

“Is it done?”

“He wonteth bother us any longer.”

“I see you’re missing part of your uniform,” said the King, gesturing down to Rouxls’s missing glove. He held up his hand and flexed his fingers. 

“‘Twas covered in blood. It seemed unseemly to bring it into thou’s presence.”

Spades laughed. “You know I don’t care about such things. Red is a good look on you,” he purred. “Now, show me.”

Swallowing, Rouxls slowly bent to undo the drawstring around the sack, and reached inside. He slowly pulled out the bloodied, severed head of Spamton G. Spamton, and held it aloft before his King. Lancer laughed, not recognizing the gruesome sight before him- only the visage of his newest friend. Spades smirked, and reached out, grabbing it by the hair to hold it at arm’s length admiringly.

“Oh yes… I know just where to put you, now, Ace,” he growled, and tossed it to a Head Hathy, who caught it with no small bit of fear. “You’ve done well, Rouxls.”

Rouxls carried himself well in front of Spades, even if the lump in his throat was so painful it made him feel as though he were about to sob. He was lucky- the only reason the King didn’t try anything untoward was because he was carrying his son, but he shuddered to think of what he might try if he hadn’t been. 

“I needeth to go… rest.”

“Of course. It has been, after all, quite the journey for you. Sleep well, knowing that your loyalty will never be in question again.”

“Nevereth?”

“For as long as you live and serve our family, Rouxls Kaard.”

Bowing his head, Rouxls backed out of the throne room and retreated to his own room. Once inside, and the heavy doors locked, he fell to his knees, covering his mouth so that he would not scream out in frustration.

“GOD… DAMMIT!” 

When Spamton awoke, he found himself alone, and on the receiving end of a rather unfortunate haircut. In fact, a good chunk of his mullet had been taken off, and he only realized it when he ran a hand through his hair, and blinked curiously.

“WHAT?” he said to himself, scrambling to put on the dealmakers and looking around the alcove. “ROUXLS? ROUXLS!”

He didn't want to believe he was alone, not after last night, but the only thing left of Rouxls’s presence in the clearing was a single blue glove, and various strands of errant black hair that he recognized as his. “WHAT THE [!@?#!]...?”

Spamton picked up the glove, and held it to his face for a moment, imagining delicate fingers moving across his blushing cheeks… but the fact that he’d been given a haircut wouldn’t leave his mind. There was only one Darkner who could even possibly tell him why- one Darkner that wasn’t Rouxls.

“SEAM!” he shouted, slamming open the door to their hovel, and met with a grisly sight. Seam was there, alright, but he wasn’t expecting to see the magician holding his severed head over a cauldron, nor the sight of at least ten of them littering the floor. He pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to keep from throwing up, before slamming the door shut, and storming up to him to grab the cat by the collar. “EXPLANATION, KITTY CAT, NOW!”

“Oh, just a little miscommunication,” Seam explained. “There was so much hair, I suppose the cauldron thought I wanted more than one, hehe…”

“...WHAT.”

“The Duke must have closed his eyes when he made the cut, very sloppy.”

“WHAT.”

Seam sat him down, and explained. They explained the nature of the spell they had concocted, capable of making a copy of Spamton’s body. They explained the duress Rouxls had been placed under to perform the iniquitous deed by the King, and how he’d come to them, and the solution Seam had offered. How they told Rouxls where to find him, and of the Duke’s emotional desperation. All the while Spamton wrung the glove in his hands, his fury rising, until all he could picture in his head was strangling the King for even thinking about putting Rouxls through this.

“-And then it spat out another, and another, and now I have to clean up this mess,” Seam finished with. “I trust you and the Duke had a pleasant reunion in the Maze? Spamton?”

Spamton shot out of his chair, and slammed his fist down upon a nearby workstation, swinging his hands across the surface and throwing books and baubles onto the floor. He shrieked, and glitched, and kicked and tore things off the walls, and Seam watched impassively as the puppet had his tantrum. It wasn’t like he could make the place even more of a mess than it already was. When Spamton was done, he pointed at Seam with a dire expression.

“YOU!” he cried.

“Hm? Me.”

“I WANT BACK INTO THAT CASTLE!” he bellowed, “I WANNA GIVE THAT [king shit] A [beatdown] HE’LL NEVER [!@?#$] FORGET! I WANT THE WHOLE [&!#$?!] KINGDOM TO SEE HOW MUCH OF A PATHETIC [slime] HE IS!”

“If you show your face at the Castle, the penalty could be severe. Most likely death.”

“I. DON’T. CARE!” he bellowed, pop ups bursting out of his head, but they were all filled with garbage noise. “I’M TAKING ROUXLS, AND THE [fifty percent off baby supplies], AND GETTING THE [!?#$] OUT OF THIS BLACKJACK CANDYLAND [hyperlink blocked]!”

“And Lancer? Oho, an even more dire punishment would await you if you were caught. Torture, probably.”

“ROUXLS IS PRACTICALLY HIS [father’s day is right around the corner] ANYWAY! NOW ARE YOU GONNA [press F1 for help] ME OR NOT!?”

Seam chuckled, and clasped their paws together. “Well… I do love a good treason…” 

“GET ME SOME [don’t miss out on our new offer] CLOTHES!” Spamton cried, gesturing to his pink and yellow trousers. “I’M [ten days sick leave out of the year for your convenience as a Big Shot Autos employee] OF LOOKING LIKE SOME CARD KINGDOM BITCH!”

“Anything else?” Seam laughed. 

“YEAH, FIX MY HAIR!”

Seam immediately went to work, working around the mess Spamton had made, and giving him a rag to wrap himself in. He insisted that he simply trust him, and Spamton- despite himself- did, flinging it around his shoulders, only to have it close around him like a cocoon, and fall to the floor. He struggled, but soon went limp, and after about an hour, it tore open, and the salesman pulled himself out of it a brand new man. He was wearing a deep red button down shirt with the collar popped around his neck, and a dark blue diamond emblazoned on the chest. High waisted pants with another diamond studding the waist to keep them fastened, and black boots that rose to the thigh, shining leather even in the dim light of Seam’s hovel. His hair was indeed symmetrical again, and in fact a bit longer than usual, but slicked back as if graced with pomade, despite being as clean as anything. Seam themselves, who was reading through a book, ever researching, gave him a smile of approval, and Spamton shot him a thumbs up.

“LOOKIN’ LIKE ACES, KITTY CAT. THANKS.”

“A thank you from Spamton? I’m flattered.”

“DON’T GET USED TO IT, [no such thing as a free lunch].”

“Do you truly plan to go after the King defenseless? He’ll tear you to pieces.”

“OH, I’M NOT DEFENSELESS, NOT DEFENSELESS AT ALL,” Spamton flexed his wrist, and twittered his fingers. “I’VE JUST BEEN BEING [good].”

“Good? Up until now?” Seam laughed. “If that’s you being good, i’d hate to see you bad.”

“WELL GET READY FOR [Spamton’s comeback specil], KITTY!” he exclaimed with a smirk, far more wicked than one from any ad, “OH, AND, UH… SORRY ABOUT THE MESS.”

“It brightens up the place,” they replied, waving their paw gently. “Go forth, commit your carnage. Rescue your Duke. I’ll be here when you’re done. Oh, and if you see Jevil, do tell him to visit more often. He’s fun company.”

Shrugging, Spamton stepped out of the hovel, and glared off in the distance at the veneer of the Card Castle, just peeking over the horizon. Where the King was, where Rouxls was. He tugged on the collar of his new shirt, revealing the glistening spade at his throat, that he just wasn’t even bothering to hide anymore. Let the King see what had become of his precious stone- what Rouxls really thought of him.

“ALRIGHT, BIG SHOT,” Spamton said to himself, his eyes narrow, “TIME TO GO.”

Chapter Text

Spamton was never the kind of Darkner who could insist they moved with anything remotely approaching grace. He was a rough and tumble Addison, and had been ever since he had been conceived in Cyber City. He worked on cars, he got dirty, he was scrappy. It was probably one of the reasons he never sold things as well as he did, and the reason he did sell as well as he did when Mike was on his side. However, when he made his way back to Card Castle, with only one thing on his mind, he moved with finesse that he would never have guessed he was even capable of. He was swift, and quick, a strength he owed to his small stature, and avoided every single Rudinn, Hathy, and even Clover (who was still slightly upset and not being able to take a bite out of him the first time) while en route. Find Rouxls and Lancer, and deal with the King- that was his goal, and if he had to do it all by himself, so be it.

The problem was that he couldn’t if he couldn’t even get into the Castle to start with. The place was flanked with guards throughout the entire inside and out, and he swallowed at the sight of it all. All he could do was hunker down in a bush, and think.

“I COULD TRY AND CLIMB TO THE [brand new insulated windows]...” Spamton mused, watching a couple guards slither by. “BUT IF I’M CAUGHT I’M A [!#$?!] SITTING [duck hunt] SCALING A BUILDING… TUNNELING IS OUT, NO TIME… NO QUIET PLACE EITHER… IF ONLY I HAD A [pipe bomb] OR SOMETHING… THAT WOULD REALLY CAUSE A LITTLE CHAOS!”

“Did someone say chaos, chaos?”

Spamton nearly leapt out of the bush as Jevil snuggled his way inside, and sat directly beside the puppet, so close they were shoulder-to-shoulder, and he could giggle at him as Spamton somehow lost all the colour in his cheeks. “What a cute new outfit, Ace!”

“SHOO, CLOWN, DON’T BOTHER ME!” he ejaculated. “THIS BUSH [ain’t big enough for the both of us]!”

“All of this time, and all of my hard work, and we’re still not friends?” Jevil grabbed his ears and tugged on them, making a despondent face. Spamton made his own, though it was more angry than anything.

“WE WERE NEVER [friend request accepted]!”

“OH! You wound, wound, me, puppet!” Jevil cried, placing a hand over his heart. “Then I suppose I shouldn’t help you get inside undetected!”

“YEAH, RIGHT, I SHOULD TRUST THE [clown around town] AFTER THE KING SENT HIS [employee of the month] TO TRY AND KILL ME. THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, ACE.”

“You are the Ace in the deck,” Jevil giggled. “And anyhow, I do know a way, way! One that’s guaranteed to upset our Majesty!”

Spamton knew this mission required subtlety, but for an Addison as bombastic as him, he was easily tempted by the promise of pissing off the King even further. He nodded finally, and as Jevil held out his gloved hand to shake, Spamton swallowed, turned his head away, and grasped it with his own. Then, he quickly pulled away. “A DEALS A DEAL, [clown]! SHOW ME THAT ENTRANCE!” 

He didn’t have time to set down any ground rules for their tentative partnership before Jevil grabbed him by the wrist, and thrust them out of the bush, sinking into the shadows of the Castle walls and creeping along quickly, almost too fast for Spamton to move. He focused as well as he could on following Jevil’s lead, but something ate at him.

“HEY CLOWN!”

“Hmm? Yes, yes, puppet?”

“WHERE’S ROUXLS?”

“The Duke is with the little Prince, Prince! In the nursery!” he explained. “The King is very angry with him!”

Spamton swallowed, “SPADES KNOWS I’M NOT [dead as a doornail]?”

“Oh! No, no! The Duke will not sing, sing!” Jevil said, “not to him, not to Lancer. It is as if someone has clipped his wings~”

Spamton clenched his fists, and ground his teeth, but he kept his ranting to under his breath, until Jevil dragged him all the way to a side of the Castle he didn’t recognize, and put a finger to his lips.

“Here, here!” he exclaimed, and pulling back a piece of shrubbery, revealed a rather large crack in the stone. “It’s too small for a Rudinn or Hathy, but it’s just the right size for you and I!”

"AND HOW DO I KNOW YOU'RE NOT [leading me into an excruciating demise]?" Spamton replied incredulously, before he watched as the jester practically pirouetted into the crack, and held his hand out for Spamton to join him.

"It's lonely in here, all by my lonesome!" Spamton sighed, and grabbed a hold of him to allow himself to be yanked inside. Into the unknown. It was a tight squeeze, and he could only shimmy deeper inwards as Jevil held onto his hand, and Spamton couldn't help shake a bit from it. A clown was touching him, and he was allowing it! It was unheard of! It was obscene! It was-

"We're here, here!"

"WHAT?" Spamton said as they popped out of the crack and into a flowering plant. "THIS IS THE COURTYARD!"

"It is, it is!" Jevil replied, bouncing on his tail and yawning a bit. "You know your way from here?"

"AROUND THE WHOLE [rent a bouncy castle for your son or daughter's birthday party today!] BASICALLY, WHY?" He said, turning around, but Jevil was already gone. He huffed in distaste. "I'D SAY YOU CAN'T DEPEND ON A [clown], BUT…"

The longer Spamton walked through the garden, the more disgusted he felt. The King treated this place like hallowed ground, to the point that he allowed his grief to tower over everyone's lives like a selfish bastard. The irony was not lost on the puppet- after all. He had towered over everyone in Cyber City, and he made it everyone's problem… but not like this. For one thing, he never put his hands on anyone, and he never ordered a hit on anyone (not even on Swatch).

Still, the echoing notion that he and Spades were even remotely similar made his blood boil, and when he looked up and saw the Spade Queen's bust in front of the opulent mausoleum, he grabbed it and slammed it against the cement, shattering it instantly, to his palpable surprise. 

"IT'S HOLLOW?!" He exclaimed, "WHAT [ninety-nine cent] SHODDY CRAFTSMANSHIP-?!"

He paused when he noticed something glimmering in the dull light of the garden, and cautiously reached down among the shards to grab for it. It was a key, a rather unremarkable one at that, adorned with a spade. Sensing its importance, he tried to shove it with difficulty into the pockets of his tight trousers. Failing that, he stowed it in his boot. The pants were inconvenient, but they made his behind look good.

Turning away from the monument to continue on, he was met with an even more grisly sight. Across the garden was a statue of a Rudinn Guard with no head- in its place was Spamton's, precariously perched atop the stone, and the perfect angle with which to stare into his own dead eyes. A bead of sweat dripped down his face, not only at the morbidity of the scene, but the disrespect as well. Honestly, he'd almost have preferred it to be on a pike. 

"THIS [[king shit]] IS [[sick]]..." He murmured before sidestepping the statue, choosing not to mess with it. He'd seen enough already to only bolster his resolve. He needed to get Rouxls and get out of here. Kid or no kid. So he stole away down the corridors before guards could arrive, and the shattering did alert some of them. As much as he hated the little sponge, he did actually wish Jevil had stuck with him, if only to act as a distraction whenever someone slithered by, and he had to slink into the shadows. It was easy, despite his white skin. Night was falling.

When he finally did get to the nursery, he was surprised to find it unguarded- either they were investigating the noise, or Rouxls wasn't really in there. Testing the door revealed it was locked, and after looking behind him, he slammed his fist onto it. No answer.

"ROUXLS!"

A whimper could be heard from inside that was painfully Lancer’s distraught whining, but he couldn't be in there alone…

"ROUXLS!"

"Begone, worme."

Spamton lit up, on one hand, but on the other, he had never heard Rouxls so miserable. "ROUXLSY, IT'S SPAMTON! IT’S YOUR [[BIG SHOT]]!"

There was a moment's pause before Spamton heard light footfalls, and the door heaved open, revealing Rouxls standing there, heating Lancer in one arm, a shocked and dismayed expression on his face. "S-Spamton… whateth art thou doing here?!"

"I SHOULD BE ASKING YOU THE SAME [frequently asked question], [angel]! YOU NEED TO WORK ON YOUR HAIRDRESSING SKILLS!"

Rouxls clammed up, and bounced Lancer to keep him calm. "I thoughteth if thou knew of thine mission, thou would despiseth me… I wantedeth thou to be free from this torment, once and for all-!"

He was cut off by Spamton pushing inside and grabbing him by the sides of his face, dragging him into a firm, wild kiss that left nips and nibbles across his plump blue lips. Rouxls juggled Lancer in his arms, but ultimately closed his eyes and returned Spamton’s kisses, only pulling away when the infant began to try and scramble away.

"I'M GETTING YOU AND THE KID [out of here], [angel], DON'T TRY AND CONVINCE ME NOT TO."

Rouxls's eyes went wide as he held Lancer close. "Sucheth a thing wouldst be  kidnapping!" 

"[Big whup]!" Spamton grumbled, "YOU'RE PRACTICALLY THIS KID'S FATHER ANYWAY. EVER SINCE I GOT HERE, THE ONLY ONE I'VE EVER SEEN WITH THE [little rascal] IS YOU!"

"Spades haseth his moments."

"NOT ENOUGH, AND YOU KNOW IT!" He cried, "HE'S A [!#$&!] FATHER AND HE TREATS YOU LIKE HIS [property values gone through the roof this season]! HOW ELSE CAN I GET THIS THROUGH THAT PRETTY LITTLE SKULL OF YOURS?!"

"I cannote justeth leave!" Rouxls almost shouted, even if it pained him. "It wouldst be treason! I wouldst be giving up my entire lyfe! Everything I haveth ever known is here!"

Spamton’s gaze softened, and he stepped forward to place a hand on Rouxls's cheek. He did seem taller, perhaps it was the boots. 

"ROUXLS…" He murmured, "BABY, LISTEN TO ME… YOU'RE [better than our competitors] THAN THIS. YOU DESERVE [nice things], AND IT STARTS WITH GETTING [outta dodge]. WE CAN GO SOMEWHERE, RAISE THE KID OURSELVES. HE DOESN'T EVEN NEED TO KNOW WHO [king shit] EVEN IS. COME ON…"

Rouxls balked faintly at him. "Thou wouldst leaveth myself aloneth to raise a childe on the run from an entire kingdom? Art thou mad?! Thou willeth be returning home, and then whateth is there for thy?!"

"THEN I WON'T GO HOME!" Spamton nearly yelled, the only thing keeping him from doing so being Lancer’s increased agitation. "I'LL STAY A [stranger in a strange land]! THERE'S NOTHING… WAITING FOR ME BACK IN THE CITY ANYWAY!"

"Spamton! Do noteth be foolish! 'Tis your home! Thou needeth to return! Justeth forget about me."

"AM I HEARING THIS RIGHT? THIS IS ROUXLS KAARD I'M TALKING TO,  RIGHT?" He grabbed his hand and brought it to his mouth, brushing it over his palm gently. "WHAT'S GOT YOU SO SELFLESS?"

"What haseth thou…?"

He sighed harshly. "YOU, YOU [little idiot]! YOU MAKE A GUY WANNA BE [wanted in all fifty states]! YOU MAKE A GUY WANNA BURN A KINGDOM DOWN! AT THE VERY LEAST… YOU MAKE A GUY WANNA [leave it all behind]... I CAME HERE TO GET YOU… I CAN'T DO THIS [[without you]]."

"Doeth what?"

Spamton grinned. "TAKE DOWN A KING, [angel]."

"Thou art past mad, thou art utterly insane…" Rouxls murmured, hushing his voice. "Thou will commit regicide?!" 

"NO. JUST HURT HIM A LITTLE. COME ON, YOU'VE ALREADY COMMITTED [treason in the eyes of the law] BY LETTING ME LIVE."

That… was technically true. He had gone against a direct order behind the King's back, and fooled him with a mimic. The penalty could be severe, even for him, and for Spamton there was no telling how deep the well of cruelty of the King could go. It was all extremely dangerous… they would be the most wanted men in the Card Kingdom- but Rouxls wouldn't be living in a shadow any more, sleeping through the motions of life like he had been, before Spamton’s arrival. 

The puppet kissed his hand again. "COME ON, [angel], IGNITE A REVOLUTION WITH ME."

With a swallow, and a nod, Rouxls turned back to him, resolute. "Yeseth, I will."

"THAT'S MY [blue raspberry]~" Spamton purred.

"Whateth is thou's plan, then? The Castle is swarming with guards to keep more of you out. No more Aces, thateth is his decree."

"ALRIGHTY, DO YOU KNOW OF ANY [secret hideaways] YOU COULD ESCAPE FROM? YOU'RE TOO BIG FOR THE GAP IN THE GARDEN."

Rouxls thought a moment, before sighing. "Thereth is the King's protective chamber. Thine Spade Queen built it to vanish through in case there was ever an invasion. For Lancer’s sake. Alas, it is hopeless, yonder room demands a key, and only thine King knows whereth it resides!"

Spamton paused, and slowly reached into his boot to pull out that key carved with the spade. "LIKE THIS?"

Rouxls blinked, and snatched it from him, holding it up to peer at it. "Whereth did thou findeth this?!"

"IT WAS IN THE QUEEN’S HEAD."

"Remarkable… we canneth useth this to escape the Castle grounds! Only the King wouldst ever suspect a thing!"

"YEAH, THAT'S WHY YOU GOTTA [take the midnight train] OUTTA HERE, [angel]."

"Whatteth about thee?"

"I TOLD YOU, I'M [slashing the prices] ON OLD SPADES."

"Thou art serious about that?!"

"ROUXLS," Spamton said, nearly demanded, in a way that made the Duke shiver. "TAKE THE [thirty percent off baby apparel] AND GO, I'LL CATCH UP… WHAT'RE YOU [please wait in an orderly fashion in the queue for assistance] FOR?!"

Without another word, Rouxls ran to retrieve the baby carrier and slipped Lancer (who was sucking on his little fist happily, now, entirely amused by these shenanigans) into it, before heading out, and stopping short in the threshold. 

"GO ON," Spamton urged, but suddenly Rouxls rounded upon him, and peppered kisses across his entire face, knocking the dealmakers off in the process. Spamton laughed, "[ANGEL]!"

"Cometh back to me wheneth this is done," Rouxls said, watching as Spamton picked his glasses off the floor. "I ameth begging thee."

"OH I'LL BE BACK FOR THAT," Spamton chuckled confidently. "[With bells on]~"

The King's roaring could be heard throughout the Castle on all floors. Either he had discovered the broken bust and missing key, or he was aware of the interloper in their midst. Considering it would be hard for there to be one without the other, Spamton could only take the highest precautions possible while making his way to the throne room. Spades could have been anywhere, but you could always trust a king to return to the place of the most avarice. 

Regrettably the room was empty when Spamton arrived, but that just left him alone with the empty throne, and- well- a throne deserved to be filled. Spamton slowly strode up it, and walked around the enormous chair- but a chair didn’t quite do it justice.

“OH HEY, BABY… YOU WANT ME IN YOUR LAP… WELL [why didn’t you say so]?” he purred, and slumped down into it, propping his feet up onto the armrest like he was being paid to, and lounging against the other one, propped up on one elbow. Like that, it was easy to imagine his head heavy with a crown, and maybe even a cape. He cleaned his fingernails on his shirt, and chuckled. “RELAX, BABY, I WON’T TRACK MY FEET ON YOUR VENEER~”

“ACE!!”

Spamton huffed, and rolled his head to the side to see the furious visage of King Spades on the other side of the room, growling and huffing so heavily steam was blowing out of his nose. Spamton swung his legs over, and smirked at him, wiggling his knees in an awful, idiotic way that just made the King blush with unbridled rage. “OH HEY, [king shit], I WAS HOPING YOU WERE ALREADY DEAD~”

“And so did I!” Spades shouted, and his stomach mouth spat out its chain, only for him to throw it immediately at Spamton’s head- but this time, he really was ready. He threw up a pop up for discount knife sharpening and scrambled off the throne, just in time for the chain to shatter the pop up and slam into the back of the enormous seat, lodging into it and leaving a heavy gash. Spades howled, and dragged it back.

“HOW ARE YOU NOT A HEADLESS DOLL IN A LANDFILL?!” he bellowed. Spamton smirked.

“HOW ARE YOU NOT [sitting in a ninety-nine percent off bargain bin at the dollar store], SPADESY?”

The chain flung out again, but Spamton scampered away from it, practically on all fours. It wasn’t elegant at all, but who needed elegance when you were trying to spare your own neck? The chain hit the ground again and again as the King flung it at Spamton again and again, and pop ups were soon filling the room, springing to life advertising for target practice and thrift stores that buy weapons near you.

“THAT ALL YOU GOT, SPADES?” Spamton taunted. The King gave a growling smirk, and swung the chain at him, only for him to leap out of the way again like a deranged possum, and only for then to take a projectile in the shoulder from the behind that snuck up on him. “[!?#$!?]!”

Spamton slammed to the ground, his shirt torn and a gash of blood welling up beneath it along his rough, white flesh. Spades chortled. “You didn’t think this was all I had, did you?”

“KIND OF HOPING,” Spamton uttered as he grabbed at his shoulder, and the King lifted his chain to swing it above his head. Guards were surrounding the edges of the throne room, but Spades licked his lips and teeth.

“LEAVE US! HE’S MINE!”

The chain split from one to many, swinging like a hurricane as he brought it down upon Spamton, and it was just for the grace of god that he threw up a pop up at the exact second- this one more opaque than the others. The words were scrambled, flashing brightly, and different from the others- completely incomprehensible. A beast of pure malware, it pushed up and up against the cat-o-nine tails, and Spamton began to sweat as he struggled to keep it upright with one hand. 

“Give up, Ace, and I may make this somewhat painless.”

“I’M SHAKING IN MY [Chanel Boots], SPADESY!”

Spades huffed, “suit yourself.”

He lifted the chain to bring it down again, slamming it again and again against the pop up until it began to crack like a computer screen. Spamton lifted his hand, clenching it like a claw, until finally the window shattered, and he sent up a barrage of dollar sign shaped bullets right into the King’s face. The sudden onslaught made him reel back, but his cheeks ended up getting sliced up from the sharpness of them. “WHAT?!”

“OH YEAH, DIDN’T THINK I HAD [horsepower under the hood] DIDJA?” Spamton drawled, and rolled out of the way to lift himself up and throw more bullets at him. Spades swept his cape out in front of him to defend himself, but all he did was end up shredding the normally tough cloth. All it did was make him more irate as his cheeks flushed.

“YOU IMPERTINENT, INSIPID LITTLE BRAT!”    

“[!?$#%] TYRANT!”

Forgetting about the pain in his shoulder, which was rapidly radiating down his arm, Spamton hauled back and thrust his hand forward, eliciting a cavalcade of pop ups and bullets that converged onto the king like a swarm. Spades cried out, slamming backwards as he was attacked by disembodied malware, clicking cursors and the symbols of various currencies. Spamton grinned wildly, but beneath it, he was sweating and shaking, all of his strength going towards trying to keep Spades pinned and jabbed. This went on for a while, until finally he fell to his knees, and his weapons dissipated. He nearly slammed to the floor, panting roughly as he looked up at Spade’s prone form on the ground before him. The King certainly looked beaten up, covered in his shredded cape, scratches and bruises, and peppered with blood. With all his strength the puppet dragged himself to his feet, and began moving towards him, the guards at the fringes preparing to strike if they needed to, and Spamton conjured the biggest bullet he’d ever made, though it flickered in and out of existence tentatively.  

“Uggh…” Spades heaved like a beached whale. “Mercy…”

“YEAH, YEAH, TRY ASKING ROUXLS,” Spamton sneered, but it was mentioning the Duke that ended up being his undoing, as Spades rolled over with speed that shocked him, and suddenly the chain was wrapped around his ankle like a lasso, and the King speedily tore himself upward to whip Spamton’s small body into the air. The world was revolving, spinning and flailing as Spamton fired the projectile he had been charging, and hit Spades in the chest. The King gasped, but the weakened burst only left a hefty bruise, and as a result, he whipped the chain down, and dragged Spamton with it, cutting through the air until he slammed against the ground, and Spamton could feel something shatter within him. His eyes flew open wide, and he coughed harshly, his hands shaking, but before he could even catch his breath, Spades was whipping him back and forth, slamming his smaller body against the hard floor again and again, until Spamton was covered in filth and broken, trembling faintly from the onslaught. Spades was panting, and lifted his other hand to conjure a massive spade-shaped bullet.

“I’ll admit… you were quite the fighter for a whelp your size…” he purred, and dragged Spamton’s body across the ground, closer and closer to him even as the puppet sunk his fingers into the stone floor, trying to stop the motion. “Oh yes… i’m looking forward to piercing your heart.”

Spamton coughed, rolling over onto his side to glare up at him. “SORRY, [king shit], I’M SPOKEN FOR.”

“Truly insolent until the end…”

His laughter was cut off by a tickle in the back of his neck, and he blinked, and suddenly, something flew past him, leaving just the faintest slice on the side of his cheek. It slammed into the ground as a trickle of blood slid down his face, and when both of them looked towards it, they realized it was a single, small white diamond. “Who dares…!?”

Spinning around, and conjuring more bullets, they all suddenly vanished as Spades realized he was staring at Rouxls, who had his arms outstretched, and his eyes wide at the realization of what he had just done. 

“Rouxls…” Spades said softly, “...why aren’t you with Lancer?”

The Duke didn’t answer. He was shaking a little as Spades began to approach him, and Spamton struggled to right himself, only to fall to the floor impotently. Rouxls wanted to rush to him, but suddenly Spade’s hand was wrapped around his chest and holding him firm. 

“Duke, where is Lancer?” he hissed, steam escaping from between his teeth. “Why have you come and assaulted me?”

“I-” 

“Rouxls,” he softened, but his grip around his chest grew tighter. “Do you truly wish to help this traitor?”

The Duke’s throat was so incredibly dry he could hardly speak as the implications of what he’d done- had been doing- hit him so hard it made him dizzy. Spamton was dragging himself to his feet and doing his level best while the King was distracted, and Rouxls couldn’t help it, he kept looking at him. The King, already irate, lifted Rouxls bodily and gave him a shake like a toy. 

“ANSWER ME!” Spades bellowed. “HAVE I NOT GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING YOU DESIRED? FINERY AND RESOURCES AND RICHES? AND YOU COME HERE AND STRIKE ME, WISHING ME TO SPARE THIS DREG OF SOCIETY?!”

Rouxls gasped, feeling whiplash plaguing his long neck as he grabbed Spade’s wrist and kicked his legs. Spades threw him down, looking like he may have cried. “It hurts, my Duke… all I ever wanted was for us to be as one. To rule with grace, together. I loved you…”

Clenching his shaking fists, Rouxls finally looked up at Spades, and the King was more than a bit shocked at the sight of the hatred in his Duke’s face. 

“Thou NEVER loved me!” he shrieked, his brow cocked downward in pain and rage. “Thou only evereth loved HER! I was thou’s sole confidant and head of thou’s Court- and thou treated me like… like a glorified nanny! Thou adorned me with her finery, and called it mine! I waseth NOTHING to thee but a warm body thou could dress up like a doll- and I just putteth up with it like a proper servante! All of thou’s illicit touches and wicked words! I am DONE! I am no wife, I am no consort, and I willeth not be your Duke! Not for as long as I LIVE!”

Spades stared at Rouxls as he ranted, and forced himself up onto his feet, his boots clicking against the stone. “ANDETH ANOTHER THING-!”

He was cut off as Spades thrust his palm against his face and grabbed him by the mouth, slamming him against the wall with a growl so tight it bore all of his teeth. The mouth at his stomach licked insidiously at Rouxls’s leg, and the Duke conjured a bullet to fire before his wrist was grabbed and slammed against the wall with him.

“You little blue FOOL,” The King huffed, “you had the opportunity to be mine, and you dashed it away for some little gremlin?! I’m going to enjoy crushing you…” 

He deepened his hold onto Rouxls’s face, the Duke’s eyes darting around as sweat rolled down his face and his boots scraped against the ground, before suddenly, a small body slammed right into Spades and clung to him, ripping and biting at his very body. The force made Spades drop Rouxls, allowing him to clamor away to witness Spamton pummeling the King with his bare, bloody hands. It took Spades a moment to grab him by the scruff, and hold him at arm's length as Spamton shrieked and flailed, and before he could speak properly, Spade’s brow went up, and his eyes fell on Spamton’s neck.

“That spade…” he drawled, “blue gold… where did you get that…? WHERE DID YOU GET THAT!?” He slammed his fist into Spamton’s throat, knocking the wind out of him as he grabbed the bauble and ripped it from his neck, and threw him across the room. Rouxls rushed to Spamton, and rolled over the beaten puppet, holding his head in his lap. The sight of it made Spades grimace, as he realized he’d lost. He clenched the spade in his palm, and it shattered to pieces. 

“UGH…” Spamton moaned in pain. Rouxls held his head in his hands. 

“Shh, shh, iteth is alright… somewhere… justeth not here.”

Spamton looked up at him, his dealmakers having been broken in the fray as he grinned up at Rouxls. “HEY… ARE YOU AN [angel]?”

“Thou art impossible…” Rouxls murmured, and his eyes widened as he heard a crackling noise, and following it just revealed the petrification working its way up Spamton’s legs. “Oh no, no, no, no! Notteth now!”

“An interloper!?” the King cried. “You convinced me to let an alien into my home!? To care for my son!?” 

Spades’s heavy footfalls slammed onto the ground as he began to approach Rouxls and Spamton, but all Rouxls could pay attention to was holding Spamton’s body as he turned to stone very quickly. He hadn’t even a moment to get a last word out before Rouxls felt his body completely petrify, merely laying his head down so that it might do so in a more dignified position.

“Oh Spamton…” he murmured, before inhaling deeply and turning around, conjuring another bullet and throwing it at the King in anger. Spades caught it, letting it slice his palm up as he squeezed it, and shattered it in his grasp. Rouxls’s eyes widened. Oh yes. He was fucked.

“My King.”

“Who dares to show their face now!?” Spades bellowed, and whirled around with the chain at the ready, only to drop it helplessly. Before him was the swain and wistful veneer of a woman, her face covered with a hood and the outline of a delicate spade across her face, obscuring her eyes. She had fangs as prominent, if not more so, than Spades, and she was swept up in blue finery, her fingers steepled before her. 

“My Queen…” Spades murmured.

“Spades.”

He turned around, face to face with another Queen Spade, and he backed up, almost slamming onto the ground from it. Two more appeared, converging upon him and looking down at him with disapproving, hidden eyes. 

“CHARLATANS!” Spades cried, and swept his chain out with agony in his voice, slicing through each Queen’s torso. They fell to the ground, but to his and Rouxls’s horror, each bisected body soon began to quake, and wriggle with emerging, fruiting bodies of arms and legs and torsos that formed twice as many queens as before. Spades let out a terrified cry, and in his panic, a barrage of bullets flanked the crowd, until they were standing full of holes before him, and suddenly, without warning, more arms burst from the injuries, whole bodies wriggling out of their chests like newborns. They all began to speak at once, saying different things- making accusations. Rouxls could only stare- he had never seen the King so terrified. It was then the guards finally struck, slamming their weapons into the queens, only to birth more like hydras.

“Duke of Puzzles!”

Rouxls turned around, bearing witness to the sight of Seam with a baby strapped to their chest. Lancer was giggling with amusement, reaching for one of the grotesque illusions of his mother as Seam approached, and grabbed Spamton by the feet. “Come with me! Grab the head and try not to snap it off!”

Rouxls nodded, and grabbed him by the shoulders instead, the two of them fleeing to the escape tunnel amidst the chaos.

It was no trouble to build a bassinet for Lancer in the hovel, though Seam told Rouxls that there was no telling how safe they would be if the King caught wind that it was his magician who was responsible for such a horrific illusion. At least, he tried to tell him this, when in reality all Rouxls could do was stare at Spamton’s body, despondent.

“Canneth thou fixeth him...? Again?” Rouxls begged. Seam sighed.

“It may prove difficult with nothing at hand to construct a curio with,” said Seam. Rouxls blinked, and swept his arm out. 

“Thou art SURROUNDED by curios!” 

“None of them have the significant capability of performing such powerful magic,” Seam said, picking up a random object and tossing it behind them. “There was great capacity for compassion in that stone.”

“I never wouldst have guessed,” Rouxls huffed, and turned back to Spamton. No tears would flow, and he was grateful. “Theneth... he's doomed, then?”

“There is another way to fix him,” said Seam, “but it may offer dire consequences for you.”

“What?” he exclaimed, “I donteth care! Telleth me!”

Seam chuckled, and went over to rock Lancer gently. “I suppose we are all enemies of the Kingdom, at this rate… Have you ever wished to take a journey, Duke?”

“Donteth calleth me that,” said Rouxls, and tugged off his uniform, tossing it to the floor until he was just in his dress shirt and trousers. Seam laughed again.

“I wish Darkners would stop undressing in my home.”

“My apologies…” Rouxls rumbled, as Seam waved a paw, and proceeded to go to a corner, where they pulled out a scroll, and handed it to Rouxls.

“In my research I was unable to construct the crystal I desired… it seems I still have much to learn… however… I did come across another curious finding… a borderworld, between our Dark World and others like it… a place of absolute darkness… a path, even. I am certain it leads back to Spamton’s home.”

“Andeth… if it does not?” Rouxls questioned. Seam just shrugged. 

“There is always that possibility. It is up to you whether you will make such a journey or not- although to be fair, I don’t see why you wouldn’t. After all, the only place for you to return now is where you came from. Our Diamond region, but even they might turn you in as the traitorous Duke.”

Rouxls looked at the map in his hands, and knew Seam was right. On the other hand, this topography was downright incomprehensible, but before he could inquire, Seam was already waving their paws over Spamton’s figure, and rendering it light enough to lift in both paws.

“There, now carrying your lover should be much easier. Better than taking a wheelbarrow, hehe…”

“I haveth not said whether I will make this pilgrimage,” Rouxls said, rolling up the scroll. Seam just smiled.

“Oh you will,” they replied. “Do not worry about Lancer. I will care for him in your stead.”

“Thou will?” Rouxls asked. Seam laughed.

“I have always wanted a pet,” they said, their one black eye twinkling raucously.

Rouxls had not been dressed as a true commoner in a long, long time. Even when he ventured from the Castle, dressed down, he always wore something finely crafted, and always adorned with a spade. Now, with Seam's help, he wore nothing of the sort- not a spade, not a diamond. He wore nothing of the sort. He was suitless. Yet that wasn't the part that unnerved him- what unnerved him was the pile of milk-white, spun-sugar hair at his feet, and Seam sweeping it into a bin. Rouxls reached up and ran his hands through his hair, once long and delicate, now only reaching his ears.

"Why, Rouxls, you look just like one of us," said Seam, smiling at him as Rouxls wrapped Spamton’s body in a sheet, and lashed it to his body with knots. It was light enough to carry, but he hoped he wouldn't have to for long. It was too morbid.

"I cannote sayeth I like it at all…" Rouxls murmured. "I loved mine hair…"

"It will grow back. Sooner than later, if we see one another again."

"Wheneth will that be?"

"Who can say?"

"Mmhmm."

"Then you're prepared for the inevitability of your own demise?"

"It is either die here or die there. I wouldst rather die where I can holdeth his hand."

"You are a bold one," Seam laughed. "I wish you good luck."

Putting up his hood, Rouxls made one final trip to the bassinet, where Lancer was snoozing. He ran a finger down the baby's cheek, and sighed. "Goodbye, little one. Perhapseth I will see thee again."

"He will be safe. Jevil and I will take good care of him."

Rouxls balked. "Jevil?!"

"Can beggers be choosers?"

Rouxls inhaled deeply, made an irked expression, and left.

It was a long journey. Escaping the Card Kingdom was direly difficult, and with Spamton on his back and a hood on his head, he was extra suspicious. Wanted posters peppered everywhere he passed through, depicting artistic renderings of him and Spamton, each one offering a fine reward, dead or alive. Rouxls kept his head down, and whenever night fell he kept himself busy practicing developing his projectiles, until he could successfully throw them into surfaces, and cause a decent amount of damage.

"I think thou wouldst be proud of me," Rouxls said to the wrapped package one night. He was squatting in an alcove with the statue facing him, and after a while of playing with his bullets, reached up to slip the sheet away, so that he could look upon his frozen face. An idea struck him, and he leaned forward, placing a tender kiss upon his mouth. He lingered, and when he pulled back he waited, and eventually huffed in disappointment.

"It workseth in alleth the stories…"

He was thankful that by the time he reached his old homeland- the Diamond region of the Kingdom- no one recognized him. He had been gone some time, and they regarded the fact that a Diamond resident had been named the King's Duke with pride, but after so long and the attempted assassination, and the capture of the Diamond's ruler in the wake of it, it seemed they had turned their backs on Rouxls Kaard. He didn't blame them. So the trip was uneventful, if a bit melancholy.

"Wouldeth if I couldeth show thee my old home… the fields were amazing."

The food was best in the Hearts region, and he helped himself eagerly whenever he had the opportunity. They had the best nightlife, as well, but he had better things to worry about than gambling. The Clubs region was alright, but not his favorite, it was easily forgettable, but he relished his time within it anyway. Each one had something different to offer.

It took some time, and he kept having to trim his hair as he went to help keep his identity secret (and it hurt every time), but it was almost pleasant, until he reached the end of the world.

"Whateth is this…?" Rouxls said, looking at the map, of which the only direction he could go was forward. Unfortunately, the only way forward was into a cacophonous wall of darkness, unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The slope of the world stretched downward in an insidious curve that made his blood go cold, so much so that looking into it gave him the wretched feeling that he was being watched.

"Seam, I wouldst kill for thous's guidance…" He murmured, chewing on his lower lip as he toed the end of the landmass. He closed his eyes, feeling nothing but still air from the cavern, and his lips became a thin line as he hefted Spamton up onto his back, and stepped off into the unknown.

However, almost immediately, it was as if he was caught in an updraft, and his body was whipped upwards unceremoniously. The former Duke wailed in protest as gravity betrayed him, and he was flung with the strength of Heaven itself up into space, before being swallowed up into the void. It was so dark he couldn't see in front of him, lashed about by the turbulence of the thing he was caught in, and suddenly, he felt his back become lighter, and he twisted his body to feel around for the statue- but it was gone.

"NO!" He shouted, but that too was swallowed by the darkness, as if he were underwater. It couldn't have drifted far, he rationalized, but Seam's magic made it very light, and if it was to float away, now would be the time. He did everything he could think of, but his eyes would not adjust to the absolute darkness that was plaguing him, and he swept out his limbs wildly, until one of his hands struck something hard, wrapped in cloth. 

Rouxls grabbed it tight and dragged it to his chest, wrapping his arms around it tightly as the miasma between the Dark Worlds pummeled him, and he continued his ascent into the depths above.

"Spamton… thine Ace… please let this be the endeth of this…" He whispered, and as a heavy gust hit him it was like being struck with a blow, and he slipped out of consciousness. 

"Holy shi- PINK! PINK GET OVER HERE!"

"Wha?"

"GET THE OTHERS!"

"WHAT THE [hyperlink blocked]...?"

Spamton had to shield his eyes as he was shaken, his dealmakers cracked and broken, along with most of his body after being thrown around by the King. He was peppered with dried blood, and his clothes were a mess, and the harsh lights of Cyber City were hard on his vision when he could hardly make out anything above him. Except the face of the Blue Addison, twisted in turmoil.

"Spamton! Talk to me! It's me, it's Blue!"

"You found him?!"

"Oh my God!" 

"Is it really him?! Like REALLY him?"

"UGGGH… [accept no imitations], YOU GOOD FOR NOTHINGS!"

"It IS him!"

He was immediately embraced by his family, all four of them crowding around to hug him tight in the wake of his discovery.

"Spamton! Where have you been?!"

"We've been looking for you for over a month!"

"Queen declared you legally dead!"

"Big Shot Autos was liquidated!" 

"BIG SHOT AUTOS WAS [[WHAT]]?!" Spamton cried as he forced his way out of the pile of siblings, only to immediately fall onto his face in the wake of trying to stand on his broken body. He trembled as he was lifted up, and let himself be supported before he was stricken, and began to look around frantically.

"[[ANGEL]]! [[ANGEL]]!" He cried as he thrust himself out of his siblings grasp, and fell to his knees, screaming frantically. "ROUXLS!?"

"What rules?!"

"ROUXLS!! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

He crawled desperately away from the others, breathing hard as he looked around fitfully. Someone had to have brought him here, and deep down, he knew it couldn't have been anyone else. It was then he saw the crumpled figure a ways away from him, lying on its side, and even though they were dressed in rags, he recognized that snowy, sugary hair.

"[[ANGEL]]!" He forced himself up and ran to the figure with the last ounce of his leg strength, and collapsed beside the former Duke, rolling him over and making sure he was okay. A little battered, and unconscious, but he'd live. 

"[Angel]... MY [specil] [deal of a lifetime]..." He murmured, before his body quit on him at last, and he slammed against the ground beside Rouxls, curling his pinkie finger around other Darkner’s with his last ounce of strength. The other Addisons ran to his aid, their relief and concern palpable.

He was home.

Chapter Text

Spamton woke up in his family home, still aching, and when Orange came to him, he told him the diagnosis. 

"You had one… really broken leg, three broken ribs, bruising all over your body… you were covered in dried blood…"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE ME TO A [$!?&!] HOSPITAL, THEN?!"

"Come on, Spam! The last thing we need is Queen finding out you're alive in this state!" They replied, and Spamton hated knowing they were right.

"We called an Ambyu-Lance and they fixed you right up, mostly."

"WHAT'S MOSTLY?"

"You just need bed rest. You're too weak to do much right now from the stress…"

"WHERE'S ROUXLS?" He demanded suddenly. Orange furrowed their brow.

"That blue guy dressed in rags?"

"WHERE IS HE, ORANGE?!"

The crackling glitching made the Addison recoil, "he's in the guest room, but- SPAMTON!"

All he could do was shout as Spamton catapulted himself out of bed, only to fall onto his face the second his feet hit the floor, and his legs folded beneath him like a card table. He slammed onto the ground so hard it made the rest come running, each of them fretting when Orange lifted Spamton onto his knees.

"I told you that you're too weak!" They cried. "What were you even doing, how did you even get like this?"

"I FELL INTO [another world] AND TRIED TO OVERTHROW A TYRANT… I GOT MY ASS HANDED TO ME ON A [silver platter] TOO…"

"...Are you sure you weren't hitting the .exes in Cyber Field like last time?"

"...NO."

He was about to keep arguing with them before a door at the end of the hall opened, and Rouxls poked his head out, and Spamton recognized his dreamy expression. He was smiling, and Spamton felt his heart slamming around in his chest. He immediately scrambled to him on all fours, and Rouxls went to one knee to embrace him, dragging him into his arms with one hand on his head, and his face tucked against his neck.

"[[ANGEL]]!"

"Thine Ace…!"

Rouxls placed a smattering of kisses across Spamton’s face like a man starved, and Spamton just grabbed his cheeks to slam his mouth against his with reckless abandon, to the point that the other Addisons just… left.

"Spammy vanishes for almost two months and comes back covered in blood and wounds with a boyfriend… and I can't even get one date! How the FU-"

"Nooo idea, Yellow."

“I ameth so relieved thou are alright…” Rouxls said as soon as Spamton’s mouth left his own, reaching down to grasp his hand tightly. Spamton laughed. 

“WHAT, DID YOU REALLY THINK TURNING TO STONE WOULD [closing sale all things must go] ME?” he replied, as he was kissed again. “OKAY, OKAY, [angel], THAT’S ENOUGH, I’M FINE!”

“‘Tis willeth be fine when I telleth thee it will be fine!”

“WELL I CAN’T ARGUE WITH A [valued customer]~” Rouxls lifted him up into his arms, but seemed having difficulty carrying him into the guest room, and it did not go unnoticed by Spamton. “WHAT’S WRONG, [blue raspberry]?”

“Nothinge, I am merely exhausted,” he said, smiling at him, and the two curled up on the bed beside the window, Spamton telling him all about Cyber World and what was waiting for him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all good.

“AND SO, IT LOOKS LIKE THEY [liquidated] WHAT WAS LEFT OF MY BUSINESS, AND QUEEN PROBABLY STILL WANTS TO [make me soup]...” he twittered his fingers together, and slicked his hair back as best as he could. Now that he was home he could get his hands on some actual pomade. He’d be looking like a million bucks again- he’d show Rouxls what a real big shot looked like. In the end, he was merely lying in his lap, his face up against his heartbeat, and letting the noise reverberate through him delicately. “HOW DID WE GET BACK HERE…?” 

Rouxls told him, and Spamton buried his face against his shoulder while blue fingers slipped through his black hair. Eventually, they were interrupted by Pink, who brought a couple plates of Spaghetti Code for them. “Straight from the Colour Cafe, they do take out, now.”

“DELIGHTFUL,” Spamton replied as he took the plate, seeming irked at his sibling. Pink’s brow furrowed.

“Spamton…” they said, before looking over their shoulder, the other three coloured Addisons in the doorway, waiting. They had drawn straws to see who would be the one to go inside, and Pink was beginning to wonder if these games were rigged by how often they lost. Eventually they sighed, watching Spamton pick at a macaron, and Rouxls as he looked over it curiously. “It’s edible, uh…?”

“Rouxls Kaard.”

“I guess that’s a suitable name for an alien.”

“YOU DO [[NOT]] CALL HIM THAT!” Spamton shouted, so angry his jaw was practically unhinging. “YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING JEALOUS [hyperlink blocked]!”

Pink looked genuinely wounded, as did the other Addisons, though it was harder to see. “Spamton… I… we’re sorry.”

“YEAH, YEAH…” said the puppet, and Rouxls lifted his finger to elegantly steal a tear out from under the dealmakers. “YOU’RE SORRY. YOU’RE ALL SO [we apologize for your inconvenience].”

“We are! Spammy, come on… if we weren’t, would we have been looking for you in the first place?”

“SO YOU FELT GUILTY AFTER QUEEN’S [hostile takeover] OF MY STUFF, BIG DEAL.”

“Spamton… that was nearly two months ago… she only waited a few days to seize your assets. She thought it would flush you out.” Spamton didn’t reply, and Pink looked away. “We… never stopped looking for you, Spammy. Oh, they told us it was pointless. Everyone said you were dead, but hell, we know that something as small as bankruptcy wouldn’t be able to take out Spamton G. Spamton, right? Right?”

They smiled nervously. “Just… had no idea you were galavanting around another dimension all this time.”

Spamton stared down at the plate, and it took Rouxls wrapping his body around him before he realized he had been shaking, tears flowing freely beneath the dealmakers. God dammit, he hated when his siblings saw him cry… but at the same time he still flung his arms around Pink, and squeezed him so hard he might have broken them. Spamton was bulkier than his siblings- broader, and more compact, and stronger in general. Unfortunately, when Pink gestured wildly with their hand to come rescue him from their brother’s lethal embrace, the other Addisons simply came in and joined them, each one holding tight as Pink struggled to breathe. They didn’t break the hug until Rouxls let out a low moan, and fell backwards into the bed, distressed. Spamton released Pink (who immediately let out a breath of relief), and pointed to them.

“DON’T LET THIS MAKE YOU THINK YOU’RE FORGIVEN,” he said, even as he brushed his tears away, and turned his full attention back onto Rouxls, who was tugging on his oversized trousers faintly. Spamton pulled away, only for his eyes to go wide with terror at the sight of the stone creeping up his lover’s body. “OH NO- NO! NO! NONONONONONONO!”

“Seam saideth this would happen…” Rouxls murmured, sitting up as he stared at it. He was sweating, as every inch of his strength went into resisting the transformation. “I ameth not fit for this world.”

“NONONONO NONONO!” Spamton cried, virtually hysterical. “WE NEED AN [internet wizard]! SOME KIND OF [magic wand tool] USER! QUICK!”

“Spamton, what are you talking about!?” Blue asked quickly, the other Addisons growing alarmed at Spamton’s panic. “Magic isn’t real!”

“IT IS IN SOME PLACES!” he bellowed. “AND IT’S GOTTA BE HERE, TOO! SOMEWHERE! THERE MUST BE SOMEONE WHO CAN… OH. OH [hyperlink blocked], YOU’RE ALL THINKING IT, AREN’T YOU?”

“Weeeell…” Orange murmured, rubbing their arm faintly. “There’s only one person I can think of who might be able to do anything close to magic… but we went through so much to keep you from her in the first place… but…”

“Yeah.”

“Uh huh.”

“Maybe.”

“[!$?!?$]!”

There was no elegant way to approach the Mansion, especially when you could barely walk. No way of making himself look bigger or better than ever, because he wasn’t. Not anymore. All he had was the small amount of clothes his siblings had kept of his from before he’d met Mike, and enough pomade to keep his hair firmly set and black- and right now, he was struggling as he trudged towards the Mansion with Rouxls in his arms, who would have been walking himself were it not for his legs having been petrified up to the knees.

“[Angel], HOW IN THE [!?%$!] DID YOU MANAGE TO CARRY ME ACROSS THE ENTIRE CARD KINGDOM LIKE THIS?!”

“Seam dost cast a spell which made you much, much lighter.”

Spamton laughed as sweat ran down his face. “GOOD OL’ KITTY CAT.”

With Rouxls taking up his grasp, he didn’t even make it to the door before he was apprehended, and the two of them were brought inside and dragged before Queen, and Spamton pretended to be shocked.

“OH NO PLEASE DON’T BRING ME BEFORE [Queen], THAT WOULD BE AWFUL!”

“Spamton, I See Wonders Never Cease We Thought You Were Dead.”

“RUMORS OF MY DEMISE WERE [highly exaggerated], QUEENIE.”

A whip slammed into the ground in front of him, crackling with electricity as Tasque Manager grinned at him raucously. Queen chortled, with her hand up by her mouth regally.

“You’re So Lucky, She’s Been Planning Her Most Disfiguring Attack Possible For Months For A Chance To See You Again. We Never Stopped Hoping You Were Still Alive.”

“AIN’T THAT FLATTERING,” he grumbled, before casting his eyes back up at her. “LISTEN, I AIN’T GOT ANY PLACE TO BE [making demands], BUT-”

“Oh Wait, Wait,” she waved her hand, lowering her throne to better be at his level. “I Had To Get Closer. These Are Always Classic.”

“I GOT A PROBLEM AND YOU MAY BE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN [press F1 for help]...”

“Why Are You Dressed Like An Addison? Where Are Your Adorable Suits?”

“I CAN ONLY ASSUME YOU [liquidated] THEM, TOO!”

“Oh Yes, I Did,” she said with a laugh, “Right In The Acid. They Were Delicious.”

Her tongue flicked out and ran over her blue lips. Spamton grimaced, and held Rouxls up to her like an offering. “LISTEN TO ME, I WOULD NORMALLY RATHER DIE THAN ASK FOR [troubleshooting], BUT YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE…”

“Ahh, Yes, I Was Going To Ask If He Was Your Friend But I Know You Don’t Have Any Friends.”

“QUEEN!”

After laying Rouxls down with surprising care, and with all of the strength left in him (that even Queen was unaware he was capable of), Spamton leapt up and slammed his legs on her throne, grabbing her shoulders to give her a good shake. “I NEED YOUR [everloving] [for customer assistance in english please press 1 now]!”

Tasque Manager readied her whip, and nearly cracked it before Queen held up her hand, and smiled at Spamton, a bright red LOL flashing in her visor. “What Is It You Need Little Man?”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MAGIC?”

“Magic?” she mused, rubbing her chin mockingly. “Hmm I Know It’s Not Native To This World, In A Sense. Why?”

“BECAUSE I NEED IT!”

She was admittedly curious, one because of the strange request, and also for the absolutely desperate expression on Spamton’s face- the kind he only ever had when he was dealing with that bloke on the phone. Slowly she tilted her head at an impossible angle to get a look at the man breathing with difficulty on the ground several feet away, the Swatchlings around him observing and poking at his petrifying legs.

“HEY, LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Spamton shouted back over his shoulder before turning back to Queen. “PLEASE, QUEENIE, YA CAN EVEN MAKE ME INTO A [broth that would make you forgive your father] IF YOU WANT! JUST PLEASE, HELP ME HELP HIM!”

“Wow,” she said, before righting her head and smiling. “Wow, You Care About Someone.”

“I CARE ABOUT OTHER DARKNERS!!”

“LOL, liar.”

“QUEEN!”

“You Drive A Hard Bargain, Spamton, By Which I Mean You Really Drive Nothing At All, So- In Your Language- Let’s Deal, Hohohoho~” she chortled, “What Have You Got To Offer Me In Exchange?”

Spamton ran a hand down his face, still perched by his feet up onto the throne and holding onto her with one hand as he went through his mental rolodex. “I’LL BUILD YOU [a new car!!]!”

“I Have A New Guy For That, Try Again.”

“[Shopping spree!] [All things must go]! COURTESY OF THE ADDISON FAMILY!”

“You Mean The Ones Who Give Me Free Stuff On The Regular Anyway?” she replied, her visor flashing a cheeky question mark as she shook her head. “I Think I Own Every Blue Dress And Garter Sock In The City, Not Interested.”

Spamton was sweating, his award losing smile twitching in frustration, and she could tell he was only a hair’s away from trying to strangle her, were it not for them being flanked by Swatchlings, and Tasque Manager spinning her whip menacingly. He didn’t dare look back at Rouxls, for fear that he would lose his temper entirely. Then, a thought struck him. He pulled her face close to his, cheek to cheek, and held his hand out as if to gesture to the stars.

“THEN HOW ABOUT THE BIGGEST NEW ACT IN [entertainment] THIS SIDE OF THE DARK WORLD?” he asked cheekily. “I’VE GOT SOMEONE THAT’LL KNOCK THOSE [well and worn sock ads] RIGHT OFF, IF YOU’LL LET ME!”

“Hmm…” she hummed in the whirling way a computer did when all the fans got going. “Keep Going.”

“I KNOW YOU GET [bored on a friday night] EASILY, AND WELL, HOW ABOUT A REAL LIVE [angel] TO GIVE YOU A TASTE OF MUSIC FROM ANOTHER WORLD? A REAL, [live] MONEYMAKER THAT WON’T [explode unceremoniously] ON YOU!”

He hated this. He hated more than anything having to sell Rouxls just to save his life- it made him feel like the King, but he’d kick himself about it later. Save his lover first, be guilty about it later.

“Can I Get A Free Sample First?” she asked, notably curious. Spamton laughed.

“I’D LOVE TO, BUT HE’S TURNING INTO STONE [right before your eyes] RIGHT NOW!”

“What? The Alien?”

Spamton grit his teeth. “YEP, YEP THAT’S HIM.”

“Hmmm I Suppose It Might Be Worth Being Serenaded To By A Real Live One…” She picked Spamton up by the scruff of his neck and dropped him off her throne, before landing onto the ground, and striding up to Rouxls, who was doing his level best to not immediately turn to stone entirely. The petrification was moving more quickly as he was approaching exhaustion, slowly beginning to creep up his arms. He swallowed, and grinned faintly.

“Most fortuitous greetings, thy Queen…” he murmured, “please, do forgiveth me for not being at mine best. I appeareth to be caughteth between a rock and a hard place- URK!”

His face twisted into a moment of discomfort as the stone crept up his torso another inch. Queen smiled. “Oho, He’s Got Jokes.”

Spamton scrambled up to them and shoved her out of the way, knocking her over as he lifted Rouxls’s head up off the ground carefully. “EASY, [angel], I’M HERE…”

“Spamton…” 

“JUST [breathe in and out]...”

A Swatchling helped up Queen, and Tasque Manager clutched her whip. “Let me teach him a lesson, my Lady Grace.”

“No,” she said, before petting Tasque Manager’s head a moment, and striding back to Spamton and Rouxls. She crouched beside them with a smirk. “I May Be Able To Help.”

“DON’T [!?#$] WITH ME, QUEENIE,” Spamton begged, “I NEED THIS…”

“Oh, I Can Tell,” she replied, “I’ll Still Be Expecting Payment, But… I May Be Able To Write A Code That Can Help Him.”

“I NEED MAGIC!”

“Any Sufficiently Advanced Technology Is Blah Blah Blah.” She bent to scoop Rouxls into her arm like he weighed nothing, and then Spamton by the scruff once again. “Besides It’s Been A While Since I Got To Flex My Coding Muscles. Let’s Go Wrenchmonkey.”

It was just lucky for Spamton that when Queen said she was going to do something, she usually meant it, so long as her lying protocol wasn’t set to true. All it took was an elaborate data transfer, straight from an outlet plug in the back of her head, and into something she could attach to Rouxls like a software download. Not a moment too soon, as by the time she finished the stone was up to his shoulders, and he tried to wriggle, but it was impossible.

“I canteth holdeth on much longer, Spamton,” he murmured. “Listen, ifeth I am to die, I needeth to tell thee something, verye important.”

“TELL ME LATER, ROUXLSY, YOU’RE GONNA BE FINE,” he insisted, running his hand through his sugary locks. “YOU KNOW, I KIND OF LIKE YA WITH [hot new hairstyles for the year 2000].”

Rouxls laughed a little, and looked up at him. “Donteth change the subject.”

“I HAVE TO, YOU KNOW I CAN’T STAND [fatalism].”

“Do We Have A Dentist On Hand?” Queen asked, tossing something up and down in her palm idly. “Oh Never Mind, No Time, I’ll Do It.” 

As she positioned herself beside Rouxls, the former Duke swallowed. “Doeth I getteth some kind of anesthetic for this procedure…?”

“Laughing Protocol Set To True: Ahahaahhahaha, That’s Funny.”

Spamton had to turn away at one point as Queen performed the grisly operation, but in the end did his best to be there for Rouxls- he was the one suffering after all as Queen installed the new tooth. Blue blood was all over her hands when she finished, and she gave a cackling mechanical laughter. “Behold The Fruits Of My Labor, Spam-Spam.”

“NOTHING IS HAPPENING!!”

“Patience.”

Rouxls was tearing up, and glancing up at Spamton, the pain causing him to fully lose control as the petrification swept up his body, and overwhelmed his head entirely. Spamton screamed out, slamming his hands on the table. “ROUXLS!”

Queen looked perfectly calm as Spamton began to become hysterical, gripping his head and cussing her out, when suddenly, the stone cracked in a single, long line, and shattered a moment later, revealing the gooey individual beneath. Rouxls gasped for breath, and shot up on the table, gripping at his chest. “Oh Wow I Didn’t Actually Think That Would Work!”

But Spamton and Rouxls were already in the midst of an embrace, holding each other even as blood dripped from the man’s mouth. Rouxls squeezed him, and pressed his face against his, nearly crying in his gratefulness. “...Mayeth I clean up, please?”

“SURE, SURE,” Spamton said, with a sniff and a nod. “YOU GOT A [performance] TO GIVE.”

Spamton wasn’t expecting the data transfer to be so fetching. Even though Rouxls was still wearing what was basically rags, he had washed all the blood off, and like that, Spamton could see the gold tooth situated back far in his mouth, but not far enough that you couldn’t see it when he spoke. 

“LOVING THE NEW [grill],” Spamton told him after he’d cleaned up. Rouxls reached up to rub his own jaw, just a bit of residual pain making him wince. “DON’T PLAY WITH IT.”

“I knoweth… so thateth is a dental procedure.”

“WHAT, YOU DON’T HAVE DENTISTS IN THE CARD KINGDOM?”

“Oh we do, but I haveth never needed one! Mine teeth are immaculate.” 

“WELL, I CAN BELIEVE THAT.”

Queen clapped her hands. “Less Talking More Singing, I Wanna See If I Backed The Right Horse.”

Rouxls swallowed, and Spamton gripped his hands. “GO ON, YOU’VE SANG BEFORE [monarchs] BEFORE.”

Nodding, Rouxls stepped forward and opened his mouth, placing a hand on his chest and letting out a rasping, broken cry a moment before lifting a finger to her. “Oneth moment.”

He turned around and breathed deeply, doing a quick scale before turning back around and beginning to sing. It was one of the ones he would sing to the King- his favorite, actually- and Queen ended up nodding her head as he did so. Spamton watched on, hiding his nerves, and occasionally reaching up to try and brush the dried blood off of his shoulder. When he finished, he held himself high, and was relieved when Queen even clapped a little. Seeing that as a good sign, the Swatchlings clapped as well.

“Have You Ever Considered Making A Mixtape?”

“I donteth know whateth that is, your Highness.”

“Wow, So Polite. Spamton You Could Learn From Him.”

Spamton had to fight every natural impulse to roll his eyes. “WHAT DID I TELL YA? [A surefire moneymaker], QUEENIE.”

“He Needs A Better Outfit, Though. I Think He Would Look Good In A Nice Suit. Maybe A Dress. Something In Gold.”

“Gold?” Rouxls murmured, his eyes lighting up a little. Queen smirked.

“Oh, That Got Your Attention, Didn’t It, Gooey Boy?”  

Not only was Rouxls polite, and a good singer (and Spamton would later joke, not a bad kisser), he was also a good mannequin for the Addison siblings, and to say his popularity as a novelty was extreme was an understatement. Spamton personally refused to use any semblance of the word ‘alien’ in his advertisements, but that word seemed to be an inevitability when Queen was giving her testimonial of his talent. His first live performance, after giving Queen his first few good ones for about a week, was a bit nerve wracking- his audience was bigger than it ever had been back in his World.

“I’M NOT WORRIED,” Spamton insisted. Rouxls and him stood backstage- an actual, honest-to-god backstage, not just wreathed in shadow. The former Duke was bedecked in the finest silver and gold dress that the Blue Addison could provide, with a slit up the side that showed off more leg than Spamton really wished, but at the same time, only wished could go higher. “YOU LIKE THE OUTFIT?”

“‘Tis truly marvelous,” Rouxls hummed.

“GOOD, BECAUSE I’LL ENJOY [unzipping it for you] LATER.”

“Oh, Spamton!” Rouxls laughed.

“WHAT? IT DISTRACTED YOU WELL ENOUGH,” he replied, fixing his own suit cuffs.

“Yeseth, but now I willst be thinking about that when I am trying to sing!”

“GOOD, YOU WON’T NEED TO APPLY [hot new makeup tips for this season].”

It felt strange not to be performing with Rouxls- he’d grown used to being the back up, but now he had a real band, and the Swatchlings were a better accompaniment than he ever was- and it just so happened that was what he really needed to shine. Rouxls had learned to express himself with poetry, and without having to worry about the King’s ever looming presence, he could let go properly, to be as happy or sad as he wanted- and at the tail end of the set, Spamton cast the largest gif he’d ever done, making a pair of flickering, extending white wings appear behind him, and stretch out to Heaven. It wasn’t an effect the denizens of Cyber City hadn’t seen before, but Rouxls made it beautiful.

“ATTA BOY,” Spamton murmured wistfully, placing his hand on his cheek meaningfully.

Strangely enough, the least important side-effect of the entire set up was probably the money, which rolled in plentifully. What began as a novelty soon grew into a more earnest adoration, and Rouxls developed a serious following of fans. Virovirokun in particular loved him, which made sense, even if they kept trying to throw their arrows onto the stage when he performed.

“Oneth of them got caughteth in mine hair,” said Rouxls, brushing his hair out one day in his dressing room- a dressing room! He never would have imagined he’d ever have something like that. Spamton placed his hands on his shoulders, and bent forward to touch his lips to the back of his neck.

“JUST DON’T LET IT GET IN YOUR EYES,” he murmured. Rouxls smiled back at him.

“What haseth thou so affectionate?” Spamton brushed his hair away from his skin. It was beginning to grow out again, and he liked it. He liked it short, too, but like this it brushed softly against his face when he leaned in close, and he could smell the sugary sweetness he knew was his, and only his. Rouxls shooed him away a moment so he could wrap it up in a ribbon, but Spamton just wrapped his arms around his waist and held tight. “Alrighteth, whateth is wrong?”

“NOTHING,” Spamton said, pressing his cheek against his shoulder. “CAN’T A GUY GET A LITTLE [pathos]?”

“Whateth art thou thinking about?”

“HOW THIS ALMOST NEVER HAPPENED.”

Rouxls fell silent. “Is thiseth what thou has been so nervous about recently? The spectre of whatst couldeth have been?”

It had been some time since they arrived back in Cyber City. In fact, nearly a month had passed since Queen had performed the awful surgery that saved Rouxls’s life, and Spamton had been acting melancholy recently. Rouxls couldn’t parse why- things were going well. He just tucked his head under Rouxls’s chin thoughtfully for a moment before he pulled back, and smirked at him.

“YOU GOT A SHOW TO DO, [angel], DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME.” 

As Rouxls left to attend to the stage, Spamton bit down on his knuckles. The truth was he was afraid- and he hated it. Fear was a mind killer, all it did was ruin everything, but he’d learned from past experience that when things were too good to be true, they usually were. Something would come around to ruin this, but he had no idea what or when. All he could think about, even while watching Rouxls sing, was how it only took one phone call to make all of this happen, even as painstaking as the journey was… it would only take one small thing to tear it all down.

So he held onto him firmly, both in the Mansion and out, except this time, he allowed his siblings to make their own appearances. He knew they were trying to atone, and he- well- he could do the same.

It took a few more weeks for the other foot to drop, but when it did, it was hard. Him and Rouxls were called into Queen’s presence for an unknown reason one of Rouxls’s days off (which Spamton resented, because there weren’t many of those right now), only to reveal the heap of fur and fabric before them, being held up by a Swatchling.

“Ah Good, There You Are,” said Queen, gesturing to the heap. “This Creature Claims To Know You.”

“WHAT, FROM THE LAUNDROMAT?” Spamton joked. A creaking laughter came from the pile, as they reached up to pull their hood down. Rouxls immediately lit up.

“Seam!” he exclaimed, and rushed forward to grab the cat’s paw.

“My, my, look at you- I see you made it here better than ever- you even found a way to keep yourself from petrifying,” said Seam, grinning broadly. They looked worse for wear- they were scruffier than usual, and were missing fur in places, and more importantly, they weren’t wearing their fine, spade-adorned robes.

“Howeth art thou protecting thouself from petrification?” Rouxls asked quickly. Seam waved their paw.

“I’m not,” they said, and Rouxls’s face contorted into fear. “I can survive, for a time. I'll give it a few days, or so, hehe.”

“THEN YOU MUST BE [here on a mission],” Spamton cut in, stepping beside Rouxls to put a hand on his back protectively. Seam smiled.

“Indeed, I am. It is very important… for a king.”

Spamton growled. “GO BACK TO THE KINGDOM AND TELL [king shit] TO [hyperlink blocked] HIMSELF.”

“Oh, no no,” said Seam, and gestured upwards. “Tell this fine individual to place me down and we can talk in earnest, your highness.” 

“Oh, Very Well,” said Queen, and gestured for the Swatchling to release Seam. It did, very gently, and Seam bowed to the monarch.

“It’s very kind of you,” they insisted, “however, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“Oh?”

Seam took Rouxls’s hand, and went down on one knee. Him and Spamton stared in shock, and Queen raised the brow of her visor incredulously.

“My illustrious king… your presence is required back home. Post-haste.”

“A coup?” Rouxls exclaimed, once the three were all alone. Seam nodded.

“Your attempt to overthrow the Spade King reached far and wide… Jevil made sure of that.”

“YOU’D THINK OL’ SPADES WOULD HAVE TRIED TO KEEP IT A SECRET,” Spamton said, sipping his liquor. Swatch had graciously allowed them to convene in the Colour Cafe, where they could at least have refreshments while Seam dropped the heavy news. 

“Oh he did,” Seam said with a smile. “He tried very hard. The jester may have had a little… help, as well.”

Spamton smirked, “YOU DOG.”

“I am a cat, but I appreciate the sentiment.” 

“I wondereth why the first attempt did not elicit such a response…” Rouxls mused. 

“The first attempt resulted in the death of a beloved queen, and the only thing keeping the King from becoming entirely unbearable. It was sloppy and disorganized, and the Kingdom was in mourning. Hopelessness had swept the land. Now, things are different. Now, they had a symbol- someone weak, rising up to right innumerable wrongs in the face of an insurmountable odd. You’ve become something of a folk hero, Mr. Spamton…” 

As much as Spamton resented the notion of being seen as ‘weak’, the puppet puffed out his chest. “NATURALLY~”

“...Even if you almost died humiliatingly.”

“THANKS, KITTY CAT.”

“That doeseth not explain why I ameth being considered the new King of Spades, I am a native citizen of the Diamond region…” 

“The other Kings have been released and reinstated into their proper provinces, but the Spade Kingdom needs a ruler… you were the closest to Spades- you were his confidant and head of his Court, not to mention his Duke of Puzzles. You can’t expect an infant to be crowned king, can you?”

That was true. Lancer may have been the Prince, but he couldn’t speak, or understand complex intrigue, or even walk yet. Rouxls looked down at his hands.

“Andeth they wanteth to crown me?”

“At least until Lancer is old and educated enough. You are all we have, your highness.”

“Donteth calleth me that!” he snapped, “I ameth no ruler! I ameth a servant!” 

Seam laughed. “Were you such a servant when you told Spades to his face how much you hated him? Were you a servant when you sang your little song about cutting off his hands because he put his own on you? When you shot a bullet that grazed his face to save your love? Your highness, you give yourself too little credit.”

“SO SPADES IS [swimming with the fishes]?”

“Not as such,” Seam replied. “Merely locked up, tight as can be. He won’t be of any trouble.”

Rouxls fell silent, and he chewed on his lower lip. Spamton reached out and placed a hand on his.

“I won’t force you,” said Seam, “but I insist you make your decision before I turn to stone, which will probably be soon. I can feel a tickle in my fur.”

Seam was given their own room in the Mansion, as one of Rouxls’s guests. In the end, Kaard’s opinion mattered more than even Spamton’s, which he couldn’t help but resent a little as his agent. That was being a celebrity, for you. That night (which there wasn’t really much of one in Cyber City- some of the neon lights dimmed, but that was a personal choice), Spamton spent the night in Rouxls’s room, as he usually did, but the atmosphere was different. It was wreathed with flowers from fans and admirers, and other, smaller gifts- but most of those little ones had been from Spamton- little silent motes of affection that meant more than all the bouquets in the world. Trinkets that reminded him of the Card Kingdom in subtle ways, and he hoped that Rouxls thought so, too. Rouxls was sitting before the window, letting the colourful light play over his face as he gazed distantly, and Spamton pulled himself up onto the seat beside him, letting his legs curl up under him.

“The City is beautiful ateth this time of day,” Rouxls murmured. 

“YEAH…” Spamton said. He’d seen this view hundreds of times, but beside Rouxls, it hit differently. “...YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT THE KINGDOM, AREN’T YOU?”

“I ameth.”

“YOU CAN’T SERIOUSLY BE THINKING ABOUT [heading home], ARE YOU?”

“Well, whateth choice do I have?”

Spamton blinked, looking right at him. “YOU’RE [having a laugh] ON ME, RIGHT?”

“Hmm? Whateth makes thou accuse such a thing?”

“YOUR LIFE IS HERE, NOW, [angel], DARKNERS LOVE YOU! IMAGINE HOW [[heartbroken]] THEY’D BE IF YOU JUST UP AND LEFT!”

“They survived withouteth me, they will continue to do so,” he said, teasing a loose piece of thread on the couch. “Buteth mine Kingdom, mine home… if they do not crown a strong ruler… it mayeth not.”

“THEY COULD FIND ANYONE,” Spamton insisted, crawling closer to him, until he was between Rouxls’s legs, grinning nervously. “COME ON, [blue raspberry], YOU KNOW YOU BELONG HERE… [with me].”

Rouxls blinked at him, for his words and his closeness. His long arms swept around him, and Spamton shuddered as he felt the warmth around his shoulders. He was dressed down, in a shirt and tie, his blazer thrown unceremoniously onto the side of a chair near Rouxls’s vanity, and his shoes discarded. He laughed hollowly.

“I HEAR THEY WANT YOU TO DO [commercials], CAN YOU IMAGINE? I USED TO DO THOSE…”

“Justeth say thou will miss me.”

He clenched his eyes shut, and bumped his head against his chest. This was it. He knew it would happen… he just hadn’t anticipated it would be so soon. “I CAN… COME WITH YOU?”

“That’s up to Seam, buteth…” Rouxls said, “I do noteth know the extent of their reach in this World. Alleth of their magic is being put towards not turning into stone… I suspecteth it would be impossible- and I mayeth not possess a bauble powerful enough that they could use to perform the proper ritual even whenst we return… it takeths so much magic to stay off the natural order of things.” 

His arms came up to embrace Rouxls tightly, and relish the sensation of his skin through the cloth. “DON’T LEAVE, [angel], PLEASE.”

“Andeth Lancer… it has been so long sinceth I have seen the little gnat,” he murmured, though he pulled Spamton further into his grasp. “I wondereth if heth even remembers who I am…?”

The fate of the infant had been eating at him since things stabilized within Cyber City. He thought of him often, wondering how well he was being taken care of without his guidance- how good of parents Seam and Jevil could possibly be. Spamton pressed up tighter- so tight he may as well have crawled inside him.

“YOU’RE TOO SOFT, [angel]...” he mused. “YOU’RE… YOU’RE SO SOFT…”

His hand slipped up to his shoulder, and landed on his collar, dipping downward, and parting the buttons from their holes, dutifully exposing the other man. Rouxls wriggled out of a sleeve, and then the other, until his shirt was discarded entirely, and he loosened Spamton’s tie, tugging it free to caress beneath the fine silk, over his collar and neck. He cupped his face, and Spamton furrowed his brow.

“OH [angel], DON’T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS.”

“It wonteth be forever,” Rouxls tried to reassure him, his lips moving gently against Spamton’s the more he opened his shirt, and pulled at each button firmly to snap it open.

“YOU’RE GONNA RUN AWAY AND BECOME ROYALTY AND I’LL BE [out of sight, out of mind], THAT’S HOW THIS ENDS.”

“I thoughteth thou was not a friend of fatalism?” Rouxls grabbed him and lifted him up, pressing chest to chest with him, and lifting the dealmakers to just perch them atop Spamton’s forehead, so that he may look into his dark eyes. Though his sclera were multi-coloured, his pupils and irises were like looking into an abyss. It reminded him of the darkness he’d plunged into to return here.

Spamton sighed. “IT’S NOT [the glass half-empty] WHEN IT’S TRUE, [angel]. IF YOU LEAVE, I’LL NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN.”

“Thateth is not true.”

“YES IT IS YES IT YES IT YES IT YES IT-”

“Shh…” Rouxls hushed faintly, and ran a hand through his hair, only to grimace a little as it came back somewhat black. “I hateth this stuff you put in thou’s hair… for whateth purpose do you use it?”

“KEEPS ME IN [solid black].”

“Verily…” Rouxls replied, wiping it on the sofa. Spamton leaned bodily against him, and let his own smaller hands sweep through his lover’s warm white hair.

“LET ME,” he murmured, teasing it around his fingers until it curled softly around his digits, and Rouxls contented himself to kiss the side of his face. 

“I wouldst never leaveth thee twisting in the wind for long, thine dearest…” Rouxls whispered, “buteth I must return to thine home. I haveth a duty I must fulfill.” 

“YOU GOT A DUTY TO YOURSELF, TOO, [angel]...” Spamton argued.

“And thine’s own duty is to own thine’s own destiny, as you have.”

Spamton couldn’t argue with him for long. He knew he was right. Everything that had gotten Spamton to this point in his life, he had done himself- he had made every conscious decision that brought him from a bombastic height to the lowest of the low, even if sometimes he LIKED to blame Mike. It brought him to the Card Kingdom, and now, it brought him here into Rouxls’s arms. To deny, or to beg, Rouxls to go against his own instinct felt like the worst shackle he could impose on the man.

“Spamton?”

“JUST PROMISE YOU WON’T FORGET ABOUT OL’ SPAMTON WHEN YOU’RE [high and mighty], OKAY?” he murmured. In response, Rouxls pulled Spamton up against him, and swung his legs over the side of the couch to stand up, holding him like a bride.

“I wouldst never!” he said. “Layeth down with me.”

“OHO, IS THAT [all that and a bag of chips] WE’LL BE DOING?”

“Whateth dost thou think?”

“GOOD, BECAUSE I WOULDN’T EVEN MIND IF IT WAS.”

“Then perhapseth I shall make thee beg for it.”

“[[ANGEL]]! YOU LITTLE MINX!”

Were it not for the tips of Seam’s fur beginning to turn gray, they would have stood in bed far longer once morning struck. It was Spamton’s last bastion against the passage of time, and the inevitability of Rouxls’s departure- but he knew better than anyone that all things had to come to an end.

“JUST… MAKE SURE YOU COME BACK [sooner rather than later]...” Spamton said, as Rouxls bent to give him a last parting kiss. “I GET LONESOME WHEN I’M [all alone on a late night].”

“I willst return at my earliest convenience, I promiseth.”

“YEAH, I’M [holding you to that].”

“Goodbye, Spamton.”

“AW, DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT,” he begged. 

He had never realized how big Rouxls’s room was when the former Duke wasn’t there to occupy it. Too big for him. It reminded him a bit like his chamber in the Card Castle, sitting on the bed and staring out the window, except instead of trees he merely beheld the concrete jungle of his home. His heart felt heavy, and he ran a hand beneath the dealmakers to sigh inwardly.

“SHOULDA TOLD HIM TO HIS FACE BEFORE HE LEFT. YOU FOOL. YOU ABSOLUTE [hyperlink blocked]...”

Announcing that Rouxls was on an ‘indefinite hiatus’ was not only bad for business, it was bad for Spamton. Queen loved to rub it in his face, and the Addisons offered him a job back on his old stomping grounds, which was humiliating enough without being so despondent about his lover’s absence. Suddenly he was back to making cars with his fake, plastic smile, and living with his family after Queen kicked him out of the Mansion not days after Rouxls left- but he didn’t really care about all of that.

He just missed Rouxls, so much so that drinking the new patented Rouxls Tea from Pink’s Celebrity Collection made him break down a little.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Spammy,” they said, patting his back gently. “Let it out.”

“WHAT, PINKY, I’M NOT CRYING, I’VE JUST GOT [faucets in my eyes]!”

“Oh. Okay. How’s it taste, then?”

“LIKE [[HEAVEN]].”

“Oh, god, Spamton, it’s okay that you miss him.”

“WHAT IF THEY DON’T LIKE HIM? WHAT IF SOMEONE TRIES TO OVERTHROW HIM BEFORE HE’S EVEN CROWNED?” 

“I highly doubt that’ll happen, since they sent someone to come get him in the first place,” Yellow replied, the other three Addisons entering to seat themselves at the long table in their kitchen, where Pink worked on their concoctions. 

“And would it kill you to be a little more specific?”

Spamton shuddered. “TASTES LIKE BLUEBERRIES AND CREAM, WITH MOTES OF LAVENDER AND HONEY. IT TASTES LIKE FINDING SOMETHING YOU THOUGHT YOU’D LOST A LONG TIME AGO AND NEARLY FORGOT ABOUT BUT WHEN YOU FINALLY COME ACROSS IT AGAIN, YOU REALIZE JUST HOW MUCH YOU [loved] IT IN THE FIRST PLACE.”

The four Addisons all took pause, staring at Spamton as he held the cup in one hand, waxing poetically, only to glance between the four of them with a perturbed expression. “WHAT?”

Blue placed their hand in front of their mouth, and Spamton could have sworn they were sniffling. “It was just so sweet.”

“Not like you at all, Spammy.”

“WHAT? YOU’RE ALL [playing with half a deck]!” he exclaimed, the splotches on his cheeks burning faintly. He turned back to Pink and slammed the cup down. “[Print it], PINKY, IT TASTES GREAT AS IT IS.”

Spamton stormed out, eager to hide his embarrassment as the other Addisons gossiped amongst themselves, just like they used to do at the Cyber Grill.

“How long do you think he’s…?”

“Oh, for a while.”

“Yeah, he’s got it bad.”

“God, and I could have made a mint on wedding dresses…”

By the time another month had passed, Rouxls had faded exponentially from the public eye, and Spamton was virtually back to exactly where he had started before he’d even met Mike. A healthy dose of humility, to be certain, he spent most of his days off in bed, his face buried in his pillow and cursing at himself for letting him go in the first place.

“Spamton,” Orange said as they sat himself on his bed, “you can’t do this to yourself.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE, [creamsicle],” Spamton muttered, “I’VE GOT NOTHING TO SAY TO YOU.”

“We’re all going out to the Cyber Grill tonight,” they said, smiling a little warily. “There’s a place for you.”

“WHAT, SERIOUSLY?” Spamton raised his head, and glanced over his shoulder at him. “WE HAVEN’T BEEN THERE SINCE YOU LOT [threw me in the trash].”

Orange cleared their throat, and furrowed their brow. “Okay, Spamton, i’ve been about as patient with you as I can physically stand and I can’t stand it anymore- now we’ve apologized again and again and you are not guiltless. Now, you can be a little shit as much as you want, but I am not going to let you rot in this room until your boyfriend comes back.”

“IF HE COMES BACK!” Spamton cried, “AND THAT’S A BIG IF!”

“What makes you say that?”

“WHAT KING IS GOING TO WANNA COME HOME TO SOME [washed up mechanic]...? GOD, WHAT IF THAT’S THE REASON HE HASN’T TRIED COMMUNICATING WITH ME?”

“Spamton, he’s a world away… literally. Maybe it’s not that easy.”

“A LETTER, OR SOMETHING, EVEN!” Another moment passed, and suddenly, Orange was lifting Spamton over their shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “HEY WHAT’RE YOU DOING YOU LITTLE [tangerine dream]!?”

“The place still has that chocolate whiskey you love so much… and those lox CD Bagels.”

“...WITH ONIONS?”

“Mmhmm.”

“OKAY, OKAY, [orange crush], I’VE GOT LEGS, I CAN USE THEM.”

The Cyber Grill they frequented had never really changed since Spamton stopped going with his siblings years ago, and that was the beauty of it. The menu may have been upgraded a little bit, and they had cleared out the maus problem, but as it stood, it was still the same as when Spamton first declared his desire to become a big shot. He tried not to enjoy himself too much- it didn’t feel right, but unfortunately, it was difficult not to. The only difference was now his hair was black, and his eyesight was worse, but the laughter was real.

“Where’s Yellow?” Pink asked, looking around the table, “they said they’d be here.”

“I think they said something about catching some big news from the Mansion…” Blue replied.

“And that little slime didn’t invite us?” Pink ejaculated, and shook his head. “What a jerk.”

Spamton snickered, “IT’S THE ART OF THE DEAL, [pink salt].”

While Blue and Orange had their little laughs over it, Yellow almost literally kicked the door to the establishment open, and rushed inside, avoiding the owner as they yelled at them for causing a ruckus. 

“GUYS!” he cried, pulling up a chair and making wild hand gestures. Next to Spamton, they were always the most manic of the five of them. “I’ve got NEWS!”

“I keep telling you, Queen’s never gonna be into the idea of virtual currency.”

“First of all: yes she will, it’ll just take some more time to convince her, and SECOND, that’s not it!” he cried, slicing his arm through the air to banish the accusation. “Okay, get this: the City is going to be getting a visitor! From another World!”

It was enough for them to put their drinks down and pay attention, especially Spamton. 

“It’s gonna be a REAL big deal, ever since that alien- uh- Kaard guy-” he said, tugging his collar as Spamton glowered at him, “proved it was possible! You know what this means!? Sales opportunities!” 

“Any idea who it is?” Pink asked, popping the martini olive into their mouth.

“Ah, no, they caught me looking through the keyhole to Queen’s chambers before she got to that part,” they said, rubbing the back of their neck bashfully. “But anyone who crosses that… weird borderland has to be important- and they have to have money!”

The other Addisons were soon whipped up into a flurry of conversation about the potential visitor, but Spamton was simply staring down into his glass, the brown reflection peering back at him making him anxious. A visitor from another world- it had to be him. It had to be. Right? And things… they wouldn’t have changed… He saved Rouxls’s life, and Rouxls… he gave him a life worth living. He slammed his drink down, and sighed harshly.

“Hey? Earth to Spammy?”

“HUH?”

“It’s probably your boyfriend,” Yellow said, grinning widely. “Are you excited?”

“I’M SO I’M SO I’M SO I’M SO…” he began to glitch, his head fluttering faintly back and forth before he stood up. “YOU [bargain bin bozos] BETTER NOT BE PULLING MY LEG ABOUT THIS!”

“Spamton, what the hell would we have to gain?”

“WHEN WILL THEY BE HERE?”

“Like a week?”

“WHAT IF IT’S NOT [[him]]?”

“What if it is? Sit down , Spamton!”

So he did, scraping his nails down the wood table so deeply you could practically hear it across the room, until he got yelled at by the owner for ruining the veneer. He didn’t end up eating his Bagel, nor did he sleep well that night. Or the night after. Or even the night after that- he merely stood awake, pacing in his room, and praying. He had never been a religious fellow until he met Mike, but it was easier to do something rather than stare at the ceiling. The night before the arrival was the worst, all he could do was clutch his pillow tightly to his little body, and think. Everything was completely blown out of proportion to his addled mind… What if Rouxls had found someone better?

“STUPID, STUPID, SPAMTON! YOU’RE [number one rated salesman1997]! NO ONE’S GONNA FORGET ABOUT YOU THAT EASILY…” is what he liked to tell himself. Unfortunately, he didn’t find proper rest until the makings of dawn, and slept almost the whole day. The hammering of fists on his door finally jostled him awake in the late afternoon, and a glance at the virtual clock on the wall revealed that he had made a terrible mistake.

“HOLY CUNGADERO I’M LATE!” he screamed, throwing the pillow against the wall and forcing himself into his most appropriate uniform (which was the only suit he had owned while he worked with the Addisons- that he was surprised they’d even kept- and realized with horror that it was now loose on him). He threw the door open, and almost got socked in the face by the Blue Addison.

“Oh hell! Sorry, Spammy!”

“WHAT HAPPENED?! WHAT DID I MISS?!” he said breathlessly, slicking his hair down. The other Addisons were positively starry-eyed. A good sign.

“Spamton you should have BEEN there!” Pink said, flapping their hands happily in front of them. “They were so GRAND! And covered with GOLD and JEWELRY! With a CROWN!”

“And the biggest black and white cape I'd ever seen!”

“COVERED with diamonds!”

“DIAMONDS…” Spamton covered his mouth with his hand thoughtfully. Good lord, but if it WAS Rouxls, what the hell did he have to offer? Nothing except himself. “WHY DIDN’T YOU [?!$#] WAKE ME UP?!”

“We tried, Spammy! You were sleeping like the dead!”

“WHERE ARE THEY NOW?!”

“If you wanna see them before they leave, you should go to the Mansion-” Blue replied, and before they could even give him a proper explanation, Spamton was already out the door.

Getting into the Mansion was an easy affair… if you were in Queen’s entourage. If you weren’t, you would have to be extremely determined, and as it stood, there was not a single Darkner in the Cyber World more determined than Spamton in that exact moment. He entered the Mansion like a hurricane, and managed to outmaneuver every Swatchling attempting to apprehend him before he was interrupted by Tasque Manager.

“OUTTA MY WAY, KITTY CAT, I’M ON A [deadline to order for guaranteed Christmas delivery] HERE!”

It went about as well as expected. When he was finally brought before Queen his hair was standing on end and he was wiping blackened soot from electrical burns off of his suit and face, but it was a small price to pay to be able to lay eyes on the zaffre coloured king. Rouxls was bedecked in finery from the crown on his crown to his white boots, adorned with gold spades and white diamonds. He wore plentiful rings and a gold chain fastened on his throat, and a ribbon holding up his snowy locks pinned with a large white diamond, to match. His cape was thick and furry, dotted with black and white, and Spamton thought he could have gotten lost in it if he was so inclined- and he was.

“ROUXLSY!” he exclaimed loudly, scrambling to him and into his embrace, immediately planting a hard kiss onto Rouxls’s mouth. He could taste the gold tooth. “YOU CAME ALONE? IS THAT DANGEROUS?”

Rouxls laughed, “letteth me show thee…”

He shook out his hand, revealing a single large diamond bullet. It then split into many, and he flung his arm out, sending the razor sharp projectiles slamming into the wall of the Mansion, and making a large, long crack that extended from one end of the molding to the other. Queen gasped, though more in ire than in shock.

“Rude,” she said, but Spamton only laughed. 

“HOLY CUNGADERO, [angel], YOU CAN [[bring down the house]] IF YOU WANT TO!” he exclaimed, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice, nor the fluttering taps of his feet as he tried very hard to keep himself together. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW [slap happy] I AM TO SEE YOU! I WAS STARTING TO WORRY YOU’D FORGOTTEN ALL ABOUT OL’ SPAMTON G. SPAMTON!”

“Why wouldst thou do that?” Rouxls replied, tilting his head with a small smile. Spamton stopped moving, and in his trying to come up with a response, merely blushed deeply.

“Ooh He Was Just Depressed,” Queen replied, leaning against Rouxls’s shoulder jocularly. “I Totally Get It, Your Alien Is A Hot Piece Of Jelly.”

“QUEEN!” Spamton shouted.

“Oohohohohoho~”

Spamton was allowed to stay, if only to appease the whims of her guest, even as he and Queen discussed important diplomatic issues. Lancer was brought up, as well as the intention to crown him when he was old enough to at least sort of understand how the world worked. Who knew when that would be. It painted a picture of Rouxls as king for several years.

“They calleth me the new King of Spades… King of Diamonds was too confusing.”

“YOU ARE A [diamond in the rough], THOUGH.”

“Thank thee,” he said, before taking the crown off and placing it on the table between the three of them. “I am noteth used to wearing this, still. I doubteth I ever will be.”

“HEY, SURE YOU WILL,” Spamton replied, smiling at him, haggard as he was. “YOU DESERVE IT, [angel].”

“I am afraid that ruling iseth not all hand waving and royal parties,” Rouxls explained, “it iseth hard, and even though I haveth the other kings to take example from, it is… difficult. I cannote do it alone. I needeth help. I needeth someone by mine side.”

“OH?” Spamton said, his brow going up.

“I haveth been suggested to marry.”

Spamton’s heart sank, and Queen’s visor lit up with a smile. “OH. UH. SO THAT’S SOMETHING THAT’S GOTTA BE BETWEEN [rulers], HUH?”

“It iseth supposed to be,” said Rouxls, and Spamton felt his chest implode so completely he had to clutch at it. “But… if I haveth learned anything abouteth myself these last months, it is that I mayst not be as goode at following the rules as I believed I once was…”

He smiled at Spamton tenderly, and reached up for his hair, before going for his face instead, wanting to avoid getting pomade on his fingers in his finery. Spamton let out a soft trill, closing his eyes a moment. “WHATCHA SAYING, ROUXLSY…?”

“I knoweth where my heart belongs,” he said firmly. “It belongs with thee.”

“AW, THAT’S [sweet-and-low], [angel]...” Spamton said, doing his best to keep the emotion out of his voice. He swallowed as Rouxls pulled away from him, and suddenly, the king himself was on one knee before him, and pulled a small wooden box out of his breast pocket. He opened it, and Spamton beheld the largest diamond he’d ever laid eyes on, without making the ring too unwieldy. “HOLY [!?#$!] LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THAT [rock]!”

“It will protecteth thee from petrification in the Card Kingdom… it took Seam a while to find a bauble they could enchant, but… I picked this one out for thee, personally.”

“ROUXLS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD-!”

“Willst thou helpeth me rule to my best? Willst thou be my Royal Consort?”

“Are You Serious, My Name Is Literally Queen,” Queen grumbled across the table, but Spamton was too busy slamming himself against the other man, and gripping him in a vice.

“ARE YOU [?!#!] KIDDING I’LL SCRUB YOUR ROYAL FLOORS IF IT MEANS I CAN KISS YOU AGAIN! YOU WERE GONE FOR A [one-month advent calendar] AND I NEARLY FELL APART! NEVER, EVER LEAVE AGAIN!”

Rouxls laughed, “I thoughteth thou were fed up with scrubbing floors?”

“HEY, [it’s okay if it’s you].”

“And you willst be alright, leaving thou’s family here once again?” asked Rouxls, and Spamton paused, inhaling deeply for a moment.

“I’M FINE LEAVING THEM,” he explained, perhaps more enthusiastically than he meant to, “BUT SAYING GOODBYE MIGHT BE A [million dollar idea], HUH?”

“We canneth return, sparingly,” Rouxls explained. “Crossing the absolute darkness of the borderworld is difficult, and notteth without risk.”

“SO YEAH,” Spamton replied, “MIND COMING WITH ME? FOR THE [exposure], IMAGINE HOW THE POPULARITY OF THE STORES WILL BOOST IF THEY FIND OUT IT’S FREQUENTED BY A [king]!”

Rouxls laughed, “I donteth know if frequented is the proper term, but… of course~”

“I Am Seriously Sitting Right Here, We Were Having A Conversation- Oh. You’re Gone Already. Swatchling, Bring Me A Battery Acidtini This Romantic Jargon Is Giving Me Reflux.”

It was difficult to say goodbye to his siblings- mostly because they were too busy fawning over the diamond in Spamton’s ring, as well as offering Rouxls parting gifts (for a modest fee) before he was to leave.

“Your brother is the only gifteth I need.”

“What about a stylish dress to go with our brother, though?”

“...Welleth if thou insists!”

At the end of the day, however, the group of them all sat around the table in the Addison’s home and broke bread- hopefully not for the last time, but it would be so, for a while.

“It’s so weird…” Pink had said. “Spamton was… our little guy. He’s been with us since the beginning… all compact and tiny…”

“I’M OLDER THAN ALL OF YOU!”

The other Addisons laughed, and Pink continued. “Now he’s leaving… again… what is this, the third time you’re leaving us, Spamton?”

“I THINK YOU LOT KEEP FORGETTING THAT YOU [left me] THE FIRST TIME.”

“Right, right…” Pink tugged on their collar. “What i’m trying to get across here is that… You’re something really special, Spammy, and they may not appreciate you completely here, but it’s good to know that where you’re going, Darkners will give you the respect you deserve- without having to sell your soul for it.”

Spamton laughed nervously, “YEP! DEFINITELY DIDN’T MAKE A [Faustian bargain] THE FIRST TIME!”

“Whoever you keep praying to, you better keep it up!”

“Yeah, actually, what deity is it? You know, for future reference.”

“And don’t say ‘the almighty dollar’, you cheeky bitch.”

Spamton shrugged. “HONESTLY I DON’T EVEN THINK IT MATTERS. TRUTHFULLY, THEY STOPPED TALKING TO ME AGES AGO. IT’S KIND OF A [bad habit] NOW MORE THAN ANYTHING. I THINK IF YOU REALLY WANNA FIND HAPPINESS, YOU GOTTA BE YOUR OWN [God].”

“Wow, how utterly blasphemous and narcissistic,” Blue sniffed. “Spammy, i’m gonna miss you!”

“Hey, me too!”

“And me!”

“We’ll always leave your door unlocked, Spamton.”

“YOU FOUR ARE TOO NICE… NO WONDER YOUR [!?#$] SELLS LIKE HOTCAKES!”

Laughter erupted from the table, Spamton slamming his palm on it raucously as drinks were consumed and kings were gawked at. Rouxls just smiled, and tightened his grip around Spamton’s sides, that the smaller Addison wouldn’t fall off of his lap in his joviality. 

Chapter Text

ONE YEAR LATER…

Without the pomade in his hair (Rouxls put an economic embargo on anything that could be even close to the product coming from any of the other three regions), Spamton’s hair grew out and grew fluffy. He still cut it like that mullet he preferred, but as it stood, it was much easier for his ruler to run his fingers through. He was wearing a fine outfit- blue rather than pink and yellow like last time, although the buttons that ran down his blazer were those colours, and his pants were tight and show-offish- they had been since the wedding. He was carrying a stack of books in one arm, and at the very last second, he dove forward, and caught Lancer in his other as the toddler fell off of the cabinet he was climbing atop. 

“WHOA, KIDDO, YOU NEARLY [liquidated] YOURSELF!” he cried, and Lancer laughed at Spamton’s obvious nerves. He then proceeded to boop him on the pointy nose, which was a trick that Jevil had taught him. “OH, YOU’RE GONNA GET IT… WAIT UNTIL YOUR [Vice Father] HEARS ABOUT THIS!”

“I see you have your arms full, Royal Consort, shall I help you?”

Spamton huffed, and smirked a little at Seam, who’s robes had changed since Spades’s overthrowing. They were mostly orange and brown, now, and instead of spades, they themselves had sewn on a diamond, or two. “IT’S COURTIER, TO YOU.”

“Of course, of course,” they laughed. “I know you are self-conscious.”

“NO, IT’S JUST… IT’S A [staff only] TITLE!”

“If you insist, Royal Courtier,” Seam said with a bow. “Now, shall I help you or not? You must have a big day to attend, today, after all.”

“BIG DAY? IS THERE A [blow out sale] I MISSED AT THE LAST MEETING?” Spamton asked, juggling Lancer as he attempted to grab and chew on a book. Economic records, very important. Not for teething infants.

“Have I messed up my calendar? Is it not your anniversary?”

Spamton was silent for a moment, before letting out a glitchy, indescribable noise, shoving everything- including the child- into Seam’s grasp, and fleeing quickly as the Magician laughed heartily. When he arrived in their shared quarters, Rouxls was standing at the large window, gazing wistfully. His hair was down, and he was wearing a fitting waistcoat covered in golden spirals over a deep blue shirt, all of it brought together with his tight trousers and gartered socks, patterned with blue diamonds. Spamton had been worried that the actual King of Diamonds would be upset by Rouxls wearing so much of their symbol, but as it stood, they were actually rather flattered, and Rouxls had resumed his celebrity status within that region handily. He held his hands behind his back, and Spamton inhaled deeply. God, how could he have forgotten, with that giant rock on his hand?

Slowly he crept in, just able to make out Rouxls’s humming. “HEY, HEY, [angel]...”

Rouxls whirled around, and smiled at him. “Spamton.”

“...LISTEN, OKAY, I GET THAT IT WAS OUR [anniversary], BUT IT’S GONNA HAVE TO WAIT A DAY, OKAY? I JUST HAD TOO MUCH [gotta work for the money] TO DO WITH THE BUDGET AND LANCER AND COURT AND… WHY ARE YOU [insert laugh track here]?”

The King who was once a Duke had brought his hand up to his mouth, laughing brightly. A pop up emerged from Spamton’s head, flashing a line of question marks in a line that went out past the window. 

“‘Tis our anniversary?” Rouxls asked, looking apologetic. “God, iseth it, really?”

Spamton’s jaw could have hit the floor, before he slapped his face beneath the dealmakers. “EITHER KITTY CAT IS LYING TO ME, OR WE’RE BOTH [a few diamonds short of a chandelier].”

“No, no, i’m more than willing to believe Seam knows what they are talking about,” Rouxls replied, and bent to place a fleeting kiss upon his lips before straightening up and striding away, and Spamton was merely left grinning like a little fool with his head bent backwards. Goodness, even after a year, that still addlepaddled him. “Butteth if it is our anniversary, perhaps I do haveth something I canneth proffer to thee.”

“AW, [blue raspberry], YOU AIN’T GOTTA,” Spamton said, but his breath caught in his throat as Rouxls brought out the ornately carved wooden box, and opened it up, revealing the fine diamond tiara, covered in pearls and gold. “HOCHI MAMA…!”

“Pleased?” Rouxls asked. After being crowned, all of the Spade Queen’s jewelry was placed inside the mausoleum and locked up, so he would never have to look at it ever again. He had purchased new jewelry, custom made, including this- just for Spamton. “I wouldst request thou only wear it within my company… ‘twas not an inexpensive thing to create.”

“THIS ISN’T GONNA ENCITE A COUP, IS IT?” Spamton asked, watching as Rouxls crossed the room with it. “I’M PRETTY SURE THAT’S WHAT PISSED OFF THE FRENCH.”

“I do notteth know what that means,” Rouxls replied, “butteth we art careful, our decrees are fair, and our Darkners are happy. We willst keep it a small secret.”

“OHO, OUR FIRST ROYAL [scandal]!” Spamton said as Rouxls lowered it upon his head, the magic within it kept it light, as if he wasn’t wearing anything at all. 

“Thou speakeths as if Spades never did anything of the sort for his queen.”

“I THOUGHT I WAS A CONSORT?” Spamton said with a wicked little grin. 

“Thou art whatever one wishes to be, in my presence.” 

“I WISH I HAD SOMETHING TO GIVE YOU,” he confessed. Rouxls just took his hand, and pressed his lips to it, right over that ring that kept his body from petrifying. 

“Thou have given me everything I couldst possibly want. I want for nothing.”

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH A MAN WANTING TO [spoil] HIS KING?”

“I ameth certain thou will think of something,” Rouxls said, cocking a brow at him with a cheeky grin. “Perhaps with some of that… whateth do you call it…?”

Spamton chuckled as Rouxls leaned close, and his lips trespassed over the shell of his ear, “[[hyperlink blocked]]~”

Laughter bubbled up from the new king- wild, sweet laughter. A dangerous thing, for sure, for Spamton was sure he could follow it into oblivion like a siren’s song. And he would- over and over again.

“-And even in the face of insurmountable responsibility, the former Duke and his Consort, and indeed, indeed, the entire Card Kingdom, finally found peace, peace! The end!”

Spades huffed, smoke exhaling from his nose in the wake of Jevil’s tale as he bounced around from foot to foot, acting the fool. “Yes, I remember… why are you telling me this?”

“Just making sure you don’t forget, forget!” Jevil giggled. “It is SUCH a sweet tale, is it not?”

“How could I FORGET!?” Spades shouted, grabbing the bars of the cage to rattle firmly. “That traitorous lout and that alien took everything from me… and I have been trapped here for an entire year with nothing but pittance from the kitchen, and YOUR COMPANY!”

“You’re so welcome!”

“NO!” Spades bellowed. “EVERY DAY I AM FORCED TO ENDURE YOUR NONSENSE! HOW DID I EVER CONSIDER YOU SUITABLE TO BE MY JESTER!?”

“Aww, Spades… you must really like me, me!” Jevil exclaimed, placing his hands on his chest in mock shock. Spades ground his teeth.

“Come closer and say that again and I’ll show you how much I love you, fool…”

“I am fine! Right here, here!” he said, and placed a hand on his cheek, gazing distantly at the wall. “Do you ever think about things, Spades?”

“Elaborate.”

“How could one thing change an entire Kingdom?”

“Why don’t you ask the Duke?” drawled the ex-King. “He brought that little alien here, this is his doing.”

“Perhaps, perhaps!” Jevil conceded. “But would it have been the same, if the buttons I pressed had not led him to his world?”

“...What?” 

“I will be back in the ‘morrow with another tale, tale, your reprehensibleness!” 

“NO!” Spades cried, “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!? JEVIL!? JEVIL!!”

The joker ascended the stairwell to the main Castle, and continued upwards to his small room in the highest bower, where Spamton had decreed he be moved as a promotion for his service. So that he could appreciate the view, and that he would also never, ever, ever have to risk bearing witness to him. It was fine. Jevil liked heights. Closing himself up in there, he slammed the iron lock and turned toward the center, where a strange device was sitting in the center of the throw rug. A black telephone, not connected to anything- no wires or antenna, it existed as a simple prop, though brought with it animosity that seemed to darken the whole room.

Taking another step heralded its ring, and he dove for it, immediately picking it up and placing it close to his ear, as he had been taught to do. 

“Hello, hello!” he cried, though he lowered his voice and sat down, kicking his feet a little. “Is that so? What a delight! Shall I press more buttons, buttons?”

He paused a moment, before thrusting the phone away from his ear as it heralded a cavalcade of gurgles, and black goop began to pour from the holes in the receiver. They wove around one another, until a form emerged, and a white hand knitted together from the sludge, holding a single clear, dark crystal. It looked like a piece of glass. 

It placed it into Jevil’s palm, and pulled back into the phone, and with a click, the line went dead. Slowly, Jevil hung up the phone, and held up the crystal, peering into it carefully…

“What a wondrous view…”