By Kay
Disclaimer: This is not what KA Applegate intended her series to turn into. I take great pride in that single fact.
Author's Notes: Written in a frustrated moment of boredom, when I'm not actually trying to be either good, witty, or even in character. So this is none of those. It also has SLASH-- homosexuality-- abounds. Beware! It's also AU, and just some messing around attempt at making an EW fairy tale. From hell.
Christopher hated being a prince.
"I'll trade you places any day," his best friend David told him, almost on a daily schedule. Not that it mattered. The fact still remained that Christopher was still a prince, and as such, he still hated it.
Oh, there were some perks. He was rich beyond his wildest dreams, and had quite a lot of authority-- one word and he could have any of the fine wines in the land, from the fiery Dragon's Breath brew to the more pleasant Amaranth Champagne. Which compensated for the whole royalty thing an awful lot. It was awesome wine. And the girls loved the whole princely thing; they ate it up like honey, swarming onto him hour by hour in doves of squealing masses begging, "Please marry me!"
Not that Christopher would. Ever.
Still, despite all the gorgeous clothing and women, all the fine wines and ales, all the men eager to do his every whim-- yeah, the prince thing sucked. It sucked big time. It sucked lemons even worse than his Aunt did on the annual Breeder's Festival, and that was saying something.
"I don't see the problem with it yet," David said in exasperation, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. He was sitting on one of the window sills, polishing his sword blade and lovingly running the rag over the steel as though it was preciously fragile skin. Every now and then, he'd nod to something Christopher said, or make a face at its ridiculousness. This was one of those times.
"This is the pits," Christopher whined self-indulgently. He scowled down at the flawlessly shiny sword. "I think you're going to wear a hole through that blade."
"Never," David said reverently, stroking the metal with starry eyes. "He's my favorite sword, my one, my only…"
"Your precious? Jesus, it's a sword, man."
"Don't listen to him, Galahad," David mumbled to the blade. "He's just jealous that he's stuck up here all day, and we get to go beat the crap out of numerous bad guys. And we get cool uniforms."
"It's a sword, goddamn it!"
The mahogany haired knight made another face at him. "And you're just a prince, jackass. Face it, the author gypped you, Christopher. I get to be the handsome, dashing knight, and you just get purple shirts and some jewelry."
"It's not purple, it's maroon," the blonde sulked angrily, kicking the edge of the stone wall in a sullen fit. His expensive shoes scuffed, and he scowled again at them, blue eyes flashing dangerously. "Being a prince sucks."
"Okay, please explain why again?"
This was something Christopher could do. He sniffed indignantly, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall of the corridor, looking around a bit to make sure no nosy maids were going to be walking around any time soon. Seeing the coast clear, he began his tirade in a heated tone:
"It means I get a crusty old man like Loki to be my father, for no particular reason except that the author is lazy. It also means I get puffy sleeves on my shirts. Do I look like a puffy sleeves person? I don't think so. And I can't leave the castle grounds, they treat me like a five year old here. And I'm supposed to marry a princess. Excuse me? There aren't any freakin' princesses around that aren't either ugly as a horse's ass, or lacking some serious assets that make a woman. I'm telling you, that Princess Ganymede girl they almost betrothed me to, that was no damn woman--"
"He wasn't," David offered helpfully.
"… oh god, and I kissed his hand."
"I hear that's not all you kissed--" the knight got no further, as Christopher smacked him. "Ow! You bastard!"
The blonde growled and clenched his fist. "Best friend and bodyguard or not, your ass is grass next time you spread that around."
"Ah, so it wasn't a rumor?" David cracked sarcastically, holding his shoulder and glaring in what he hoped was a baleful manner.
It obviously wasn't, because Christopher just stuck his tongue out at him. "Look, David, I'm really needing your help here. I want to go on adventures! I want to go fight dragons, and rescue damsels in distress, and find buried treasure--"
"That's pirates, not knights--"
"Whatever!" The blonde prince threw up his hands in exasperation. "I don't care! I just need out, okay?! At this rate, I'll die an old man before I get my virginity taken by some saucy sorceress."
"I haven't had that happen to me yet," David interrupted, huffing his irritation. "I'm a knight, and trust me, it's not all like that. Dragons have horrible breath and would rather sleep than even think about fighting some stupid upstart human. Even if you tried stabbing them, they just smack you with some random piece of gold, and you wake up unconscious and tied to a tree not three hours later."
Christopher blinked. "… personal experience?"
"No, that was Sven Swordeater. Some group of renegade pixies. They tied him up and painted him with honey, and then did horrible things to him. Horrible things with their bare hands."
"Really? Horrible things?"
David smirked.
There was a long pause, and Christopher announced, "Well, that's it. I want to be a knight."
"And how, pray tell, do you plan to do that?" his best friend asked dryly. He gestured in a long, sweeping arch to the courtyard belong them, brimming with nobles and colorfully dressed servants. "Your kingdom would be… well, not lost without you, but they'll miss the wine parties."
"And that," Christopher said gleefully, swinging an arm around David, "is exactly where you come in…"
End of Prologue