The Storyteller [1/3] The Beginning
Dec. 25th, 2011 12:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_wingedTitle: The Storyteller, Part One: The Beginning.
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blood_winged
Recipient:arakni666
Rating/Warnings: G
Characters: Arthur, Alfred, Matthew.
Summary: Prompt: One Thousand and One Nights - Alfred is the bored, lovesick prince, and Arthur is the storyteller. Arthur is taken to the palace of the infamous Prince Alfred, where he meets the man's quiet, anxious younger brother, and finally the prince himself. He doesn't plan to become simply the next in a long line.
Notes: Playing around with the story some to make it fit better, I hope that's fine =w= (Arthur doesn't seem the type to actively volunteer for this kind of thing). Not sure if I'm happy with this yet, but it's only the start :I Next will be posted Christmas Day, the third on Boxing Day. I find that somewhat fitting.
It wasn’t exactly how he imagined he’d end his days, but Arthur Kirkland had never been one to make a fuss about the situations that he found himself in when they could no longer be fought against. He had never thought to be the next in line to be a victim of the prince, and he supposed that he ought to have been flattered to have been noticed in such a way, even if it meant that this day might well be the last one of his life.
It was rather unceremoniously that he was taken to the palace, little more than a simple carriage sent for him barely days after he had been given the ‘honour’ of being selected. He was not quite a commoner, though nobles might have had something of a sneer on their faces while they addressed him as ‘Lord’, and while he frequently had ideas above his station he was often lacking in the ability to pull them through. This was perhaps as far above his station as he would have been able to reach, and yet it would likely end in his demise. He might have been worried about his situation, had he not been thinking so frantically about how to get himself out of it. The manner in which Prince Alfred dealt with each of his new lovers was well known, though always spoken about as if it should have been some kind of secret. A rather poor secret, Arthur thought as he was jostled along by the movement of the carriage. The driver had looked at him with pity that he didn’t want – it would have been so easy to run, but becoming a fugitive wasn’t high on his list of things to do with his life. Of course, dying wasn’t either, but that was neither here nor there.
Left to enter alone, he was beginning to think that this was all some kind if elaborate prank, when he heard the soft sound of a throat being cleared nearby and a young man stepped out of the shadows, materialising as if from thin air. Taller than Arthur, with lightly curled blonde hair and soft violet eyes, the stranger smiled and gestured with one hand for Arthur to follow him, and he did so, casting quick, suspicious looks up at him every now and then. It wasn’t long before curiosity overrode him and he wet his lips, frowning as he spoke.
“Who the devil are you?”
For several long moments it was as if he hadn’t been heard, or was simply being ignored, and he felt a twitch of irritation before the other man let out a slow sigh and seemed to force another smile.
“My name is Matthew. Prince Alfred is my brother.”
There were so many questions that Arthur wanted to ask in that moment, but Matthew looked so distant, so sad that he couldn’t bring himself to say anything except a quiet, subdued, ‘oh’. He was led through several wide, low-ceilinged corridors, to a room that looked barely touched, and certainly not lived in. Something about the place sent a shiver through him, and he made a low, uncomfortable sound as they entered. Matthew shut the door behind them and leaned against it, regarding Arthur with that saddened look but there was something else there, a hint of wishing to speak but being unable or unwilling, or perhaps simply not knowing where to begin.
“Tell me about the prince,” Arthur said, trying to shake off the feeling that he was being watched. The room felt cold, though whether that was from lack of use or some other, more difficult to explain reason, he hadn’t yet decided. “It may be useful for me to know what kind of a man I’m going up against.” The best way to view this would be as a challenge, he had told himself. Challenges could be overcome.
Matthew laughed then, though it trailed off quickly, leaving him with a pained half-smile that slowly faded. “Alfred is… demanding, and petulant… It is difficult to make him listen.” Rubbing the back of his neck, the blonde shook his head. “It will be of little use for you to know anything about him. No one has ever occupied this room for longer than one night.”
“I have no intentions of vacating quite so soon,” the smaller man replied, the confidence that he managed to inject into his voice drawing a surprised look up towards him. “Tell me everything that you can, and perhaps we will be able to speak of other things in the future.”
“You… honestly believe that… eh…” It was with a little less of a defeated air that Matthew took the chair offered to him and leaned forwards, crossing his forearms over his knees. “I would certainly not object to a more permanent person in my brother’s life, but you will need to have a special talent indeed to keep him from moving past you as quickly as he has the others.”
Then, he talked. Arthur listened in silence as Matthew’s words built a picture in his mind. It wasn’t an entirely flattering image of the young prince that he had yet to meet but nor was it frightening. To know so much about him forced him to become exactly what he was – only a boy, and Arthur was many things but he was certainly not afraid of a boy. A plan began to form, and by the time Matthew had realised how long he had spent talking and hurriedly excused himself, Arthur was feeling rather less panicked about this situation. This prince, it seemed, was very much like a child, and Arthur knew well enough how to deal with a child. He had heard of a similar ploy used by a woman in a country far from here, and as he recalled she had been quite successful.
Night was falling when he was finally called upon to be presented to the prince. Arthur had done his best to make himself look presentable, though his hair had never been the type to do what he wanted it to when he needed it to, and it was with some amount of trepidation that he allowed himself to be escorted into the large throne room, towards a raised platform holding a grand throne. In the throne lounged a bored-looking, though undeniably attractive man and for a brief moment Arthur marked the resemblance between he and his brother, then the man’s sky-blue eyes fell on him and every thought in his head fell silent.
“Name,” the prince sighed, resting his head on one upturned palm and regarding the man before him with such a level of disinterest that Arthur was almost insulted.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your name. What is it?”
“Arthur Kirkland,” he replied, tilting his chin up defiantly.
“Alright.” Alfred stood, and made his way down from the platform with a kind of lazy swagger that made Arthur want to push him to see if he’d overbalance and fall. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Not so bloody fast,” Arthur said quickly, and Alfred pulled up short, blinking. “I don’t know what kinds of people you’re used to dealing with, your highness, but I can tell you right this minute that I’m not one of them. Before you get me rolling into bed with you we’re going to have a conversation, like two civilised people.”
“I... uh. Huh?” Completely thrown off his stride, Alfred’s expression had gone from one of self-confident aloofness to what could only be called bewilderment in an instant, and Arthur took advantage of it, sitting down on one of the steps leading up to the throne and lightly patting the spot beside him.
“If you don’t know how to talk then I suppose I’ll have to do all the talking until you work it out.” Alfred sat down, scuffing one hand through his hair, the long limbs that had seemed so graceful while he had been seated and when he had walked suddenly awkward and almost gangly. “If you don’t object, I’ll be telling you a story.”
“A story?” Alfred bristled, a scowl on his face. “I’m not some child that needs to be told stories.”
“I didn’t say that you needed to be told, I said that I was going to tell you one, unless you object. Do you like stories?”
“I guess…-”
“Marvellous, then. Settle down, and I’ll begin.”
-------------
| Part Two |>
Author:
blood_wingedRecipient:
arakni666Rating/Warnings: G
Characters: Arthur, Alfred, Matthew.
Summary: Prompt: One Thousand and One Nights - Alfred is the bored, lovesick prince, and Arthur is the storyteller. Arthur is taken to the palace of the infamous Prince Alfred, where he meets the man's quiet, anxious younger brother, and finally the prince himself. He doesn't plan to become simply the next in a long line.
Notes: Playing around with the story some to make it fit better, I hope that's fine =w= (Arthur doesn't seem the type to actively volunteer for this kind of thing). Not sure if I'm happy with this yet, but it's only the start :I Next will be posted Christmas Day, the third on Boxing Day. I find that somewhat fitting.
*****
It wasn’t exactly how he imagined he’d end his days, but Arthur Kirkland had never been one to make a fuss about the situations that he found himself in when they could no longer be fought against. He had never thought to be the next in line to be a victim of the prince, and he supposed that he ought to have been flattered to have been noticed in such a way, even if it meant that this day might well be the last one of his life.
It was rather unceremoniously that he was taken to the palace, little more than a simple carriage sent for him barely days after he had been given the ‘honour’ of being selected. He was not quite a commoner, though nobles might have had something of a sneer on their faces while they addressed him as ‘Lord’, and while he frequently had ideas above his station he was often lacking in the ability to pull them through. This was perhaps as far above his station as he would have been able to reach, and yet it would likely end in his demise. He might have been worried about his situation, had he not been thinking so frantically about how to get himself out of it. The manner in which Prince Alfred dealt with each of his new lovers was well known, though always spoken about as if it should have been some kind of secret. A rather poor secret, Arthur thought as he was jostled along by the movement of the carriage. The driver had looked at him with pity that he didn’t want – it would have been so easy to run, but becoming a fugitive wasn’t high on his list of things to do with his life. Of course, dying wasn’t either, but that was neither here nor there.
Left to enter alone, he was beginning to think that this was all some kind if elaborate prank, when he heard the soft sound of a throat being cleared nearby and a young man stepped out of the shadows, materialising as if from thin air. Taller than Arthur, with lightly curled blonde hair and soft violet eyes, the stranger smiled and gestured with one hand for Arthur to follow him, and he did so, casting quick, suspicious looks up at him every now and then. It wasn’t long before curiosity overrode him and he wet his lips, frowning as he spoke.
“Who the devil are you?”
For several long moments it was as if he hadn’t been heard, or was simply being ignored, and he felt a twitch of irritation before the other man let out a slow sigh and seemed to force another smile.
“My name is Matthew. Prince Alfred is my brother.”
There were so many questions that Arthur wanted to ask in that moment, but Matthew looked so distant, so sad that he couldn’t bring himself to say anything except a quiet, subdued, ‘oh’. He was led through several wide, low-ceilinged corridors, to a room that looked barely touched, and certainly not lived in. Something about the place sent a shiver through him, and he made a low, uncomfortable sound as they entered. Matthew shut the door behind them and leaned against it, regarding Arthur with that saddened look but there was something else there, a hint of wishing to speak but being unable or unwilling, or perhaps simply not knowing where to begin.
“Tell me about the prince,” Arthur said, trying to shake off the feeling that he was being watched. The room felt cold, though whether that was from lack of use or some other, more difficult to explain reason, he hadn’t yet decided. “It may be useful for me to know what kind of a man I’m going up against.” The best way to view this would be as a challenge, he had told himself. Challenges could be overcome.
Matthew laughed then, though it trailed off quickly, leaving him with a pained half-smile that slowly faded. “Alfred is… demanding, and petulant… It is difficult to make him listen.” Rubbing the back of his neck, the blonde shook his head. “It will be of little use for you to know anything about him. No one has ever occupied this room for longer than one night.”
“I have no intentions of vacating quite so soon,” the smaller man replied, the confidence that he managed to inject into his voice drawing a surprised look up towards him. “Tell me everything that you can, and perhaps we will be able to speak of other things in the future.”
“You… honestly believe that… eh…” It was with a little less of a defeated air that Matthew took the chair offered to him and leaned forwards, crossing his forearms over his knees. “I would certainly not object to a more permanent person in my brother’s life, but you will need to have a special talent indeed to keep him from moving past you as quickly as he has the others.”
Then, he talked. Arthur listened in silence as Matthew’s words built a picture in his mind. It wasn’t an entirely flattering image of the young prince that he had yet to meet but nor was it frightening. To know so much about him forced him to become exactly what he was – only a boy, and Arthur was many things but he was certainly not afraid of a boy. A plan began to form, and by the time Matthew had realised how long he had spent talking and hurriedly excused himself, Arthur was feeling rather less panicked about this situation. This prince, it seemed, was very much like a child, and Arthur knew well enough how to deal with a child. He had heard of a similar ploy used by a woman in a country far from here, and as he recalled she had been quite successful.
Night was falling when he was finally called upon to be presented to the prince. Arthur had done his best to make himself look presentable, though his hair had never been the type to do what he wanted it to when he needed it to, and it was with some amount of trepidation that he allowed himself to be escorted into the large throne room, towards a raised platform holding a grand throne. In the throne lounged a bored-looking, though undeniably attractive man and for a brief moment Arthur marked the resemblance between he and his brother, then the man’s sky-blue eyes fell on him and every thought in his head fell silent.
“Name,” the prince sighed, resting his head on one upturned palm and regarding the man before him with such a level of disinterest that Arthur was almost insulted.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your name. What is it?”
“Arthur Kirkland,” he replied, tilting his chin up defiantly.
“Alright.” Alfred stood, and made his way down from the platform with a kind of lazy swagger that made Arthur want to push him to see if he’d overbalance and fall. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Not so bloody fast,” Arthur said quickly, and Alfred pulled up short, blinking. “I don’t know what kinds of people you’re used to dealing with, your highness, but I can tell you right this minute that I’m not one of them. Before you get me rolling into bed with you we’re going to have a conversation, like two civilised people.”
“I... uh. Huh?” Completely thrown off his stride, Alfred’s expression had gone from one of self-confident aloofness to what could only be called bewilderment in an instant, and Arthur took advantage of it, sitting down on one of the steps leading up to the throne and lightly patting the spot beside him.
“If you don’t know how to talk then I suppose I’ll have to do all the talking until you work it out.” Alfred sat down, scuffing one hand through his hair, the long limbs that had seemed so graceful while he had been seated and when he had walked suddenly awkward and almost gangly. “If you don’t object, I’ll be telling you a story.”
“A story?” Alfred bristled, a scowl on his face. “I’m not some child that needs to be told stories.”
“I didn’t say that you needed to be told, I said that I was going to tell you one, unless you object. Do you like stories?”
“I guess…-”
“Marvellous, then. Settle down, and I’ll begin.”
-------------
| Part Two |>
