Arthur
"Hello, my name is Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. And this is my friend Arthur. I like to call him Artie though. Sometimes even, Iggy. He says he doesn't like it, but that's just cuz he's a spoilsport sometimes!"
"Thanks for letting me and Artie stay up to watch Dr. Who Elizabeta! I think it's alright but Artie loves it!"
The blonde grabbed his arm and pouted down at empty space beside him. Rubbing his arm, he stuck his tongue out and whined, "Artie stop being a spoilsport! I so totally wasn't knocking Dr. Who."
He laughed as the silence rolled on and threw an arm around "Artie".
"Alfred, dear, its bedtime now. How about you and Arthur follow me? We can get you some warm milk before bed. It always helps me to get a good night's sleep."
The golden haired youth gave a dazzling smile and his baby blue eyes twinkled with good cheer as he nodded.
The nurse, Ms. Elizabeta Herdevay, couldn't help but smile back. She nodded her head sweetly and led, Alfred back to his room for the night. Of course, he was supposed to have been sent to his room earlier.
The floor had been locked down over an hour ago, but Elizabeta just couldn't help letting the young youth stay up a little longer to watch Dr. Who on the television.
Alfred, the dear boy was a sweet heart. Always bright and cheerful. Always smiling and offering to help the nurses and orderlies.
Elizabeta just couldn't see why it was so imperative that Alfred had to be locked away when the young boy seemed to adore the idea of being free and loved to visit outside.
Well…she could understand that perhaps Arthur Kirkland, Alfred's best friend, was a bit peculiar, but it wasn't as if the pair was causing any harm.
If Alfred wanted to talk to the stuffy, British gentleman that nobody could see except for him , then why stop him?
The dear boy was hurting nobody.
~.
The first time Alfred met Arthur was outside of a bar.
It was raining and Alfred was on his way home. Sitting in a posh limo, the young man had been pouting that he was being called home by his father. He didn't understand why it was so important that he go and meet some uninteresting socialite when he could be out having fun.
That was when he saw him.
An angry, small statured man standing in the rain.
Alfred had been mesmerized by the gloomy and irate man. He looked like he was pissed at the world.
His short choppy pale blonde hair was sticking to his head as he stood out near the street with no umbrella. His face was set in a grimace, full lips curled in distaste and displeasure and unusually thick eyebrows scrunched together.
His small nose and high cheeks made him look so delicate and yet his stance was stiff and only spoke of violence to be had if he was contended with.
It was his eyes that caught Alfred off guard though. Emerald green eyes stared out from his astonishing eyebrows. They were otherworldly.
A green that Alfred could've sworn could only be found in the rolling hills of England. A green that could only be found in nature. Something that man couldn't hope to copy without it being a shoddy imitation.
Alfred watched as the stranger was basically ignored by everyone.
He just couldn't understand how people could just walk by and let the poor guy stand in the downpour. Why wasn't anyone doing anything?
The young lad, just shy of nine, then had a brilliant idea. He would do something!
After all wasn't that what heroes did?
Help those in need?
Following that train of thought, Alfred promptly jumped out of the limousine and taking care to grab an umbrella, sped off to the stranger who he was certain needed him.
Ignoring the driver who was frantically calling him back and coincidentally holding up the New York traffic, Alfred continued on and finally reaching his destination gave the man a bright smile.
"Hey dude, why you standing in the rain?"
The pale blonde jumped in surprise then turned around with a tight scowl.
"Wot the bloody 'ell do you think you're doing sneaking up on people you tosser?"
Alfred couldn't help but smile a little at the man's thick accent. It was so weird!
"I wasn't sneaking up on you! I thought you needed a hero, so here I am!" Alfred gave him an even bigger smile and then held open the umbrella over the soaked man's head.
All the stranger could do was gape at the unexpected kindness. What type of barmy git just randomly went up and offered a stranger an umbrella?
People didn't do shite like that anymore.
Looking down into exuberant baby blue eyes that were so full of life, the previously irate man couldn't help but notice that the lad was offering him an umbrella while he stood in the cold rain himself.
"Please tell me you aren't bleeding daft? You're standing in the rain and offering me an umbrella?"
Alfred for the first time noticed the obvious and then offered a sheepish smile.
"Guess I didn't think this through so good…I'll be okay though."
That was when the Brit swore that maybe just maybe…he might've possibly gotten a warm feeling from the well intentioned kindness the lad was offering.
Giving a world weary sigh, he held his face in his hand and let himself peer from between his fingers to the boy in front of him. Try as he might he couldn't smother the small smile that was forcing its way onto his face.
He ended up snatching the umbrella and pulling the young boy under it.
"There's no need for you to be a ninny. There's enough space for two."
Watching as his frantic driver finally found him on the crowded sidewalk and began to pull the limo around, Alfred held out a hand and happily proclaimed, "It's cool to meet you dude! My names Alfred. Alfred F. Jones, hero extraordinaire!"
The Brit finally stopped trying to kill the smile that had made its way to him and took hold of the youth's strong hand.
"Pleasure to meet you too. My name is Arthur Kirkland."
And needless to say that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
~.
Sitting in the limo, Alfred couldn't help but smile at his new friend. Of course he had made himself late to the meeting with the socialites, but Alfred didn't really care.
All there ever was were giggling older ladies caked in makeup who wanted to hug and kiss on him and talk about stuff that bored him.
Or sometimes they ignored him and asked his guardian and stepfather about the inheritance his great grandmother had left him.
Alfred wasn't stupid.
Most of them just wanted money.
So Alfred wasn't really sweating that he'd be late and possibly missing his appointed time. Plus Arthur was much more interesting. He didn't seem to care either way about the limo and the implications it gave about the young boy's wealth.
Rather the stuffy man had snorted and said the thing was bleeding useless and shoddy if it didn't provide heat since it was fucking freezing outside.
Alfred decided then and there he'd made the perfect choice in his new best friend. He laughed and after telling the driver to turn on some heat, the odd pair sat talking as the limo drove on through the freezing rain.
The driver could only shake his head in confusion at the kid laughing to himself in the back. He told himself it was none of his business and made sure to roll up the tinted divider that was meant to provide privacy for the passengers in the back.
It was none of his business what the kid did to keep himself entertained.
~.
"Alfred! Mon cher where 'ave you been? You have completely missed the meeting between you and the others. And your clothes! Ze are completely soaked!"
Alfred hid a guilty smirk, as Francis Bonnefoy fussed over him. The man was his stepfather and only guardian since the death of his mother four years ago.
He loved Francis, he really did, but he couldn't stand being around all those stuffy posers.
Holding back a sigh Francis pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stop his oncoming headache and then gave the young boy a once over.
Letting out a sigh, he shooed Alfred off to go change out of his wet clothes before he caught his death of cold.
"Mon cher, you will most certainly be sick after this. Pleaze, go see Toris and change! You look like a drowned rat!"
Watching his step father prance away, Alfred could only snort. "Heroes don't let stuff like getting caught in the rain keep them down."
Looking over at Arthur he watched as the older man shook his head. "While I find the bloody frog and his nancy boy accent annoying he's not wrong. You won't be feeling so brill tomorrow after your stint in the rain lad."
"Hey Artie, how come he didn't notice you?"
"Alfred, my name is Arthur, not Artie. And that's because he's a right wanker and I'd rather he not have a dekko at me."
Watching as the young boys eyebrows knitted together in confusion, Arthur sighed and explained.
"A dekko is a look Alfred. And I'd rather he not see me so he can't. Nobody can see me unless I want them too."
"So how come I can see you?"
Pausing to think Arthur could only give a mysterious look. "That my duck is something I can't explain. Perhaps it was a fluke on my part. Or maybe you're just special."
Alfred gave a brilliant smile and jumped up to grab Arthur's hand.
"Come on Artie! You have to meet Toris!" And with that Alfred took off hand in hand with the Brit through lavish double doors and into a foyer with grand stairs.
~.
ACHOOO!
"Oh Alfred, I've warned you about going outside in the rain. One day you'll catch your death from it…",said a soft and weary voice. Its owner, a slim man with shoulder length brown hair, tucked his young charge into bed with great care.
Sniff…
Sniff…
"Sorry Toris…I wasn't trying to get sick. Besides heroes never stay down for long. Right?"
Giving a soft smile, the Lithuanian man ruffled the ill boy's downy hair.
"Right Alfred. I'm going to go see if Feliciano and Lovino won't mind making some soup for you, okay? Try and get some rest."
With that Toris left the room with soft footsteps.
"You know he's right. You're probably feeling right dicky now."
Sniff…
Sniff…
"Y-you don't have to rub it in Artie." The poor kid sounded absolutely miserable being stuck in bed.
The Englishman sat upon a lavish lounge chair and clucked his tongue. "When he's right, he's right. Stiff upper lip and all that, love."
The look on the young boy's face looked as if he was suffering from the very idea of being trapped in bed for however long he would be.
That was probably only a few days.
His face screamed forever.
Sigh…
With practiced ease Arthur left the comfort of his lounge chair and walked to sit down on the edge of Alfred's humongous bed.
"If lying in bed is really so intolerable, why don't I tell you a story?"
Curious blue eyes looked up at him warily."It's not something boring is it? Or babyish?"
Pulling a highly offended face Arthur said testily, "Well if that's how you feel then I'm quite certain that I can just keep my story to myself…"
"NO!"
Smirking at the desperate, pleading child, Arthur finally conceded.
"Very well then, love. And no I don't quite believe my story is boring. It's about when I used to be a pirate. The King of them really.."
"No way! You're not lying, are you?"
"Well of course I'm not bloody well lying. Now belt up if you really want to hear my story. "
"Okay Artie."
That night Arthur weaved a fabulous tale for Alfred. He described things as though they were right in front of him. As if the story was neither fantasy nor a long forgotten memory.
It sounded as though it had happened just yesterday.
He listened rapt as Arthur told him of faraway places and untold of things happening.
His eyes widened as Arthur vividly described deadly fights with vicious opponents, settled only with wrought steel at each other's throats.
Arthur told him of fantastic wonders that other men had scarcely seen and probably never would.
And Alfred stay hooked on every word, his attention captive to the Brits well weaved words.
Soon Alfred could barely keep his eyes from closing. Somewhere along Arthur's story his chills had stopped.
He could feel sleep creeping upon him.
As his eye lids finally began to fall, Alfred murmured, "Artie, you aren't going to leave me, are you? You're one of my only real friends."
The Englishman sat hands folded as he looked down at the small boy he had found him. Despite the fact that he hadn't asked him to nor wanted anyone to see him really.
"No love. I rather quite like it here. I don't quite believe I'm ready to leave anytime soon."
The small child smiled softly and with that he could finally go off to the world of dreams.
"Goodnight, Artie..."
His soft words ended as he drifted out of consciousness.
Arthur sat back looking at the new home he found.
Very posh.
Very rich.
It would be a very comfortable life indeed with so many amenities.
He looked down at the little boy who had found him. He hadn't allowed any humans to see him for quite some time.
In a way it was refreshing to not be, for all intents and purposes, imaginary.
Artie, you aren't going to leave me, are you? You're one of my only real friends.
Laying a whisper of kiss on the young boy's forehead, he gave a gentle smile.
"Of course I'll stay love. It's quite nice to be seen again."
And seen he was.
Through innocent eyes.
Unassuming eyes.
Adoring eyes.
Arthur felt the weight of the centuries he'd been on the Earth seem to lighten.
His new life seemed very nice indeed.
~.
British Slang- If I'm wrong let me shot… or maybe just pinched. I die less that way.
Dicky = sicky, sick
Dekko = a look
Duck= sometimes used as term of endearment.
Ninny= idiot, dumb person
Nancy boy= an insult implying that a guy is very questionably effeminate.
Wanker= one who wanks or jacks off. Basically your girlfriend is your right hand.
Brill = Short for brilliant
Shite= shit
Any other foreign words then ask and I'll put up a meaning.
A/N: And that is the prologue for this story. If you think it sounds familiar then I will be completely honest and say I got the idea from the 1950's movie "Harvey". I've never watched it but the idea that a guy could walk around with a friend that nobody can see just seemed really interesting.
Throughout this prologue, you've probably been thinking…What the hell is with Arthur's speech?111!
Well, I've been around enough friends who speak different languages or who are from different regions to know that everyone has their own slang and way of speaking.
So, I looked up British slang on Google and found a website where a guy explains different terms and how getting them wrong can get you punched in the willy (Big Ben/Florida/ Eiffel Tower) in both the UK and in the US.
If anyone from the UK read this and thought that I was being an American ass, then sorry and stop being so sensitive! ,
Also anyone who thought that Francis' speech was horribly stereotypical and that I should be shot, well sorry and again, don't be so sensitive! I took French class for two years and my uncultured American ears swore that my teacher sounded like that when got way into his French. If the majority of people who read this complain and get angry, maybe I'll consider changing it. Consider.
Oh, if you're a reader of the Dragon Knight and you're wondering when I'll post next…I'm uncertain. I've had to rewrite the next chapter twice because my evil laptop decided to update and restart in the middle of me typing and not recover the documents. TWICE! -_- This thing might be cursed.
Hmmm…I can't think of much else to say.
I REGRET NOTHING!1111!11!
Enjoy the rest of this story.