[English/anglais] Heresy
Title: Herery
Characters/Pairings: France, England, mention of Grandpa Rome and Spain
Author/Artist: bottleinmyboot
Rating: G
Warnings: so far, none
Prompt: Written for the Fruk lovefest of last October : Where Francis is a prince/king and Arthur is a Head Wizard to that court - and any situation coming out of the scenario at all
Summary: Heresy is spreading, touching the Kingdom to its core. The King is planning to wip it in blood. Will Prince Francis obey, or...?
Notes: beta'd by strawberryburst :)
"We have to kill them."
The private council shivered, a small murmur bristled and prevented the room from falling into an insufferable silence, but contrary to Francis' expectations, none of the advisors dared to openly protest the King’s decision. They at best allowed their concern and guilt to appear through a nervous smile or a shadow in their glance, but it was nothing, and especially not a recrimination to the final order Francis' grandfather had just uttered in his deep and authoritarian voice. And still on his chair, mute, his fists tight under the table, Francis was no better. But what could he do? He, the Heir Prince, had begged his Sire more times than he could remember, and confronting him now would cost him the rest of his life in jail.
So instead he smiled, and winked. He knew what he had to do.
The audience was nearly over. Later, the King would order the slaughter to begin. Francis ignored how many were targeted. His head was light, despite the dread oncoming - tomorrow, usual figures would be missing, their body drenched in blood somewhere in the town, and he would never see them again.
For what crime, for what purpose? To have converts to the Other Magic, to have rejected the traditional practice, to have embraced what many were now calling a lost way, ‘a heresy’? Magic was like breathing to the Kingdom. What would happen to it, now that a large faction of the mages was twisting the spells and incantations?
He paid goodbyes to the guests, and quickly aimed for his quarters, or so he wanted them to believe. His feet roamed the castle, by heart. He had escaped so many times, to chase boys and girls, to drink in the taverns. He still remembered the shifts of the guards, and all the secret passages his grandfather failed to mention to him when he was still a boy. The head wizard quarters weren't too far away from his own, and for once, it brought a sort of comfort in Francis’ guts.
Arriving in front of the door, Francis hesitated. He didn't even like the man. The first time they had met, Arthur Kirkland, appointed to be the Head Wizard of the Royal Family, the youngest the Kingdom had ever chosen, had sent him to drown in the moats, for the simple reason of the prince not liking his haircut. Outside of that, Francis had to recognize Arthur was talented, terribly talented.
He knocked.
Arthur answered nearly immediately. He was in his sleeping clothes, a long white robe, his hair even more disheveled than usual, if it were possible, and very grumpy. He was ready to let out an insult, but froze as soon as he recognized his guest.
"Prince Francis," he groaned. "Always a pleasure. Did you get lost?"
"No time for foreplay, Head Wizard. You need to leave."
"Oh, somnambulism crisis I see. Dreaming of having me fired, probably one of your favourite fantasies… I may have a potion for..."
"No low moves, Kirkland! But I am serious… The King... The meeting is over."
Arthur didn't react, pretending not to be aware of what Francis was meaning. Except that the Wizard always knew everything - lots of useless things like how many chickens roamed the land or how to tickle the Majesty’s feet or why Lord Tonio didn’t declare war last year when everything was hinting he would. But after a second of hesitancy, he moved to let the Prince enter his apartments.
"I don't understand what you're trying to imply, my Lord," he dryly spat.
"Of course not." Francis paused. The room was boringly normal. Books, grimoires, pens, boring stuff indeed. He had expected some New Magic Manifesto hanging on the wall, but Arthur wasn’t idiotic enough, unfortunately. "I know."
"What?"
"About you. About your... allegiance, no matter how you call it. My grandfather knows as well."
"I still don't get what you're saying. If you could develop your thoughts in coherent sentences, I may be able to understand the meaning."
"Why are you so mean? I'm doing this to save you. Your status will not protect you. The guards will come for you, and you'll probably be the first to be executed tomorrow morning."
Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or Arthur's magic tricks that convinced him, Francis didn't really know. He could have spilt all his suspicions, the deductions of the last past months, he simply didn't have the time. If the guards arrested the Wizard, how could the Prince explain his presence in Arthur's room? He didn’t trust Arthur to lie for his sake and he’d rather die than have his Grandfather convinced he was having an affair with the mage, he had some self esteem.
Arthur's breath quickened and he glared at the Prince as if it was the first time he was truly worthy of appearing in front of his eyes.
"How... how do you know?" His voice barely shivered, and Francis understood he had been right all along.
"I was only guessing."
"My, you do have a brain. Or maybe not - why are you here, unarmed? I could easily blast you in order to escape."
"How righteous of you, killing the messenger to prove yourself how a fool I am."
"You are a fool Prince Francis, everybody knows it."
"I don't understand what corrupted you into believing that the traditional Magic practice wasn't the right way to think. Because I’m sure you’re wrong. I wish the heresy hadn't might be a better word spread. But there's another thing I'm assured of. You're a dick.”
Arthur showed a hint of a smile. "You're a fool, but one day you'll be King. In the meanwhile, I'm afraid I'll have to become an enemy of the country, if His current Majesty treats me as much as filth."
"As if I’d like you as my councilor."
"Next time we'll meet, it'll be on the battlefield. I'll do my best to kill you quick and fast, and I’ll spit on your grave"
"As if you could touch me," Francis snorted.
And in a ruffle of feathers, the Head Wizard suddenly disappeared, leaving Francis alone and awkwardly satisfied. What a damn pain in the ass.
Characters/Pairings: France, England, mention of Grandpa Rome and Spain
Author/Artist: bottleinmyboot
Rating: G
Warnings: so far, none
Prompt: Written for the Fruk lovefest of last October : Where Francis is a prince/king and Arthur is a Head Wizard to that court - and any situation coming out of the scenario at all
Summary: Heresy is spreading, touching the Kingdom to its core. The King is planning to wip it in blood. Will Prince Francis obey, or...?
Notes: beta'd by strawberryburst :)
"We have to kill them."
The private council shivered, a small murmur bristled and prevented the room from falling into an insufferable silence, but contrary to Francis' expectations, none of the advisors dared to openly protest the King’s decision. They at best allowed their concern and guilt to appear through a nervous smile or a shadow in their glance, but it was nothing, and especially not a recrimination to the final order Francis' grandfather had just uttered in his deep and authoritarian voice. And still on his chair, mute, his fists tight under the table, Francis was no better. But what could he do? He, the Heir Prince, had begged his Sire more times than he could remember, and confronting him now would cost him the rest of his life in jail.
So instead he smiled, and winked. He knew what he had to do.
The audience was nearly over. Later, the King would order the slaughter to begin. Francis ignored how many were targeted. His head was light, despite the dread oncoming - tomorrow, usual figures would be missing, their body drenched in blood somewhere in the town, and he would never see them again.
For what crime, for what purpose? To have converts to the Other Magic, to have rejected the traditional practice, to have embraced what many were now calling a lost way, ‘a heresy’? Magic was like breathing to the Kingdom. What would happen to it, now that a large faction of the mages was twisting the spells and incantations?
He paid goodbyes to the guests, and quickly aimed for his quarters, or so he wanted them to believe. His feet roamed the castle, by heart. He had escaped so many times, to chase boys and girls, to drink in the taverns. He still remembered the shifts of the guards, and all the secret passages his grandfather failed to mention to him when he was still a boy. The head wizard quarters weren't too far away from his own, and for once, it brought a sort of comfort in Francis’ guts.
Arriving in front of the door, Francis hesitated. He didn't even like the man. The first time they had met, Arthur Kirkland, appointed to be the Head Wizard of the Royal Family, the youngest the Kingdom had ever chosen, had sent him to drown in the moats, for the simple reason of the prince not liking his haircut. Outside of that, Francis had to recognize Arthur was talented, terribly talented.
He knocked.
Arthur answered nearly immediately. He was in his sleeping clothes, a long white robe, his hair even more disheveled than usual, if it were possible, and very grumpy. He was ready to let out an insult, but froze as soon as he recognized his guest.
"Prince Francis," he groaned. "Always a pleasure. Did you get lost?"
"No time for foreplay, Head Wizard. You need to leave."
"Oh, somnambulism crisis I see. Dreaming of having me fired, probably one of your favourite fantasies… I may have a potion for..."
"No low moves, Kirkland! But I am serious… The King... The meeting is over."
Arthur didn't react, pretending not to be aware of what Francis was meaning. Except that the Wizard always knew everything - lots of useless things like how many chickens roamed the land or how to tickle the Majesty’s feet or why Lord Tonio didn’t declare war last year when everything was hinting he would. But after a second of hesitancy, he moved to let the Prince enter his apartments.
"I don't understand what you're trying to imply, my Lord," he dryly spat.
"Of course not." Francis paused. The room was boringly normal. Books, grimoires, pens, boring stuff indeed. He had expected some New Magic Manifesto hanging on the wall, but Arthur wasn’t idiotic enough, unfortunately. "I know."
"What?"
"About you. About your... allegiance, no matter how you call it. My grandfather knows as well."
"I still don't get what you're saying. If you could develop your thoughts in coherent sentences, I may be able to understand the meaning."
"Why are you so mean? I'm doing this to save you. Your status will not protect you. The guards will come for you, and you'll probably be the first to be executed tomorrow morning."
Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or Arthur's magic tricks that convinced him, Francis didn't really know. He could have spilt all his suspicions, the deductions of the last past months, he simply didn't have the time. If the guards arrested the Wizard, how could the Prince explain his presence in Arthur's room? He didn’t trust Arthur to lie for his sake and he’d rather die than have his Grandfather convinced he was having an affair with the mage, he had some self esteem.
Arthur's breath quickened and he glared at the Prince as if it was the first time he was truly worthy of appearing in front of his eyes.
"How... how do you know?" His voice barely shivered, and Francis understood he had been right all along.
"I was only guessing."
"My, you do have a brain. Or maybe not - why are you here, unarmed? I could easily blast you in order to escape."
"How righteous of you, killing the messenger to prove yourself how a fool I am."
"You are a fool Prince Francis, everybody knows it."
"I don't understand what corrupted you into believing that the traditional Magic practice wasn't the right way to think. Because I’m sure you’re wrong. I wish the heresy hadn't might be a better word spread. But there's another thing I'm assured of. You're a dick.”
Arthur showed a hint of a smile. "You're a fool, but one day you'll be King. In the meanwhile, I'm afraid I'll have to become an enemy of the country, if His current Majesty treats me as much as filth."
"As if I’d like you as my councilor."
"Next time we'll meet, it'll be on the battlefield. I'll do my best to kill you quick and fast, and I’ll spit on your grave"
"As if you could touch me," Francis snorted.
And in a ruffle of feathers, the Head Wizard suddenly disappeared, leaving Francis alone and awkwardly satisfied. What a damn pain in the ass.