[Fic] The Nightingale
Title: The Nightingale
Characters/Pairings: USUK, Hong Kong, Liechtenstein, Canada, Austria. Mentions of Japan.
Word Count: 3,102
Rating/Warnings: PG, based on the Hans Christian Anderson story.
Summary: King Arthur has always prided himself on having the best of everything at his disposal, so what's this story about a strange boy said to have the most magnificent singing voice in all the land?
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a king named Arthur. He lived in a beautiful palace in the grandest city in all the land and was used to the best of everything. His castle was made of pure marble adorned with only the shiniest and precious of gems. He ate only the best food cooked by the best chefs his kingdom had to offer. The music he listened to, and Arthur had quite an affinity for music, was selected and preformed by only the most talented musicians the world over. The palace garden, his pride and joy, contained every flower in the world within it, each and every one of them hand selected by Arthur himself. It was so large and expansive no one was sure where its boundaries were, but beyond its boundaries there lay a magnificent forest that continued until it reached the sea.
In that forest lived a young man by the name of Alfred who had the most wonderful singing voice in the entire world. He would often go to the very edge of the forest and sing to the fisherman at the docks before they cast off to sea. They would hear his voice and marvel at how lovely it was, touched that such a glorious voice would grace them with a song.
Often times the travelers who came from distant lands heard Alfred singing in the forest. During their trip they would tour Arthur’s grand city, palace, and garden and were awed by all of the sights and sounds, but nothing moved or impressed them as much as hearing Alfred sing. They would write about Arthur’s kingdom and all its wonders, talk about the garden as far as the eye can see, the city that never seemed to sleep, the palace filled with the greatest treasures one could find, the food, the music in the palace, but greatest and most memorable part of their whole journey would always be Alfred’s singing.
One of these books, written by Arthur’s good friend and fellow royal Kiku, found its way into King Arthur’s hands.
“What’s this about a boy?” Arthur raged at his advisor, a quiet man named Hong, “A boy whose singing is considered the greatest treasure in the land? Why have I never heard of this before now?”
“I’ve never heard this story either,” Hong replied, “Maybe someone like, just made up it?”
“We’re talking about Kiku here. Kiku wouldn’t lie to me like this,” Arthur pondered this strange boy some more, “If there really is such a boy with such a voice in my lands, I want to meet him. Hong, go and find this Alfred and invite him to dinner. If you can’t get him to come, then I’ll be personally making your dinner tonight.”
Hong gulped at the very real threat and set out to find any information about this boy that he could, lest he face the wrath of the King’s Scones. He searched high and low, asking everyone in the palace if they had seen or heard of a boy in the forests and his beautiful voice, but no one had. Frustrated, he asked all the servants as well, and eventually found a servant girl who worked in the kitchen named Lili who had heard of him.
“Yes, I know Alfred quite well,” she said, “I am allowed to leave the palace every night with the leftovers from dinner and bring them to my hermit brother who lives in the forest. Alfred usually walks with me to keep me company and sings so nothing bothers me.”
“Lili,” Hong asked, unusually serious, “I will guarantee your employment with the palace for the rest of your life and let you dine with the King if you take me to see Alfred. He has been invited to dinner by King Arthur himself.”
She agreed and led him through Arthur’s garden and into the forest beyond. When they came upon a clearing, Hong heard a constant thudding sound and stopped to listen.
“Oh, that must be him,” Hong nodded, “Yes, that’s an interesting rhythm.”
“That’s just a woodpecker,” Lili giggled, “Alfred’s a bit farther ahead.”
They continued further into the forest, until most of the sun was blocked out the leaves. They passed by a river and Hong heard a strange croaking sound.
“Ah, yes, that’s him. It must be. Such lovely sounds.”
“Those are just frogs,” she tugged on his hand, “We should come across him soon.”
Indeed, as soon as Hong turned to follow her, he found himself face to face with a young man. He was taller than Hong, bright blue eyes gazing at him, but he wasn’t very impressive, dressed in the simplest of farmer’s clothes with blond hair sticking up in places, one particular piece in front seeming to defy gravity itself.
“Hello,” he smiled, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”
“Alfred,” both men turned to Lili, “our King wants you to sing for him.”
“Ah, is that so? Okay then,” he cleared his throat and started singing. It was the most beautiful sound Hong had ever heard and he found himself captivated, wondering how such a simple man could produce such wonderful music.
All too soon, the song ended. “Would you like me to sing again, your highness?”
“Oh,” Hong waved his hands in front of him, “I’m not the King. King Arthur sent me to invite you to dine with him this evening in the palace.”
“I don’t do very well inside stone walls,” Alfred admitted, “but if the King requests it, then how can I refuse?”
And so Alfred was brought back to the palace. A feast was prepared, with King Arthur banned from the kitchen. The whole palace was decorated in the finest silks and flowers that could be found. Everyone went all out, dressing in their finest, and even Lili was allowed to sit next to Alfred, who was seated at the King’s right hand.
“Come then, Alfred,” Arthur smirked. It was after dinner, and he certainly wasn’t impressed by what had been dubbed the greatest treasure in his land, “Sing for us, if you can.”
Alfred eagerly took up the challenge, singing with all his heart and soul, putting everything he had into it. The song was so sweet and moving it brought tears to the court’s eyes. As it grew to a crescendo more and more tears formed due to the sheer passion in Alfred’s performance, until even Arthur found himself crying over the beauty of his singing.
“That was…” Arthur wiped the remaining tears away, “Hong! Fetch one of my best jewels and give it to Alfred.”
“That’s okay,” Alfred insisted, “You’ve already given me the greatest reward I could ask for. A King’s tears have wonderful power, and that’s enough for me.”
Arthur demanded that Alfred remain at the palace with him. He was given his own room, right next to Arthur’s, and was allowed to wander the grounds twice a day and once at night with twelve escorts with him at all times. Alfred missed the freedom the forest gave him, but every night Arthur would summon him to his room so he could sing for him.
“Lovely,” he would say as he drifted off to sleep, “My darling, sweet Alfred, that’s lovely.”
Alfred found he liked singing for Arthur, making Arthur happy in a way that only he could.
The whole kingdom was abuzz about Alfred. People traveled from far and wide just to overhear a note or two. Every now and then Arthur would let him sing for the whole of the city and he found he enjoyed making them happy too.
One day, a package arrived from Kiku, along with a note: Emperor Kiku’s music is poor compared to that of King Arthur’s. His name is Matthew.
Curious, Arthur immediately opened the package and found that Kiku had sent him a mechanical replica of Alfred. Matthew’s hair was a bit longer and curled more and his eyes were more purple then blue, but other than those minor, ignorable features they could have been one in the same.
“He looks just like me,” Alfred exclaimed when he saw it.
Arthur agreed as he gave the robot another look. His eyes widened when he realized that Matthew was mostly made out of precious gems and solid gold and silver, and he marveled at the wealth of his friend. They discovered that when wound up Matthew could sing just like Alfred could, jewels sparkling as he did so.
“That is marvelous!” Everyone exclaimed, “Let them sing together! What a duet they would make.”
As it turned out, however, Alfred’s natural style did not harmonize well with Matthew’s mechanical one.
“That’s a shame,” Roderich, the leading expert on music in all the land, lamented, “Matthew will have to sing on his own.”
And so he did. He was just as well received as Alfred was, and much prettier to look at with all the shiny materials he was made of. He sang the same song over and over again without tiring, much to the delight of the onlookers.
From then on, Matthew sang at dinner every night, after dinner when the court called for it, during the day when the masses called for it. Slowly and surely Alfred found that his position in the palace, in Arthur’s life, was being filled by Matthew. The last straw came one night when Arthur called for Matthew to sing him to sleep instead of Alfred.
“Lovely,” he sighed as he drifted off to sleep, “My dear, that’s lovely.”
Later that night, after everyone else had gone to sleep, Alfred slipped away.
Just as he had made it out of the garden, at the border of his forest, a voice stopped him. “Where are you going Alfred?”
He turned to find Lili standing there, “I’m just, you know…”
“Going back to the forest?” he blushed and looked away, “It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone, but are you sure you want to go?”
“A gilded cage is still a cage. Besides, now that Arthur has his shiny new pet he doesn’t need me anymore.”
“I’m sure King Arthur thinks of you as more than a pet. I think if you leave without saying goodbye he will miss you terribly.”
“Honestly? I don’t think he’ll even notice I’m gone,” Alfred said with a sad look in his eyes. He quickly replaced it with a kind smile, “You’ll still come and visit me again like you used to?”
She nodded, “I do still visit my brother. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
With a quick hug and another smile, Alfred disappeared from the palace grounds.
The next night at dinner, after Matthew had sung his song for the fiftieth time that night, King Arthur realized he wanted to hear something else, “Let’s have Alfred sing something now shall we?”
But, as it turned out, Alfred was not at dinner that night, nor in any of his usual, haunts, nor his unusual ones. Many people searched for him, but they quickly discovered that Alfred was nowhere to be found. “My liege, it seems that Alfred is gone.”
“That ungrateful prat!” Arthur fumed, “Where has he gone off to?”
“He’ll probably come back soon,” Hong suggested, but Arthur knew the truth.
“After all this time… after everything I’ve done for him, he just leaves, not a word of warning or a goodbye or…” he bit his lip and took a quick moment to compose himself, “If he wants to be that way, fine. Then I’ll banish him. I don’t want to see his face anywhere on my lands again. We don’t need him,” Arthur looked at Matthew, “Matthew has a much better voice anyway.”
“Indeed,” Roderich nodded, “With Alfred, you’d never know what song he was going to sing, but with Matthew, it’s always the same song. We always know what to expect, and we can figure out his musical style for ourselves.”
“Yes,” everyone else agreed, “Matthew is much better.”
“Sing for us again Matthew,” Arthur demanded. And so he did.
Arthur had Matthew perform for the rest of his subjects, and they all marveled at his wonderful song, but one of the subjects who had also heard Alfred sing commented, “It sounds good, but there’s something missing.” He was promptly banished.
Arthur made sure Matthew never left his side. He wound him up and had him sing for him whenever the mood struck him. By the end of a year, everyone in the kingdom knew Matthew’s song by heart and they all took great pleasure in singing along with him.
“That’s lovely,” Arthur would say every night as Matthew sung him to sleep, with less feeling each passing night, “Alfred, my darling, that’s lovely.”
One night while Matthew was singing him to sleep, something inside him broke, making him stutter to a halt and fall silent. Panicking, Arthur called for the best doctor in the land, but there was nothing she could do, as she had never studied mechanics. She was promptly thrown out and instead the best watchmaker in the land was summoned, and she did what she could. She managed to fix Matthew up enough so he could sing again, but not for much longer, as his insides were worn and replacing them would permanently affect his song. Arthur, however regretful, complied, and only allowed Matthew to sing once a year.
Several years passed and King Arthur found himself deathly ill. Everyone had already assumed him dead, that there was nothing they could do, and left him alone as they curried favor with his successor. And that was how Death, with his silver hair and red eyes, found him, alone with only Matthew and his treasures for company.
Death picked up Arthur’s crown and put it on his own head. “That’s mine,” Arthur protested, “I’m not dead yet.”
“You might as well be,” Death laughed as he also grabbed his sword, “Hey Arthur,” he used it to point out the faces that had started to gather around Arthur’s bed, representing all of his good and bad deeds, “Do you remember this?”
And he continued, on and on, pointing out each incident and forcing Arthur to remember it, one by one.
“I don’t know!” Arthur denied everything, “I don’t remember! Music! Something, anything to drown him out!” but Death cackled and continued, “Matthew!” he shouted at the lifeless machine, “Sing! Sing for me! Please, I’m begging you!” But Matthew just sat there, silent as ever.
Just as Arthur was starting to despair, a soft melody floated in from the open window. On the tree just outside sat Alfred, singing a song full of life and hope. As he grew louder, the faces around Arthur’s bed vanished and Arthur felt his strength returning.
“Again,” Death demanded when Alfred finished his song, “Sing something else.”
“Can I have the King’s sword and crown?” he asked as he jumped through the window and landed just in front of Death, eyes full of not fear but determination.
“Of course, I’m just as awesome without them,” he said as he handed them over.
And so Alfred started singing. He sang of a faraway land, full of fierce battles and noble kings and baby chickens. He sang of this land until Death started to feel homesick and floated away, leaving Arthur behind.
“Thank you,” Arthur said as Alfred approached his bedside, “Alfred, thank you. You came back. You left, left me behind and all alone but, after all this time, you came back and you got rid of death for me.”
“Lili told me you were sick,” Alfred admitted, “I wanted to come and sing for you again. And I… missed you.”
“How can I ever repay you?”
“You already have,” Alfred gently cupped his cheek, “Now sleep. Sleep and get better. I’ll sing for you.”
As Alfred sang, Arthur found himself lulled into a gentle, peaceful sleep, the first he’d had in years.
When he woke up the next morning he found himself alone in his room, save for Matthew, who was silent as ever in his corner, and Alfred, slumbering quietly at his bedside. Arthur sat up, his strength returned, and tried to get out of bed without waking Alfred. He failed, as Alfred slowly blinked his eyes open and yawned as he woke as well.
“You’re looking a lot better,” he smiled and stood up as he caught sight of Arthur.
“Thanks to you,” Arthur walked over to the other side of the bed and placed a hand on his arm, “Stay with me. Please.”
Alfred shook his head and pulled Arthur’s hand away, “I can’t.”
“Please,” Arthur practically begged, gripping his hand tight, “I need you. Please stay. You can sing only when you want to. I’ll get rid of Matthew, just please-”
“Don’t do that,” he looked over at Matthew, “I didn’t like him at first, but he did as well as he could for as long as he could. You should keep him. He’s not the reason I can’t stay.”
“Then why?”
Alfred started stroking the hand he still held with his thumb, “I don’t do well in stone walls,” Arthur made to tug his hand away, but Alfred held firm, “But, will you let me come back whenever I want?”
“Yes,” he smiled, “Yes of course you can.”
“Then I’ll come back at night, through that window,” he nodded towards it, “and I will sing to you and make you happy again. I’ll travel all over and come back and tell you about what I see, what I hear. I’ll sing to you about what’s going on in your land, so you’ll always know and you’ll never be in the dark. I’ll come back and I’ll sing for you, I only ask for one thing.”
“Everything,” Arthur leaned his forehead against Alfred’s and closed his eyes, “Anything you want. It’s yours.”
“Just don’t tell anyone about your little bird,” Alfred tilted his head so their lips touched. As soon as Arthur realized what had happened Alfred had pulled away. He opened his eyes in time to see him jump out the window he came in through and vanish into the garden.
As Arthur went about getting ready for the rest of the day, Hong came in, fully expecting to see the dead body of his King, and stopped in his tracks when instead he found him up and about, healthiest he’d been in months.
Arthur caught sight of him and smiled, “Well good morning to you too.”
Characters/Pairings: USUK, Hong Kong, Liechtenstein, Canada, Austria. Mentions of Japan.
Word Count: 3,102
Rating/Warnings: PG, based on the Hans Christian Anderson story.
Summary: King Arthur has always prided himself on having the best of everything at his disposal, so what's this story about a strange boy said to have the most magnificent singing voice in all the land?
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a king named Arthur. He lived in a beautiful palace in the grandest city in all the land and was used to the best of everything. His castle was made of pure marble adorned with only the shiniest and precious of gems. He ate only the best food cooked by the best chefs his kingdom had to offer. The music he listened to, and Arthur had quite an affinity for music, was selected and preformed by only the most talented musicians the world over. The palace garden, his pride and joy, contained every flower in the world within it, each and every one of them hand selected by Arthur himself. It was so large and expansive no one was sure where its boundaries were, but beyond its boundaries there lay a magnificent forest that continued until it reached the sea.
In that forest lived a young man by the name of Alfred who had the most wonderful singing voice in the entire world. He would often go to the very edge of the forest and sing to the fisherman at the docks before they cast off to sea. They would hear his voice and marvel at how lovely it was, touched that such a glorious voice would grace them with a song.
Often times the travelers who came from distant lands heard Alfred singing in the forest. During their trip they would tour Arthur’s grand city, palace, and garden and were awed by all of the sights and sounds, but nothing moved or impressed them as much as hearing Alfred sing. They would write about Arthur’s kingdom and all its wonders, talk about the garden as far as the eye can see, the city that never seemed to sleep, the palace filled with the greatest treasures one could find, the food, the music in the palace, but greatest and most memorable part of their whole journey would always be Alfred’s singing.
One of these books, written by Arthur’s good friend and fellow royal Kiku, found its way into King Arthur’s hands.
“What’s this about a boy?” Arthur raged at his advisor, a quiet man named Hong, “A boy whose singing is considered the greatest treasure in the land? Why have I never heard of this before now?”
“I’ve never heard this story either,” Hong replied, “Maybe someone like, just made up it?”
“We’re talking about Kiku here. Kiku wouldn’t lie to me like this,” Arthur pondered this strange boy some more, “If there really is such a boy with such a voice in my lands, I want to meet him. Hong, go and find this Alfred and invite him to dinner. If you can’t get him to come, then I’ll be personally making your dinner tonight.”
Hong gulped at the very real threat and set out to find any information about this boy that he could, lest he face the wrath of the King’s Scones. He searched high and low, asking everyone in the palace if they had seen or heard of a boy in the forests and his beautiful voice, but no one had. Frustrated, he asked all the servants as well, and eventually found a servant girl who worked in the kitchen named Lili who had heard of him.
“Yes, I know Alfred quite well,” she said, “I am allowed to leave the palace every night with the leftovers from dinner and bring them to my hermit brother who lives in the forest. Alfred usually walks with me to keep me company and sings so nothing bothers me.”
“Lili,” Hong asked, unusually serious, “I will guarantee your employment with the palace for the rest of your life and let you dine with the King if you take me to see Alfred. He has been invited to dinner by King Arthur himself.”
She agreed and led him through Arthur’s garden and into the forest beyond. When they came upon a clearing, Hong heard a constant thudding sound and stopped to listen.
“Oh, that must be him,” Hong nodded, “Yes, that’s an interesting rhythm.”
“That’s just a woodpecker,” Lili giggled, “Alfred’s a bit farther ahead.”
They continued further into the forest, until most of the sun was blocked out the leaves. They passed by a river and Hong heard a strange croaking sound.
“Ah, yes, that’s him. It must be. Such lovely sounds.”
“Those are just frogs,” she tugged on his hand, “We should come across him soon.”
Indeed, as soon as Hong turned to follow her, he found himself face to face with a young man. He was taller than Hong, bright blue eyes gazing at him, but he wasn’t very impressive, dressed in the simplest of farmer’s clothes with blond hair sticking up in places, one particular piece in front seeming to defy gravity itself.
“Hello,” he smiled, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”
“Alfred,” both men turned to Lili, “our King wants you to sing for him.”
“Ah, is that so? Okay then,” he cleared his throat and started singing. It was the most beautiful sound Hong had ever heard and he found himself captivated, wondering how such a simple man could produce such wonderful music.
All too soon, the song ended. “Would you like me to sing again, your highness?”
“Oh,” Hong waved his hands in front of him, “I’m not the King. King Arthur sent me to invite you to dine with him this evening in the palace.”
“I don’t do very well inside stone walls,” Alfred admitted, “but if the King requests it, then how can I refuse?”
And so Alfred was brought back to the palace. A feast was prepared, with King Arthur banned from the kitchen. The whole palace was decorated in the finest silks and flowers that could be found. Everyone went all out, dressing in their finest, and even Lili was allowed to sit next to Alfred, who was seated at the King’s right hand.
“Come then, Alfred,” Arthur smirked. It was after dinner, and he certainly wasn’t impressed by what had been dubbed the greatest treasure in his land, “Sing for us, if you can.”
Alfred eagerly took up the challenge, singing with all his heart and soul, putting everything he had into it. The song was so sweet and moving it brought tears to the court’s eyes. As it grew to a crescendo more and more tears formed due to the sheer passion in Alfred’s performance, until even Arthur found himself crying over the beauty of his singing.
“That was…” Arthur wiped the remaining tears away, “Hong! Fetch one of my best jewels and give it to Alfred.”
“That’s okay,” Alfred insisted, “You’ve already given me the greatest reward I could ask for. A King’s tears have wonderful power, and that’s enough for me.”
Arthur demanded that Alfred remain at the palace with him. He was given his own room, right next to Arthur’s, and was allowed to wander the grounds twice a day and once at night with twelve escorts with him at all times. Alfred missed the freedom the forest gave him, but every night Arthur would summon him to his room so he could sing for him.
“Lovely,” he would say as he drifted off to sleep, “My darling, sweet Alfred, that’s lovely.”
Alfred found he liked singing for Arthur, making Arthur happy in a way that only he could.
The whole kingdom was abuzz about Alfred. People traveled from far and wide just to overhear a note or two. Every now and then Arthur would let him sing for the whole of the city and he found he enjoyed making them happy too.
One day, a package arrived from Kiku, along with a note: Emperor Kiku’s music is poor compared to that of King Arthur’s. His name is Matthew.
Curious, Arthur immediately opened the package and found that Kiku had sent him a mechanical replica of Alfred. Matthew’s hair was a bit longer and curled more and his eyes were more purple then blue, but other than those minor, ignorable features they could have been one in the same.
“He looks just like me,” Alfred exclaimed when he saw it.
Arthur agreed as he gave the robot another look. His eyes widened when he realized that Matthew was mostly made out of precious gems and solid gold and silver, and he marveled at the wealth of his friend. They discovered that when wound up Matthew could sing just like Alfred could, jewels sparkling as he did so.
“That is marvelous!” Everyone exclaimed, “Let them sing together! What a duet they would make.”
As it turned out, however, Alfred’s natural style did not harmonize well with Matthew’s mechanical one.
“That’s a shame,” Roderich, the leading expert on music in all the land, lamented, “Matthew will have to sing on his own.”
And so he did. He was just as well received as Alfred was, and much prettier to look at with all the shiny materials he was made of. He sang the same song over and over again without tiring, much to the delight of the onlookers.
From then on, Matthew sang at dinner every night, after dinner when the court called for it, during the day when the masses called for it. Slowly and surely Alfred found that his position in the palace, in Arthur’s life, was being filled by Matthew. The last straw came one night when Arthur called for Matthew to sing him to sleep instead of Alfred.
“Lovely,” he sighed as he drifted off to sleep, “My dear, that’s lovely.”
Later that night, after everyone else had gone to sleep, Alfred slipped away.
Just as he had made it out of the garden, at the border of his forest, a voice stopped him. “Where are you going Alfred?”
He turned to find Lili standing there, “I’m just, you know…”
“Going back to the forest?” he blushed and looked away, “It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone, but are you sure you want to go?”
“A gilded cage is still a cage. Besides, now that Arthur has his shiny new pet he doesn’t need me anymore.”
“I’m sure King Arthur thinks of you as more than a pet. I think if you leave without saying goodbye he will miss you terribly.”
“Honestly? I don’t think he’ll even notice I’m gone,” Alfred said with a sad look in his eyes. He quickly replaced it with a kind smile, “You’ll still come and visit me again like you used to?”
She nodded, “I do still visit my brother. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
With a quick hug and another smile, Alfred disappeared from the palace grounds.
The next night at dinner, after Matthew had sung his song for the fiftieth time that night, King Arthur realized he wanted to hear something else, “Let’s have Alfred sing something now shall we?”
But, as it turned out, Alfred was not at dinner that night, nor in any of his usual, haunts, nor his unusual ones. Many people searched for him, but they quickly discovered that Alfred was nowhere to be found. “My liege, it seems that Alfred is gone.”
“That ungrateful prat!” Arthur fumed, “Where has he gone off to?”
“He’ll probably come back soon,” Hong suggested, but Arthur knew the truth.
“After all this time… after everything I’ve done for him, he just leaves, not a word of warning or a goodbye or…” he bit his lip and took a quick moment to compose himself, “If he wants to be that way, fine. Then I’ll banish him. I don’t want to see his face anywhere on my lands again. We don’t need him,” Arthur looked at Matthew, “Matthew has a much better voice anyway.”
“Indeed,” Roderich nodded, “With Alfred, you’d never know what song he was going to sing, but with Matthew, it’s always the same song. We always know what to expect, and we can figure out his musical style for ourselves.”
“Yes,” everyone else agreed, “Matthew is much better.”
“Sing for us again Matthew,” Arthur demanded. And so he did.
Arthur had Matthew perform for the rest of his subjects, and they all marveled at his wonderful song, but one of the subjects who had also heard Alfred sing commented, “It sounds good, but there’s something missing.” He was promptly banished.
Arthur made sure Matthew never left his side. He wound him up and had him sing for him whenever the mood struck him. By the end of a year, everyone in the kingdom knew Matthew’s song by heart and they all took great pleasure in singing along with him.
“That’s lovely,” Arthur would say every night as Matthew sung him to sleep, with less feeling each passing night, “Alfred, my darling, that’s lovely.”
One night while Matthew was singing him to sleep, something inside him broke, making him stutter to a halt and fall silent. Panicking, Arthur called for the best doctor in the land, but there was nothing she could do, as she had never studied mechanics. She was promptly thrown out and instead the best watchmaker in the land was summoned, and she did what she could. She managed to fix Matthew up enough so he could sing again, but not for much longer, as his insides were worn and replacing them would permanently affect his song. Arthur, however regretful, complied, and only allowed Matthew to sing once a year.
Several years passed and King Arthur found himself deathly ill. Everyone had already assumed him dead, that there was nothing they could do, and left him alone as they curried favor with his successor. And that was how Death, with his silver hair and red eyes, found him, alone with only Matthew and his treasures for company.
Death picked up Arthur’s crown and put it on his own head. “That’s mine,” Arthur protested, “I’m not dead yet.”
“You might as well be,” Death laughed as he also grabbed his sword, “Hey Arthur,” he used it to point out the faces that had started to gather around Arthur’s bed, representing all of his good and bad deeds, “Do you remember this?”
And he continued, on and on, pointing out each incident and forcing Arthur to remember it, one by one.
“I don’t know!” Arthur denied everything, “I don’t remember! Music! Something, anything to drown him out!” but Death cackled and continued, “Matthew!” he shouted at the lifeless machine, “Sing! Sing for me! Please, I’m begging you!” But Matthew just sat there, silent as ever.
Just as Arthur was starting to despair, a soft melody floated in from the open window. On the tree just outside sat Alfred, singing a song full of life and hope. As he grew louder, the faces around Arthur’s bed vanished and Arthur felt his strength returning.
“Again,” Death demanded when Alfred finished his song, “Sing something else.”
“Can I have the King’s sword and crown?” he asked as he jumped through the window and landed just in front of Death, eyes full of not fear but determination.
“Of course, I’m just as awesome without them,” he said as he handed them over.
And so Alfred started singing. He sang of a faraway land, full of fierce battles and noble kings and baby chickens. He sang of this land until Death started to feel homesick and floated away, leaving Arthur behind.
“Thank you,” Arthur said as Alfred approached his bedside, “Alfred, thank you. You came back. You left, left me behind and all alone but, after all this time, you came back and you got rid of death for me.”
“Lili told me you were sick,” Alfred admitted, “I wanted to come and sing for you again. And I… missed you.”
“How can I ever repay you?”
“You already have,” Alfred gently cupped his cheek, “Now sleep. Sleep and get better. I’ll sing for you.”
As Alfred sang, Arthur found himself lulled into a gentle, peaceful sleep, the first he’d had in years.
When he woke up the next morning he found himself alone in his room, save for Matthew, who was silent as ever in his corner, and Alfred, slumbering quietly at his bedside. Arthur sat up, his strength returned, and tried to get out of bed without waking Alfred. He failed, as Alfred slowly blinked his eyes open and yawned as he woke as well.
“You’re looking a lot better,” he smiled and stood up as he caught sight of Arthur.
“Thanks to you,” Arthur walked over to the other side of the bed and placed a hand on his arm, “Stay with me. Please.”
Alfred shook his head and pulled Arthur’s hand away, “I can’t.”
“Please,” Arthur practically begged, gripping his hand tight, “I need you. Please stay. You can sing only when you want to. I’ll get rid of Matthew, just please-”
“Don’t do that,” he looked over at Matthew, “I didn’t like him at first, but he did as well as he could for as long as he could. You should keep him. He’s not the reason I can’t stay.”
“Then why?”
Alfred started stroking the hand he still held with his thumb, “I don’t do well in stone walls,” Arthur made to tug his hand away, but Alfred held firm, “But, will you let me come back whenever I want?”
“Yes,” he smiled, “Yes of course you can.”
“Then I’ll come back at night, through that window,” he nodded towards it, “and I will sing to you and make you happy again. I’ll travel all over and come back and tell you about what I see, what I hear. I’ll sing to you about what’s going on in your land, so you’ll always know and you’ll never be in the dark. I’ll come back and I’ll sing for you, I only ask for one thing.”
“Everything,” Arthur leaned his forehead against Alfred’s and closed his eyes, “Anything you want. It’s yours.”
“Just don’t tell anyone about your little bird,” Alfred tilted his head so their lips touched. As soon as Arthur realized what had happened Alfred had pulled away. He opened his eyes in time to see him jump out the window he came in through and vanish into the garden.
As Arthur went about getting ready for the rest of the day, Hong came in, fully expecting to see the dead body of his King, and stopped in his tracks when instead he found him up and about, healthiest he’d been in months.
Arthur caught sight of him and smiled, “Well good morning to you too.”