The Inevitable Change / Romance-Angst-Historical-Lyrical / Arthur/Gwen, mention of Uther / PG13 Author’s Note: There’s a sad very true historical element to this story as it takes place right before the US’s biggest economic crash ever. That element comes at the end of the story. Nothing graphic, but wanted to give a heads up.
They said that the times were about to change. All that it’s a gas man, yeah, not going to last forever. Stocks were bouncing all over the place. Men were getting too lucky. Women paying with credit like it was going out of style. It was all getting so seedy, the ‘roaring’ times they called them. Oh the fabulous 20’s. Dames and their gents. Hoofing it up. Hopping from one club to another. Hanging on every jazz horn.
Change was just hovering in the air my friends. Change. And a reunion.
A new beginning, amid the coming horror.
His Daddy was Uther Pendragon, one of the richest men alive. Played the markets like a lover. Won every time. He owned about half the block, named his mansion, or what some called it, castle in the sky, Camelot. Arthur didn’t know about it. Something just felt so wrong, getting money that way while others gathered in the streets for a penny here, a nickel there. It made no sense really to him sometimes. So many filthy rich. So many dirty poor. No balance. Something had to happen.
Hands stuck into his pockets, black coat whipping around his form in the lamplight and wind, Arthur didn’t smile at the pretty girls wanting to get him to enter their club. Hear their snazzy band. Drink from their never ending bar that would have to close up if the prohibitionists ever got their way.
He just kept walking, shiny black shoes hitting the pavement in clipped staccato. The breeze blew at his hair, toying with his blonde whiffs as he spotted down the way some shabbily dressed kids, out on the street, hands spread out for few coins. Hoping to get just one little bite to eat. A man was yelling at them to get away from there. Soiling up his joint. Arthur skipped forward, protest hot on his lips.
“Leave them alone. They ain’t doing nothin’ to you.”
“And who do you think you are Mr. Big Shot-
The insult froze in the air. Just one look and he knew his blunder. Arthur gave him a cold sneer, before turning to the kids. “Here you go, bring home a feast.”
They stared at the crisp bills. Stared at him. But Arthur was already on his way again, hearing something around the corner that was stinging his ears with wonder. He jogged across the street so fast he nearly got hit. Driver honked his horn irritably, calling out if he was out of his mind. Arthur had to wonder.
That voice. That satin lined voice. Couldn’t be. Couldn’t ever.
“When they begin The beguine It brings back the sound Of music so tender It brings back a night Of tropical splendor It brings back a memory of green”
His heart started to beat fast. His hands grew clammy. His throat clenched. His lips desired.
Down the brigade of clubs he rushed. Started to enter one after another, but it wasn’t it. Each one was too lively, too jazzy.
This song, it was so different. So like a moonlit night on the shores of the ocean. Like traipsing through the sand barefoot. Like kissing the most luscious lips you’ve ever kissed.
This was…
The sweetest most ever bittersweet memory. One he never thought he’d find again. But now…
Now if he could just…
One more club. He got ready to vacate. Wrong one. Too silent. But it was just a pause in the music. Just a pause of her voice.
Because then soon again, he heard it. Now so much louder. So much clearer. Like magic falling through the sky. Like passionate splendor.
“I’m with you once more Under the stars And down by the shore An orchestra’s playing And even the palms Seem to be swaying When they begin The beguine”
Author’s Note: There’s a sad very true historical element to this story as it takes place right before the US’s biggest economic crash ever. That element comes at the end of the story. Nothing graphic, but wanted to give a heads up.
They said that the times were about to change. All that it’s a gas man, yeah, not going to last forever. Stocks were bouncing all over the place. Men were getting too lucky. Women paying with credit like it was going out of style. It was all getting so seedy, the ‘roaring’ times they called them. Oh the fabulous 20’s. Dames and their gents. Hoofing it up. Hopping from one club to another. Hanging on every jazz horn.
Change was just hovering in the air my friends. Change. And a reunion.
A new beginning, amid the coming horror.
His Daddy was Uther Pendragon, one of the richest men alive. Played the markets like a lover. Won every time. He owned about half the block, named his mansion, or what some called it, castle in the sky, Camelot. Arthur didn’t know about it. Something just felt so wrong, getting money that way while others gathered in the streets for a penny here, a nickel there. It made no sense really to him sometimes. So many filthy rich. So many dirty poor. No balance. Something had to happen.
Hands stuck into his pockets, black coat whipping around his form in the lamplight and wind, Arthur didn’t smile at the pretty girls wanting to get him to enter their club. Hear their snazzy band. Drink from their never ending bar that would have to close up if the prohibitionists ever got their way.
He just kept walking, shiny black shoes hitting the pavement in clipped staccato. The breeze blew at his hair, toying with his blonde whiffs as he spotted down the way some shabbily dressed kids, out on the street, hands spread out for few coins. Hoping to get just one little bite to eat. A man was yelling at them to get away from there. Soiling up his joint. Arthur skipped forward, protest hot on his lips.
“Leave them alone. They ain’t doing nothin’ to you.”
“And who do you think you are Mr. Big Shot-
The insult froze in the air. Just one look and he knew his blunder. Arthur gave him a cold sneer, before turning to the kids. “Here you go, bring home a feast.”
They stared at the crisp bills. Stared at him. But Arthur was already on his way again, hearing something around the corner that was stinging his ears with wonder. He jogged across the street so fast he nearly got hit. Driver honked his horn irritably, calling out if he was out of his mind. Arthur had to wonder.
That voice. That satin lined voice. Couldn’t be. Couldn’t ever.
“When they begin
The beguine
It brings back the sound
Of music so tender
It brings back a night
Of tropical splendor
It brings back a memory of green”
His heart started to beat fast. His hands grew clammy. His throat clenched. His lips desired.
Down the brigade of clubs he rushed. Started to enter one after another, but it wasn’t it. Each one was too lively, too jazzy.
This song, it was so different. So like a moonlit night on the shores of the ocean. Like traipsing through the sand barefoot. Like kissing the most luscious lips you’ve ever kissed.
This was…
The sweetest most ever bittersweet memory. One he never thought he’d find again. But now…
Now if he could just…
One more club. He got ready to vacate. Wrong one. Too silent. But it was just a pause in the music. Just a pause of her voice.
Because then soon again, he heard it. Now so much louder. So much clearer. Like magic falling through the sky. Like passionate splendor.
“I’m with you once more
Under the stars
And down by the shore
An orchestra’s playing
And even the palms
Seem to be swaying
When they begin
The beguine”
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