Note: An AU Joker fic of sorts, starring patriot!America and loyalist!England before, during, and after the American Revolution. France and Germany is due to appear as well.
I've got my trusty "If You: Lived at the time of the American Revolution" book right by my side. Oh, and the story's accompanied by the song "Fairytale" by Alexander Rybak. Enjoy.
~ Fairytale ~
I've always truly loved Arthur since the day I first laid eyes on him. Things were difficult, however; for one thing, the person I've fallen for was another boy.
The second most difficult thing about this was that he was also a complete and utter stuck-up jerk. But I suppose that was what had drawn me to him in the first place.
And then, there's the third...But really, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let me tell you from the beginning; it was a bright and sunny morning as I went down to the workshop. You see, my father was a silversmith, just one of many in the great port city of Boston. As his only son-well, living with him, anyhow-I was expected to follow in his footsteps. Well, I supposed there was always the shipbuilding business...But never mind that.
So, I was down at the workshop to make a last minute checkup on the latest order-a pitcher for some fancy bureaucrat living uptown. Mind you, this was the handiwork of yours truly.
...All right, maybe it was mostly Father's, but it was I who had put on the finer details. Note the fine, intricate patterns that were painstakingly carved onto the handle and lid, the delicate curvature of the spout-the sheer radiating awesomeness of it all. Give me a year-no, a couple of months, and I should be able to surpass Father, maybe even Mr. Revere.
...Make that a year, then.
Where was I again? Oh, right, the check up. Within minutes of inspection, one of Father's hired hands called me. It seemed that Father had requested my presence and I had no choice but to answer. If Lady Luck was on my side, I bet it was potential customer requesting my service.
...Father's service. But my day will come, mark my word!
I sighed and packed the pitcher with utmost care, then handed it to the man for him to deliver. Then, I quickly headed up back to my room (conveniently in the back of the house, right across from the workshop), tidied up, and then headed down to the parlor where Father and the guest waited.
Correction-guests. I forgot that his father was there too.
"Ah, Alfred," Father beamed at me. "About time you've come to join us. I would like you to meet Lord Kirkland here." He gestured to the large man sitting across from us. I could tell instantly he was the real deal, not like the silly bureaucrat uptown who was sent here to Boston because he was demoted. This man here definitely had an aristocratic air about him. And no, it wasn't the fancy clothing, finely powdered wig, or jewel encrusted cane that tipped me off.
"How do you do?" Lord Kirkland replied, nodding in consent to my bow. "Master Alfred, is it? I've heard much of you from Georgie here over the past years."
"Kirkland and I were once schoolmates back in London," Father said with a smile. "He and I would have been partners in the shipping trade, had I not move here to the New World and established myself as a silversmith."
"Shame, really. There was plenty of money in the business, George, and you would have been sitting in the lap of luxury for years to come."
"True, but you always did have an edge on me, Fred old boy, being already a part of the lap of luxury."
The two old men laughed together as they went on to joke and reminisce about old times, and all the while I listened. Or tried to. There was one minor distraction, which just so happened to be sitting right across from me. The other guest, a boy about my age, sat with his legs crossed and arms folded, clearly not wanting to be here. What I found so amusing was that despite his neat and tidy dressing (I mean, those boots and buttons were polished. It was practically blinding how the dim lighting in the room reflected off of them. And those pants-completely creaseless!), his flaxen hair stuck out in awkward angles. Like the guy had never heard the concept of brushing. Or a barber. Boy, were those eyebrows pretty big too. I mean, they could be an entity of their own.
...I wanted to pat his head and call him "Scruffy" for looking so much like that poor stray that hanged around the harbor.
Apparently, he must have caught me staring at him for he then gave me the meanest scowl I've ever seen. But then I caught sight of another detail of his, and for some reason, just for a moment, my breathing faltered. Such large and brilliant green eyes. Not even grasses or trees here grew that shade of green.
"...fred? Alfred?" A hand tapped my shoulder. I quickly snapped back to reality and noticed my father and the others staring at me. "Did you hear what I had just said?"
"Wha-what, sir?"
Father sighed and then smiled apologetically to his friend. "He's a good lad, though a bit slow at times." Lord Kirkland gave a good-natured chuckle and Father turned his attention back to me. "I said that I thought it would be best if you were to entertain Master Arthur for the time being while Lord Kirkland and I go over the plans on what would be best for him to take back with him to present to his lady back home."
"Mary Anne is dreadfully frightened of the New World," explained Lord Kirkland with a sniff, "she thinks it's much too uncivilized. Shame, really, considering that there are such lovely properties here, particular in the Southern colonies."
"I believe that she'll sing a different tune once she sees the handiwork I've come up with," Father assured. "Only the finest befitting of nobility, created from these capable, English hands." He spread out his hands and wiggled his fingers to emphasize his point. Lord Kirkland merely shook his head and laughed, and got up to follow Father into his study. The two bade us good day, and then closed the door behind them.
And...now the awkward silence.
"Soooooooo..." I began, dragging out the syllable out as much as I can as I try to come up with something to "entertain" my guest. Unfortunately, my lung doesn't hold as much air as I had thought. Oh well, let's start over then. "Sooooooooooooo..." Normally, I wouldn't be this nervous, but there was something unnerving about the other boy. Maybe it was the way he stared at me with those emerald green eyes, trying to glare a hole into my forehead or the like. Maybe it was the way he postured himself, trying to as if distance himself from me by keeping to himself, even though he was no more than three feet directly across from me. Or maybe it was the fact that he was nobility, being Lord Kirkland's son and all, and that if I were to-hypothetically speaking-get on his bad side-that would possibly mean one less patron (not to mention friend) for Father. And that would be very bad, considering the recent raise in taxes all over the colonies nowadays... "Soooooooooooooooooooooo-"
"Shut up, you bloody git!" the boy suddenly snapped. My eyes widened as I almost fell out my seat.
...Okay, definitely not off to a good start. Quick, think of something witty-something to get back on the right track- "Um...uh...so...Your name is Arthur, correct? Hi, I'm Alfred." I smiled my brightest smile and stuck my hand out as a show of good faith. Genius, Alfred. Genius. Introductions were always considered decorum.
He stared at me as if I had three heads growing on top of one another. "That's 'Master' Arthur to you," he replied lowly, "git." He leaned in and narrowed his eyes as he sounded the last word. I retracted my hand and involuntarily leaned back into my seat. Despite his small stature, the boy had quite a menacing aura about him. I blamed the eyebrows.
"Arthur-"
"MASTER Arthur," he snapped again. I felt my smile slowly becoming strained. Aristocracy or not, the boy needed to taught some serious manners.
"...Artie," I said, "I'm pretty sure we've gotten off to a bad start, and for that I sincerely apologize." Now that I had thought about it, what the hell was I apologizing for? He started it. But, as Father liked to say, 'better there be one child than two in an argument'. When Arthur merely looked at me, I continued, "So, about your father...Is he here on business?"
"That's none of your business," he replied as he decided to look out of the window, shunning me.
I closed my eyes and tapped my head meditatively, trying to think off something else to say, since the father card didn't really start a conversation. "...So, how do you like Boston? It's a bit different from London, I understa-"
"That's none of your concern."
...Now I felt like strangling him. I quickly blurted out the first thing in my head, anything to keep those homicidal urges from further rising, "...Any girlfriends?"
Arthur snapped his attention back to me and raised a thick, bushy eyebrow. I felt my own eyebrows rose as well when I realized what I had just asked. Where DID that question come from?
"What?"
I laughed. Well, at least he didn't rebuke it like he did to the other two. "You know, any lady friends in your life?" Arthur turned away. Oh look, was it my imagination or does Master Arthur looked a little flustered? Now maybe I'll be able to pry at least some information out of him. I got up, crossed over, and casually plopped down next to him, much to his shock and my amusement. I decided to prod further, "Come now, you must have some! Even looking like you are-"
"What?!" Arthur practically jumped up. He gave me a mixed look of incredulity and anger as he seethed, "And what exactly are you implying, sir?"
I stared at him in wonder. How could he not know, especially when the answer is practically taking up his forehead? "You mean you don't know?"
"Don't know what?" he returned crossly. That's another thing I had found so interesting about him – how can anyone be so angry and moody for a majority of their personality? Doesn't his head hurt from getting all worked up and the building pressure?
"You know..." I stood up as well, and was surprised at his shortness. Maybe that's why he held a grudge against me, considering that I was a good head taller than he was. I leaned in, causing him to involuntarily lean back, and poked one of his caterpillar eyebrows. "These."
Surprisingly, they were rather fine to the touch.
Arthur seemed to crumble beneath my touch. He then turned a violent shade of pink and immediately yelled at me, his voice slightly higher, "Stupid, bloody git! What do my eyebrows have to do with anything, let alone getting girls!? I'll have you know it's a common mark of a gentleman, and-"
I laughed nervously at his outbreak, and immediately darted my eyes toward the study door. "All right, all right, I'm sorry about that comment. Please, a little quieter?"
"-hate this godforsaken land. Not an ounce or shred of civility; you commoners seem to forgotten what it takes to be English. My eyebrows should be the LEAST of your concerns-"
...Is he still going on about the eyebrows? I glanced wearily back and forth between the raging blond in front of me and the closed study door. Arthur's constant yelling was beginning to make me feel giddy. Quick, Alfred, for the sake of everyone's-especially yours-peace of mind, think of a way to shut him up!
I grasped Arthur, still haranguing away, firmly by his arms. For a split moment he stared at me with widened eyes before that look was replaced by another fierce glare, and his mouth opened to shout at me (probably along the lines of, "What do you think you're doing?" or "Unhand me, you stupid git!"). But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of saying anything anymore. Before any words could escape his lips, I immediately crashed my mouth onto his.
Ah, blissful silence. How I sincerely swear to never take you for granted again.
...Wait a moment...
My eyes locked with shocked green ones at a dangerously close distance. I then felt the smaller lad quivering violently, trying to break out of my hold. I let go, and was immediately pushed away, breaking off our locking mouths and allowing us to draw breaths for the first time. For such a little guy, Arthur was rather rough; I have a feeling there's going to be a small bruise in the morning. As I rubbed the to-be bruise on my chest, I glanced at Arthur. He was coughing and muttering incoherent curses beneath his breath. He then wiped his mouth with his sleeve and turned to me. Instead of the predictable look of anger, his face was strangely impassive. Then, without a word, he straightened himself, walked up to me, and slapped me squarely across my right cheek before turning away and leaving my house. And all I could do was stare after him, one hand on my chest, the other on my cheek, with a dumbfounded look on my face.
"What..."
The study door slammed open and hearty laughter streamed out, filling the once silent room. Father and Lord Kirkland continued their discussion before they finally took notice of me. "Ah, Alfred," exclaimed Father, smiling broadly, "having fun?"
"As if," I groaned inwardly, nodding a greeting to them both, and retired upstairs to my room.
There was a moment of silence, as if they were trying to figure out my message. However, the talking and laughter then resumed, and continued on for another good hour.
Reviews are indeed loved. First fic back after hiatus. X3