The Storyteller [2/3] The Middle
Dec. 26th, 2011 09:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_wingedTitle: The Storyteller, Part Two: The Middle
Author:![[info]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/63dba15db604/1092261-166382/l-files.livejournal.net/userhead/98?v=1320914709)
blood_winged
Recipient:![[info]](../../img/userinfo.gif?v=88.3)
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's plan is working for now, and he finds out exactly why the prince never keeps a lover.
Notes: Sorry for the late, my internet was out :1 Final chapter will be posted uh.. later today ;D
In a strange way, it was almost rewarding to see the way that the young prince’s eyes shifted from suspicion to curiosity as Arthur spoke. A storyteller by nature it had not taken him long to think of a tale to tell and he weaved it like a master. His first tale was that of Sir George and the Dragon, a legend from his own home of a brave knight who had slain a fearsome beast to save an entire country.
Slowly, as he spoke, he began to see Alfred relax. His shoulders dropped from their tense position and he leaned forwards, a faint eagerness sparking in his eyes. Arthur could have sworn that now and then he’d seen the faintest hints of a smile beginning on the younger man’s lips. It was encouraging, though he was careful not to give anything away, keeping his own expression as passive as he could manage as he told a tale that he knew so well.
“The brave knight travelled up to the lair of the dragon,” he said, his voice softly hushed, forcing Alfred to lean forwards in order to properly hear him. Night had fallen and although the braziers had been lit, the lack of light coming in through the windows brought darkening shadows to the furthest corners of the room. Alfred’s eyes were slightly wide, his hands gripping his knees and his entire posture relaxed, his attention fixed on the man in front of him. “And although fear gripped his brave heart he did not falter, until he came upon the entrance to a cave. The ground was scattered with the bones of those who had gone before him, and from the darkness curled a thin wisp of grey smoke. Sir George stepped inside, and…”
Arthur paused as Alfred did his best to cover a yawn with his hand, though it overtook him so completely that his eyes closed and they were glassy when they opened again. He looked at Arthur expectantly, making a small gesture with one hand. “And?”
“And… I believe that your highness will enjoy this story better if I finish it when you are better rested.” Arthur levelled his tone carefully between suggestion and command, and for a moment Alfred scowled and Arthur felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Then, the prince twisted his lips a little and shrugged, getting to his feet.
“I guess so,” he muttered, looking down at Arthur with an expression that appeared to Arthur as one of near-confusion. “I’ll call for you tomorrow, and you will finish the story.”
“Of course, your highness.”
Alfred walked out, leaving Arthur alone in the throne room, and the moment the door quietly clicked closed he dropped onto his back on the steps, pressing one hand to his forehead and staring up at the ceiling. Now that the prince was gone the anxiety that he had been holding back flooded in, and he could feel himself all but shaking with nerves as he lay there. A short, half-hysterical giggle burst past his lips before he pressed them shut, and then suddenly he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He had, at least for one night, avoided the fate of all others that had gone before him. He had to admit, also, that there was something quite endearing about the young prince, in his blue eyes and sunny blonde hair, and the way that he had so honestly enjoyed being told a simple story. Smiling a little, Arthur sat up and put his head in his hands, closing his eyes and just breathing for a moment, never more grateful of the freedom to do so.
He stood, and made his way on slightly shaking legs back to his room, dropping face-first onto the bed and closing his eyes. “By the gods…” he murmured.
“I would not be so quick to thank the gods for your good fortune,” said a voice, so quiet that it barely startled Arthur and he sat up, finding Matthew seated in the corner of the room, watching him with a faint smile. Frowning, Arthur straightened and glanced at the door, then back to the prince’s brother, who only smiled at him again. “I think that your own luck may have had much to do with it, eh?”
“I don’t believe I would have had the idea were it not for you,” Arthur replied once he had shaken off his surprise at how the man had so quietly entered the room. “I know well enough that all children love to be told stories.”
Matthew laughed, then, and his face lit up with it, so much so that Arthur found himself chuckling as well. “He is a child, then? It would be wise to keep such observations to yourself.” It was good advice though not any that Arthur needed – in many ways he was foolhardy but not so much so to tempt Fate by comparing the prince to a child within range of his hearing. Arthur crossed the room to pour himself a drink, offering one to Matthew who declined with a small shake of his head, and with a delicately carved crystal goblet in his hand he perched at the end of the bed, shivering a little as that same chill that he had felt upon his arrival washed over him again.
“Tell me, Matthew,” he said, taking a sip and letting out a low noise of approval. “Why is it that he puts all of his lovers to death? He barely seems the type of person able to do such things.”
For a moment Arthur wondered if he had asked too much. Matthew blanched, and looked away, an expression of undeniable discomfort passing over his face as he shifted in his seat and brought up a hand to rub distractedly at his neck. He tipped his head to one side and swallowed, then pushed forth a smile. “My brother is capable of many things that you would not think him able to do,” he murmured. “He has the look of innocence about him – something that will no doubt serve him well, eh? However, how he acts in love is not something that he can be blamed for. Not entirely.”
It appeared then that Matthew was done, but Arthur waited, and after a few moments the other blonde spoke again. “Some years ago, Prince Alfred was betrayed by someone very dear to him. That person stole his lover and since then he has trusted no one.”
“Ah…” There was little else that could be said to such a sad tale, and Arthur swallowed the rest of his drink in a mouthful slightly too large, that made him cough. When his throat had cleared he looked up to find Matthew standing near the door, his hand resting on the handle. “A final question, before you leave,” he said, as curiosity brought it to his mind. “Who betrayed him? Who stole Prince Alfred’s lover?”
The other man opened the door, and exhaled quietly through his nose, and his answer was barely audible as he murmured it while the door swung closed behind him.
“I did.”
His answer left Arthur more conflicted than he liked and more so than he could come to terms with in only one night. He lay awake for hours, thinking on what he had been told and when he was finally called upon to take audience with the prince again he found himself feeling a kind of pity for the young man, that he would go to such extreme measures to avoid being hurt. Yet, Arthur could only assume that such a life was hurting him still.
Alfred smiled when he entered, a brief change in his expression that softened his eyes and made him look altogether less arrogant. “Sit down and tell me the rest of the story of Sir George and the dragon,” he demanded. The steps upon which they had been seated the night before had been covered with a thick woven rug and littered with soft cushions, a fine place for any storyteller and Arthur sat, taking the cup of wine that was offered to him and looking up into Alfred’s eager face as he began the tale from where he had left off. Through the epic battle between the knight and dragon, and the triumphant return of Sir George from his quest, Alfred was silent, once more leaning forwards and gripping his knees as he listened. When the tale ended, with the great celebration of the knight’s victory, the prince sat back and all but pouted, a small, scowling frown on his face.
“I have other stories, if it would please your highness to hear them,” Arthur said, and Prince Alfred appeared to think on it for a moment, then he nodded.
“It would. Tell them.”
“Very well.” Shifting, Arthur settled himself more comfortably. “Once, in a land far from here, there lived a young urchin named Aladdin…”
-------------
<| Part One | Part Three |>
Author:
Recipient:
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's plan is working for now, and he finds out exactly why the prince never keeps a lover.
Notes: Sorry for the late, my internet was out :1 Final chapter will be posted uh.. later today ;D
*****
In a strange way, it was almost rewarding to see the way that the young prince’s eyes shifted from suspicion to curiosity as Arthur spoke. A storyteller by nature it had not taken him long to think of a tale to tell and he weaved it like a master. His first tale was that of Sir George and the Dragon, a legend from his own home of a brave knight who had slain a fearsome beast to save an entire country.
Slowly, as he spoke, he began to see Alfred relax. His shoulders dropped from their tense position and he leaned forwards, a faint eagerness sparking in his eyes. Arthur could have sworn that now and then he’d seen the faintest hints of a smile beginning on the younger man’s lips. It was encouraging, though he was careful not to give anything away, keeping his own expression as passive as he could manage as he told a tale that he knew so well.
“The brave knight travelled up to the lair of the dragon,” he said, his voice softly hushed, forcing Alfred to lean forwards in order to properly hear him. Night had fallen and although the braziers had been lit, the lack of light coming in through the windows brought darkening shadows to the furthest corners of the room. Alfred’s eyes were slightly wide, his hands gripping his knees and his entire posture relaxed, his attention fixed on the man in front of him. “And although fear gripped his brave heart he did not falter, until he came upon the entrance to a cave. The ground was scattered with the bones of those who had gone before him, and from the darkness curled a thin wisp of grey smoke. Sir George stepped inside, and…”
Arthur paused as Alfred did his best to cover a yawn with his hand, though it overtook him so completely that his eyes closed and they were glassy when they opened again. He looked at Arthur expectantly, making a small gesture with one hand. “And?”
“And… I believe that your highness will enjoy this story better if I finish it when you are better rested.” Arthur levelled his tone carefully between suggestion and command, and for a moment Alfred scowled and Arthur felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Then, the prince twisted his lips a little and shrugged, getting to his feet.
“I guess so,” he muttered, looking down at Arthur with an expression that appeared to Arthur as one of near-confusion. “I’ll call for you tomorrow, and you will finish the story.”
“Of course, your highness.”
Alfred walked out, leaving Arthur alone in the throne room, and the moment the door quietly clicked closed he dropped onto his back on the steps, pressing one hand to his forehead and staring up at the ceiling. Now that the prince was gone the anxiety that he had been holding back flooded in, and he could feel himself all but shaking with nerves as he lay there. A short, half-hysterical giggle burst past his lips before he pressed them shut, and then suddenly he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He had, at least for one night, avoided the fate of all others that had gone before him. He had to admit, also, that there was something quite endearing about the young prince, in his blue eyes and sunny blonde hair, and the way that he had so honestly enjoyed being told a simple story. Smiling a little, Arthur sat up and put his head in his hands, closing his eyes and just breathing for a moment, never more grateful of the freedom to do so.
He stood, and made his way on slightly shaking legs back to his room, dropping face-first onto the bed and closing his eyes. “By the gods…” he murmured.
“I would not be so quick to thank the gods for your good fortune,” said a voice, so quiet that it barely startled Arthur and he sat up, finding Matthew seated in the corner of the room, watching him with a faint smile. Frowning, Arthur straightened and glanced at the door, then back to the prince’s brother, who only smiled at him again. “I think that your own luck may have had much to do with it, eh?”
“I don’t believe I would have had the idea were it not for you,” Arthur replied once he had shaken off his surprise at how the man had so quietly entered the room. “I know well enough that all children love to be told stories.”
Matthew laughed, then, and his face lit up with it, so much so that Arthur found himself chuckling as well. “He is a child, then? It would be wise to keep such observations to yourself.” It was good advice though not any that Arthur needed – in many ways he was foolhardy but not so much so to tempt Fate by comparing the prince to a child within range of his hearing. Arthur crossed the room to pour himself a drink, offering one to Matthew who declined with a small shake of his head, and with a delicately carved crystal goblet in his hand he perched at the end of the bed, shivering a little as that same chill that he had felt upon his arrival washed over him again.
“Tell me, Matthew,” he said, taking a sip and letting out a low noise of approval. “Why is it that he puts all of his lovers to death? He barely seems the type of person able to do such things.”
For a moment Arthur wondered if he had asked too much. Matthew blanched, and looked away, an expression of undeniable discomfort passing over his face as he shifted in his seat and brought up a hand to rub distractedly at his neck. He tipped his head to one side and swallowed, then pushed forth a smile. “My brother is capable of many things that you would not think him able to do,” he murmured. “He has the look of innocence about him – something that will no doubt serve him well, eh? However, how he acts in love is not something that he can be blamed for. Not entirely.”
It appeared then that Matthew was done, but Arthur waited, and after a few moments the other blonde spoke again. “Some years ago, Prince Alfred was betrayed by someone very dear to him. That person stole his lover and since then he has trusted no one.”
“Ah…” There was little else that could be said to such a sad tale, and Arthur swallowed the rest of his drink in a mouthful slightly too large, that made him cough. When his throat had cleared he looked up to find Matthew standing near the door, his hand resting on the handle. “A final question, before you leave,” he said, as curiosity brought it to his mind. “Who betrayed him? Who stole Prince Alfred’s lover?”
The other man opened the door, and exhaled quietly through his nose, and his answer was barely audible as he murmured it while the door swung closed behind him.
“I did.”
His answer left Arthur more conflicted than he liked and more so than he could come to terms with in only one night. He lay awake for hours, thinking on what he had been told and when he was finally called upon to take audience with the prince again he found himself feeling a kind of pity for the young man, that he would go to such extreme measures to avoid being hurt. Yet, Arthur could only assume that such a life was hurting him still.
Alfred smiled when he entered, a brief change in his expression that softened his eyes and made him look altogether less arrogant. “Sit down and tell me the rest of the story of Sir George and the dragon,” he demanded. The steps upon which they had been seated the night before had been covered with a thick woven rug and littered with soft cushions, a fine place for any storyteller and Arthur sat, taking the cup of wine that was offered to him and looking up into Alfred’s eager face as he began the tale from where he had left off. Through the epic battle between the knight and dragon, and the triumphant return of Sir George from his quest, Alfred was silent, once more leaning forwards and gripping his knees as he listened. When the tale ended, with the great celebration of the knight’s victory, the prince sat back and all but pouted, a small, scowling frown on his face.
“I have other stories, if it would please your highness to hear them,” Arthur said, and Prince Alfred appeared to think on it for a moment, then he nodded.
“It would. Tell them.”
“Very well.” Shifting, Arthur settled himself more comfortably. “Once, in a land far from here, there lived a young urchin named Aladdin…”
-------------
<| Part One | Part Three |>
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-26 03:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-26 06:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-26 06:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-26 07:12 pm (UTC)I do really like the sort of whimsical, fairy-tale esque pacing of this story as well. It's light-hearted with just the right amount of angst/conflict to balance it out. Well done!
I, again, eagerly await the final installment!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-26 07:23 pm (UTC)I'm trying to keep it paced that way to stop myself becoming too bogged down in it xD I'm sure this kind of story could be dragged on for ages but I never wanted that to happen.
Thanks muchly! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-27 10:34 pm (UTC)I love, loooove Arthur telling stories - I mean, Alfred's hero complex must've started somewhere. I'm sure that even in Hetalia canon Arthur told little Alfie stories...
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-28 10:42 pm (UTC)I love the story so far. Please keep writing~
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-29 11:06 pm (UTC)