fic: The King is Dead, All Hail the King - Loyalty to the King
Title: The King is Dead, All Hail the King: Loyalty to the King
Author: darthbatgirl
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Characters: Jason, Alfred, Tim
Summary: There is some tension between Jason and the new King
Word Count: 875
Warnings: angst
A/N: Written for heartslogos on tumblr who had asked for more King Tim. I've re-written this a couple of times and I'm not entirely happy with it still. Hopefully the next part will be much better. Follows after Heavy is the Crown.
Jason walked along the covered path through the rose gardens. The gardens were planted by King Bruce's mother Martha years ago when she was first crowned Queen. It wasn't a place Jason usually visited, but he felt like being alone right now, and on a gloomy rain soaked day the rose gardens were perfect for Jason's needs. The last few days had not gone well for Jason. His mounting dislike of the new King had all but doubled and had ended with him taking verbal jabs at Timothy. An act that anywhere else would have landed him in the dungeons.
His thoughts drifted back to his fallen King. He and Bruce had fought against each other and side by side. At a time where the kingdom laid in peril, the King had trusted him when others had just written Jason off. After the matter had been settled, Bruce had even tried to bestow nobility on Jason, but he had just laughed and said what the hell did he need a title for? He worked just fine without it. Jason had admired the man for it and had pledged his loyalty to Bruce, not to this pretender on the throne.
Footsteps behind him drew Jason out of his thoughts as he saw Alfred walk up, “the King wishes you to come to his chambers in the morning.”
Jason's lips formed one thin line an then asked softly, “Let me guess, I should already have my bags packed?”
Alfred's gray eyes held Jason's for a long moment before saying, “His Majesty's thoughts are his own on this matter. I will say however that the inner council values loyalty to each other and your verbal assault on the King will never be discussed again, but . . . calling the King a replacement was an ill advised endeavor,” Alfred simply said.
“If the boy can't take a bit of back talk . . . Bruce and I have argued plenty of times,” Jason muttered softly.
“Never in public. Never like this,” Alfred said
Jason let out an explosive breath and with a flick of his wrist a small dagger went flying and embedded it's self in one the wooden pillars supporting the over hang over the pathway. Alfred walked over to the pillar and pulled the dagger out and handed it back to Jason, “Your knife Master Jason.”
Jason took the knife back and slid it back into it's sheath,
“You and the King have not been in agreement recently,” Alfred admonished making Jason look away.
The reality was that Jason didn't think he and Timothy had ever seen eye to eye. Because Lord Timothy of the House of Drake was nothing like King Bruce, and to have this demure, porcelain skin, slip of a boy proclaimed his heir and then sit on his throne was a joke. Except for how much he was like Bruce. Except for how scarily brilliant Timothy could be. Except for the way Timothy could gain control of a room with a whispered word and a nod of his head.
“Grief is a terrible thing,” Alfred observed after long pause. “It can make one young man doubt his own abilities and another lash out at those he most needs.”
“What does that mean?”
“That as much as you would like people to believe other wise, Master Bruce meant a great deal to you. There is no weakness in grieving, but little will be accomplished by pushing those that grieve alongside of you. Master Bruce saw great things in both you and Master Timothy and he left his kingdom - his people - in both of your care. Trust in his faith in you both and perhaps forgive yourself for whatever transgression you have blamed yourself for.”
The early morning hours saw Jason standing in front of the King's chambers. His fingers absently tugging on the bottom of his jacket. Until he realized what he was doing and balled his hands into fists.
He raised one and firmly knocked on the door twice. Before he even lowered his hand the door opened and Alfred ushered him in.
His eyes immediately slid over to the desk that the young King sat at. A pair of bright blue eyes watched Jason's every move. Alfred whispered something in the King's ear to which Timothy nodded almost obediently to. “I shall leave you and Master Jason alone then Majesty,” he said with a bow. Jason almost smiled, it seemed the King's servant knew more than he was telling.
For a long moment that expanding into eternity, in which the two locked eyes and weighed and counter weighed what they saw in each other, maybe trying to see what Bruce could have possibly seen.
“I think we have things to talk about,” Timothy said softly.
Jason shifted slightly He and Bruce had gone from hating each other to trusting each other with their lives. Jason had sworn an oath to follow Bruce and be loyal, to trust in his King. Perhaps it was time to trust Bruce again. Jason gave a quick nod and knelt, bowing his head saying, “Yes my King.”
Author: darthbatgirl
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Characters: Jason, Alfred, Tim
Summary: There is some tension between Jason and the new King
Word Count: 875
Warnings: angst
A/N: Written for heartslogos on tumblr who had asked for more King Tim. I've re-written this a couple of times and I'm not entirely happy with it still. Hopefully the next part will be much better. Follows after Heavy is the Crown.
Jason walked along the covered path through the rose gardens. The gardens were planted by King Bruce's mother Martha years ago when she was first crowned Queen. It wasn't a place Jason usually visited, but he felt like being alone right now, and on a gloomy rain soaked day the rose gardens were perfect for Jason's needs. The last few days had not gone well for Jason. His mounting dislike of the new King had all but doubled and had ended with him taking verbal jabs at Timothy. An act that anywhere else would have landed him in the dungeons.
His thoughts drifted back to his fallen King. He and Bruce had fought against each other and side by side. At a time where the kingdom laid in peril, the King had trusted him when others had just written Jason off. After the matter had been settled, Bruce had even tried to bestow nobility on Jason, but he had just laughed and said what the hell did he need a title for? He worked just fine without it. Jason had admired the man for it and had pledged his loyalty to Bruce, not to this pretender on the throne.
Footsteps behind him drew Jason out of his thoughts as he saw Alfred walk up, “the King wishes you to come to his chambers in the morning.”
Jason's lips formed one thin line an then asked softly, “Let me guess, I should already have my bags packed?”
Alfred's gray eyes held Jason's for a long moment before saying, “His Majesty's thoughts are his own on this matter. I will say however that the inner council values loyalty to each other and your verbal assault on the King will never be discussed again, but . . . calling the King a replacement was an ill advised endeavor,” Alfred simply said.
“If the boy can't take a bit of back talk . . . Bruce and I have argued plenty of times,” Jason muttered softly.
“Never in public. Never like this,” Alfred said
Jason let out an explosive breath and with a flick of his wrist a small dagger went flying and embedded it's self in one the wooden pillars supporting the over hang over the pathway. Alfred walked over to the pillar and pulled the dagger out and handed it back to Jason, “Your knife Master Jason.”
Jason took the knife back and slid it back into it's sheath,
“You and the King have not been in agreement recently,” Alfred admonished making Jason look away.
The reality was that Jason didn't think he and Timothy had ever seen eye to eye. Because Lord Timothy of the House of Drake was nothing like King Bruce, and to have this demure, porcelain skin, slip of a boy proclaimed his heir and then sit on his throne was a joke. Except for how much he was like Bruce. Except for how scarily brilliant Timothy could be. Except for the way Timothy could gain control of a room with a whispered word and a nod of his head.
“Grief is a terrible thing,” Alfred observed after long pause. “It can make one young man doubt his own abilities and another lash out at those he most needs.”
“What does that mean?”
“That as much as you would like people to believe other wise, Master Bruce meant a great deal to you. There is no weakness in grieving, but little will be accomplished by pushing those that grieve alongside of you. Master Bruce saw great things in both you and Master Timothy and he left his kingdom - his people - in both of your care. Trust in his faith in you both and perhaps forgive yourself for whatever transgression you have blamed yourself for.”
The early morning hours saw Jason standing in front of the King's chambers. His fingers absently tugging on the bottom of his jacket. Until he realized what he was doing and balled his hands into fists.
He raised one and firmly knocked on the door twice. Before he even lowered his hand the door opened and Alfred ushered him in.
His eyes immediately slid over to the desk that the young King sat at. A pair of bright blue eyes watched Jason's every move. Alfred whispered something in the King's ear to which Timothy nodded almost obediently to. “I shall leave you and Master Jason alone then Majesty,” he said with a bow. Jason almost smiled, it seemed the King's servant knew more than he was telling.
For a long moment that expanding into eternity, in which the two locked eyes and weighed and counter weighed what they saw in each other, maybe trying to see what Bruce could have possibly seen.
“I think we have things to talk about,” Timothy said softly.
Jason shifted slightly He and Bruce had gone from hating each other to trusting each other with their lives. Jason had sworn an oath to follow Bruce and be loyal, to trust in his King. Perhaps it was time to trust Bruce again. Jason gave a quick nod and knelt, bowing his head saying, “Yes my King.”