The Season
A/N: This is my first AU fic, so please review!
"Arthur Pendragon. Get up this instant!"
The young noble lifted his head up from the pillows, a bottle of whisky still clutched in one hand. He squinted into the bright light. His head pounded like a war drum, and he felt like his bed was afloat on the ocean during a hurricane. The young man threw up on the floor, and let his head fall back onto his pillow. He was awakened again when his father threw open his door and rushed into the room.
"You've been drinking again?"
Arthur lazily looked up at his father's towering figure. "So what if I have?"
His father exhaled angrily. "It's no wonder you haven't found yourself a wife. You're a drunk, useless, disappointment of a son. But, unfortunately you're the only son I have. I won't let you ruin our family. Get up! It's three o'clock in the afternoon. You have the first event of the season tonight, and I'd better see you find a wife this year! You need to be tamed."
His father ripped the covers off of Arthur and left the room, yelling at their servants. Arthur got up slowly, and rang the bell. Then he collapsed in his leather chair. His valet appeared and, used to his employer's frequent bouts of drunkeness, closed the heavy curtains that hung over the windows.
"Thank you, Carter."
"Yes, sir. Will you be having breakfast?"
Arthur groaned, and Carter took that as a no. "Alright then, I've laid out your clothes."
He bowed and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Arthur laid back down, and stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pounding in his ears. He wasn't a useless drunk. He knew he had been messing around, getting into trouble, but he was young. He was entitled. He was rich... But truly in his heart, he was tired of the season. He had gone to the last three seasons, and been relentlessly hounded by fortune hunting mothers and their unbearable daughters. He hadn't met one girl that was really what he wanted. He'd never admit this to anyone, but he was a romantic at heart. He slowly got dressed, ignoring the loud pouding in his ears. He made his way down the stairs slowly, wincing at the creak of every step. He shielded his eyes from the sunlight and went into the salon, where his little sister resided, drinking her afternoon tea and doing needlepoint. Arthur walked by her and closed the curtains partway, blocking out some of the sun. She smiled and got up to embrace her brother. "Arthur! You finally decided to show up! Thank goodness, Papa was being so very disagreeable this morning."
Arthur smiled and kissed his sister on the forehead. "Good day to you too, Morgie."
"I told you! It's Morgana now. I'm old enough to go to the Season, I'm old enough to be called Morgana."
"Very well." Arthur flopped very indelicately into a chair, and took a biscuit from his sister's tray. She looked at him with eager anticipation. He frowned, his mouth full of biscuit. "What?"
'The Season is what! The first ball is tonight, and I need an escort, and chaperone. Will you come, Arthur? Please?"
He rolled his eyes. "Why do you even want to go? It'll will be nothing but lecherous old men, and penniless fools that will harass you at every turn. Not to mention the awful food, the hideous conversation and the... deplorable mothers." Arthur shuddered at the thought of previous Seasons. Morgana giggled. "Arthur, getting harassed by mothers is your job. My job will only be to converse with my friends, and to be admired by everyone around me." She smiled sweetly, with a sarcastic undertone. He scowled. "And which friends will you be "conversing" with?"
"Guinevere, and Morgause. Morgause has already been to two seasons, she knows how it works. Actually, I believe she is being courted by the Earl of Danford."
Arthur turned serious in a mocking way. "By Percival?! Good God, another one gone. It's a pity."
Morgana scowled. "Oh, shut up! Will you take me or not?"
Arthur sighed. "Fine."
Morgana threw her arms around Arthur's neck. "Thank you, Thank you, thank you!"
"Yes, yes, get off." Arthur gave his younger sister a half smile.
She returned to her seat, content with herself. "I heard there is going to be a man there who might replace you as the most sought after company."
Arthur snorted. "Morgie, we are one of the richest families in England, and I am close friends with all of the most influential young men that attend the season. I always have tons of girls surrounding me, and tons of friends."
"Not this year. He's the richest man in England next to the King. He is the Duke of Westchester."
Arthur sighed, feigning interest. "How much does he get per annum?"
"12,000." Morgana smiled satisfactorily.
Arthur sat bolt upright, and immediately regretted it. "Per annum! I only get 9,000!"
"Aww, poor Arthur, only vastly wealthy, not fabulously. Anyways, thats not the only reason he is so sought after."
Arthur was cross. "Please, enlighten me."
"From what Morgause has learned, he is a great horseman, pianist, he is the captain of a polo league, he can speak five languages, he is a great hunter, fencer, and cricket player and, best of all, he is known to have a rapier shart wit, and to be more charming and handsome than any man in England!"
"How do you remember all of these trivial details? If I didn't know better, I'd say you've known him for years by the amount of information... If he is so fantastic, why hasn't he attended any balls in the last three years?
"You're just jealous! Anyways, he's been on the continent."
"For three years?"
"Yes. He was touring France, Spain, and Italy."
"Why on Earth would he do that?"
"His parents are both dead, and he has a massive fortune. He had an ailing uncle who raised him after his parents died, and the old man's only wish was to go and see the continent. So they went. The old man just died, so rumor has it that Lord Westchester has returned to find himself a wife."
"How old is this Lord Westchester?" Arthur was in a temper now. He was rarely in the mood for Morgana's romantiscized versions of men that usually turned out to be snivelling, obnoxious, unbearable snobs.
"I believe he is 19 this month."
"How do you know all this?" Arthur gave his sister a inquisitive look.
She sighed, as though this wasn't the first time she had explained her sources.
"Morgause has a friend who has a friend whose ladiesmaid's brother is the valet to Lord Westchester."
Arthur was confused. "Oh."
"Well, never mind all of this. You'll still be in high demand."
Arthur rolled his eyes as he walked away. "Unfortunately."