Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
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reCAPTCHA: be hippies. Wut?
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Matthew kept his head hung as he walked away from his father’s study, trying not to think about anything other than his upcoming expedition. That would be interesting at least. There was no guarantee that he would find what he was looking for, but it was only a week, and he would be gone from this place.
“Oh, hi Matt!”
Matthew was shaken from his thoughts by the voice and spotted his brother passing by him in the hall.
“Hey! Wait a minute!” Matthew shouted, and Alfred froze. He turned around slowly, a guilty look on his face, like a small child caught doing something naughty.
“Al, where have you been?” Matthew snapped. “Dad’s been asking for you!”
Alfred blinked; he hadn’t expected this. “What, what?” Alfred stared. “Since when?”
“Don’t you ever pay attention to anything?” Matthew was shouting now, at the end of his rope. “He send for you about an hour ago! He even thought I was you, again, when I went to ask him for something!”
“Really?” Alfred bit his lip. “I’ll go talk to him.”
Matthew folded his arms. “You’d better. He’s in his study with Francis right now. He didn’t sound very happy when I left.”
The younger prince stomped off, fuming. Alfred chewed his lip as he walked to his father’s study, and hesitated when he reached the heavy wooden door. Alfred raised a hand to knock, hesitated, and opened the door quietly slipping inside.
“Dad, it’s me,” he said, loud enough for his father to hear him, and shutting the door behind him.
Arthur turned his head and saw his son. “You must call me Father.” Arthur instructed, as if Alfred were a pupil and not a son. “You must always address others by their proper title.”
“Yes Father,” Alfred said, trying not to put any sarcasm into his words.
Arthur motioned with his hand, signaling Alfred that he should come closer. The prince walked over and knelt down on one knee, bringing him down below Arthur’s eye level. His father had told him that the purpose of this was to prepare him for the day he would become king. It was important to learn all the formalities and rituals, the nuances of etiquette and politics.
This had been a recent change. Generally, Arhtur had been more relaxed with his sons. Alfred remembered Arthur saying that spending time with his sons was important. Then, without any sort of prior warning, Arthur had apparently decided to suddenly start sticking strictly to formalities. When Alfred tried asking the reason for the sudden change, Arthur simply said that was none of his concern and that he should focus on his studies and do as he was told. Arthur behaved as if things had always been this way, rather than starting abruptly.
“Francis, you may leave,” Arthur said, without looking at the other man. Francis stood up, and left, not saying a word. When the door closed again, it was as if he had never been there.
“I’m disappointed in you, Alfred.”
Alfred’s expression didn’t change.
“I called for you and you failed to come.” Arthur continued. “Do you understand what it means to rule?”
“Yes Father,” Alfred replied automatically.
Arthur was unconvinced. “You cannot simply waltz in and out whenever you feel like it. Demands will be made of you, sometimes at inconvenient times, and if you cannot meet those demands then you will be a weak, useless king. Do you understand?”
“Yes Father.”
Arthur glowered. “Are you paying attention to me at all?”
“Yes Father.”
“Then repeat what I just told you.”
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Alfred brace himself, shoulders tensed and locked, but Arthur remained still.
“At least you were paying attention this time,” Arthur rubbed his forehead, eyes narrowed. He fell silent, turning green eyes to the window, apparently forgetting Alfred was there.
“Did you need me for something?” Alfred prompted, his voice steady.
When Arthur spoke he sounded exhausted already. “No, not anymore. However, you should never again arrive late when I call you, is that understood?”
Alfred had been thinking of sneaking back into the city tomorrow, but knew he would risk being missed if he did so. His father had become rather more... strict when it came to ensuring Alfred followed the rules. Not that the boy had necessarily been allowed to run free before (not that rules had ever stopped him), but now -
But he didn’t care what his father would say or do if he found out; Alfred wasn’t going to give up his new secret freedom.
“Yes Father.”
---
The sun had set two hours ago and Matthew was getting sleepy.
Alone in his room, he changed into his bedclothes, keeping his thoughts firmly on forming a checklist for the things he would need tomorrow. He would take a map, even though he already knew his destination, food rations for the men and horses, tents...
He collapsed onto his bed, grateful for warm sheets and a soft pillow. Today had not been a very good day, and now all he wanted was to sleep.
There was a loud knock on the door. Matthew rubbed his forehead. “You can come in, Al.”
The door opened and Alfred walked in. He was wearing blue silk pajamas and a worried expression.
“Hey,” Alfred closed the door behind him. “I, uh, just wanted to ask if everything’s okay.”
Matthew stared at a space to the left of Alfred’s head. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Alfred shuffled his feet, and wouldn’t look Matthew in the eye. “Look, I know Dad... he can be kind of...” he waved his hands around in vague gestures as he tried to gather his words.
“You’re his favorite, I know,” Matthew said, before he could stop himself.
“That’s not true!” Alfred objected. “He loves you too!”
Matthew traced little circled on the sheets, pretending his brother wasn’t there. He dimly registered that Alfred had come to sit down on the bed next to him.
“Hey, do you remember, when we were kids, we would play Knights and Dragons?”
The corner of Matthew’s lip twitched, just a little. “Yeah, and you would always insist on being the knight. You kept slaying me.”
“Don’t look like that, it was fun!” Alfred persisted, trying to think of a way to make his brother smile. “You were an awesome dragon! You got the roar down just right, and...” he trailed off, noting that his brother was still had his head hung, and wouldn’t look up at him.
Alfred hated this kind of silence. He always felt that he had to say something, but didn’t know what that was, and if he got it wrong he would just make everything worse.
“I’m going on another expedition tomorrow,” Matthew murmured quietly, as if hoping Alfred wouldn’t hear.
He did. His face fell. “Really? Again?” Matthew nodded. “How long are you going to be gone this time?”
“About a week,” Matthew said, as if he wasn’t really interested.
Alfred cheered up a little. “That’s not too bad. But you have to bring back something cool for me!” Alfred groaned. “Man, I’m so jealous. You get to travel to all these awesome places while Dad keeps me penned up in the castle.”
Matthew, while he would never say such a thing to his twin, hated when Alfred talked like that. He hated it when he talked about the future, or about their kingdom, because he didn’t seem to understand what it meant. He knew why Arthur kept his elder son locked in the castle, even if Alfred couldn’t see why himself. He was the one being groomed to become the next king, and that made him important. Matthew was a backup, useful only if his brother died, because there could never be two kings.
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Matthew’s eyes flicked up to look at his brother, but quickly glanced away again.
“...Love you too,” he murmured, a tight little knot in his chest unclenching just a tiny bit.
Alfred smiled. He sat up and held out and arm, holding an imaginary sword. “Hark!” He shouted, “The evil dragon hath come to terrorize the castle!”
Matthew’s smile faltered a little. “It’s getting late, Al.”
“It’ll be fun!” Alfred persisted. Then he gave his brother Big Blue Puppy Eyes - a skill he had nearly perfected. “Pretty please?”
Matthew sighed. He sat up and curled his fingers as if they were claws. “Roar!” he said, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
“Oh no!” Alfred cried, in apparent despair. “What a terrifying dragon!”
In spite of himself, Matthew smiled a little more. “Roar!” he repeated, with more feeling this time.
“You can do better than that~” Alfred teased.
This time, Matthew roared. It was a good roar.
Alfred’s grin widened. “Take this, foul beast!”
Alfred mock-stabbed his brother, who flailed theatrically.
“Oh no!” Matthew feigned terror. “I have been slain!”
Alfred threw his arms in the air, reveling in his triumph. “The evil dragon hath been slain!” He exclaimed, earning a giggle from Matthew. Alfred relaxed, grateful that the unease between them had disappeared.
“You’d better have fun on your trip, okay?” Alfred ordered, his smile glowing.
“Alright,” Matthew said, giving his brother a playful shove. “Just don’t do anything too stupid while I’m gone.”
“Hey! When have I ever done anything stupid?”
“Well... there was that one time when you tried to start a food fight while Dad was having a fancy dinner with some foreign ambassadors.”
“Okay, but I was, what, six?”
“And there was that thing with the trebuchet and the oranges.”
“C’mon, that wasn’t so bad! And everything smelled nice afterwards!”
“And you tried to ‘surprise’ Francis once.”
“That was his fault!”
“And that time when you asked that one noble lady about - ”
“Fine,” Alfred huffed. “I get your point.”
Alfred jumped off the bed and skipped to the door. He turned and waved at his brother.
“G’night Matt!”
Alfred shut the door behind him. It was quite again, without Alfred’s boisterous presence to disturb the sleepy silence. Alfred seemed to take all the cheer with him. Matthew curled up under the sheets, and tried not to dream.
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He remembered that very well. He kept slipping and falling as he tried to scramble up the stone steps, the frozen wind biting at his nose and wrists, at any skin that was left exposed. The blowing snow made him almost blind, threatened to knock him over at any moment, dragging him down and back, keep him away from his goal.
But he pressed on, fueled by a dark furnace in his chest. He could still see them in his mind’s eye, storming into his village, burning his home, shining steel weapons cutting down his neighbors and friends and everyone he knew. Then those that were left were beaten and humiliated, except for the women, who were taken away somewhere else and then they did things to them.
No one knew who the invaders were or where they came from. They had come so suddenly and struck so swiftly there was no chance to resist. They took what they wanted and they did what they liked, and no one did anything about it. But he could still remember what had come before. He could remember his mother, insisting that he wear the mittens she knitted for him, even if they itched. He could remember his big sister fussing over him in a manner that echoed their mother, checking that he stayed warm. He would remember his little sister, quietly holding onto his hand, silently inventing some new game for them to play together.
And they were gone, stolen away. He didn’t even know if they were still alive. And so his hate and rage festered in him. He knew what he wanted to do was wrong, and he didn’t care anymore. Why should he worry about what was right or wrong, then these people did what they wanted, without regard to morals themselves? He hated them with all his heart, and he would do anything to be rid of them.
The temple sat at the top of the hill, a blotch of black against a world of white. He doubled his efforts, struggling harder now that his goal was in sight. But when he did reach the summit, trembling from the chill and a growing fear, he was no longer alone. The god of the temple took the appearance of the ghost of an old man, robbed in black and chained.
Winter regarded the small child staring up at him with equal parts terror and defiance, before speaking in a voice like march of glaciers:
I know what it is you want.
That had been twelve years ago. The child grew up, but could never forget.
Alone, he watched the sun set.
When dawn arrived so did awareness. He dressed himself and left.
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This time he had left the money behind, but brought along a map ‘borrowed’ from the library, and after another idea struck him, brought a pencil and paper with him as well. This time he didn’t wander the city, preferring instead to find one place to sit and just watch.
He found the prefect place to perch himself in the middle of a square, at the intersection of four major roads. There was a fountain in the middle of the square, and no one even looked in his direction as he sat down. He crossed his legs and glanced around the square: he vaguely recognized his particular place, or at least the fountain looked familiar. He couldn’t be sure, everything looked different from above.
Regardless, he was content to sit and look around. There were lots of people here, milling around, speaking to friends, doing... whatever it was ordinary people did. It was almost surreal for him to look all the activity around him and their their voices and realize they were his people. And there were so many of them. There were a number of children playing with a hoop, while their mothers chattered. There was a pair of men - possibly businessmen of some kind, discussing something in low voices. There were a number of watchmen, identifiable from their uniforms of blue leather and chain-mail, wandering around, trying to look intimidating. Then there was a man in a blue and white coat, carrying an ivory staff -
Alfred recognized him immediately. It was the sorcerer from yesterday!
Some force that may have been blind enthusiasm propelled him from a seated position to the sorcerer’s side before Alfred could completely register that he had moved. The sorcerer was rather surprised to suddenly see the boy standing by his side.
“What are you doing here?” The sorcerer asked. He was smiling, but it wasn’t a very friendly smile.
“See? I’m not dead yet!” Alfred gloated. “And you were all oooh, keep in mind that such ‘excursions’ don’t always end well! Ha! Take that!”
The sorcerer was not amused.
“I see you are the stubborn type.”
“What, you thought you had spooked me that much?” Alfred said, smirking.
“No,” the sorcerer admitted, “but I had hoped you had more sense than this.”
“I’ve already been here an hour and nothing bad has happened,” Alfred pointed out. “So I’m already doing better than yesterday.” He made a face. “Are you going to lecture me or something now?”
The sorcerer sighed. “I suspect you wouldn’t listen to me if I did.”
“Damn straight.”
“Not even if I said there is a high probability that you will be robbed?” Ivan said, tapping the end of his ivory staff against the cobbles. “That helpless expression of yours almost begs to be assaulted.”
“Nah, I think I’ll do fine,” Alfred said, trying not to imagine himself laying unconscious in the middle of some dark alley somewhere. “And I am not helpless!”
“So what would have happened to you yesterday had I not been there to keep you from having your limbs ripped off?” The sorcerer asked, smiling now.
“I would have thought of something!” Alfred protested, his imagination running wild now. “But I’m okay now! That’s the important thing! I’m not going to run home, and nothing you say will change that!”
The sorcerer shrugged. “Good luck.”
“Hey, what’s your name?” Alfred asked, suddenly changing the subject. “I’ve never been outside the city, but I do know that people have names in other countries. ...Don’t look at me like that!”
The sorcerer considered Alfred for a moment. What he saw was a young man - or more of a boy, really - who couldn’t keep his mouth shut, naive enough to think he would survive in a strange city on his own, probably couldn’t reason his way out of a paper bag, but was still endlessly curious about everything.
“My name is Ivan. And you?”
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Ivan’s smile didn’t so much as waver, but his voice was coated with frost. “Why are you assuming that I am your tour guide?”
Alfred shrugged. “I dunno. I thought that since you’re not from around here, and I don’t know the city very well, we could both go and check it out.”
“What makes you think I’d agree to something like that?”
“C’moooon, it’ll be fun!”
“You don’t even know who I am.”
Alfred shrugged again. “You seem okay. Even if you are a bit of a prick.”
“And you’re an irritating brat.”
“I guess it works out then!”
“...You really should not be smiling this much.”
“I like smiling. I think my smile looks good.”
“I’m sure you practice every day by standing in front of a mirror and smile at yourself.”
“Wait, what - no!”
“If you insist.”
“This is what I meant when I said you were kind of a prick.”
“I treat others only as they deserve to be treated.”
Alfred stuck out his tongue, and Ivan gave him an “I Am Not At All Impressed” look.
“Is everyone a jerk where you’re from?” Alfred asked, sulkily.
“No,” Ivan smiling again. “But our population of tiny annoying pests is very small.”
“What’s it like, your home?” Alfred asked, not rising to the bait. “Where are you from? Is it really different from here? What are the people like? Was there anything here you thought was weird? Or - oh, where did you learn magic, you’re a sorcerer, right? You must’ve learned it from somewhere. Oh, what’s - ”
Ivan listened to the boy rattle off an endless list of question. Alfred was looking up at him with bright eyes and his enthusiasm seemed endless. Something clicked then in Ivan’s head.
The boy admired him.
His thoughts stumbled, and it took him a moment to collect his thoughts before he could coherently respond to anything Alfred has said. “That’s, uh, a lot of questions.”
“Well, I guess you don’t have to answer them now,” Alfred shrugged. “You wanna explore the city?”
Ivan’s numb mind wasn’t quick enough to censor his response. “Uh, yes.”
“Great!” Alfred chirped, then pointed to something behind Ivan. “Let’s go check that out first!”
Alfred bolted before Ivan could say a word. The sorcerer resigned himself to looking after the kid. Just to make sure he didn’t get into any more trouble. Yes, that was it.
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And I'm so curious about the change in Arthur now... And-and Russia and America's interactions are so cute, especially when Russia realized the reason for Al's enthusiasm X3
Your writing is so excellent~ Thanks so much~
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