Ludwig is such a fun narrator.
Chapter 3
The night of the feast had arrived, the white marble of the grand hall decorated with triangle insignia flags from each kingdom. Stationed next to every pillar was a miniature garden, beautiful flowers coloring the otherwise white background. Near the back of the room lay a long table with snacks on each side and in the center, the main event, a huge mountain of liquor. It had been decided that everyone would arrive to a gentle and boozy reception, as such a long red carpet came from outside the door where people were currently arriving.
Ludwig watched from a balcony with bated breath while representatives from each kingdom came filing in. First were the Warlocks of course, on relatively good terms with the werewolves and entirely uncontroversial. Although he had to admit they were an interesting crew. Following the stereotype, they were all kind of oddballs, there WAS a woman carrying a frying pan afterall.
Alfred jostled him and pointed excitedly at the group, practically bouncing.
"Look! That dude right there looks just like me, dude!" The American practically yelled. Ludwig glared at his rudeness and followed the direction he had pointed. Suddenly a man seemed to appear out of nowhere. Ludwig squinted, he really was an Alfred doppelganger.
"Ve~ You're right, Alfy, he does look like you!" Feliciano encouraged quietly. Luckily the other man hadn't noticed the group's apparent rudeness.
Then out came who Ludwig had to assume was Arthur Kirkland, and his eyebrows really were as large as the rumors said. Next to him he could see Feliciano fidgeting while staring the the prominent facial feature. Yep, he definitely wanted to touch them.
When the vampires arrived however, tensions immediately began to rise. The warlocks and vampires had always hated each other. The most noticeable thing however was how Ivan tensed up when a beautiful woman came out. Dressed in modest armor with a bow on the top of her head, the royal guard seemed the apparent embodiment of innocent. But as soon as her eyes landed on Ivan's form a dark aura started building around her. Ludwig decided it best not to get involved.
After a long line of other slightly interesting yet gaudily dressed vampires (including a man in a dress) came their leader, Francis, with his second in command, Ludwig's dummkopf of a brother, Gilbert.
Francis had wavy and quite shiny blond hair that was pulled back by a blue ribbon into a short ponytail that just reached his back. With a heavily sequined and embroidered tunic and a short blue cape falling off of one side he definitely won the contest for gaudiest. He walked with an air of grace, eyes scanning the room with an almost predatory look. Ludwig mentally decided to keep Feliciano away from him too.
As soon as Gilbert saw Ludwig up on the balcony he turned his head and waved wildly up at them. Ludwig turned around, ignoring him and pulling Feliciano away.
"Ve~ Ludi, is that your brother?" The small Italian asked pulling on Ludwig's sleeve.
"Ja, that is brother. Let's just walk away now..." Ludwig started, anxious to get back down and disappear within the growing crowd. That's it, maybe they could dress up as waiters. But Gilbert might still recognize them… Get rid of the hair gel? No, he couldn't do that!
"I want to meet him!" Feliciano exclaimed to the German standing next to him, interrupting this thoughts.
"Nein, bad idea."
"But-" The Italian pouted and Ludwig found himself giving in. Waiter outfits could be kind of drab.
"...If you say so."
"Yay!"
As soon as Matthew entered the palace he knew that there was no way he'd be noticed in this large crowd. He was just too… invisible. Plus, with everyone so beautifully dressed there was no way he, with his simply blue and purple suit, could stand out.
That made him all the more surprised when he was practically tackled by a loud, blond werewolf.
"Hey-a!" the weird werewolf shouted, getting off and allowing Matthew time to straighten out his clothes. "My name is Alfred what's yours?"
Matthew winced at this Alfred's loudness and looked at the other, blinking in confusion. It was almost like looking in a mirror. He rose out a hand hesitantly, half expecting the other to do the same thing. Instead his hand was grabbed into an over-enthusiastic handshake that nearly ripped his arm off.
"My name is Matthew," he answered just as quiet as the other was loud.
"Wow dude, you're so quiet!" He yelled again and Matthew decided that it must be his normal volume. "You look just like me, how cool is that?"
"Uh I gue-"
"How about I show you around! We can go scare some people!" Matthew blinked. Well he sure was friendly.
"Uh, no, that's quite alright. You should go welcome everyone," Matthew answered politely.
"Okay dude, just holler if you need anything," The boisterous werewolf told him and darted of to go welcome a smaller Asian vampire who seemed just as overwhelmed as Matthew.
Matthew sighed, that was new. No one had ever noticed him to that extent before, maybe he could make a… friend? He shook his head, no. The other had seemed to have already forgotten about him. But it was funny that he'd have a better chance at being noticed here than at home.
Francis walked into the party smiling at the albino standing diligently at his side. With a small wave of his hand he dismissed him and watched him gravitate naturally towards the alcohol. With a flip of his hair and a confident smile, he looked around and spotted a blond man with infamously huge eyebrows. Oh he knew those eyebrows.
Arthur Kirkland; Francis sauntered over to where Arthur conversing with some stern blond mand and what looked to be his little sister.
"Bonjour, mon ami. Haven't seen you in a while," Francis said to Arthur's back, surprising him and making the latter spin around, sputtering.
"What are you doing sneaking up on me like that? I will set you on fire one of these days!" Arthur exclaimed angrily, narrowing his eyes. They'd met each other a few times before, the man loved antagonizing him. He turned away. "What do you want?"
Francis shifted to be in front of his target again.
"Angry as always, I see, mon cher. I simply wanted to say hello to a dear friend." Francis smirked at the other's surprised look.
"Ah yes, of course. I almost forgot you spoke frog." Francis gasped and Arthur smiled, pleased at himself.
"Frog? What do you mean by frog?" Francis asked outraged. Ah yes, let the banter begin. "French is the language of amour, English is the language of frogs."
"English is the most regal of languages," Arthur declared equally as outraged not now. Francis loved watching those eyebrows move.
"Of course, your highness" Francis bowed mockingly.
"That's right, bow down to your superior, toad," Arthur replied to Francis's mocking, earning a glare.
"So what, I from a frog to a toad?" Francis asked to the pleased Englishman. All he received was a quirk of the lips. Francis sighed, he knew one way to still get to him though. "Now now, how about we put all this fighting behind us and get a drink, mon cher," Francis asked smiling. Time to get him drunk.
"How about no." The Englishman sniffed and turned around, only to be dragged off to where all the alcohol was anyways.
Antonio was watched the scene between the two leaders with his eyebrows raised quizzically. He may have been good friends with Francis but never knew the other two leaders were quite so… friendly. They didn't seem to be getting along very well, but Arthur didn't really get along with anyone and his ability to simply deal with Francis instead of running away spoke wonders. However, seeing that Francis was currently trying to force alcohol down the Englishman's throat, though, he thought that now would be a good time to interfere. He had seen Arthur drunk and this was definitely not the time or place for such as thing to occur.
He quickly ran towards the scene of Arthur getting very drunk very fast. It wasn't pleasant. He was mumbling something stupid and leaning heavily on Francis who was laughing.
Antonio ran up behind Francis, tapping him on the shoulder.
"Hola amigo, long time no see."
"Bonjour! Antonio! Doing well I see. Unlike this guy over here." Francis pointed towards the Englishman who held up a glass of wine yelling "cheers!" before guzzling the whole thing down.
"How many has he had," Antonio asked, wearily watching the Englishman pour himself another cup.
"I think this is his fourth," Francis caught Antonio's disapproving look. "Oh, you know it is so AMUSING to see him like this. Plus, anything to get the upper hand with this one." Antonio frowned, looking between them before shaking his head in amusement.
"Then you're responsible for him, I want no part in this."
"Ohonhonhon, of course." Francis winked at him.
Antonio rolled his eyes, trying to speak before he was cut off by the drunk warlock.
"Hey, Frog, do you have anything stronger on you, like gin or whiskey?" Arthur asked, giving up on cups before trying to drink from the bottle. Francis's eyes widened as he snatched the bottle away from him.
"Mon dieu, that is it, enough for you," Francis declared as Arthur fought for the bottle.
Antonio watched this with some curiosity. In hindsight he should have seen this happening. Sighing he fished out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket he'd been smart enough to prepare in advance.
"Hey," Antonio said poking at Francis's shoulder, taking the man's the attention away from the drunk. "Here's his room number."
Francis gave him an annoyed look and Antonio laughed.
"I told you, you're responsible for him."
Francis gave him an even dirtier look.
"Oui, oui. I'll be sure to get him there," Francis sighed, watching as his new charge started to unbutton his shirt. Antonio laughed and left calling out behind his back.
"Remember though, this is a PEACE party, not a LOVE party."
Francis frowned, swatting Arthur's hands away before rebuttoning the warlock's shirt like he was a little boy.
"Seriously, you perverted frog, stop trying to undress me," Arthur slurred. Francis shook his head before putting and arm around his shoulder and steering him away from the hall.
Arthur looked back, visibly upset.
"But the alcohol..."
They were instantly apprehended by one of Arthur's guards.
"Where are you going with him?" A girl questioned him, holding her frying pan threateningly.
"He is currently drunk, I am simply taking him up to his room," Francis told her smoothly.
"And why should I trust you, you blood sucking leech? I am perfectly capable of taking him myself, now hand him over."
"Because I am Francis Bonnefoy, the leader of the vampires. And no," Francis held his head high, suddenly feeling annoyed and protective over his drunken charge. This was a matter of pride. "I will not hand him over."
"That's just even more reason for me not to trust you. Now, let him go!" With that, her frying pan swung around, aiming for him head. He stayed still, teeth showing as he stopped the frying pan with a hand. People were starting to take notice and he could feel the tensions in the room rising.
"I'm not going to hurt him, now let me through. It's a sign of good faith," Francis hissed. The girl didn't move. He had to give her some credit; she was brave. "People are starting to look, you don't want to sour the whole meeting, yes?"
She looked around carefully before glaring at him.
"Do you promise you aren't going to hurt him?" She asked, skeptical.
"Yes, I promise." The Frenchman was annoyed now. Sure he loved love and its byproducts, but he wasn't a rapist.
After some hesitation and another look around the room she moved out of the way. As he passed by she hissed at him.
"If you hurt him there will be hell to pay, king or not I will kill you."
Francis just straightened himself and ignored her. He walked past them without a second glance his head held high in the air. He felt the tension in the room start to die down. He then bit his lip at all the different corridors that suddenly appeared. He started guiding Arthur down a random one.
After getting lost five times and coming to a dead end only twice he finally found the other's room. By then the Englishman had became quit clingy and was clutching his side. He kicked down the conveniently unlocked door and looked around, noticing Arthur's luggage had already been placed at the foot of the bed.
"Time to get ready for bed, Arthur." Francis coaxed him to let go and sat him down at the edge of the bed. He started to take off the other's jacket.
"Y-you are perverted, frog," Arthur slurred out, trying to make it sound like an accusation but failing.
"Just hold still, mon cher," Francis continued, pretending to ignore him.
"No!" Arthur started flailing.
"Stay still!" Francis yelled and held him down on the bed and wrestled the jacket off. "Can you handle the rest yourself, idiot."
That was when Arthur started crying. Francis stood there, staring at him. He should have never agreed to take care of this man. He sat down next to him and placed an arm around him, watching the other flinch.
"Arthur, are you okay?" Francis furrowed his eyebrows, now concerned. He started stroking Arthur's golden hair.
"Just do it already!" Arthur sobbed. "Don't keep me in suspense, just get it over with!"
That is when it clicked in Francis's mind. A frown fell over his features.
"I'm not going to do anything, mon cher."
"That's what he said too!" Arthur yelled and curled up in a ball, his back to Francis. He pressed a pillow into his face to muffle his sobs. Now, who was he? Who could do this?
"Shh… It's okay; I'm not going to do anything. If you want, I will leave," Francis told him while stroking the crying man's hair again. After getting no answer he got up and headed to the door.
"No!" Arthur screamed again after he turned to where Francis was walking away.
"Don't go, please stay with me," The man pleaded with his eyes full of tears. "Don't leave me."
"I wouldn't think of it," Francis sighed and turned around again walking to the form lying down on the bed. He took the English man in his arms and held him until they both fell asleep.
Foreshadowing?
Let me know how I'd doing and how you like it.
