Fifteen Years - [3/??]
anonymous
August 9 2009, 08:10:43 UTC
"Alfred didn't offend the Princess by telling her a disgusting joke or making a ghastly comment about her dress," Arthur explained, and he looked as if he needed a good, long sip of one of those teas he was so fond of. "He turned down her hand in marriage."
"... Oh, dear."
"Oh dear doesn't even begin to cover it. The Princess is quite besotted with the brat and thus declared her intentions of marrying him. Not that I would have approved of the union in the first place," Arthur said dismissively, eyes narrowing at the thought of anyone running off with someone who could be called his son, "But there are other ways to turn down a marriage offer - all, I'm very sure, without having to spit out the best wine onto the fair lady's face in front of an audience."
"Oh."
"Yes."
...
...
"... I would safely assume that the dear prince didn't even bother apologizing?"
"You assume right. Cutting straight to the chase, you could say that the Princess was so humiliated by the turn of events that she immediately demanded compensation in the form of an apology - with the bonus of Alfred proposing to her."
Ivan covered his grin with his hand.
"Which you immediately refused."
"Which I immediately refused," Arthur confirmed. "Of course the Eastern Throne didn't take it too nicely, and started to take matters into their own hands. After negotiations went sour, well, the kidnapping attempts started."
BUGH
Ivan suddenly lurched sideways as something ran on to him from the right, said offender landing on his back when he was sprawled on the floor. Arthur jumped out of his seat from pure surprise.
"Ivan -"
"Foul sorcerer!" an unfamiliar voice rang out from that weight pinning him down, causing Ivan to push up from the floor and roll away, getting the pest off him, taking a crouched stance before blinking at the fool who dared tackle Ivan Braginski, Master Sorcerer of the Northern Winds.
And he looked again.
And again.
"Who are you?" was all he could manage, and the handsome young man in front of him glared expressively - bright blue eyes positively blazing behind those thinly-rimmed glasses, and golden hair like the sun; shifting when he did. He got to his feet quickly, showing off a build gained from years of hard training out in the sun, the tunic and breeches he wore only accentuating the muscles moving under all that fabric -
He didn't resemble the annoying pest Ivan dealt with fifteen years ago.
But as it was, the heavy signet ring dangling from a chain round his neck spoke loudly of his status: His Highness Alfred Fay Jones Kirkland, Crown Prince of the Britannia Kingdom, all around Nuisance of the Court and the Prick in his Ass, in the flesh.
Ivan suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to shield his shins.
"Alfred didn't offend the Princess by telling her a disgusting joke or making a ghastly comment about her dress," Arthur explained, and he looked as if he needed a good, long sip of one of those teas he was so fond of. "He turned down her hand in marriage."
"... Oh, dear."
"Oh dear doesn't even begin to cover it. The Princess is quite besotted with the brat and thus declared her intentions of marrying him. Not that I would have approved of the union in the first place," Arthur said dismissively, eyes narrowing at the thought of anyone running off with someone who could be called his son, "But there are other ways to turn down a marriage offer - all, I'm very sure, without having to spit out the best wine onto the fair lady's face in front of an audience."
"Oh."
"Yes."
...
...
"... I would safely assume that the dear prince didn't even bother apologizing?"
"You assume right. Cutting straight to the chase, you could say that the Princess was so humiliated by the turn of events that she immediately demanded compensation in the form of an apology - with the bonus of Alfred proposing to her."
Ivan covered his grin with his hand.
"Which you immediately refused."
"Which I immediately refused," Arthur confirmed. "Of course the Eastern Throne didn't take it too nicely, and started to take matters into their own hands. After negotiations went sour, well, the kidnapping attempts started."
BUGH
Ivan suddenly lurched sideways as something ran on to him from the right, said offender landing on his back when he was sprawled on the floor. Arthur jumped out of his seat from pure surprise.
"Ivan -"
"Foul sorcerer!" an unfamiliar voice rang out from that weight pinning him down, causing Ivan to push up from the floor and roll away, getting the pest off him, taking a crouched stance before blinking at the fool who dared tackle Ivan Braginski, Master Sorcerer of the Northern Winds.
And he looked again.
And again.
"Who are you?" was all he could manage, and the handsome young man in front of him glared expressively - bright blue eyes positively blazing behind those thinly-rimmed glasses, and golden hair like the sun; shifting when he did. He got to his feet quickly, showing off a build gained from years of hard training out in the sun, the tunic and breeches he wore only accentuating the muscles moving under all that fabric -
He didn't resemble the annoying pest Ivan dealt with fifteen years ago.
But as it was, the heavy signet ring dangling from a chain round his neck spoke loudly of his status: His Highness Alfred Fay Jones Kirkland, Crown Prince of the Britannia Kingdom, all around Nuisance of the Court and the Prick in his Ass, in the flesh.
Ivan suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to shield his shins.
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