Hello and welcome to a collection of random AUs that I have been creating because my work is repetitive and my mind wanders. I hope everyone enjoys these and please feel free to duck in and out of reading them if there is only a particular type of world you are interested in.
I will try my best to have all the questions and world building done within the story itself but please be on the look out for author notes at the beginning that might clarify ages or any world building information that might have come up within the story. If any of these stories do get second chapters within this, I will make it clear that it is a continuation.
Also, feel free to suggest AUs. I can not guarantee that I will write them - I must follow the inspiration and serotonin but suggestions will always be welcomed.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys.
AU: Medieval fantasy
Boy's ages: Frank - 18; Joe - 17
It had been a week since the death of King Frank the 3rd of the kingdom of Bayport. The time for mourning had passed and with it the mantle of king had fallen onto the shoulders of his only son, Fenton. It had been Fenton's first day completing kingly duties, most of which involved the planning of his coronation and, as day had passed into night, a feast had been prepared in his honour to celebrate the brilliant new age everyone expected under the guiding hand of King Fenton the Just.
Fenton sat at the head of the table, eyes surveying the gathered guests and scattered entertainers. Food had been consumed, all stomachs fit to bursting, and now musicians and jesters filled the great hall with laughter. It was a grand and warm occasion, the smiling faces and glow of candles almost able to push away the gloom that had descended over Fenton.
He had lost his father a week ago and buried him just the day beforehand. The weight of the crown weighed heavily on his head and he knew he would not have the strength to shoulder it if not for the family that remained.
Gertrude, who would be sat upon the throne if not for his birth, was focusing all her efforts on consoling their mother, who dearly missed her husband of so many years. It was no secret that Gertrude would have made a fine queen with her sharp wit and iron backbone but she had made it clear she did not envy her brother and his lot in life. She much preferred the role of dutiful daughter and sister.
Laura, who sat at Fenton's right side, wearing the crown, fine dress and glittering jewels of a queen and so beautiful in the garb, held Fenton's hand. She smiled at a young jester who juggled fruits before their table and gave Fenton's hand an encouraging squeeze. She was his strength, his rock. Many an ignorant lord had thought that such a gentle, soft-spoken woman would be easily manipulated or intimidated. Fenton had never been mistaken, seeing Laura for every amazing, intelligent, determined piece of her.
Despite the crown, despite his mourning for his father and his life as crown prince, Fenton might have been in a fine mood with his wife and his sister to lean upon. If not for his sons.
Frank sat at his father's right-hand side, Joe just beyond him. Both wore the splendour of princes they had always worn, long cloaks, golden brooches, fine crowns but they looked very different than the boys Fenton had bid good night to the evening before. Frank wore a new crown, one Fenton had worn the day before. It was the crown of the next in line to the throne, passed onto Frank as Fenton took up the role of king. It suited him, seemed to have made him grow an inch or more.
Yet Fenton still worried.
His sons were the most remarkable young men he had ever had the pleasure to meet. Both had duty, mercy and dignity in abundance, their courage unmatched throughout the kingdom. Frank had always known he would one day hold the mantle of crown prince, would one day hold the mantle of king and faced every new duty and responsibility without complaint. The freedom Joe's position further down the line of ascension had given him had always been relished and yet, Joe had always chosen his family, and by extension the kingdom his family had a duty to. He had hoped Frank would adjust to the new responsibilities like a duck finding water. As tradition dictated, Frank was to be Captain of the Queen's Guard and Master of the King's Court. While the former was more of a ceremonial title in a kingdom as peaceful as Bayport, the role of Master of the King's Court was one that concerned Fenton. He had held the position for many years and had found himself struggling with the way he was expected to preside over the criminals. It was in theory a simple role. People of the kingdom who had been subject to a crime would come to the crown prince with who they suspected of it or to ask that guards come to arrest the guilty party. The crown prince would decide on guilt and pass the sentence.
Fenton watched his sons. They were discussing in low voices, neither looking at the entertainments around them. Fenton did not doubt that Joe had sat in with Frank as he presided as Master of the King's Court. The brothers were inseparable after all and Fenton had the feeling that was what the brothers were discussing.
He cleared his throat, leaning closer to Frank.
"Could we perhaps have a word?" he asked.
Frank looked startled for a moment but nodded. He asked when his father would like to talk. Fenton paused for a moment, scanning his son's face. Frank was a keen diplomat, good at hiding his intentions. But Fenton had tangled with some of the most skilled diplomats and had learnt to tell when they were hiding something.
"I think we should talk now."
He looked past Frank. Joe was looking away innocently, his crown resting precariously upon his thick blond hair.
"Both of you, I think."
Fenton believed Laura could more than handle the closing of the feast while he talked with his sons. Certainly, he was far more worried about them than he was about the party. He knew how he had struggled to find his way in the role of Master of the King's Court and hated to think either of his sons might struggle with the duty. He led the boys into his private quarters, into the small room he reserved for meetings with his most trusted advisors and chancellors. There was a fire already crackling in the hearth and Frank and Joe settled beside it, looking for long moments like the young boys Fenton could remember invading his appointments with advisors and disrupting royal business. He couldn't keep the smile off his lips as he slipped his crown from his head and felt for the first time that day like he was himself again. Like he was Fenton, father of Frank and Joe, husband of Laura, subject of the realm. King Fenton felt like a distinctly different person.
"You have been quiet tonight," Fenton observed.
He supposed he could understand it. The boys had just buried their grandfather and their closest friends had not been invited to the feast. The boys had very few friends amongst the elite nobility. They found that a lot of people could not see past the crowns the boys wore and detested it. Their closest friend of noble blood was a girl called Callie Shaw, the beautiful daughter of one of the lesser lords whose status was not high enough to have earned his invitation to such an important feast. Fenton could see the way Frank looked at Callie, whoever and would have to find a way to coax the Shaw family into the inner court to stop any union from being scandalous. Joe's infatuation with a local farm girl, Iola Morton, was an issue that would be forced to wait until the Hardy line was protected.
If the boys told Fenton that they merely missed their grandfather, missed their friends, he would have left it at that. But the moment Frank opened his mouth, Fenton knew he was going to be given the full and truthful answer.
"I started as Master of the King's Court today," Frank said, slowly.
Joe nodded his head. He removed his crown and put it on the stone floor before him, the firelight glittering across it.
"We only heard one case," Frank continued. "A local lord: Lord Applegate."
Lord Applegate was a neighbouring lord to the main royal castle. He was a grumpy old man with a vile temperament who represented the end of his family line. Perhaps with his death, Fenton could give the seat to Lord Shaw.
"He's accusing a steward of his - a Henry Robinson - of stealing from him," Joe continued. "He's convinced the poor man raided his counting room and took a king's ransom from him."
Fenton kept his face neutral. He wanted to see exactly what problem the boys had encountered before he reacted. He wanted to see how his sons reacted to such a situation.
"Only, I am not sure if Robinson did it," Frank said. "Lord Applegate produced a good deal of evidence but Robinson is just a steward. He has no way of collecting such evidence to prove himself innocent. I do not believe that Lord Applegate would purposefully accuse an innocent man of a crime but he might be blinded by his own beliefs and not willing to accept evidence to the contrary. How can I pass judgement on a man whose case I don't get to properly review?"
Fenton pursed his lips to keep his smile from spreading. He could remember having a very similar discussion with Laura as she nursed an infant Frank, could remember pacing his chambers as he tried to come up with a solution. Before he could comment on it, however, Joe spoke.
"And if this is an issue with a misguided lord, how are we meant to handle lords and dukes and knights who accuse people knowing they are innocent, people who use their influence to amass false evidence?"
Fenton was relieved that Joe had removed his crown because the excited way his son had spoken would have toppled it from his head. Frank hummed his agreement to his brother's words before asking his father how he had managed to make peace with the lack of evidence on which he had to base his decisions.
"I didn't," Fenton admitted, simply.
Confusion fell upon the faces of the boys. Fenton relished it for a moment before crossing the room, his large robe trailing behind him. He crossed over to a large ornate chest he always kept locked and fished the key from around his neck. He had looked into the chest the night before, bid its contents a farewell as he accepted his new lot as king. Now he saw that it could so easily pass to his sons. In fact, he should have passed it to his sons without question.
He unlocked the chest, glancing over to his boys. Although they hid it well, he could see they were straining to see the contents. Fenton fished out a bundle of black material, the edges stained with mud and carried it over to the boys. There he placed it on the floor before his sons. Joe reached forward and unfurled it. Fenton would have to speak to him about that. It should have been Frank, as heir to the throne, who made the first move. Frank wouldn't mind, of course. He saw his brother as his equal, birth order meaning nothing. But if Joe did that in front of the court now Frank was the crown prince… it would earn at least some disapproving whispers.
The black fabric was a hooded cloak, the rest of an outfit bundled up inside. They were the clothes of a subject of the kingdom, a yeoman or other freeborn commoner, high enough up the social ranks that they would be able to move freely but low enough that no one would pay them much attention.
"Why do you have these?" Frank asked.
He held up the shirt, staring at the mud speckled fabric. Then realisation filled his eyes. He dropped the shirt, allowing him to stare at his father.
"You would collect your own evidence. In disguise. That's why you went away so much without any of us. You were collecting evidence."
Fenton nodded his head. He slowly explained that he had first come up with the idea when a young woman had come to him, saying her brother was going to be wrongly imprisoned for stealing from a lord if she refused to marry the lord. Fenton had decided to go along in disguise to confront the lord and realised that so few of their subjects would recognise their prince without his royal regalia. He had managed to collect evidence against the lord, had him imprisoned for his crimes and settled on the idea that he could use disguises as a tool for collecting evidence whenever someone came to him for judgement.
"I have a multitude of costumes," he admitted. "But this is by far my favourite. Although, I am rather partial to my bandit costume."
Eyes lit up, Frank and Joe immediately asked if they could see the collection. Fenton agreed immediately. He reached into the bottom of the chest and produced a second key with a flourish, passing it to Frank.
"I believe it is time the collection passed to you, anyway."
By dawn the next day, two young men had abandoned princely robes for tatty, rough tunics. They concealed their ornate daggers, packed supplies into sacks and saddled up plain horses borrowed from the Morton farm just outside the castle limits. Then, Fenton and Laura waving them off from their chamber window, the boys set off.
"How long until we get to Lord Applegate's?" Joe asked.
He worked a finger between the cord of his hooded cloak and longed for the ceremonial cloak he had worn before with a brooch to stop it from trying to strangle him.
Frank grinned at his brother as he gently pushed his horse on.
"It won't be too long," he assured him. "But long enough for us to work out what our first move will be."
Joe chuckled to himself.
"I think our first move should be to rough ourselves up a bit. Lord Applegate met us both yesterday. And he'll see you coming from a mile off; you ride like a prince."
Frank playfully scowled at his younger brother.
"And you ride like a princess," he teased.
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