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cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

almost.

Genre/Tropes: Childhood Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Royalty AU, Forbidden Love.

Summary: You've fallen for your personal guard, childhood friend, and closet confidante, Deuce Spade. Except you're royalty, and royalty do not marry lowly guards.

Author's Comments: WHEREVER I WRITE FOR DEUCE ITS LIKE 4K WORDS. love that guy, he's so neat. also this was inspired by ceroro's delighted guidance which is a royal au fic with rook!! i wrote this in like a day so this is unedited LMAO

~~~~~

You often fell victim to many bizarre dreams.

They usually centered around the legends your subjects kept alive over centuries. Tales of monsters in the dark parts of the forest and shadows that would swallow you whole. Stories that often frightened you, as the world of Twisted Wonderland was an unpredictable one. There was no telling when something like that would happen, and you would be in danger because of it. Thankfully it wasn’t your responsibility to worry anymore, though your previously self-centered worry now had another target.

Deuce Spade, your childhood friend and appointed guard.

He used to be able to run into your room whenever you screamed and comfort you by waving his hands around and yelling about how he’d beat up anyone that dared to harm you. His mother would often scold him for his violent behavior, but if nothing else it did make you feel safer. Eventually, you were even able to persuade your father to place his family’s room right across from yours, where you and Deuce could hang out whenever you wanted.

If only things could still be that way.

Instead of having dreams about monsters in the woods, you have dreams of faceless royalty vying for your hand and towering over you, their faces splitting open in sickeningly sweet grins as they grab at you. You always seem to wake up in a cold sweat from those, clutching your blankets to your chest like a lifeline. Tonight is one of those nights.

You slip out of bed and throw the bed sheets to the side, the slippers resting at the foot of your bed shielding your feet from the cold. It isn’t hard to navigate your room in the almost complete darkness, and you reach the door in no time flat. The guard currently posted outside your door is not Deuce Spade, but he doesn’t question it when you creep across the hall so he’s fine enough. He just follows you, stopping outside the Spade family’s door without a single indicator as to what he’s thinking.

It doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m pathetic. Deuce doesn’t. His opinion is the only one I care about.

You twist the doorknob and the door swings open. It isn’t safe, you think, but you know people like Deuce and his mother can’t afford to have the amount of protection that you do. The polished wood groans as you step into the room, and you freeze with a wince. Deuce is a notoriously light sleeper, and you just woke him up.

The door swings shut behind you, and shuts with a soft click.

You’re left in darkness.

“Deuce?” you whisper, creeping towards the edge of his bed and crouching down to his level, “Deuce, it’s me.”

“My Liege...why are you awake?” he mumbled, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes, “Did you have another dream?”

“Mhm.” you hum, grasping at the corner of the bedsheets and tugging them off his body, “Let me in. I can’t sleep in my room.”

Deuce sighs and complies, scooting over so you have room. You plop down beside him and feel a wave of warmth wash over you. He takes extra care in tucking you in but turns around so his back is facing you once he’s done making you comfortable. You feel a stab of rejection in your chest but try not to dwell on it.

His duty is not to care about you.

“Goodnight, My Liege.” he whispers, the sound insignificant to him but worth more than a thousand diamonds to you.

“Yes, goodnight Deuce.” you say, shutting your eyes.

It’s disappointing that the distance between you hasn’t changed, even though you snuck across the hall for him.

The next morning you wake up early when Deuce has already slipped out of bed to begin his rounds. You blink slowly, wishing you could have savored sleeping with him a little bit longer. A frantic knocking on the door spurs you awake, and Deuce’s mother rushes to answer it. It’s the guard that covers your late night shift, and by the look on his face, he'd been searching frantically for you. You almost feel bad.

You smile at Deuce’s mother and thank her for letting you stay over so often, but she just shakes her head and bows to you. If the guard wasn’t here, you know full well she would have swept you into her arms and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You’re convinced Deuce’s mom is the greatest woman alive.

You exit the safe haven you’ve built up over the years, stepping back into your royal chambers. There’s only so much you can do to hide your exhaustion when you see a few handmaidens and a tailor standing in front of your giant full-length mirror.

Frankly, it’s disturbing how prophetic your dreams can be sometimes.

As the handmaidens talk, it occurs to you that your father must have announced a ball to be held in honor of something or other (not that he ever needs a reason to party anyways, as he will always find a way to throw a party more extravagant than the last.) There’s no doubt in your mind that many suitors from neighboring kingdoms will come to vie for your hand, and it doesn’t matter if your eyes are locked onto one of your guards or not because love is politics in royalty.

There’s a handmaiden currently fluttering around you, and she’s assisting the tailor your father called over to fix an outfit for you. Even though you resent the idea of participating, you can’t help but admire the fabrics that you’ll be wearing for this event. You can’t admire them freely though, because it just so happens that right now is when the late-night guard switches with the early-morning one, and that early-morning guard is none other than Deuce Spade. To make matters worse, because of the guests in your room, he’s stationed inside (which wouldn’t be so bad if you were alone, but if that was the case he would never enter just because.) The thought of him seeing you in all this gaudy fabric makes you feel shameful, even if they are beautiful swatches.

“Oh, My Liege...” one of the handmaidens sighs, clasping her hands in front of her chest as she looks at you adoringly, “You’re going to look so lovely! Everyone will be tripping over their feet to earn a dance with you!”

You don’t look at Deuce. You don’t think you can right now.

“Oh, you think so?” you say mildly, absentmindedly continuing the conversation.

She nods a little too enthusiastically, and you hold back a sigh. Why is everyone so eager to marry you off to the first royal heir that comes knocking on your door?

“Oh, absolutely My Liege!” she beams, her round cheeks turning pink with pride, “I’ve been working for your father for a long time, I’m certain he’ll establish the best future for you!”

Economically, maybe. But emotionally? His understanding is lacking.

“I’m delighted that he’s going such lengths for me. Really, I’m spoiled.” you say through clenched teeth, and you hope your grimace passes for a smile.

Judging by the way the handmaiden is nodding vigorously with hums of approval flooding from your mouth, you’re pretty sure you’ve nailed it.

It’s so hard to ignore Deuce like he’s just another guard, like he isn’t the only one in this palace you can trust. Most of what occurs here is for appearances, but he’s never cared about that sort of thing. Even when you fell in the mud or scraped your knees or got a papercut he never scolded you for being out of line or not acting like royalty. There was no speech about you being the next ruler, he just fixed you up and vowed to protect you better next time. You always thought that was funny when you were a kid, but now you yearn for those days.

Things were so much better back then.

Brow furrowing with sorrow, you can’t help but look at Deuce in the mirror.

Your breath gets caught in your throat when your eyes unexpectedly lock with a beautiful pair that look just like the ocean on a sunny day. He’s looking at you.

Your opinion is the only one that matters is what you try to convey to him using only your pleading gaze. I don’t care what the other royals think is pretty or what my father thinks or even the handmaidens. I just want you to think I’m lovely.

You don’t know if he gets the message.

♠️

The ball is in full swing, and you feel like you might pass out.

You put in a formal request for Deuce Spade to be your bodyguard for the event, and you’re glad it was granted. Your mind is running a mile a minute not because you want to impress the dazzling royalty that are spinning around the palace’s ballroom in dresses and suits that would blind a man, but because you keep trying to come up with excuses to leave with Deuce. You don’t want to be here and he knows it, but he can’t do anything about it.

“Oh, I’m so warm.” you sigh loudly, and you feel a sense of accomplishment when Deuce snorts quietly beside you, “I must take a break, I’m sorry Prince Rosehearts.”

“That’s quite alright.” the young boy bows, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here as who you can only assume to be his mother is breathing down his neck, “Take your time, you highness.”

You wave, forcing a smile as you make your way to the gardens. A spike of irritation stabs you at the base of your throat when another prince jumps in your way, his expression bright and happy. He immediately starts yapping about how nice the festivities are as his companion stares into space with a harsh glare. You shiver and pray that glare will never be directed at you tonight.

“Kalim, I’m sure they want to rest.” the boy beside him says flatly, “Why don’t you go sample their drinks, since you’ve already had your fill of their food?”

Wow. That’s the first time you’ve seen a prince and his companion with such a close relationship. They must be childhood friends.

Just like you and Deuce, and yet not like you two at all.

“Oh! That’s a good idea, Jamil!” he laughs, waving goodbye to you with a flimsy bow, “I’ll see you later, your highness!”

You grimace and wave back, hoping that’s not the man your father will have you marry. He seems to be far too much to handle and not quite hard-working enough.

Or maybe you just need to stop comparing every man you see to Deuce.

With the Asim heir out of the way, you continue to the gardens without another interruption. Your shoulders sag with barely masked relief as the flowering bushes come into view. They’re the same bushes you fell into far too many times in your childhood, and the same bushes Deuce and his mother had to fish you out of.

“Aren’t these flowers so pretty?” you ask, slotting a stem between your ring and middle finger. You cup it with reverence, as it’s one of the only tangible things you have from a better time. One of the only things you were allowed to touch.

You look over at Deuce.

“Yeah, they are.” he sighs, kneeling next to you with a soft smile, “They always did remind me of you.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words, and you feel your face heating up. There was nothing any of those royals could give you that would ever take your heart back from the boy in front of you. You turn your head to face him, staring into those deep blue eyes. He stares back, a pink flush steadily growing darker on his cheeks. You wet your lips and lean a bit closer because this moment is right, you two are alone, and you don’t think you’ll ever get this chance again.

He stands up and clears his throat. Your approach stalls halfway, and you feel as though you were just doused in icy cold water.

“I’m sorry, My Liege.” he mumbled, avoiding your questioning gaze with bright red cheeks, “I...I can’t. It’s improper.”

“Deuce?” you whisper, the sound so weak and pathetic that you hate yourself for it.

“Um...My Liege, please get up. It’s...not fit for royalty to be crouched on the ground like that.” he says, the words sounding so wrong on his tongue.

It doesn’t change the fact that he said them.

“Deuce...do you hate me?” you ask, shakily rising to your knees, “You’re always so distant when we used to be so close, and when I climbed into bed with you last night you didn’t even look at me before you fell asleep. Please just tell me if there’s nothing there because I don’t think I can stand to have this uncertainty surrounding us.”

You’re also certain that a broken heart would make it even worse for you.

“I can’t let...feelings get in the way of protecting you-”

Whose feelings?

“-because you’re...My Liege, and it’s my duty to protect you-”

I want to be more!

“-so I can’t act...I...I’m sorry.”

“Can’t act on what?” you persist, clasping your hands over your heart as if that will protect it.

“I can’t say.” Deuce looks away, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

It doesn’t stop you from pushing.

“Why not? You used to say exactly how you felt when we were kids. Does being royalty make it that difficult...?” you take a step back, braced for the worst.

“It does, My Liege.” he confesses, and a sickening feeling wells up in your stomach.

Your heart shatters in your chest.

Your head is spinning as you stumble away from Deuce with a grimace on your face, unable to focus on anything except for the mixture of emotions you feel.

“I...I need to think.” you mumble, stumbling over yourself as you turn on your heel and start to run.

“My Liege!” Deuce yells after you, taking off behind you.

“Don’t follow me! That’s an order!” you cry out, throwing yourself around a tree trunk and through a patch of briars. Your precious clothing was torn in seconds, the fabric catching and yanking on the thorns.

You kept running.

Deuce’s footsteps were still trailing you, but he hadn’t caught you yet. You wished he was following you because he was worried, not because it was his duty to keep you safe. You wished you two could still have fun together. You wished he cared about you like he used to. You wished you could spend your days with him and his mother inside his room, playing silly games and eating those delicious chicken sandwiches she made.

You wished you could be a Spade.

A loud crunch is the last thing you hear before you go plummeting into a creek, your formal wear doing nothing to protect you from the shocking cold. A sharp pain travels up your ankle and you curse whatever divine force made you sprain it.

You are suddenly keenly aware of every sound within these woods. the slight moment of a branch on your left, the whispering of the tree’s leaves on your right, and the skittering sound of leaves billowing around the woods. A sudden fear overtakes you, a foreign emotion that you never had to face due to your upbringing.

“Deuce?” you call out, feeling like an injured child again, “Deuce!”

“My Liege!” he calls back, and you feel relief rushing through you when he bursts through the greenery hiding you from view.

Your previous heartbreak is immediately forgotten when his expression of pure fear melts into relief. He splashes towards you without a care in the world for his pristine uniform and gathers you up in his arms with one swoop. You gasp as you’re crushed against him, his hand cradling the back of your head like he’s never planning on letting you go.

“Shit, don’t ever do that again. I’m sorry I hurt you that much. I thought I was saying the right things and that I was protecting you, but-” he gasps for breath, holding you closer and closer until there’s no space left between your bodies, “Fuck. Please, never do that again.”

“Deuce.” you sob, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks before you can stop them, “It’s okay. I was the one acting like a child. I think I’m just so used to getting what I want that when I can’t have you I...”

You don’t say anything. You can’t find the words, but Deuce knows. He understands.

“You should know that you’re precious to me.” he murmurs, a forbidden confession that you know he could never make in the palace, “Nothing will ever change that. Even if I wasn’t your guard, I’d still want to protect you as much as I can. I want to be better for you.”

“I don’t want to leave here yet.” you beg, clinging to his uniform, “Please, can we stay here for a while longer?”

His expression softens even more at your plea, and Deuce allows himself to squeeze you. It’s a tender gesture that sends your heart into a frenzy again.

“Of course.” he murmurs, and it’s then that you realize how close he is to you.

“Deuce.” you whisper, leaning in again, hoping against all hope that this is the right moment, “Can I...kiss you?”

He sucks in a shaky breath at your request, but this time he doesn’t pull away. You wait patiently, for a few beats, staring into his eyes as the creek’s chill helps to minimize the heat of your face.

“My Liege...” he furrows his brow, mouth curving downwards in a frown, “I can’t.”

“Please. Please, Deuce. I want to kiss you.” you mirror his expression.

“I do too.” he whispers, flinching at his own words, “I want to kiss you so much. I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Then please.” you cry, every cell in your body desperate for just one kiss, “Please.”

Deuce sighs, but you can see his composure breaking.

He whispers your name—your actual name, not My Liege or your highness, just your name and it’s the most beautiful whisper of your name you think you’ll ever hear and his mouth slots against yours.

You gasp, pushing against him to get more and more of him because this is a fleeting moment and you know you'll probably never get to do this again.

You will never get to kiss Deuce Spade again.

He presses a hand against your lower back and holds you close, the other one still cradling your head. He’s leaning in too, kissing you just as desperately as you’re kissing him, and just that fact alone has a joyful lightness filling your heart. You feel like you could fly right now and take Deuce with you away from the palace and your responsibilities and the title that keeps you two apart.

It’s over too soon.

♠️

You’re convinced your father didn’t need to scold you as much as he did. Even though Deuce didn’t want you to, you still took the blame for what happened. Your father would have thrown him and his mother out if you hadn’t, and you don’t know how you would live if Deuce wasn’t around.

The memory of the kiss is still floating around in your head, and it still makes you feel just as light as it did when it happened. You swear your guard used some sort of magic on you because your brain is entirely captivated by him.

Though, you suppose with a giggle, that is nothing new.

Your joy doesn’t last long though, as memories of what happened after the kiss creep into your head.

“I hate this distance between us.” you said as you trailed a hand down his cheek, “I just want to be close to you. I want to be your best friend and your closest confidante and...I want to marry you, even. I want to be with you forever.”

“My Liege, you can’t marry a guard.” he protested, and your heart ached at the return of honorifics, “Why would you want to do such a thing?”

“You know, you try too hard to stick to the rules. You rarely did that in our childhood.” you huffed, “I want to marry you because I love you. Surely you knew that?”

“That’s why I can’t marry you My Liege.” he sighed and looked at you with such sorrow that it broke your heart again, “I need you to have the approval of the people and to find a husband. I need...I need to be better for you and my mother. I need to follow my duties so neither of you get hurt again. I’m sorry.”

You try to bring back the happy memory of the kiss, but your mood has already soured.

And so you greet your handmaiden halfhearted as she rushes you into your bathroom. She's chattering on and on about how dreadful it is that your clothes got ruined, but that you still look stunning no matter what. You say nothing. She scrubs and scrubs and you try to wipe the memory of those hurtful, honest words out of your mind to no avail. You’re relieved that your father sent all the guests home early because of your little “stunt,” as he called it. At least now you don’t have to converse with royals who could never hold you or care for you or kiss you like Deuce Spade does.

Dinner is spent in silence as your father croons about how lucky it was that you weren’t hurt, since there are many wild animals on the castle grounds and oh, by the way, did you hear about his most recent hunting expedition? He’d be delighted to relive the tale of him shooting this large boar he found-

You excuse yourself with a weak smile and your father waves you away, content to use the handmaidens and butlers as his audience. Your handmaiden follows you back to your room, where she helps you change into your pajamas. You wave her away the second she’s done.

Flopping down on your bed, you can’t help but feel empty. You wonder why that is.

Today has held many emotional twists and turns, and perhaps it was too much.

Despite your better judgment, you get back up out of bed and head towards the door. The guard once again says nothing as you walk across the hall and knock on the door belonging to the Spade family. Deuce’s mom opens the door immediately and welcomes you in with that same happy smile, and that alone tells you she knows nothing.

“I hope the festivities didn’t tire you out too much, dear.” she hugs you, the comforting warmth of her seeping into your expensive pajamas, “I’ll go make you some tea. I’m sure your father means well, as he’s trying to secure you a happy future, but if you ever need a break from it all our door is always open.”

A happy future?

You look over at Deuce, only to find him already looking at you.

There’s a sharp pang in your heart at his saddened expression.

You were so close.

You were almost there.

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