A/N (PLEASE READ THIS FOR A SEC KAY?) I should be working on other, older things instead of working on new things. I should, but I did it anyway. So here you go. Just to warn you ahead of time, this will not strictly follow the King Arthur legend. I'm just taking certain elements from the story...and then making it up as I go along. So try not to yell at me when you see that not everybody is who they should be and I'm not writing like the legend goes etc. etc. Because screw it, I'm going to write this and it's going to be a plot that I like. And I hope you like it too. Except I didn't cut it at all so this is going to be really freaking long. Fudgesickles.
Special thanks to: Izanami no Utau, you were my first reader for this and helped me smooth over some kinks and insecurities and frankly, dealing with my shit.
Disclaimer: I don't own APH!
Avalon
Chapter 1: Thy Gift, Thy Tables, are Within my Brain
King Arthur Pendragon was truly, the greatest man who had ever lived. He was hailed as the messiah for his work in driving out the barbaric Saxons and unifying the kingdom of heaven under his steady hand. Among all the war and suffering that plagued this world, a land of peace and prosperity was created, one that valued justice and order above all else. But as with all kingdoms, there were those who sought to take power for themselves. The accursed traitor, Mordred, attempted to overthrow the great king in his thirst for power and war. He desired the queen, the throne, the country, so that he may take the world.
At his side stood the witch, Morgan Le Fay. She rained plagues and disaster upon the good people of the kingdom. For a time, it seemed all had been lost during the Battle of Camlann. The detestable traitor may have disappeared, but King Arthur and his knights were nowhere to be seen. In the king's absence, the sorceress stole the throne and ruled the people with an iron fist. But this dark time passed quickly as the valiant king-
At this point, the 'Great' King Arthur could read no more. He sighed, placing the tome onto his desk and taking out his quill. He had not even passed the first page before chancing upon mistake over mistake. He nearly broke the delicate feather in half, furious at the praises and insults so casually written within an everyday schoolbook text. This was not the truth. He was not great. And Mordred was not a traitor.
The man looked behind him, smiling fondly at the small child sleeping at his desk. The energetic boy must have tired himself out, running about the library as he did. He was a sweet child, a little rowdy at times that belied his fragile appearance, but a good child nonetheless. He looked over to his wife, quietly knitting in the corner. Things had been rather tense…between them for a while, but they had soon gotten over it, becoming closer than ever. Perhaps he would join her now that his son was asleep. The boy never really did appreciate the merit in stitching.
But not now. He had something he had to do. So he went back to his work, trying to read through the text once more.
But this dark time passed quickly as the valiant king and his brave knights arose from the ashes. With swords like thunder and hearts of steel, the men liberated the kingdom from the vile witch-"
He groaned. How could anyone write such malarkey in his kingdom and have it passed as a 'good' compilation of their history? He reminded himself to find the author, this…Duchess. The queen looked up at him, a concerned expression on her face. He waved her away. She need not worry about this. Besides, it was something he wanted to do. Wanted to write before he forgot…before anyone forgot.
But it looked like he would have to start from scratch. He pulled out some paper and ink, preparing himself for the long nights and blackened fingers that came from a writer's hard work.
King Arthur was not great. He was neither exemplary nor amazing. It was the people he surrounded himself with that were so valiant, so brave. He eventually grew into his own niche, becoming the man that everyone thought him to be. But he was not perfect, nor a practical god as many of his citizens liked to think of him. No. He was not the extraordinary one. That title fell down to someone else…that title fell to Alfred.
So where did this go wrong? Where did that peace that the previous king, Uther Pendragon, leave behind disappear to? Well, it all started many, many years ago, starting when King Arthur was simply Prince Arthur, another roguish prince who stalked the ghettos for fun with his most loyal subjects.
...
...
"Bloody wanker, you nearly got us killed!" a fourteen-year old Arthur screeched. His cousin laughed again in that infuriating voice of his.
"Ohonhonhon, but I saw you smiling back there mon petit. Admit you had fun!" Francis said, "Of course, I could show you a better time if you wished…" he added, leering.
The young prince punched him straight in the jaw. He didn't care at all if the damned bastard got caught and was whipped. In fact, he would be sitting there in the front row, drinking tea and laughing while he was at it. When they finally vaulted over another few sets of roofs, probably waking the poor occupants up, they managed to lose their pursuers and were allowed to catch their breath. Arthur looked back down at the necklace he and his fool of a cousin had gone to such lengths to steal. Stupid bloody dare. Stupid bloody Gilbert. Stupid bloody drinking tolerance. Never again would he touch alcohol. Stealthily climbing over the castle walls and dropping into the garden, they met up with the others.
"Artie! You're back!" A young ten-year old Alfred came running over, and clung to his legs. "I knew you could do it, but Gil didn't believe me!"
The albino bastard himself swaggered over to them, "Not bad Artie." He swiped the necklace from the blonde teen and turned it over in his hands, "Kesese, I take it back then! You have some backbone after all." The albino slapped him harshly on the shoulder, nearly making the young prince buckle, "I'll be making a thief out of you yet!"
Rubbing his sore shoulder, he kicked the fool in the shins, "Bloody idiot! I am never listening to any of your suggestions ever again you fool of a guard! How dare you call yourself a man!" He then rounded on Antonio who was still trying to pry the little boy clinging to Arthur's legs. "And you! You're supposed to be watching Alfred, why on earth is he here and not asleep?!"
The brunet sighed, "But Alfred couldn't sleep, he said he was waiting to win his bet with Lovi!" His eyes got this glazed look at the mention of Alfred's attendant.
Alfred pulled away and put his arms in front of the guard defensively, "I wanted to come and see you Artie!" The boy stuck out his lower lip in that famous pout of his with those big puppy eyes, "A-and I can't sleep. I was worried…"
The crown prince sighed, "Another nightmare? Come here you." He picked up the small boy. Some would say he should stop spoiling him, but how could he not? He was young and fragile and oh so tiny. Even Lovino doted on him, albeit in his own grudging and cursing way. But then he furrowed his incredibly thick eyebrows to glare at the idiot trio standing before him.
"So did ya get to bang her while you were at it?" Gilbert said to Francis, still eyeing the necklace with interest. Were all knights-in-training assholes and perverts? Probably. Antonio being the only one actually close to an exception.
"Oho, of course I did! Right while Arthur was busy-"
Arthur kicked the Frenchman in the shins, "Bastard! So that was what your damn distraction was?"
"Ack! What else am I to do when there is a beautiful woman patting her bed and smiling at me so lovingly?" Then he got a familiar glint in his eyes, "Unless you were jealous mon petit? Fear not! How could I ever deny a prince-" Francis really should have seen the upcoming kick. Should have seen it coming and taken it like a man instead of whining like the sad little frog he was.
After some cursing that he probably shouldn't have said in a child's presence, Arthur finally let up on the bastard's punishment. But he'd be damned if he said that out loud because the frog would probably take it the wrong way. "Can we go to bed now?" Alfred said innocently, big blue eyes shining up at him.
"Oh my Arthur I did not know you were into…that," Francis leered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Even with a black eye he was still making those kinds of comments. Arthur cracked his knuckles and the teenager took a careful step back.
"You're so whipped aren't ya Artie!" Gilbert cackled, before patting the blue-eyed boy on the head. "Sweet dreams kid, don't be too much of a brat like your boring bro here. Be more like the awesome me!"
Arthur scowled, "Get your grubby hands off of my brother you-"
Antonio slapped a hand over the prince's mouth and pushed them all behind a bush. Just as he was about to shout and yell at such man handling, he quieted quickly at the older teen's warning face. The other two followed, staying as still and as quiet as possible. The head guard, Alistair Ector, came waltzing out from the barracks, drunk as usual. He walked about the garden, swinging his sword here and there.
"Where are ya, ya brats! Din't I tell yous not to be out late? Now git!" he yelled at a bush, whacking it mercilessly. Thank god Alistair was the stupid drunk and not the dangerous kind because the man was crazy enough sober.
As quietly as possible, they slipped inside the castle through the servants' quarters. Saying goodbye to Gilbert and Francis, which is to say he gave them each a loving kick, he walked with Antonio back to Alfred's room. Or the knight-in-training stayed with him until he caught sight of Lovino. He gave a bunch of spluttered excuses before, with a sigh, the prince turned him loose. The brunet immediately assaulted the attendant with hugs and kisses. The prince was forced to place a hand over Alfred's pure eyes and he slammed the door against the odd couple. This is why he constantly complained that the servants, especially personal ones, needed their own rooms. Because goddamn it if he stepped in on one more make-out session between those two…
"Artie, will you tell me a story?" his little brother whispered as he was being tucked in.
"Not today, love, it's late," the messy blonde said, patting the boy on the head.
"B-but, it always keeps away the nightmares! Pleeaaase? Tell me about Pirate Kirkland!" Arthur sighed when the boy clung to his arm, staring at him with those bright eyes. "Pretty please?" The boy always knew how to pull his strings.
"Alright then." He smiled when the boy cheered and eagerly sat up to hear the adventures of the valiant pirate. Looking at the boy, so carefree and bright, it was hard to believe he was weighed down with such an awful ability.
Upon finishing the tale of the kraken and how Kirkland defeated it with his faithful unicorn, Mr. Bubbles, Alfred began to grow sleepy. He tucked the boy in, pulling the covers up to his chin. As he did so the boy asked him one more thing.
"Artie…is there anyone out on the seas that protects Kirkland?" the boy asked sleepily, yawning in the most adorable fashion.
Arthur hummed a bit, "Hmm, no. Kirkland is the strongest pirate there is out there, he's the one that does the protecting silly."
"That's sad." Arthur looked at the boy, surprised.
"Oh, and why is that?"
The boy yawned again, struggling with sleep, "B-because, if he's always saving people, who's gonna save him?"
Arthur was at a loss at what to say for a moment and spluttered, "W-why would he ever need saving? Kirkland's the strongest there is. He doesn't need help." But Alfred had already fallen asleep. Sighing, the crown prince kissed his younger brother on the forehead.
"Sweet dreams, Alfred."
...
...
Every member of the royal family was more or less blessed with a gift, some more useful than others and some more like curses than blessings. Alfred was no different. Unlike Arthur, who had been blessed with an affinity to magical creatures and spell-casting, Alfred had been cursed with the ability to see the future. It was a power he could not control and the poor boy was often plagued day and night with ghastly visions of the future. He spoke little of what he saw, trying to hold in the horrors of the future, but he cried often, clinging to his brother and attendants for support.
For the boy's own sake, his powers were sealed. Surely, such a thing would drive anyone to insanity. Merlin, the king's advisor and sorcerer, ensured that the boy would be safe and taught to harness his prophetic abilities. But until then, it would be better for the safety of both Alfred and all those around him, to place this power under wraps.
And so, with the sealing of his powers, Alfred began to grow. No longer did he cry in the night or act like a young maiden made of glass. No, the boy grew up to be strong. He began to show himself a talented swordsman like no other and his abilities as a craftsman were unmatched of those his age. This, of course, led to an inflated ego and all the immaturities of brash young princes. But he was still a good child at heart. Arthur loved him truly.
...
...
Arthur had just turned sixteen when he was betrothed to Guinevere. They despised each other on sight. It was a match made in heaven, as King Uther had described it. His wife, Queen Igraine, made no complaints either. It wasn't like they could change it. Princess Guinevere was of the rivaling kingdom. Her marriage to Arthur would help cement peace relations and trade options between the two. It didn't matter if the two got along like oil and water, they were going to be married and that was final. He had some time though. When he was eighteen and ascended to the throne he would then be married. But he dreaded that day now. As much as he would love to take after his father, he could not, would not, marry that witch.
He told Merlin, his tutor, as such. The old man simply laughed at him before patting his shoulder reassuringly. There was a reason why many kings had consorts after all… Arthur later gagged on the thought, imagining what it would be like if his own father had had his own harem. It would be a bloody battlefield of petticoats and nails.
That aside, in order to relieve the obvious frustration, he went outside to go spar. Currently, he was having the shit beat out of him by Alistair. "Form up brat. I don't care if yer the king hisself, I'll beat ya soundly if ye don't shape up!"
Arthur scowled. So maybe sparring with the grumpiest knight of all time wasn't the best way to relieve stress. "I'm doing the best I can you bloody bastard!"
"That's nowhere close 'nough! An ol' lady would do betta than you!" Then Alistair soundly slapped the sword out of the prince's hands. He then tripped the frustrated teen, forcing him to fall back onto his bottom. In the background, Yao could be seen tutting lightly at his performance. Next to him stood Francis' squire and brother…what was his name again? Anyways the boy was holding a white teddy bear to his face, not being able to watch the one-sided spar.
After the third humiliating defeat, Alistair decided to stop. "That's 'nough for ya. This ain't gonna go any betta if yer head's in a ditch, come back tomorrah when ye've cleaned up, brat." And he waltzed off to the barracks, probably off to get drunk again.
Sulking, Arthur didn't get up, choosing to lie down on the dusty training grounds and glare at the sky.
"It is not good for a prince to lay on the ground all day aru," Yao said, leaning over him, his long hair trailing down to tickle the blonde's nose.
"I will do what I damn will like! If a prince wants to roll around in the filth than do it he shall," Arthur snapped, rolling over on his side.
A soft voice sighed, "Your highness…you can't stay here forever..." When…Matthew (that was his name!) saw the prince roll over again he played the card that always got him, "Alfred said he was waiting for you in the study."
"Alfred?" Arthur shot up at attention before quickly trying to pretend to be angry again, "Why should I care what that wanker wants? All he ever does is act like a bloody annoyance every second of the day!"
Yao and Matthew shared a look. The dark-haired teen sighed before flicking the young prince on the forehead, "You are not a very good liar aru." He whistled and from the bushes popped out a panda, carrying a small table with a lacquerware set. The teen then produced a pillow from his voluminous sleeves, sitting down with legs primly set under him. "Tea is good for the soul, you should take some to relax aru."
"I'm not in the mood for tea right now-" Arthur stopped when the cute fuzzy panda growled at him, showing off a set of pearly incisors. "Or I could have tea now, tea would be nice!" he amended quickly. The panda soon reverted back to its cute, seemingly harmless self. They all sat down at the small table, sitting patiently and quietly as the little panda served them all tea. Once done, the black and white animal jumped back into the bushes. Honestly the animals that the castle let in these days…
"Shinatty-chan, thank you. You're so reliable, unlike a certain little duck…" The Oriental man trailed off angrily before slumping his shoulders. "Why? I always took care of him and now he doesn't respect me at all aru! Ahhh, Kiku why don't you listen to your gē gē!?" The Orient whined, throwing his head onto the table. "I even saved you and brought you here but you don't even try to understand!" Wait a second, weren't they supposed to be comforting him a second ago?
"Erm, I'm sorry?" the crown prince said awkwardly, patting the other on the shoulder.
Yao suddenly shot straight up, grabbing the prince's shoulders suddenly. "And that is why you must cherish the admiration your xiǎodì gives you," the teen said sagely, his face showing no sign of previous distress. The older teen picked up his cup, peering at the young prince with wisdom beyond his years, "Don't worry about the marriage aru. When the wind of change blows, some build walls, others build windmills."
"Pardon me?"
Yao huffed before speaking slowly, as if to a small, insipid child, "You will get used to change." Then the Orient began grumbling in that odd language of his. Arthur only caught a few words like 'idiot' and 'stupid'.
"Um, your highness?" Arthur jumped, having forgotten Matthew had sat down with them. "Um, Arthur, I'm sure it'll be fine. What Yao is trying to say is well…we're here for you, so when things go funny you can rely on us." In that instant, Arthur felt horribly guilty for ignoring the timid boy. Unlike his bastard of a brother, he was a good child, innocent and pure. Probably the only person, aside from Kiku, that was a good influence on the Alfred.
The prince coughed awkwardly, touched by the statement, "Ah, well yes, of course. Thank you…" Now what was his name again? "Matthew! Yes, thank you Matthew." The boy, not having any idea of Arthur's temporary lapse, beamed. Then the boy's expression dropped.
"Weren't you supposed to go see Merlin right about now?" the bespectacled boy asked, pointing up at the sky.
The prince twitched, "Shit! Bloody hell, I'll be off then!" The two waved him goodbye and he ran straight into the castle. The last time he had been late to one of their study sessions Merlin had made him fly. Out the third story window. With nothing but a broom and some string. He shuddered and ran even faster. He didn't get very far before he bumped into Gilbert.
"Yo, eyebrows!" The prince twitched at the nickname. His eyebrows were perfectly normal, they were not bushy! They were just…big in comparison to everyone else's bloody, nonexistent ones! Ignoring the angry prince, the albino man tossed him a bottle, "Thought this might cheer you up since you look like shit. Better thank me for awesomely snagging it later kleiner Mistkerl."
"Shut up! And when did I tell you to not call me that? I'll have you flogged!" The knight rolled his eyes and put on a evil grin that said he was going to keep pestering the poor prince. That is, until a certain, pan-wielding scullery maid's voice boomed down the hall.
"GILBERT!"
The albino man's eyes widened comically, "Schiebe, see ya Artie!" And he ran off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Arthur groaned. Why did no one respect his authority around here? He swore it was all Alfred's fault. The little bugger never punished his attendants properly, always giving them far too much freedom than he should. Damn squirt, his ego was growing larger with each passing day. What happened to the small and sweet boy he used to know?
As he turned the corner, he saw Elizabeta, cursing up a storm that rivaled even Lovino's infamous temper tantrums.
"Arthur!" He shrank back at the scullery maid's livid expression, "Have you seen Gil? I've always told him not to fuck around when I'm cooking…" the woman trailed off threateningly, before swinging around her frying pan and taking a good chunk off a nearby wall. She then sniffed the air like a bloodhound, before smiling viciously, "I found you…" She walked off, completely ignoring him. The prince wasted no time in getting out of her way. Servant or no, the woman was absolutely terrifying. Being a former knight trainee and Alistair's prodigy was probably one of the reasons.
Jesus, why couldn't they have normal servants? His father's cheerful voice then echoed through his mind.
But that would be boring Arthur. A king without excitement is a no-good king!
Uther was probably the one Alfred inherited his childishness and immaturity from. They were both insufferable. Then he remembered that he was late again and he set off running.
While he dreaded being late and the possible punishment that came with it, he was also quite excited. Alfred had practically been begging to have him teach him about magic again, something he had not done in a while. Now that he was older he seemed to have found clinging to his older brother too 'uncool' as he put it. Now he was trying to be more independent, and his natural talent only encouraged that. So yes, Arthur was excited that his brother had finally decided to depend on him.
While the boy excelled in all things physical, Arthur was a master at all things magical being second only to Merlin. He may not be a full-time sorcerer, but he was bloody good at quite a few spells if he did say so himself.
As soon as he opened the door he was immediately assaulted by a certain blonde imp. "Damn it, Alfred! Control yourself!" he screeched, boxing the enthusiastic boy on the ear.
"Ow! Man, Iggy that hurt!" the boy whined, rubbing his sore ear.
"At least call me Artie for God's sakes!" Arthur scolded.
He hated being called Iggy. If only because Francis had given him the name when he caught Arthur talking to one of the fairies named Iggy. It was not his bloody fault that Francis couldn't see them! Damn frog was too filthy to so much as whiff such magnificent creatures. Saying just that led to the damned knight calling him crazy. Which thus ended in a legendary fistfight that ended in the south wing of the library being destroyed and forever erasing plum pudding from the castle's menu.
"But I wanna call you Iggy, Iggy!"
"Git!" He grabbed the boy and put him in a headlock, "Today is the last day you'll dare defy me!"
"I'll never give in! A hero never, ever gives in!" And the boy leaned back, forcing them both to fall over. Climbing on top of Arthur, practically straddling him, he began mercilessly tickling the elder teen's sides. "Yield villain! The hero always wins!"
Arthur quickly rolled over, turning the tables, "Not if the hero is against the king!" He began his own tickle attack, "Surrender boy! You'll never win against his royal majesty, the king of England!" Alfred was laughing so hard he could barely make a coherent sentence. Finally the king-to-be let up, letting his brother collect himself.
The boy smiled brightly at him, before pouting, "That wasn't fair! You're still taller than me!"
Alfred promptly got up and placed a book on the elder sibling's head. Then he began to lean on it, "Grow shorter!"
Arthur scoffed, "That's an oxymoron, git. And don't you know that's impossible?" The boy simply laughed.
"You won't be laughing when it works! You'll see, one day I'll be even taller than you!"
"Now, now boys settle down." The two immediately stopped their roughhousing to sit still at the appearance of their mentor. He was getting old, and the way he leaned on his staff more heavily than usual worried Arthur. As if sensing his eyes, the sorcerer tightened the cloak around his neck and pushed his hood back to smile reassuringly at the two. "Alfred, my boy, go and do an old man a favor and get those books from the table for me?"
"On it, sir! It's nothing a hero can't handle!" And he ran off. Merlin, instead of taking a chair, chose to sit cross-legged on the library floor with them.
"Merlin, here let me-"
The old man waved his hand dismissively, "Oh don't worry about me Arthur. Old I may be but I don't need to be babied every step of the way. How is your betrothal coming along?"
Arthur's good mood immediately evaporated, "Positively dreadful. She's completely insufferable, I can hardly believe that she-dragon can be called a princess!" he ranted.
The old man chuckled, "Bah, you'll get used to her soon enough. Who knows? She may surprise you in the future!"
"More like make a mockery of this kingdom and spend every last penny on clothes she'll never wear," the crown prince grumbled. Sighing the teen put his head in his hands. "Can it really be so soon? Only two more years of freedom and then the kingdom is my burden to bear." Arthur felt those insecurities bubbling inside of him again. Could he really do this? Honestly, all the expectations for him to be just as good, nay – better, than his father were starting to get to him.
Merlin gave him a hard chop to the head.
"Ow, what in blazes- Merlin!" Arthur squawked indignantly. The old man chuckled quietly, before looking at him with the utmost seriousness as he stroked his long, grey beard.
"Don't you dare doubt yourself Arthur, it's unbecoming of a king. Only do what you think is right. And above all else, remember you are not alone." Arthur, while still aching from the hit, smiled gratefully at his mentor. "There's that smile! Now, go be a good king and make me some tea."
Arthur snorted, "I believe you said you didn't need to be babied, or are you so senile you've forgotten?"
The sorcerer subsequently whacked him with his staff, before clearing his throat, "A king should learn some humility! By making me some tea."
Grumbling the prince got up only to see Alfred come running no, flying in on a book cart with the librarian's assistant, Kiku. "Outta the way Iggy!" At the last second, Arthur managed to sidestep the cart, wincing when the two boys crashed into the wall. Poor Kiku looked as if he had been traumatized. And it seemed that Alfred had broken yet another pair of spectacles. Wonderful.
The raven-haired boy bowed deeply, "Sumimasen, Merlin-dono, Arthur-dono, for the interruption. But Alfred-sama and I believed this would be a good idea. I will take responsibility."
Arthur sighed, "No need Kiku," He rounded on Alfred, "Wanker, what did you think you were doing? Dragging the poor boy into this?"
"What? We got all the books here didn't we? Don't be such a party pooper!" Then Alfred smiled conspiratorially with Kiku, "Besides, I'm the hero, and every hero needs a sidekick! Right Kiku?"
The boy smiled shyly, "Of course, Alfred-sama."
"Jeez, just call me Alfred already!" the boy laughed before getting up, seemingly not injured by the rough crash. Merlin laughed as well, patting Arthur on the shoulder when he moved to scold the young boy again. Of course, he couldn't hold the prince back when the younger boy spoke again, "Oh, and if you're getting tea Iggy, get me a cup with lots of sugar! And get Kiku one too!"
Arthur smacked the boy up the head. "You little git! I'm not getting you anything! Don't ever do something so stupid like that ever again!"
"You can't tell me what to do!" Alfred snapped back, not giving a care when Arthur's face turned red.
"I bloody well can you little brat! Now you go get the tea yourself!"
The little bugger smirked, "Make me!"
Merlin simply laughed at it all as the crown prince proceeded to chase after his careless younger brother.
A pity the sorcerer would never get the tea he asked for.
…
…
Dinner was a stiff, formal affair. They were sitting in the private dining room with a much smaller table to accommodate the few guests eating that day. The king and queen chatted lightly, but the atmosphere was rather heavy. It was made worse by the fact that Arthur had to sit right in front of that monster that was supposed to be a woman. She laughed shrilly at all of the King's bad jokes and puns, while pretending to be completely engrossed in what the Queen had to say. But when no one spoke, the two of them glared at each other from across the table.
Alfred, of course, was completely oblivious to the psychological warfare being waged between the betrothed and went on with eating as usual. "So Arthur," the name sounded like an insult coming from her mouth, "I have to say I saw you out on the training grounds this afternoon. You have such…splendid swordsmanship." The tone in her voice indicated exactly otherwise.
"Why thank you," Arthur said tightly, "I have to say I was not quite myself however, as I was thinking only of your…fascinating face." The girl's expression grew colder and the crown prince smirked. Score one for Arthur.
"Oh don't be modest my boy!" the king said, patting his son roughly on the head, "You see, my dear, Arthur here is the best in the castle! He could give old Alistair down there a run for his money, or his beer, whichever one he wants to bet on!" the king added, laughing loudly as ever. Let it be known that King Uther was not the quietest, nor the most tactful of all kings.
"Ah yes, Arthur is quite the talented boy. I have no worries for when he will become king, I'm sure he will take good care of you as well, my dear," the queen said, her voice placating. His mother was a subtle one, always the peacemaker she was. Perhaps this was why she was sent often on foreign relations more than Arthur's father.
The bitch immediately switched tactics, "Of course…I couldn't possibly doubt your son and his abilities!"
"Doubting his abilities?" The king snorted in a much undignified manner, "Oh yes, Arthur is capable, but you're going to have to bear with him. He's a bit of a bore sometimes; do forgive him if he's too boorish for you," the man then winked at Alfred. The boy blinked, before giving his father the thumbs up. Watching the exchange, Arthur couldn't help but worry. Those two never got into anything but trouble.
His mother seemed to be thinking the same thing, as she rang for the servants to bring out dessert. The table was filled with various cakes and fruits, and being the little pig he was, Alfred devoured them. Arthur made no move to initiate conversation again, deciding to stab his scones violently and continue glaring at the woman before him. She was ignoring him, eating her cake soundly. As if finally feeling the tense atmosphere, the king coughed, "Ah well, Guinevere my dear, I do hope you'll stay the night, perhaps get to know our good Arthur here and become more acquainted with the castle?"
The girl paled for a bit, her jaw clenching before replying in a tight voice, "I-I'm afraid I couldn't possibly intrude upon your hospitality, your highness-"
"Please call me Uther! We're to be family someday after all!" The king patted her roughly on the shoulder while Arthur gagged at the thought of having such a relationship with a she-dragon. He shouldn't have looked away, or else he would have seen the mischievous glint in the king's eyes.
"Now, dear you're scaring the poor girl…" Igraine said warningly, putting a hand over her husband's.
"Oh, if she can handle Arthur here I'm sure she can handle a bit of paternal love!" He smiled impishly, "We might as well get the tension out while we're here right?" Before anyone could say anything, the king, the bloody king of England, put one foot on the table, picked up a cake in each hand and smashed it in the princess' and the prince's faces.
So much for peaceful relations. "So we might as well duke it out while the two of you are young right?" Igraine face-palmed while Alfred laughed, nodding his head enthusiastically.
"Duke it out? Duke it out?" Guinevere repeated slowly, as she numbly scraped the cake off her face.
"It means 'to settle things' in case you don't know. But I suppose a dingbat like you couldn't have possibly known that," Arthur said acerbically, wiping off the cream on his face. Of course, as soon as he did, more of the puffy pastries were thrown at him.
"You insufferable prick! I've been nothing but polite to you and then you throw everything into my face!" the girl screeched, picking up a bowl of cherries. She was immediate assaulted by scones.
"Polite? Is that what you call making sparkly eyes at all my knights and oh-so-subtly sniping how I'm nothing like them? Sorry to break it to you love, but you're stuck with me!"
"Oh you wretched, stiff little-"
The king laughed heartily at the exchange, only to be slapped harshly by his wife.
"You imbecile," the blonde-haired woman hissed, "How could you? We were supposed to make things better between them, not worse!"
Uther pretended to be confounded, "What do you mean? I am helping them get along! Best to get their differences settled when they're young right? If they blow up later, who knows what state the kingdom could be in times ahead?" In response, the queen picked up her platter and dumped its contents all over her husband's head.
"There are more dignified ways of going about it, and a food fight is not one of them," the woman said coldly, she tried to march off, but the king grabbed her wrist. He quickly pulled her into his lap and kissed her soundly, beard still covered in cream and syrup.
"Oh, lighten up! The other ways are no fun at all!" Needless to say Igraine quickly joined in on beating her husband soundly in the mess.
Arthur was currently ducking behind his chair, avoiding a great slice of cherry pie aimed at his head, "You she-witch! Why don't you go along with your harpy ways and leave us all be?"
"It's not like I wanted to be married to an eyebrow monster!" she screamed, throwing a whole platter of macaroons, much to Alfred's dismay.
"You take that back!"
"Never!"
"Beaver girl! You look like a beaver with those gigantic teeth, beaver girl!"
Looking over the chair, he saw the girl turn beet red. "I am not!" But she covered her mouth all the same when she said, as if to hide those great buck teeth from sight. And she pulled at her messy brown locks self-consciously. Just when Arthur was taking the opportunity to throw a large slice of lemon custard, the remains of a strawberry parfait came flying to his face.
Rubbing himself down and spluttering, he looked up to see the harpy doing the same, only trying to get the remains of peach tartlet out of her hair. Standing on the table and laughing triumphantly for all to see, was Alfred. The boy was armed with a slingshot and a bowl full of candied figs. "Beware evildoers of delicious desserts! For I, Alfred Pendragon, am here to vanquish you!" In a few smooth strokes, he hit every single occupant in the room with a fig. Then the boy did a backflip to hide behind his chair, avoiding the return fire. "Hahaha, you'll never get the hero!"
As Arthur and Guinevere were enduring a hailstorm of candied figs, they formed a sort of alliance and together they ran through to drop a whole bowl of custard all over the loud boy's head.
Seeing the dismayed boy's face, Arthur smirked, "Better luck next time, hero."
"Oh I'll show you!" Alfred subsequently tackled his older brother and the two mucked about on the filthy carpet until Arthur, deciding to indulge the boy for once, yielded.
As he was getting up, Arthur saw Guinevere chuckle good-naturedly. It was neither fake nor scornful, it was simply pure laughter. Smiling to himself, he supposed maybe this engagement wouldn't go so badly after all…
...
...
Arthur's engagement didn't go well. In fact, nothing went well in the following years. The barbarians from the South came charging in, intent on invading the country and taking it for themselves. The king was one of their first victims, fighting of the beasts till the very end in order to protect his precious citizens. The queen followed soon after, killing herself when she was captured in order to avoid revealing sensitive information. With such shocking news, the marriage was postponed and the country was in a state of emergency.
Merlin was the one who came up with a plan first, seeing the inexperienced Arthur still in shock after his parents' gruesome deaths. He was to go to the isles of Avalon, the legendary island where he would locate the holy sword Excalibur. With this and only this, would Arthur truly drive away these barbarians from their great country. As the sorcerer prepared for his perilous journey to the forbidden land, Arthur, with a heavy heart, went off to war.
Yet he refused to take Alfred with him, the boy being only fourteen at the time. It was an argument that was the source of a great rift between them. But Arthur, could not, would not, lose the one most precious person on this wretched Earth. Not again.
...
...
He stood there in front of his parents' tomb in the rain. Arthur didn't bother using his parasol. The rain was calming, soothing. He wanted to run away, run away from all of it. He didn't want to see their pitying faces, he didn't want to hear their pained cries, and most of all, he didn't want to hear them call his name. Because he didn't know what to do. King? Him? He could barely get any of his own servants in line. How could he even dare to command an army and much less win a single battle let alone a war?
But despite his obvious inexperience, he was forced to lead. Merlin would be departing tomorrow and, in a few days, so would Arthur.
War. A term so foreign he could hardly believe it himself. But it was a chance to prove himself, a chance to get the revenge his entire being screamed for.
"Arthur," a sad voice said in the background, "We have to go inside, if you get sick then who's going to lead the troops?" He looked down at Alfred, bedraggled and sleep-deprived. The boy had been having nightmares the past few days.
"Go inside Alfred. I'll be there in a minute." But Alfred didn't go. He stood there with him in the rain.
"Why? Why can't I go with you?" the boy asked quietly.
"Alfred go inside." He wouldn't speak of this matter anymore. It had already been settled.
"I want to get them too," the boy said viciously, "I want revenge too Arthur! I'm not a kid-"
"Alfred, go inside, now," Arthur said softly, but even his dense little brother could hear the warning in it.
"But Arthur, I can fight! I want to fight! I can-"
Alfred fell onto the ground, shocked that Arthur had slapped him. "This isn't a game you idiot! This is war! You can't become the hero this time, so just listen for Christ's sake and go to your room!" he yelled.
The boy got up, hurt. And in that instant, Arthur immediately regretted what he had done. He reached out for him. He shouldn't have…he shouldn't have hit him. Because Arthur wasn't the only one hurting. "Alfred…Alfred I'm sor-"
The boy pushed him away, wiping his face before glaring defiantly at him. "I hate you, Arthur." He then ran off into the castle. Arthur was speechless. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak. He sat there in the numbing rain, letting his clothes weigh him down. As he stood there staring at the ground, staring at the place where his parents had gone and could not follow, a hand touched his shoulder.
"Arthur, it is time we went inside. The council awaits," Francis said softly. "Come now Arthur, you cannot stay out here forever."
"I can and will," he said in a small, stubborn voice.
And then the junior knight did something unexpected. He hugged him. Arthur was so shocked that he didn't even try to push the blonde man away. "Arthur, mon roi, do not fret. Alfred will get over it, he will understand." The knight let go, and led his newly appointed king to the castle. "I know it hurts, that it is hard. But remember, we are here for you. Me, Matthieu, everyone, so do not cry mon amie."
The prince, no, the king pushed him away, sniffling a bit. Just a bit. "It is a poor state of affairs indeed if a frog has to comfort me," Arthur bit out, but he wiped his eyes furiously. He steeled himself, straightening his posture, "Call all the men here. Call all of them here."
The knight gave him an odd look, but seeing the light in his eyes he nodded. "Very well," Francis acquiesced, going inside. When all his subjects were in the royal cemetery, standing in front of his parents' grave, he gathered their attention. Everyone was there, from the troublesome trio of knights and their colleagues, to the servants and squires. All of them had a downcast slump to their shoulders. With a stab of guilt, he realized it was because of him. If a leader despairs at his misfortune, so will his followers.
They all looked up at him, not a single one complaining of being brought out into the pouring rain. He ignored the pitying stares and the ones still in mourning. Walking up to stand at the top of the steps to his parents' mausoleum, he spoke, "A great evil has descended upon us as well as a great tragedy. King Uther and Queen Igraine are dead, and the barbarians have risen once more."
A solemn silence. All of his subjects looked down onto the muddy ground, fists held to their chests and some with silent tears running down their cheeks. "But are we to stand here and cry?" They looked up, the prince appearing calmer than they had ever seen him. "Are we to allow them to destroy our homes, our families, our lives? Will we allow my father's sacrifice, my mother's death to go in vain?"
"Never!" they yelled in unison.
"Then raise your swords up! For this means war! We will avenge them, we will avenge every single brother who had fallen at the hands of these beasts! Gather every man and every woman, every elder and every child! Let us show these barbarians what we Britons are made of!" He pulled out his sword and raised it up high, "For England!"
"For England!" they cheered back.
"All hail King Arthur!" a lone person in the audience roared. Searching the crowd, he saw Gilbert smirking. His arm was wrapped around his brother, Ludwig, who gave him a respectful nod.
And soon, the rest of the crowd raised up whatever they had, pitchforks, frying pans, swords, shields, he even thought he saw a pole with a pair of blindingly white bloomers attached to the end. "All hail King Arthur!" Looking into their eyes now, Arthur saw a grim determination, a fire that he had not seen before. For a second, his heavy heart lifted. But searching the crowd, he could not find Alfred. And that was enough to drop it once more.
But he held his head high. For his people, he could at least pretend to be strong.
…
...
It was gonna happen either way because I wanted it that way Arthur. I've always wondered what it'd be like if Alfred played for the other team. And I don't mean that sexually. I still don't know if there will be slash. I mean, aside from a little Spamano and Gerita in the back, I really don't. I really, really don't know. I'll just write whatever flows I guess.
Translations: (The hell do I know about French/German/Chinese/Japanese? Nothing that's what. So forgive me for the crappy translation or word choice, because I'm none of the four nationalities above nor do I know a speck of the language aside from what I picked up on the internet.)
mon petit - my dear
mon roi - my king
mon prince - my prince
mon amie - my friend
gē gē - older brother
xiǎodì - younger brother
kleiner Mistkerl - little bastard
Bruder - brother
Schiebe - Shit
Sumimasen - I'm sorry
Continue? I think not. Just kidding. Let's see what happens, but for now, I'll be updating Witch of Sicily like I'm supposed to be doing.