fic: fairytales of yesterday (prologue / ??)
title: fairytales of yesterday
pairing: colfer / criss
rating: nc-17 (for future parts)
word count: 750 roughly (this part)
summary: Darren's spent his whole life (literally) looking for the perfect fairytale, but will he miss out on what's been in front of him, all this time?
a/n: stupid stupid summary, but everyone is bad at those. much thanks to my loveee Victoria for looking over this for me and to Cass for the encouragement \o/ title taken from the Queen song 'the Show Must Go On'.
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The wind howled as it soared through the brilliant night sky. Charles Criss pulled his jacket more warmly around his aging body, practically tearing open the front door as he rushed to get into the warmth of the house. He exhaled gratefully as he shut the door behind him. This winter had been more fierce than ever and he had never been more thankful to be home. He smiled at the familiar sounds and surroundings that consumed him - the wooden floors and soft carpets, pastel wallpapers, large windows, draping curtains, and then the laughter, the conversation, the clatter in the kitchen.
He hung his hat and coat upon the rack and continued on into the kitchen, poking his head through the entryway and spotting his little boy Chuck trying to sneak cookies from the pantry. He tutted his tongue and Chuck blushed, dropping the packet, but Charles only winked.
“Where’s your mother?” he asked.
“She’s upstairs with Dare,” Chuck explained, frowning suddenly, “he’s feeling sick.”
Worry pulled at Charles’s chest and he nodded before turning up to the stairs. He climbed them quickly, feeling anxious as he heard the conversation pouring from behind the door. He knocked gently, before letting himself into Darren’s room.
“Hey there, sonny boy,” he said quietly as Darren looked up at him with those wide, green eyes, slightly dulled with his apparent illness. He certainly didn’t look well - far too pale and sickly. His mother hovered over him, perched in an armchair beside his bed, clearly immersed in the story she was telling him.
“Hi, daddy,” Darren croaked, craning his head up with a meek smile. Charles returned it a little sadly, coming to sit on the arm of his wife’s chair and kissing her worried head gently.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” he asked.
Cerina looked up at him with a wary smile. “Not at all,” she said softly. “We were just getting up to the good bit.”
“Not that book again,” Charles chuckled fondly, rolling his eyes playfully as he stole a glance at the cover of the book between his wife’s hands.
“It’s my favourite!” Darren insisted defensively.
“We know it is, sweetie,” Cerina said gently and Charles rubbed her shoulder gently. He could see how tired she was; her shoulders beginning to droop, her eyes half shut already.
“It’s okay, kid,” he said, turning to his wife, “why don’t I take it from here, let your mamma get some sleep?’
“Okay,” Darren sing-songed and Cerina smiled gratefully, stretching up to kiss his cheek before leaning over and kissing Darren’s.
“And you should go to bed soon, too, sweetheart,” she told him firmly. “You won’t get better otherwise.”
“Okay, mamma,” Darren agreed, smiling as his mother left, closing the door gently behind her. Darren snuggled back down against the covers, looking up at him expectantly. Charles chuckled, reaching back for the book and thumbing across the paper to where Cerina had left it.
“So, where are we…?” he mumbled to himself.
“Prince Christopher is just coming in!” Darren piped up brightly, just as Charles found the spot. He grinned up at his son.
“Your favourite bit, right?” Darren blushed but nodded eagerly. “Well… here goes…”
~
Deep in the heart of the Dempsey village, Magdalena wandered from alley to alley, seeking out her destination. Her heels clacked against the pavement as she walked and her breath fell shortly, her cheeks flushed from having walked so long. And yet, she had no idea where she was going. She decided to ask for help, casting out her gaze and searching for a villager who looked kind enough to help her.
Finally, she spotted a man draped in a thick grey cloak, walking right towards her.
“Excuse me, sir,” Magdalena asked the man nervously, making him stop in his path, “I was wondering if you could please tell me how to get to the Adams Cottage? I’m afraid I’m very lost.”
Her heart beat very fast as the passer-by lifted up his cloak to reveal his face. Such a handsome man he was! He was very pale with lovely rose-coloured lips, like the flowers in her hair, his eyes bright and welcoming as they smiled back at her. His hair dropped in his eyes, dark in contrast to his pale skin and bright features.
“Good morning, young madam,” he greeted her kindly. “I should be very glad to direct you towards your destination.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake. “Christopher.”
“Magdalena,” Magdalena replied shyly, his hand politely. “And thank you.”
“You’re welcome!” Christopher grinned, offering her his arm. “Shall we?”
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PART 1