Arthur jerked awake. A strange noise echoed in his mind, a familiar voice that he couldn't quite place. As he thought, trying to remember, all that he could remember was a pair of bright blue eyes. He racked his brain, but the harder he tried, the faster the memory faded. Where had he heard that voice, seen those eyes? Maybe in a dream…?

Sighing, he decided it was a waste of time. He curled up tighter underneath his blanket, savouring the warmth, before he forced himself to sit up and face the cold that had settled in his room.

Arthur shivered as his bare feet touched the chilled wood floor. He sat for a moment, watching as a pale dawn melted into a bright orange sunrise, then stood and made his way over to his closet. He shifted through the summer clothes he had kept in the front in the hopes that he could stall autumn for just a few weeks more.

Reluctantly, he reached behind his short sleeved shirts and pulled out one of his lighter jackets and longer pants. He wasn't going to be out long, so he saw no point in changing out of his sleep shirt. It was going to be covered by his jacket, anyway.

When he'd dressed, Arthur slipped from his bedroom, closing the door behind him quietly. A small mirror hung on the hallway wall, and he glanced into it, his reflection staring back, green eyes begging for his scruffy blond hair to be neatened up. He began to raise a hand to smooth the stray strands, but decided it was a losing battle, and began to creep quietly down the hallway.

A door on the left had been left cracked slightly. Peering in, he saw a head of ruffled red hair, the rest of the person still hidden beneath a thick comforter. Arthur could make out the soft snores of his brother, Allistor, a sign that he was still sleeping, and probably would be for a while. He closed the door to Patrick's bedroom softly and crossed the hallway, entering the small kitchen.

Grabbing a pen and paper, Arthur scribbled a quick note to his brother, saying he was just running to town and would be back soon.

Yawning, Arthur grabbed a small basket that sat by the front door, checking to make sure his book was still there. It was overdue, mostly because Arthur couldn't help but read it three times through. He didn't really want to return it, but he had to if he didn't want a late fee. Grabbing his scarf from the coat rack, he stepped out of the front door.

The cold autumn air stung his cheeks, and his breath rose in a thin fog before him. Wrapping his scarf more snuggly, he set off down the front porch steps and followed the path that lead to the small village of St. Drew's.

St. Drew's was nestled between a vast forest and a set of hills. The village was small and quaint, but as Arthur crossed the cobblestone bridge that lead to the entrance of the town, he could already see the beginnings of the busy hustle and bustle as the shopkeepers prepared for another day of vending.

Arthur greeted those who greeted him, waving as the shopkeepers called out the usual "Hello, Arthur!"s and "Good morning!"s.

"Arthur!"

A familiar voice called out to him. Arthur turned to see the town baker wandering over to him, a tray of fresh bread in tow.

"Good morning, Jack." Arthur greeted the plump man.

"Mornin'!" Jack gave him a bearded grin. He turned to the bakery window, setting down his tray. "Where are you off to so early?"

"The bookshop." Arthur replied.

"Shoulda known." Jack chuckled, "You've always got your nose in a book. Say, how's that brother of yours? Feelin' any better?"

Arthur shrugged. "He's better than usual." He sighed, "He's always working on his inventions, even when I beg him to rest."

Jack laughed. "Well, it'd be weird if he wasn't tinkerin' away on some crazy contraption. Here," Jack wrapped up a small load of bread and handed it to Arthur, "Take that. Tell Allistor the missus and I appreciate him patchin' up our oven."

Arthur took the bread and tucked it into his basket, thanking Jack and bidding him farewell.

The town had begun to grow busier, venders now calling out prices for their freshest merchandise. Villagers had awoken and were now roaming the streets, eager to get the morning's shopping out of the way to return to their homes and prepare for the day. As he walked, he could almost feel the stares that burned into him as he passed, and he could clearly hear the whispers of gossip as the townspeople passed him.

"Such a strange lad. Never got on with the other boys his age, ya'know."

"I hear insanity runs in the family. His father was a loon as well."

"I heard his brother had another fit earlier this week."

"D'you think he'll end up like ol' Allistor?"

"Poor dear! Having to deal with his parents' deaths and a loony brother!"

Arthur clenched his fists so tightly he could feel his fingernails digging into his skin. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and ignore the not-so-subtle comments of his brother's sanity. His brother was not a loon. He was just ill…

The little bell signaled Arthur's entrance to the bookshop. The shopkeeper, a short man with a kind smile and brown eyes enlarged by spectacles, looked up from sorting a new order of books from their box into neat piles.

"Oh, good morning, Arthur!" He placed one final book onto a tall stack and walked around the counter. "What can I help you with today?"

"I've come to return the book I borrowed." Arthur reached into his basket and pulled out the hard-back novel.

"Finished already?" The shopkeeper took the book, reading the title and going to place it on its proper shelf.

"I could put it down!" Arthur smiled as he looked through the new books, careful not to disturb their neat arrangement. "What's this one?"

Arthur pulled out a small, fragile looking book from the middle of the tallest stack. It was bound in a softer fabric than the others, and it seemed older than the other books, its spine worn and weathered, while the rest were still stiff and new. In curvy, gold-leafed print, the cover read "Beauty and the Beast".

"Ah, that's one of my older books. A classic, but I've never managed to sell it." The shopkeeper watched as Arthur ruffled through the pages, comforted by the smell of the old paper. "I don't think I ever will."

"What a shame…" Arthur sighed, closing the book and running his fingers over the soft cover. "It's a beautiful book."

The shopkeeper stroked his chin for a moment, then smiled. "Why don't you take it?"

"I didn't bring any money today…" Arthur replied slowly, going to place the book back into its stack.

"Free of charge."

Arthur stared at the old man, his eyes wide. "Oh, no, I couldn't," Arthur began, trying to place the book back into the shopkeeper's grip, but the man just smiled, shoving it back into Arthur's hands and shoving him towards the door.

"Just take it. Consider it a gift, a thank-you for many years of faithful patronage."

"Well, thank you! Thank you very much!"

The shopkeeper just smiled as he waved Arthur from his shop, closing the door and flipping the sign to "Open".

Arthur opened the book, savouring the way the old spine creaked quietly, careful not to let the fabric or old cardboard rip. Flipping to the title page, Arthur could feel the relaxing smell of aged paper and wood from the bookshelves ease the troubles from his mind. He turned each page slowly, passing the copyrights page and getting to the beginning.

"There was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three sons, and three daughters; being a man of sense, he spared no cost for their education, but gave them all kinds of masters. His daughters were extremely handsome, especially the youngest. When she was little everybody admired her, and called her "The little Beauty;" so that, as she grew up, she still went by the name of Beauty, which made her sisters very jealous."

Arthur continued on as he walked slowly down the street, taking care not to bump into anyone as he read. He read each line slowly and carefully, taking in every word. The book was a simple fairytale, but it drew him in so easily, and though the book was shorter, Arthur found himself only a page in when he was close to the entrance of town.

Just as he was about to cross the cobblestone bridge, his book was yanked from his hands. Stifling a sigh and forcing a smile, Arthur turned to find a taller man carelessly flipping through the pages of his book.

"Hello, Gilbert." Arthur said through clenched teeth.

"You're wasting your time with these books, Artie," Gilbert replied, slapping the book closed. Arthur felt a ripple of anger as the sight of his book being handled so harshly.

"I think I'm perfectly capable of choosing how I spend my time, thank you." Arthur tried to snatch his book away from Gilbert, but he found it outside of his reach, Gilbert holding it up above his head. "And for the last time, stop calling me 'Artie'!"

Gilbert let out a loud raspberry, specks of saliva splashing onto Arthur's face. Arthur felt rage well inside his stomach, and it was all he could do to stop himself from punching the obnoxious jerk right in the gut. Arthur wiped his face on his sleeve, glaring at Gilbert, wishing that stares could kill.

Arthur had grown up with Gilbert in the village. Since they were children, Gilbert had always attempted to put Arthur through what he called "man training camp". He'd push Arthur into the mud, punch him so hard he'd hurt for days, and often drive Arthur into hiding in his house for weeks on end. Thankfully, the "training" had ended once Arthur and Gilbert had grown, but that didn't stop Gilbert from attempting to "man up" his peer every now and again. Arthur hated Gilbert, every inch of him, from his oddly silver-white hair to his strange reddish-brown eyes.

"C'mon, Artie, put down these old texts and come huntin' with me and the men!" Gilbert tossed the book behind him, Arthur watching in horror as the old book fell straight into a mud puddle. He pushed roughly past Gilbert, grabbing the sodden book and holding it carefully, afraid that the old binding would fall apart.

"' The men'?" Arthur repeated, turning to glare at Gilbert again. "You mean you and Raivis? I pretty sure together you two don't even make up half of a man." Arthur shoved past Gilbert, heading towards the bridge once again, but found his way blocked by Gilbert's large frame.

"Don't be that way, Artie!" Gilbert wrapped his arm around Arthur's shoulders, tightening his grip as Arthur attempted to wiggle himself free, and steered Arthur back towards town. "You've always been wanderin' around town with your head in those dumb-ass books. It's time you manned up and joined the big boys! Come drinkin' with us tonight!"

Arthur managed to wrench himself away from Gilbert's death-grip, smoothing the wrinkles from his jacket. "No way, Gilbert," He said sternly, "You know my views on excessive drinking. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to help my brother."

Gilbert threw his head back and laughed. "That's crazy old loony-boy, Allistor?!" Gilbert suddenly put on an expression of mock concern. "You better get back, Artie old boy. That kook needs all the help he can get!" Gilbert bent over, clutching his stomach as he wheezed from laughter.

Arthur felt his face flush, his stomach knotting in anger. His fists clenched, he drew back his hand, ready to punch Gilbert right on the crown of his stupid head, but he forced himself to lower his hand, instead taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"My brother is not a kook…" Arthur muttered through clenched teeth, "He's a genius, and he'll prove it someday…"

At that moment, the ground shook beneath Arthur's feet, followed by a loud booming sound. Arthur turned to see smoke billowing from his house's windows.

"Allistor!"

Arthur took off over the bridge, leaving behind Gilbert, who had fallen to his knees, tears dotting his eyes as he laughed at the explosion.

"Allistor?!" Arthur wrenched open the front door, covering his mouth with his scarf and coughing as smoke filled his lungs. His eyes watered when an acrid smell filled his nose, and he had to feel his way around, knocking into the table beside the front door.

"Allistor," he called again, eyes watering from the pain where his knee had made contact with the hard wood of the table, leaving the door open to try and waft out some of the smoke and continuing towards the kitchen. "Allistor, are you there?!"

"Arthur?!" A muffled reply came from the kitchen, and Arthur stumbled his way through the kitchen door. "Arthur, I'm in here!"

Allistor sat in a corner, farthest away from a smoking gadget that continued to sputter out puffs of foul-smelling fumes, its consistent whirring making Arthur's ears ring. Coughing, Arthur ran across the room and yanked open the window above the sink, grabbing the invention and tossing it outside. The smoke was already beginning to clear. Arthur turned to his elder brother. Patrick's flaming red hair and pale, freckled face were blackened with soot, his green eyes light with excitement.

"That was excellent!" Patrick exclaimed, untangling himself from the thick comforter he had dragged from his bed and rushing over to the window to stare down at his invention. Arthur walked up beside him, looking warily over his shoulder. The contraption was now silent, but every now and then a small belch of smoke wafted from a pipe placed on its top.

"I'd say that was far from 'excellent', Al…" Arthur choked out, still slightly suffocated from the thin layer of smoke lingering in the kitchen. "What was that thing?"

"My latest invention!" Allistor declared proudly, sticking out his chest. "The one I'll be taking to the Fair this year!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. For the past six years, Allistor had traveled to the town just beyond the mountains to enter his inventions in the annual Science Fair, attempting to get himself recognized in the world of inventors. But, so far, all he had managed to do was humiliate himself by having every one of him inventions backfire in some horrible way just as he was about to present it.

"Are you sure you want to try again this year, Al?" Arthur had grabbed one of the dish towels and was waving it around, wafting the lingering smoke from the kitchen. He took several deep breaths, glad for the now semi-clean air. "You could always take this year off, try and polish you invention so we don't have another… er… mishap."

"No way, Arthur!" Allistor had sat down at the kitchen table, a piece of crumpled paper pulled from a drawer he labeled as his 'files' spread before him. "This is my year, I can feel it!"

"You say that every year," Arthur stated with a hint of annoyance. But he smiled as he watched his brother continue to scribble side notes onto his schematic. "But, it looks like I can't stop you. But you need to hurry and get it polished if you're going to make it in time." He glanced out the window at the now completely silent machine sitting on their lawn, their chickens pecking at it with caution. "What kind of contraption is it, anyway?"

A wide smile spread across Allistor's face. "It's a coffee-maker!" When he looked at his younger brother and saw the unimpressed look on his face, he laughed. "Don't worry. It can make tea, too."

"A tea-slash-coffee maker?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, "How does that work?"

"If you go get it for me I'll show you." Allistor said, giving Arthur an innocent smile. Sighing, Arthur opened the small screen door next to the counter, walking out into the muddy garden.

He pulled out his muck boots, yanking them onto his feet and squelching his way over to Allistor's machine. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Allistor's brilliant red hair peeking out from over the window just above where the invention lay. Arthur tried to lift the contraption, but his adrenaline from before had gone, making his attempt weak at best. Using his miniscule arm strength, Arthur hefted the heavy metal gadget, using his knee to lift it as high as possible. He could feel his shoulders screaming in protest as he made his way back to the door, staggering to the point of almost falling backwards into the mud.

Out of breathe and on the verge of passing out, Arthur finally stumbled through the door, Allistor's machine crashing to the floor and Arthur taking a huge gasp of air, clutching the ache that settled in his lower back. Allistor ran up with an excited gleam in his eye and lifted the contraption with ease, much to Arthur's annoyance. He set it onto the kitchen table as Arthur tossed his boots back outside and limped to join him.

"See this?" Allistor pointed to the opening of the pipe where smoke had been coming out of earlier. "This is where you put the beans… or leaves, depending on what you're making. It falls down this pipe," He dragged his finger down the length of the pipe, into what looked like the belly of a pot-bellied stove, "and into this little dip, where there's water that begins to boil when you turn on this Bunsen burner!" He pointed to a little knob, fiddling with it and turning on a small flame that burned beneath the coffee-maker's belly. Arthur covered his face, but Allistor just laughed. "Don't worry, there's no water, so it won't explode again.

"Once the water is done boiling, it'll whistle, like a kettle, here at the top," He pointed to another pipe. "Then you tip the belly," he demonstrated the belly tilting on its small wire frame. "And the coffee- or tea- pours into the cup!"

Allistor turned and looked at his brother with a wide smile. Arthur searched his face, then turned to look at the device, playing with the rocking belly. Then he smiled, turning back to his brother.

"Allistor, you have three days until the Fair," he stated, placing a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "If you can get this done in that time, this is definitely you're year."

A/N: ha... ahahaha... ahahaha uhm hello everyone! It's been... what... a year...? ahaha... Okay I am really sorry that it took so long to get this out. I went to Japan, then school was dumb, and then I did stuff over the other summer and... I'm sorry alright just enjoy this I'll try to keep updating this as often as I can!

EDIT: My friend pointed out that I was using the wrong name for Scotland. =u=;; Went through a fixed it.