(A/N: So this story just kind of.. wrote itself. I'm not sure of the direction yet, it's kind of odd, but I'd like to continue it! please review what you thought!
Arthur walked down the stone steps into the cellar, his footsteps echoing around the dark basement.
He reached the bottom, were it was pitch black. The daylight shining in through the door did little to brighten the place.
"Merlin? Are you awake?" Arthur asked, whispering into the darkness. For a moment there was silence. Then a metallic sound- the sound of chains being rattled.
"Mourning.. Brother.. " Merlin croaked, his voice scratchy and his welsh-accent hardly noticeable. He sat on the floor, arms and legs chained to the wall. He was a sickly looking boy, deathly pale with a smattering of freckles. He was much smaller than Arthur, despite being older than him, and had thick black eyebrows that stood out against his faded brown hair.
Arthur set down the bowl of cereal he'd been carrying. "We only had cornflakes left." He said, almost apologetically. Merlin didn't reply, he just looked at his brother with dull grey eyes.
"They're actually letting me go to school." Arthur said, laughing bitterly. "I'm tagged, of course."
He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a ugly four-inch long scar, were a tracking device was implanted. "It was lucky it didn't get infected. But Dad's getting really good at DIY bio-tech."
Merlin still said nothing, still just stared at Arthur in silence.
"Are you not eating your breakfast?" Arthur asked, frowning at his older brother.
Merlin sighed. "What's the point? You know I want to die." He said, his voice devoid of any emotion other than hopelessness.
"Merlin- don't... " Arthur said, trailing of. Still unable to talk about anything emotional. "Just eat it. Or they'll feed you with a tube. I know you certainly don't like that."
Merlin picked up the spoon with chained hands "Have fun in school." He half-whispered as Arthur ascended the stairs.
The Global academy; the school for the children of the rich, famous and influential. It catered for teens aged 14-19 and was world-renowned for it's tough security, state-of-the-art technology, and for it's strong discipline.
But Alfred F. Jones could think of only one way to describe it.
"This is lame!" He moaned, as his mother dropped him and his half-brother Matthew of.
"Alfred! This is not lame. It'll be an excellent opportunity if you'd just give it a chance!" His mother pleaded.
"No way. I miss my old school." Alfred grumbled. "My old friends- heck! Even my old teachers. Why'd we have to move here!?"
"Alfred, we've explained countless times." Sighed Madeline, massaging her temples"Now your father- your's and Matthew's father is a world famous singer - normal schools aren't safe for you. If you'd just think of someone other than yourself for once- "
"- You can't talk to me like that! Your not my Mom!" Alfred hissed, flinging open the car door and storming out. Matthew trailed after him.
"Bye mom, bye Mrs Jones." The Canadian boy said, his voice hardly above a whisper.
They approached the wrought iron gates of the school, that were surrounded by security guards in blue suits.
"This is so stupid." Alfred grumbled to Mattie. "Dad left your Mom before you were even born to be with my Mom and have me. He hardly even visited you, and he left me when I was like- ten. The guy doesn't give two shits about us, why do we need to have extra security just because he's a big-shot now."
"Well, Alfred we could still be targeted by fans or worse- "
"And out Mom's living together? That's just fricken weird. Our Dad cheated on your Mom with my Mom when she was pregnant!"
"Well they want us to bond since we're brothers and all- "
"I can't believe there's a fricken que to get into the school." Alfred muttered, stalking of to give his ID into the security guard. Matthew sighed, he stood there feeling ignored and overlooked. Nothing new there, then.
"I know you'll do me proud, Francis." Antoinette said, squeezing her only son's hand with long, slender, perfectly manicured fingers.
"Oui mama." Francis said, smiling. He was a traditionally attractive, with wavy chin-length blonde hair that was clearly well looked-after. He had light stubble on his chin, and his sapphire blue eyes sparkled in the sun.
"Just remember to ..'befriend' the children of the most influential." His mother said, her french accent thick. "You remember who they are, chere?"
"D'accord." Francis nodded. "Matthew Williams, Alfred Jones, Arthur Kirkland, Kiku Honda- And I'm already well-acquainted with the Vargas family. They're friends of Antonio's."
"Come the summer they'll be fighting over who gets to holiday with you." Antoinette assured as Francis stepped out of the car. "Je t'ami, Mon petit lapin." She called out loudly.
"Je t'ami, maman. A revoir!"
The pupils didn't get to class until four hours after the school opened. With it being the first day, security was extra strict, and there was a lot of sorting of paperwork and classes and timetables to do.
It was was 12:30 when Alfred charged into the class, Matthew in tow.
They were both shocked by how fancy it was- he was used to normal desks and chairs, but here, instead of that, there were plush arm chairs, and fancy glass tables. There were new state of the art laptops in the corner, and a huge book shelf at the back.
"Whoa this place mightn't be so bad after all!" He said loudly, to nobody in particular. He fell back into one of the armchairs "It sure is comfier!"
"I don't know who your talking to but nobody's listening." The blonde boy next to him said, he had some sort of English accent.
"Then I'm talking to the most awesome person in the room." Alfred beamed.
The English boy- Arthur - shot him a scathing, unamused look. His green eyes almost seemed to glow with toxicity.
"- You know. Myself!" Alfred said brightly. Arthur didn't flinch and maintained his unimpressed glower.
"You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity." Arthur replied, after a long uncomfortable pause. He turned back to his book. But Alfred didn't want to be done speaking to him.
"Yo do you like, bleach your hair?"
"What?"
"You know- because your hair is like, blonde and your eyebrows are black as the night, man." Alfred laughed, looking at Arthur's unruly blonde hair.
The Brit let out an aggravated sigh. "No I do not use bleach. I was just blessed with naturally unnatural hair." Arthur hissed, gripping the side of his book.
"Oh- well I'm Alfred F. Jones." The American said, grinning widely.
"Good for you." Arthur muttered, being his usual anti-social self. Sometimes he wondered if he could even be nice in a casual way. He doubted it.
Francis, who'd been chattering away in French to his Spanish friend, Toni, heard the name 'Alfred' and perked up, taking his chance to interject and make a new friend.
"Bonjour mon ami- " Francis said turning around to face Alfred. his smile was crafted to perfection. Almost too charming to be real. The result of hours looking in the mirror.
"So we'll be classmates from now on. I hope we'll be good friends!"
"Oh, Hi dude! I'm Alfred." He said, enthusiastically, he extended his hand and the older boy shook it.
"-I'm Francis Bonnefoy, it's a pleasure." The French boy said, shooting Alfred a warm smile.
"See- " Alfred said, turning to face Arthur again, leaning in a little too close. "THAT's how you greet someone properly!"
"I know how to bloody greet someone. I just decided you weren't worth the effort!" The Brit said, flinching away from the American.
Francis whipped around to face Arthur- he knew that face. He knew that boy.
"It- It's you!" Francis said, shocked. Arthur's eyes widened for just a fraction of a second, then that damn smirk was back on his face. Francis would recognise that smirk anywhere- and those eyebrows.
"Sorry, do I know you?" Arthur asked, mock-polite.
"Your the boy who used to always sneak into our orchid whenever we holidayed in our English cottage- how did a ruffian like you manage to get in here?" Francis sneered.
"Me? Sneak into orchids. You must have me mistaken for someone else." Arthur scoffed. His rapt his nails across the desk, a hardly noticeable nervous tic. "I don't even know your name. And I bet you don't even know mine."
"Of course I don't- you refused to tell me. I used to call you Rosbif, remember?" Francis said, shooting the English boy a suspicious glare. "You always used to fight with your brothers. Your mother used to do the gardening for us."
Arthur raised a thick black eyebrow. "I don't have any brothers, and my mother died in childbirth."
Francis' glare faltered. "Désolé." He said, after a pause- but the lad in front of him looked so similar to the boy from his childhood. Just what was going on?