Eliza wiped the sweat off her brow and polish off her hands then glanced over at two of the four important men in her life. Matthew was upset that the blonde cross dresser had never come back to tell him what was going on so Ivan, who was sporting a wound from the chase earlier, were trying to comfort him. "Don't worry, Matvey," Ivan patted the teen's back. "Your friend will come to see you soon."
"I hope so," Matthew sighed and gave his friends a sad smile. He looked back at the sky. Ivan looked at Eliza, worry in his eyes. She walked over and sat down beside the boy.
"I rang the bells for evening mass and polished them as well," She smiled and patted the teen on the head. "You don't have to do anything for the rest of the day. If your friend comes over you don't have anything to worry about." As long as your father doesn't find out. If he does, we are all in trouble.
"Thanks," Matthew mumbled. Eliza and Ivan looked at each other.
"Okay, Matvey," Ivan stood up. "I'm going to go get dinner. See you in about an hour." Ivan stood up and limped away. Eliza wrapped her arms around Matthew and kissed his forehead.
"I have to get home to Roddy," She smiled and hugged him closer. "He'll come and see you. Just promise to tell me when he does. You guys make a cute couple." Matthew flushed and started to stutter. Eliza laughed and jumped up. "See you in the morning!" She dashed down the steps leaving Matthew by himself.
"Ms. Eliza," Matthew pouted and stood up. "She said she did all the work with the bells and Ivan won't be back for a while so I guess I can do that." He went over to the table and reached under it. He pulled a large crate out and flipped it open. "Should I finish the baker or the fisherman?" He asked no one. No one answered. "Guess I'll start a new one." He sighed and set all his dolls.
Now, Matthew was not a sissy for making dolls, in fact, he was an artist. Sometimes Gilbert would sell the dolls for him and he could make more and better dolls. People liked the dolls and once someone paid almost ten pieces of silver for one. "Who should I make now?" He paused and examined which ones he had.
Image of Arthur invaded his mind: running through the crowd, distracting the guards, confronting Francis, and disappearing under Matthew's cloak. He blushed again. "I guess Arthur would make a very beautiful doll," Matthew mumbled and set to work making the doll.
OUTCASTS
Arthur smiled as he slipped into the church, away from the guards and towards where he saw Matthew disappear to almost an hour ago. He flicked his hood down and stared at the sight laid out before him. "Whoa," He gasped at the inside of the church as he went deeper into the nave, his bare feet making slapping noises. "Lot different from the churches where I'm from," He whispered to himself.
There was a small sound behind him and he turned, his hand shooting out. The man behind him was pushed down and his sword stolen then turned on him. Arthur recognized the man: Captain Jones, the man who had helped Michelle earlier. "You," Arthur glared.
"Yeah, its me," Jones laughed nervously as his sword was aimed at his neck. "Can you point that somewhere else? I don't like my blades that close even when I shave."
"Really? This is uncomfortable for you?" Arthur pressed the blade closer as Jones stood up.
"All right, all right. Just calm down," Jones held his hands out to show he couldn't hurt the other. "Just give me a chance to apologise." He grinned sheepishly.
"For what?" Arthur lowered the blade.
"For this," Jones reached out and wrenched the sword from Arthur's grasp. The shorter man gasped and fell.
Arthur glared up and snarled, "You sneaky son of a-"
"Ah, ah, ah! Watch it!" Jones waggled his finger then motioned at their surroundings. "You're in a church."
Arthur stood up and grabbed a candle holder. "Are you always this charming?" He asked and swung it at Jones who laughed.
"Nope, you're just lucky," The Captain smiled and parried the holder coming towards him.
After a few moments a parries and dodges, Jones piped up, "You're really good."
"Wish I could say the same thing to you!" Arthur went for the taller man's thigh.
"Low blow," Jones pouted.
"No," Arthur smirked slamming the candle stick between the man's legs. "This is."
Jones let out a small gasp and then fell to his knees. He let out a groan and fell forward his head hitting the floor. "Not cool."
Arthur set the oversized candelabra down, and walked over to the fallen man. "You okay?" Jones sat up then pushed himself into a standing position.
"Yeah," He smiled. "I'm Captain Alfred Jones. I'm the hero. You are?"
"You're interrogating me?"
"It's called an introduction."
"You're not arresting me?"
"As long as you're in here I can't."
"You're not like the other soldiers," Arthur sighed.
"Thank you," Alfred grinned and pushed his glasses up farther on his nose. Arthur extended his hand.
"My name is Arthur, Arthur Kirkland," He smiled when Alfred shook it with a little to much enthusiasm. "So what do you need?
"Well, I wanted to-"
"Good work, Captain," Some one called out from the doorway of the church. Francis walked toward them, his black clothes contrasting with him and his surroundings. "Now arrest him."
"Claim sanctuary!" Alfred whispered quickly. Arthur looked at him oddly. "Say it!"
"You tricked me," Arthur growled.
"I'm waiting," Francis smiled sinisterly. Alfred looked between the two men and the the guards.
"I can't! He claimed sanctuary!"
Francis' eyes darkened, "Then drag him outside and-"
"Francis! You will not touch him!" A tall man who Arthur recognized yelled as he walked over to Arthur. He put his hands on the other's shoulders. "Don't worry. Minister Francis learned years ago to respect the sanctity of the church." He smiled and pointed towards the door.
Alfred motioned for the guards to go with him and they all left leaving Arthur and the archdeacon alone. The older man left after a minute. Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his pale hair.
Suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind. "You think you've outwitted me, but I am a patient man, and gypsies don't do well inside stone walls," The man whispered pausing to breath deeply and smell Arthur's hair.
"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur growled pulling away and glaring at the blonde man.
"Just imagining a rope around the pretty neck," Francis reached a hand towards Arthur's neck a smile on his face. Arthur slapped the hand away.
"I know what you were thinking!"
"Such a clever witch," Francis sighs and begins to circle Arthur. "So typical of your kind, to twist the truth to cloud the mind with unholy thoughts. Well, no matter." He walks towards the large oak doors that led outside the church. "You've chosen a magnificent prison, but it is a prison nonetheless. Set one foot outside, and you're mine!"
A/N
Not quite pleased with this but, oh well. Still can't be in public, haven't left the house in over a week and I am slowly going crazy.
Why does Canada make dolls? Because he needed something to do so I gave him something similar to the movie. Plus, I love dolls. Like, I have an army because they are just so pretty!
France is a creep but I LOVE him. I think its because he acts like me. My lord, I need help.
Now, back to my leper corner. *sits in dark corner* Have a nice day.
