I found a USUK and FrUK video to the song of Fairytale by Alexander Rybak and I like the song so much I've been listening to it (in between other songs) a lot. (I should probably also mention someone actually linked me to the FrUK one, but, y'know, let's move on from this.)

Anyway, suddenly, a notion for a story wormed its way into my head and, for the past few days, has been developing as I figure out what happens exactly.

The little boy stared at the person from afar. Whoever they were, they had long, flowing blonde hair and was wearing what appeared to be a blue dress. She looked extremely beautiful, even from this distance. She spotted him and, after chuckling to herself, approached him. The little boy tried to hide behind the tree better.

"Bonjour, mon petit. Comment t'appelle tu?" she said to him.

Arthur shrank away, not understanding what she was saying. "H-Huh?" he muttered, trying to move around the tree.

"Oh – you have not been taught secondary languages yet?" she said, gently, leaning over and holding out her hand to him. Arthur looked at it warily. Slowly he raised his own hand but stopped a few inches from hers. She laughed; a tinkling, sweet sound. "Is it because I am royalty? Do not worry about it, mon petit!"

"You're a princess!" exclaimed Arthur excitedly, his hand getting closer. He gazed at her as she nodded. Instantly, he grabbed her hand and dropped to one knee. "Your Highness!" he cried out, confidently. "I swear that, if you ever need me, I shall come to your aid immediately!" He gently brushed his lips over the back of the hand he gripped, clearly something he had seen others do in this situation.

"Aaah!" exclaimed the princess. "You're too cute!" Startled by the comment, Arthur glanced up and found himself looking into the sea of her beautiful blue eyes. Entranced, he knew he would do anything for this girl.

"Your Highness!" called some attendants, hurrying over. The girl glanced at them before pulling the small boy to his feet.

"What is your name?" she hissed at him, quickly.

"A-Arthur!"

"Well, Arthur, I'm going to have to ask you to run away from these people. If they find you here, you could face terrible repercussions for trespassing. Come find me when you're a little taller, oui?"

Shocked, Arthur nodded and ran away as quickly as he could. And he ran. And he kept running while he grew. And, finally, as a teenager, Arthur suddenly was running to something instead of away.

Running to the princess. She had been kidnapped along with a few other people. Arthur entered the cave and rushed down thin, rocky corridors. He didn't care that he was now at the mercy of any ambushes. All he cared about was getting to the princess.

Finally, he emerged into a gigantic hall. Furniture was hewn from the stone itself and the chandeliers were similarly constructed. Candles flickered everywhere there was a flat surface. Barred doors were opposite him; he could see people inside through the small windows which contained thick bars.

He shouted out a name, hurried towards the doors. But they were shouting to him as well, calling his name, telling him to stop, don't come closer. His momentum carried him too far forward and, suddenly, he was trapped in a magical circle.

A witch, blonde hair hanging down from beneath her face-obscuring hood, suddenly appeared before him. A curse. A curse would be laid upon him. And he would leave behind his loved ones and go somewhere far away – where he wouldn't be able to get back.

She screamed a spell at him and everything white and-

Arthur's eyes flew open. He was panting, eyes wider than normal. He shivered; his covers had slipped so that only one foot was covered. He sat up, his hair dripping a little from the sweat.

That old dream again. They were becoming more and more frequent. And the feelings he had when he woke up after them were rather confusing. He felt nostalgic and sad, yet happy, as if the mere content of the dreams could cheer him up. Happy to see the images again.

He rubbed at his forehead before remembering that he really needed a shower. Sighing, he stripped off his pyjama bottoms and strode into the bathroom, twisting the taps to set the right temperature. He stepped in and, as the water washed away his sweat, it seemed to wash away Arthur's feelings of uncertainty, too.

Suitably refreshed, he opened his wardrobe to find some clothes – just as the telephone rang. Sighing again, he moved into the flat's hall, picking up the cordless phone. "Hello?" he said as he stepped back into his room to find clothes.

"Arthur-san!" exclaimed a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Kiku…" Arthur glanced at the clock. It was half eight. "What makes you call so early?"

"I was hoping to make sure you had not forgotten, Arthur-san!"

"Forgotten?"

"The photo shoot, Arthur-san!"

"Ah!" exclaimed Arthur, his eyes widening – the dream had completely obliterated this fact. "I'll be there soon, I promise."

There was a pause. "You do not need to dress in any particurar way, Arthur-san. As I have the crothes I need you to wear here…"

"Yes, yes," sighed Arthur who was already looking for a pair of jeans in his wardrobe.

"I shall ret you get ready, Arthur-san." And with that, Kiku hung up.

Arthur hurriedly pulled on a pair of boxers, a pair of black jeans he had found, a dark blue t-shirt (which also had lines of red and yellow on it) and a pair of trainers which he slipped on quickly. He searched for his mobile, his keys, his money and his bag full of his university books. Once he had gathered everything, he double-checked he did have everything he needed. At last, Arthur left his flat and hurried towards the town square.

The "Comment t'appelle tu" - I know there are other ways of asking for someone's name but I had already typed in "comment" before I realised I wasn't too sure I was spelling things right...

Kiku's accent = the reason I'm actually putting r's in place of l's is explained slightly later but, basically, I wanted him to have a particularly strong accent... But I hate doing it so I'm hoping the time I don't need to use it comes quickly.

I think that's all to explain. Well, "Mon petit" was supposed to say "little one" but if you translate it back you get "my boy" - and so that's what that means...