Pairing: UK X China.
Warning: Incorrect references, a bit OoC, AU.
THANK U FOR MY BETA UCHIHAHYUUGA-SAMA! SHE (AGAIN, I ASSUME YOU ARE A GODDESS) IS REALLY WONDERFUL NEE~~~ (not many can stand my poor grammar).
Note: I dont know where this is going. But enjoy!
London, in the early of The Industrial Revolution period, 18th centuries...
The sky was dark and hazy, filled with dust, and roads were dirty, filled with rocks, pedestrians, slums, carriages and beggars. Arthur Kirkland looked out from his carriage's window and sighed. The city has turned into dark, twisted place. Just yesterday a neighbour of his was robbed by some beggars by the end of the Corner Street. It wasn't safe to go anywhere those days. Not anymore. All thanks to the increasing number of useless immigrants from villages and country sides.
He hated them so much-those filthy, ugly, low breed who strove to live. Arthur always wondered why creatures as ugly as them were allowed to live. They were just trash to the world. He himself was born of blue blood, highest breed possible, the first cousin to Her Majesty Queen Victoria. His family was one of the wealthiest around, and Arthur's elder was married to the Prince of Spain, making their family all the more powerful. They owned some of the newest grooming textile factories and most of the mills by the Eastern London, thus making Arthur (even though he was the third son) a rather powerful man, through bloodline and wealth.
His face was handsome, as handsome as that of the Prince of Wales himself. Everybody loved watching his plays and sighed deeply to the poems he wrote. All the noble ladies waited anxiously in line to be his wife... or his play thing. Arthur received his prostitute favors for free, as the ladies just threw themselves at his feet.
Arthur admired his hand, which bore a newly possessed, family symbol-embossed ring. His father gave it to him when he turned 18 last month and had come of age, matured enough to be given the responsibility of running some of the minor factories his family owned. Arthur knew that his responsibility was quite light, as everything was already perfect and his two elder brother were as excellent as their father in running the business—-they expected so little of him. Thus, he indulged himself in the pleasures of money and women, arts and games, while secretly writing some short stories in his free time.
Arthur closed his eyes. His next short story would be about a very brave gentleman who saved a damsel in distress from a dragon. He loved his imagination, which excelled since he was young. His sisters loved when he told them of his daydreams, and they urged him to write them down. Now people read his stories under his fake penname, Mr. William Argent. The short stories were compiled into books, which were so popular that actually, from the honour of his books alone, Arthur could afford a good lifestyle.
Suddenly his carriage stopped abruptly, so harshly and so suddenly that Arthur was thrown to the other side of the seat. He stumbled and tried to collect himself, embarrassed for being disoriented from the sudden impact, determined to yell at the stupid new driver.
"HEY! WHAT HAPPENED?"
The door was flung open to reveal the trembling driver, frightened because he couldn't afford to lose his job during a time of economic recession and also because Arthur was famous for his fast temper.
"I…I am really sorry, Sir. That beggar suddenly jumped in front of the carriage…"
Oh no. Arthur remembered the neighbour's robbery case. His adrenaline kicked in.
"We should just leave! Quickly, before the others come and ambush us!"
"B..But… the girl is dead, sir… I think she's dead… she's not moving at all…"
"Who cares about a beggar? Just go!"
"…Bu..but… the girl's hair is black, sir."
Arthur was surprised for a second. Black? There was a chance she wasn't European then... Was it really a beggar? He was intrigued.
Arthur stepped out from the carriage to inspect the supposedly dead body in more detail.
Arthur squatted beside the small body. The stitching on the clothes were composed of weird colours, various shades of unique reds, yet creating a symphony of tints that quite matched. Her hair was fanned all around her head, and blood was gushing from her forehead. The girl was unconscious, but still breathing (Arthur learnt quite a bit about medicine from the famous doctor his older sister married). And the most intriguing thing was the fact that her eyes were rather slanted... and her skin was yellow, unlike European skin.
"Is she Asian?" Arthur asked the air, but somebody answered him.
"Whaddya done to m' sl've?"
A man radiating foul odour and sporting a beer belly and crippled feet shuffled towards them as fast as he could-which was admittedly not that fast at all.
"Who are you?" Arthur asked in dismay. Now that he was caught, he might need to pay this man.
"I'm tha' idiot sl've mast'r." The man answered. "Y' kill'd her!"
"I am sorry, but this girl was the one who jumped in front of my carriage, so you are the one who needs to say sorry and pay for my losses! My horses are surprised, and I think I have bruised my knee," he tried, stubbornly.
"Y' noble asses. Pay me tw'nty gold coin n' I'll let y' go."
"No way! That's too much!"
"Or y' wan to settle by violence?" The man spat on the ground, and some other beggars appeared behind him. England gulped and opted for safety. He paid the money hastily and entered his carriage, fleeing as fast as the horses could take him.
Unbeknown to Arthur, his carriage driver took the unconscious body with him.
A month later, Arthur found himself in a deep writers' block.
Nothing he did could induce new imagination. He had used all the tricks in the book: witches, knights, adventures, princesses, princes, dragons, castles, wars, and magic. He couldn't think of a new idea. Everything was so used up.
And one more thing added to his worries. His readers had started to complain how the stories were similar, and would always have the same context. His editor smiled, assuring him that it was a normal reaction, but he did ask Arthur (politely—because he still love his job as Arthur's editor) to prepare a new, fresh, unique idea for next week's column.
He was stressed.
"Your lunch is ready, young master."
"FINALLY!" He scolded the butler, pushing his worries to the old, faithful thing. "I have been starving for ages!"
"I am really sorry, young master."
"I'll be there soon." Arthur collected himself and put his pen down. After making sure that he was presentable, he went out from his study room and strolled along the corridor. His mansion was not as big as the Kirkland mansion, but it was still quite lofty by London's standard. Vanity Fair once mentioned his place as a 'miniature of Her Majesty's magnificent Summer Palace'. The corridor was filled with arts and pots, statues and red carpet. Fresh flowers were available in each vase, and Arthur couldn't find a single thing to ** about. Everything was perfect like usual.
He didn't know why he turned to the left, where the servants would go to the kitchen or servant room, instead of going to the right, which would lead him to his beautiful dining hall. Maybe it was his writer block; he wanted to search for something new to ignite his passion towards fresh imagination, maybe it was his usual disagreeable self, who wanted to find a black sheep that he could yell at to relieve his stress.
He arrived at the servant hall.
Arthur walked slowly, absorbed in the contrast of the hall, which got smaller and narrower as he walked on. The red carpet was gone, replaced with wooden floor underneath him, saying hello to his feet for the first time. Arthur looked around, and he could smell the scent of roasted meat, the damp odor undried clothes, and also the foul stench of servants' bodies.
"Ha ha ha! Yao, you are so cute~"
"Sing once again, please? We love to hear you sing!"
The voices sounded so happy and cheerful, like they were having a fun time. Arthur finally found something to scold, because this meant the servants were playing in the middle of their job. He walked closer for a look and saw a small, yellow skinned, black haired, golden eyed girl flushing with delight. The apples of her cheeks were so rosy that she looked like she painted them with dye.
"Really, aru?" The girl smiled gleefully, flipping her arms animatedly. "I sing good, aru?"
The maids were nodding in agreement, and the servants were smiling while patting the girl's unusually silky hair. Arthur watched in amazement. Since when had he a beggar show in his house?
But his mind was blocked when suddenly the small girl began singing a melody foreign to his ears and with pitch higher than a woman's. It was comparable to bird's chirp. Noisy, yet natural and good to the ears. Really good, actually.
" 花間一壺酒。 A pot of wine, under the flowering trees;
獨酌無相親。 I drink alone, for no friend is near.
舉杯邀明月。 Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,
對影成三人。 For her, with my shadow, will make three people.
月既不解飲。 The moon, alas, is no drinker of wine;
影徒隨我身。 Listless, my shadow creeps about at my side.
暫伴月將影。 Yet with the moon as friend and the shadow as slave
行樂須及春。 I must make merry before the Spring is spent.
我歌月徘徊。 To the songs I sing the moon flickers her beams;
我舞影零亂。 In the dance I weave my shadow tangles and breaks.
醒時同交歡。 While we were sober, three shared the fun;
醉後各分散。 Now we are drunk, each goes their way.
永結無情遊。 May we long share our eternal friendship,
相期邈雲漢。 And meet at last on the paradise."
(Taken from Wikipedia, by a poet named Li Bai, the greatest poet in Tang Dynasty).
Nobody understood what she was singing, but the girl looked so serene and was enjoying herself so much that the audience was forced by an invisible feeling to experience the beauty of an exotic language.
A moment of total silence followed the end of the song, the greatest appreciation a performer could receive. The moment of total silent when people were still carried away by the beauty and refused to be reminded that they are still mortals on earth.
The girl called Yao bent her body and everybody started to clap. They even stood from their stools and clapped even harder. It was magnificent.
"You are so good, my dear girl! Where did you learn it?"
"Le…learn?" The girl looked confused.
"Study! Learn is study!" one of the maids answered, smiling. "Where did you study to sing like that, Yao?"
The girl blushed. "Mother. Study. Me, aru."
And suddenly fresh tears came from the girl's eyes. Everybody stopped clapping and frowned, pitying the lost child. They knew that she was an orphan, maybe separated from her immigrant parents or maybe forced into the child slave trade to be a future prostitute. They cooed to her, patted her, hugged her.
It was a touching scene, really. But Arthur was not in his most handsome attitude that day, so he stepped in and barked loudly.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE INSTEAD OF WORKING, YOU FOOLS?"
Everybody jumped in surprise and upon realizing the arrival of their awful master, they spread out like a disrupted ants line. Everybody was too busy saving their jobs and covering their asses that only the girl was left alone in the kitchen.
"You. Who are you?" England asked.
"Yao. Me name Yao aru."
"Yao. Fine. Where do you come from? Why are you here?"
The girl gave him a panicked look and tried to run, but Arthur caught her collar and pulled her back, locking the girl inside his arms. Now, that was a move that even surprised Arthur. He was always against contacting maids and servants and lower breeds, his hatred so severe that he refused to touch them without a glove and soap present. But the girl was slim, light and nice, and the scent of her hair filtered through the odour of old cloth surrounding her.
The girl shouted in a language Arthur suspected Asian, trying to free herself to no avail. Arthur held tighter, realizing that the girl was actually a boy.
"You are a boy?"
"Boy!" Yao shouted, but Arthur's arms were dead locked around him. "Boy! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Let go!"
"Yao…."
And a new idea crossed Arthur's mind. An idea like no other, a new imagination about old Asian princesses and European Princes eloping together and creating a really strong country where the ladies were black haired and milky skinned with golden eyes, while the gentlemen were blonde, strong, and blue eyed.
Arthur suddenly woke up from his slump and needed his quill.
He let go released Yao, forgotten, from his arms, running back to his study room as fast as he could.
And... to be continued.
I think you can guess already. The usual maid-master relationship. I am not sure how to develop this, but the brainchild was so delicious that I couldnt help but typing it in superspeed.
Review? (Review really inspired me to continue, so please~) XD
Thank you!