[Fic & Art]: Once Upon a December
Title: Once Upon a December
Author: foxxcub
Artist: red_rahl
Team: ROMANCE!
Prompt: Home
Word count: 960
Rating: PG
Summary: Growing up in an orphanage his whole life made for a very isolated existence, and Arthur was tired of it.
An Anastasia AU.
For as long as he could remember, all Arthur had ever wanted was to know his family. Even if they were dead and long gone, he would know their faces, their names, and more importantly, where he came from. Growing up in an orphanage his whole life made for a very isolated existence, and Arthur was tired of it.
But now, this--this man, Eames, with his infuriating smile and irritating brown eyes, was trying to tell Arthur he was somehow royalty.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arthur sniffed, hugging Cigar closer to his chest. “The royal family died off years ago, everyone knows that.”
“What everyone knows is that the little prince disappeared into the night the evening of the massacre and was never heard from again,” Eames replied smoothly, rubbing his chin as he slowly paced around Arthur and eyed him critically. A dark blond comma of hair flopped carelessly over his forehead, making him look young, close to Arthur’s age.
Arthur glared harder. “I think I’d remember if I had escaped a palace as a child.” Cigar butted his head up under Arthur’s chin; Arthur wished he had something to feed him.
Eames shook his head. “You found your way here, didn’t you? And yet you claim you’ve never been near the palace before.”
“Coincidence. That doesn’t mean anything.”
Yusuf, Eames’ supposed partner with the kind eyes, said calmly, “What Eames is trying to say is just that, my dear Arthur--it’s all very coincidental. Well, that, and the striking resemblance you bear to the portrait of the prince.” He waved his hand behind him to the huge gilded painting on the wall. It depicted a small boy, slight in stature like Arthur, with identical dark hair and eyes. The nose was similar, Arthur supposed, and he smiled the same way Arthur did, but that didn’t mean a thing.
Did it?
Arthur sniffed and shuffled Cigar around until he was cradled into the crook of Arthur’s elbow. “All right, let’s pretend what you’re saying is actually true, that I am, in fact, the long-lost crowned Prince. What would you suggest I do?”
Eames grinned at Arthur, a wide, dazzling smile that no doubt had gotten him everything he ever wanted in life. Arthur was unaffected, regardless of the fact that his cheeks felt warmer. “We’ll personally take you to meet the Grand Duchess herself,” he said simply.
“What?!” Arthur nearly dropped Cigar. “You can’t be serious! I can’t--I can’t simply walk into the, the new palace and introduce myself as her grandson! I’m no one, I’ve never even been to court. I don’t even know how to dance!”
“Yusuf spent almost five years at court training young ladies how to be royalty. He can teach you everything you need to know.” Eames leaned closer, one eyebrow raised. “And I’m not a bad dancer, myself.”
Arthur did not like the way his heart decided to flail about in his chest at Eames’ closeness. “I’m not dancing with you.”
“I wasn’t offering, merely stating a fact.”
“I’m sure you were,” Arthur snipped, even as he wondered, briefly, if Eames’ mouth was as soft as it looked, if he kissed slowly or quickly--
“For someone who claims to be no one, you’ve certainly perfected the airs of a royal,” Eames drawled with a smirk. “I bet it will take all of a day before you’re ordering Yusuf and me around, eh Yusuf?”
“A charming quirk of the royal blood,” Yusuf replied, but his smile was good-natured.
Arthur was too frazzled by his unfortunate wayward thoughts about Eames’ mouth. He cleared his throat loudly, backing away from Eames as he clung to Cigar. “What would you have from me in return for your help?”
Eames said, “The pleasure of your company,” and Yusuf covered his mouth to hide a laugh.
Arthur punched Eames’ arm. “Are you ever serious?”
“Only when it’s necessary, your highness.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Would you prefer Prince Artie?”
“No, I would not. Besides, the only person I ever allowed to call me that was a boy I knew ages ago. He worked in a kitchen, I think, and he always smelled of fresh bread.”
Immediately, Eames’ eyes flared. His expression changed from teasing to something vulnerable and almost lost. “What was the boy’s name?” he asked quietly.
Arthur shrugged. “I don’t remember. He was a friend, I know that much.”
Eames looked at him for a long moment, face open and searching, and without the cocky smugness in his eyes he appeared--well, rather devastatingly handsome. He took a step closer to Arthur and said, voice close to a whisper, “He was your friend. I’m sure of it.”
Arthur frowned, confused and unable to deal with an unfamiliar rush of want. He scratched Cigar behind the ears. “How would you know?”
He watched as Eames’ throat bobbed. Then Eames blinked a few times, shook his head, and laughed sheepishly. “Never mind, I just--it’s nothing. So are you in or not?”
There were no other options on the horizon for Arthur. He was homeless, penniless, with nothing but a stray pup for company and the clothes on his back for warmth. Eames and Yusuf were his only hope.
Still, Arthur managed to raise his chin and square his shoulders, refusing to let either of them feel his niggling sense of hopelessness. “Very well,” Arthur said firmly. “I’ll go with you to see the Grand Duchess.”
Yusuf made a quiet whooping sound, and Eames merely gave Arthur a lopsided grin, his shaggy hair once more falling into his eyes.
“You won’t regret this, Prince,” he said, and Arthur thought, I’m not so sure about that as his heart began to race again.
Author: foxxcub
Artist: red_rahl
Team: ROMANCE!
Prompt: Home
Word count: 960
Rating: PG
Summary: Growing up in an orphanage his whole life made for a very isolated existence, and Arthur was tired of it.
An Anastasia AU.
For as long as he could remember, all Arthur had ever wanted was to know his family. Even if they were dead and long gone, he would know their faces, their names, and more importantly, where he came from. Growing up in an orphanage his whole life made for a very isolated existence, and Arthur was tired of it.
But now, this--this man, Eames, with his infuriating smile and irritating brown eyes, was trying to tell Arthur he was somehow royalty.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arthur sniffed, hugging Cigar closer to his chest. “The royal family died off years ago, everyone knows that.”
“What everyone knows is that the little prince disappeared into the night the evening of the massacre and was never heard from again,” Eames replied smoothly, rubbing his chin as he slowly paced around Arthur and eyed him critically. A dark blond comma of hair flopped carelessly over his forehead, making him look young, close to Arthur’s age.
Arthur glared harder. “I think I’d remember if I had escaped a palace as a child.” Cigar butted his head up under Arthur’s chin; Arthur wished he had something to feed him.
Eames shook his head. “You found your way here, didn’t you? And yet you claim you’ve never been near the palace before.”
“Coincidence. That doesn’t mean anything.”
Yusuf, Eames’ supposed partner with the kind eyes, said calmly, “What Eames is trying to say is just that, my dear Arthur--it’s all very coincidental. Well, that, and the striking resemblance you bear to the portrait of the prince.” He waved his hand behind him to the huge gilded painting on the wall. It depicted a small boy, slight in stature like Arthur, with identical dark hair and eyes. The nose was similar, Arthur supposed, and he smiled the same way Arthur did, but that didn’t mean a thing.
Did it?
Arthur sniffed and shuffled Cigar around until he was cradled into the crook of Arthur’s elbow. “All right, let’s pretend what you’re saying is actually true, that I am, in fact, the long-lost crowned Prince. What would you suggest I do?”
Eames grinned at Arthur, a wide, dazzling smile that no doubt had gotten him everything he ever wanted in life. Arthur was unaffected, regardless of the fact that his cheeks felt warmer. “We’ll personally take you to meet the Grand Duchess herself,” he said simply.
“What?!” Arthur nearly dropped Cigar. “You can’t be serious! I can’t--I can’t simply walk into the, the new palace and introduce myself as her grandson! I’m no one, I’ve never even been to court. I don’t even know how to dance!”
“Yusuf spent almost five years at court training young ladies how to be royalty. He can teach you everything you need to know.” Eames leaned closer, one eyebrow raised. “And I’m not a bad dancer, myself.”
Arthur did not like the way his heart decided to flail about in his chest at Eames’ closeness. “I’m not dancing with you.”
“I wasn’t offering, merely stating a fact.”
“I’m sure you were,” Arthur snipped, even as he wondered, briefly, if Eames’ mouth was as soft as it looked, if he kissed slowly or quickly--
“For someone who claims to be no one, you’ve certainly perfected the airs of a royal,” Eames drawled with a smirk. “I bet it will take all of a day before you’re ordering Yusuf and me around, eh Yusuf?”
“A charming quirk of the royal blood,” Yusuf replied, but his smile was good-natured.
Arthur was too frazzled by his unfortunate wayward thoughts about Eames’ mouth. He cleared his throat loudly, backing away from Eames as he clung to Cigar. “What would you have from me in return for your help?”
Eames said, “The pleasure of your company,” and Yusuf covered his mouth to hide a laugh.
Arthur punched Eames’ arm. “Are you ever serious?”
“Only when it’s necessary, your highness.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Would you prefer Prince Artie?”
“No, I would not. Besides, the only person I ever allowed to call me that was a boy I knew ages ago. He worked in a kitchen, I think, and he always smelled of fresh bread.”
Immediately, Eames’ eyes flared. His expression changed from teasing to something vulnerable and almost lost. “What was the boy’s name?” he asked quietly.
Arthur shrugged. “I don’t remember. He was a friend, I know that much.”
Eames looked at him for a long moment, face open and searching, and without the cocky smugness in his eyes he appeared--well, rather devastatingly handsome. He took a step closer to Arthur and said, voice close to a whisper, “He was your friend. I’m sure of it.”
Arthur frowned, confused and unable to deal with an unfamiliar rush of want. He scratched Cigar behind the ears. “How would you know?”
He watched as Eames’ throat bobbed. Then Eames blinked a few times, shook his head, and laughed sheepishly. “Never mind, I just--it’s nothing. So are you in or not?”
There were no other options on the horizon for Arthur. He was homeless, penniless, with nothing but a stray pup for company and the clothes on his back for warmth. Eames and Yusuf were his only hope.
Still, Arthur managed to raise his chin and square his shoulders, refusing to let either of them feel his niggling sense of hopelessness. “Very well,” Arthur said firmly. “I’ll go with you to see the Grand Duchess.”
Yusuf made a quiet whooping sound, and Eames merely gave Arthur a lopsided grin, his shaggy hair once more falling into his eyes.
“You won’t regret this, Prince,” he said, and Arthur thought, I’m not so sure about that as his heart began to race again.