The Tower of Ice and Fog: Part 1
I've really wanted to start posting work to my journal for a while, but most of my fan fics are incomplete and strewn around my computer like half-eaten food, and most of my doodles just sort of sit back and laugh at me. Then there was this weird Fantasy AU thing, which I first wrote for the Hetalia Kink Meme, jumping around, waving its arms in the air, shouting "Oh, oh pick me! Pick me!"
It's not even complete yet. Mostly because this is going to be hideously long.
So, uh, yeah.
I hope everyone likes.
---
Title: The Tower of Ice and Fog [Part 1]
Author: Holy Spork
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Alfred (America), Matthew (Canada), Ivan (Russia), Arthur (England), Francis (France). Eventual Ivan/Alfred, implied Francis/Arthur.
Genre: Fantasy AU
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, innuendo, violence
Summary: Prince Alfred is restless, Prince Matthew is ignored, a nameless sorcerer kicks ass, and King Arthur and Francis engage in mostly meaningless banter. And there's a cat.
---
The Tower of Ice and Fog
---
Once upon a time, there were two little princes.
They were identical twins, two brothers. They lived in a kingdom in the North, in a land that was rich and beautiful, in a time of peace and fortune. Their lives were blessed.
And so the two little princes grew up.
The elder brother was a proud and charismatic young man, beloved by his father and his people. He was strong and brave, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he would be the one to inherit the throne from his father.
This was how things were. The future was certain, and the world turned.
---
Starting a journey by tripping over a poorly laid paving stone and landing face-first was probably not a good idea.
Alfred cursed as he got onto all fours, hoping his nose wasn’t broken. Passers by were staring down at him with a mixture of distaste, pity, and worry, probably wondering who this klutzy fool was. Alfred, in turn, tried to keep his face turned away from the crowd.
Already he was starting to think running away was a bad idea. Not that he had planned to really run away. He was planning to go back. Eventually.
However, it was staring to occur to him that maybe not wearing his glasses was a bad idea as well. He had been hoping he wouldn’t be as easy to recognize without them, but if he couldn’t see where he was going then he might as well go ahead and stumble his way back to the castle. He had been gone for only a few minutes, he was sure if he were careful no one would ever know he had sneaked out.
Alfred got to his feet, and looked up.
There were people - his people, now that he thought about it - walking by him, going about their lives. All around him was a city he had always seen but never known. Above him was the sky.
He kept walking.
---
Once upon a time, there were two little princes.
The younger brother was a quiet boy. Easily ignored or overlooked, sometimes he was forgotten entirely, by his brother, his father, and his people. He was no less talented than his elder brother, but stood forever in his shadow.
His future was less certain. But the world continued to turn, indifferent to those left behind.
---
The library was quiet. Libraries usually were. Quietness is a universal characteristic of libraries.
Which, Matthew supposed, was why he spent so much time in one. The castle’s library was a place where he could get away from the rest of the world. Away from the part of the world that constantly judged him.
Wherever he went, whoever he spoke to, he was always compared to his brother. He’s quieter than his brother, isn’t he? He’s plainer than Alfred, don’t you think? He’ doesn’t quite have his older brother’s energy or charm, does he? Because, according to the rest of the world, he was just a quiet, boring, easily overlooked extension of Alfred.
Matthew tried not to think about such things. For now, he had his nose buried in a particularly interesting book. Every so often the silence of the library would be briefly disturbed by the rustle of paper as a page was turned, but beyond that the silence remained unbroken.
He took a quick peek over the top of his book, and saw the cute librarian’s assistant putting away books on a shelf just ten feet away from where he was sitting. She was a dark skinned girl (she must have immigrated here from the South, Matthew thought), with her black hair pulled back into two pigtails, and tied with red ribbon.
She looked over her shoulder, and spotted Matthew looking at her. After a pause, possibly in which she remembered who this individual was, she gave a polite curtsey.
“Good day, my lord.”
“H-hi,” Matthew said, smiling nervously. He was always worried that he would bore people. Being a prince meant that he always received some attention, but as he was not his brother (Matthew tried not to think like that) that attention did not necessarily stay. He tried to think of something interesting to say. He glanced down at the book in his hand.
“Um...” Matthew began. “D-did you know that there’s a kind of magic that works by connecting a person to an object, so that the object can read a person’s thoughts and emotions?”
“No I didn’t, my lord,” the girl said, politely.
Matthew latched onto this. “It’s really interesting! It works by enchanting an object, then keeping that object close to whoever is connected to it. It’s useful because it doesn’t take up any energy, no other preparation, and it can be used instantly - ”
The girl nodded, more out of courtesy to the prince than out of actual interest.
“And it’s supposed to be good for emergencies,” Matthew continued, “like if the user is incapacitated, then the object can kind of act on its own, it can sort of figure out what it needs to do based on the user’s condition, and... and...”
He trailed off, noticing that the librarian’s assistant wasn’t really listening to him anymore.
She took advantage of his silence. “I’m very sorry, my lord,” the librarian’s assistant curtsied, “but I must return to my work.”
“Oh... okay, then,” Matthew’s voice faltered, and he watched the librarian’s assistant walk away without another word.
Blushing with embarrassment, he buried himself back in his book.
---
Alfred had been in the city for fifteen minutes and already he was hopelessly lost. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of finding a map before he left the castle; of course he wouldn’t be able to find his way around a city he had never set foot in. The rows and rows of buildings looked so different, and so much bigger than they did from the castle windows.
Alfred kept his head hung, avoiding eye contact with everyone he passed. He was worried that he if looked up, someone would recognize him, then he would be sent back to the castle, and then he knew his father would come and confront him and ask, why did you leave the castle, you know you’re not allowed to leave.
He gritted his teeth and tried not to think about his father.
He stopped walking suddenly when he came across building slightly larger than those around it. Most of the buildings looked exactly the same to him, but there were a number of people gathered inside this one. There were people sitting alone or in groups around tables, and most of them had glasses or mugs sitting in front of them. Without his glasses he couldn’t read the name on the sign, but correctly guessed what this was: a bar.
He stared through the front window at the scene inside. He had partly expected it to be a grungy little dump, but inside it appeared to be clean and orderly. There would be people talking and gossiping inside. He could listen without being intrusive.
When he opened the door a bell jingled, startling Alfred. No one seemed to notice, so he slunk in and occupied the sole open seat at the bar. He didn’t like feeling so jittery, but what if people recognized him? Okay, so maybe walking into a crowded room was tempting fate, but he wanted to know -
“Did you want something?”
Alfred looked up at the bartender, a small man with brown hair and eyes. The bartender stared at Alfred for a moment, apparently deep in thought.
“Are you old enough to be here?” The bartender asked.
“Um...” Alfred hesitated. Was there an age limit for being in a certain place? Was that normal?
The bartender shrugged, maybe picking up on Alfred’s uncertainty. “Ve - it’s okay for you to be here, just don’t order anything with alcohol in it. Watchmen visit my place too, and I don’t want to get into trouble.”
“Okay, uh, I won’t then,” Alfred said, feeling a little stupid.
He barely had time to rid himself of the thought when he heard a deep rumble behind him.
“You.”
Alfred turned around and looked up into a face that could have belonged to a disagreeable and unhygienic ape.
“You’re in my spot,” growled the unpleasant man. “I always sit here.”
“I didn’t see your name on it,” Alfred said, turning away.
The unpleasant man’s frown deepened.
“Move. Now.”
Alfred didn’t even look up at the man. Until he felt a large hand clamp down on his shoulder, was lifted bodily into the air, and found himself at eye level with the angry red face of the unpleasant man.
“I don’t like cheek,” he growled.
It occurred to Alfred then, while hanging a foot in the air, that perhaps he was in a bit of trouble.
“Just leave the kid alone.”
The unpleasant man turned his head. The one who had spoken, another man sitting further down the bar. He had a glass of clear liquid in one hand, a white scarf around his neck, and bright violet eyes which were locked on Alfred and the unpleasant man. Next to him was an elegantly carved ivory staff leaning against the bar, identifying him as a sorcerer.
“The brat took my spot,” growled the unpleasant man.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t beat him up,” the sorcerer began, and Alfred’s heart sank, “but not in here. I’d like to drink in peace.”
The unpleasant man dropped Alfred, who landed with a thud and an undignified yelp, before striding over to the sorcerer. The unpleasant man looked the sorcerer up and down, noting the white fur hat and the embroidered blue and white coat, neither of which were common in this region. And the sorcerer’s accent may have been a clue as well.
“You’re foreign, aren’t you?”
The sorcerer swirled his drink, and didn’t look up.
“I don’t like foreigners.”
The sorcerer continued to ignore him. At the other side of the room the bartender was whispering nervously to a blond-haired bouncer.
“Hey!” the unpleasant man snapped, “I’m talking to you!”
He grabbed the sorcerer by the shoulder -
Approximately ten seconds later the unpleasant man was laying face down on the floor, moaning in pain, his right arm apparently broken. The sorcerer dug the heel of his boot into the small of his victim’s back. The sorcerer was smiling serenely.
“I do hope we understand each other now,” he said, apparently oblivious to the unpleasant man’s moans of pain.
“You,” said the blond bouncer, coming up behind the sorcerer, but while maintaining a safe distance. “I’ll have to ask you to leave. And you too, sir,” he added, addressing the unpleasant man, who didn’t answer.
The sorcerer dropped a couple of coins onto the bar, before walking out without another word, and all of the eyes in the bar followed him out. The bouncer had to drag the unpleasant man out. Alfred got to his feet, stunned by what he had seen.
“Are you okay, sir?” the bartender asked Alfred nervously, wringing his hands. “You didn’t get hurt, did you? Veve - I hate it when people fight in here!”
“I’m okay,” Alfred said automatically, staring after the sorcerer. Without another word he took off after him. Several seconds later, the sorcerer, hearing footsteps behind him, turned, looked down, and saw a young man staring up at him in awe, shaking with boyish excitement.
He frowned down at Alfred. “What do you want?”
“Th-that was amazing!” Alfred chirped, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. “You beat that guy up like he was nothing! Where’d you learn to do that?”
A pause.
“Goodbye.”
“Wait!”
Alfred ran after the sorcerer. “Don’t go! There’s so much I want to ask you!”
“I’m not here to amuse you,” the sorcerer said, picking up his pace a little, as if trying to outrun Alfred without actually running.
“C’mon, just a couple of questions?” Alfred pleaded.
The sorcerer stopped walking abruptly, which meant that Alfred ran into him. Before he could get his bearings he felt a hand grab his shoulder and slam him into the nearest wall. Only after he regained his bearings did he see that the sorcerer was now holding a small leather bag in one hand.
“H-hey!” Alfred snapped. “That’s mine!”
The sorcerer opened the pouch and took a look inside, and noted that it was full of bright gold coins. He made an unimpressed sound, before tossing the wallet back to Alfred, who caught it, fumbled, and caught it again.
“You’re lucky no one back in the bar saw that.” the sorcerer said. “I guess you’re the sheltered son of some nobleman, correct?”
Alfred froze.
“You’re not the first to try running away to the city to see what life there was like. Keep in mind that such excursions don’t always end well. Now go home.”
The sorcerer walked away, leaving Alfred behind. The runaway prince found himself unable to move or say a word. He leaned against the wall, slid down, and tried to figure out what to do next. He heard a meow and looked over to his left and spotted a gray alley cat staring at him.
“Hey,” he said, waving a little. The cat walked over, and Alfred reached out his hand, which the cat sniffed. It nuzzled his hand, and he asked, “How’s life?”
The cat meowed.
“Really?” Alfred perked up. “Congratulations!”
The cat meowed again, this time it was a harsher sound.
“Oh...”
He paused, and tried to think of something to say.
“I hope they’ll be cute, at least.”
The cat gave him a withering look. Then, apparently deciding that Alfred made poor company, it trotted off, tail in the air.
---
The king was tired.
He leaned back in his padded chair, staring out the window at his kingdom. He ran a hand through graying hair, and watched the world. Around him were shelves of dusty books carefully collected over the course of many years and lives. Anyone else could have spent hours exploring the room’s contents, but the king had no interest in such little things anymore. His thoughts rarely strayed far from the problems of the present or the uncertainties of the future, leaving room for little else.
“Is there anything you need, my lord?”
Arthur glance out of the corner of his eye. “Nothing that you can give me.”
The other man smiled, showing off perfectly white teeth. “Are you sure?” Francis asked, leaning in a little closer to his lord. “You seem rather distracted.”
“Probably because you keep bothering me,” Arthur snapped.
Francis chuckled, “I thought you liked it when I bothered you.”
“I neither know nor care what fantasies you choose to amuse yourself with,” Arthur crossed his arms, the faintest hint of a blush creeping onto his face. “just keep them to yourself. I’d prefer it if you did your job.”
“I could,” Francis replied, running a hand down the arm of Arthur’s chair. “I could advise you on the rituals and beliefs of the Eastern kingdoms, the ideal trading practices with the South, the nuances of the wars in the West,” He leaned closer, “Or - ”
“It’s a good thing that you do your job well,” Arthur interrupted, “otherwise I would find it necessary to dispose of you.”
Francis’ reply was cut short by the sound of the wood door behind them creaking open. The king turned in his chair and saw a young blond man standing nervously by the entrance.
“Alfred, it’s about time you came.”
“Um, sorry, I’m Matthew, Dad,” the prince said, in a quiet voice.
The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees. “Where’s your brother?”
“I don’t know,” Matthew admitted, shrugging. There was a nervous pause, then he added: “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No,” Arthur insisted, his frown deepening. “I really must see Alfred.”
Matthew hung his head. “...I’ll go see if I can find him.” Another pause. “But there’s something I wanted to ask you. See, I wanted to go on another expedition, but this time I should be gone for less than a week - ”
Arthur waved a hand dismissively. “Fine,” he said, still not looking at Matthew. “Take all the horsemen and supplies you need. If you see Alfred, send him straight to me, understand?”
Francis watched Matthew dart out of the room, his face blank.
“Matthew is a capable boy,” he said, not taking his eyes off the door.
“Quite,” Arthur shifted in his chair, “that’s why I trust him to take care of himself.”
“What about Alfred?”
“He is going to be the next king,” Arthur said, an edge to his voice, “so he needs all the guidance and instruction I can offer him, as I clearly will not be there to offer him any when he becomes king.”
Francis said nothing. He had more than once been reprimanded for ‘questioning the king’s judgment’, and had long since decided that there were some things he would not try to say. And Arthur wasn’t completely wrong, Alfred wouldn’t have his guidance when he became king, whenever that was.
“I see.”
It's not even complete yet. Mostly because this is going to be hideously long.
So, uh, yeah.
I hope everyone likes.
---
Title: The Tower of Ice and Fog [Part 1]
Author: Holy Spork
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Alfred (America), Matthew (Canada), Ivan (Russia), Arthur (England), Francis (France). Eventual Ivan/Alfred, implied Francis/Arthur.
Genre: Fantasy AU
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, innuendo, violence
Summary: Prince Alfred is restless, Prince Matthew is ignored, a nameless sorcerer kicks ass, and King Arthur and Francis engage in mostly meaningless banter. And there's a cat.
---
The Tower of Ice and Fog
---
Once upon a time, there were two little princes.
They were identical twins, two brothers. They lived in a kingdom in the North, in a land that was rich and beautiful, in a time of peace and fortune. Their lives were blessed.
And so the two little princes grew up.
The elder brother was a proud and charismatic young man, beloved by his father and his people. He was strong and brave, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he would be the one to inherit the throne from his father.
This was how things were. The future was certain, and the world turned.
---
Starting a journey by tripping over a poorly laid paving stone and landing face-first was probably not a good idea.
Alfred cursed as he got onto all fours, hoping his nose wasn’t broken. Passers by were staring down at him with a mixture of distaste, pity, and worry, probably wondering who this klutzy fool was. Alfred, in turn, tried to keep his face turned away from the crowd.
Already he was starting to think running away was a bad idea. Not that he had planned to really run away. He was planning to go back. Eventually.
However, it was staring to occur to him that maybe not wearing his glasses was a bad idea as well. He had been hoping he wouldn’t be as easy to recognize without them, but if he couldn’t see where he was going then he might as well go ahead and stumble his way back to the castle. He had been gone for only a few minutes, he was sure if he were careful no one would ever know he had sneaked out.
Alfred got to his feet, and looked up.
There were people - his people, now that he thought about it - walking by him, going about their lives. All around him was a city he had always seen but never known. Above him was the sky.
He kept walking.
---
Once upon a time, there were two little princes.
The younger brother was a quiet boy. Easily ignored or overlooked, sometimes he was forgotten entirely, by his brother, his father, and his people. He was no less talented than his elder brother, but stood forever in his shadow.
His future was less certain. But the world continued to turn, indifferent to those left behind.
---
The library was quiet. Libraries usually were. Quietness is a universal characteristic of libraries.
Which, Matthew supposed, was why he spent so much time in one. The castle’s library was a place where he could get away from the rest of the world. Away from the part of the world that constantly judged him.
Wherever he went, whoever he spoke to, he was always compared to his brother. He’s quieter than his brother, isn’t he? He’s plainer than Alfred, don’t you think? He’ doesn’t quite have his older brother’s energy or charm, does he? Because, according to the rest of the world, he was just a quiet, boring, easily overlooked extension of Alfred.
Matthew tried not to think about such things. For now, he had his nose buried in a particularly interesting book. Every so often the silence of the library would be briefly disturbed by the rustle of paper as a page was turned, but beyond that the silence remained unbroken.
He took a quick peek over the top of his book, and saw the cute librarian’s assistant putting away books on a shelf just ten feet away from where he was sitting. She was a dark skinned girl (she must have immigrated here from the South, Matthew thought), with her black hair pulled back into two pigtails, and tied with red ribbon.
She looked over her shoulder, and spotted Matthew looking at her. After a pause, possibly in which she remembered who this individual was, she gave a polite curtsey.
“Good day, my lord.”
“H-hi,” Matthew said, smiling nervously. He was always worried that he would bore people. Being a prince meant that he always received some attention, but as he was not his brother (Matthew tried not to think like that) that attention did not necessarily stay. He tried to think of something interesting to say. He glanced down at the book in his hand.
“Um...” Matthew began. “D-did you know that there’s a kind of magic that works by connecting a person to an object, so that the object can read a person’s thoughts and emotions?”
“No I didn’t, my lord,” the girl said, politely.
Matthew latched onto this. “It’s really interesting! It works by enchanting an object, then keeping that object close to whoever is connected to it. It’s useful because it doesn’t take up any energy, no other preparation, and it can be used instantly - ”
The girl nodded, more out of courtesy to the prince than out of actual interest.
“And it’s supposed to be good for emergencies,” Matthew continued, “like if the user is incapacitated, then the object can kind of act on its own, it can sort of figure out what it needs to do based on the user’s condition, and... and...”
He trailed off, noticing that the librarian’s assistant wasn’t really listening to him anymore.
She took advantage of his silence. “I’m very sorry, my lord,” the librarian’s assistant curtsied, “but I must return to my work.”
“Oh... okay, then,” Matthew’s voice faltered, and he watched the librarian’s assistant walk away without another word.
Blushing with embarrassment, he buried himself back in his book.
---
Alfred had been in the city for fifteen minutes and already he was hopelessly lost. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of finding a map before he left the castle; of course he wouldn’t be able to find his way around a city he had never set foot in. The rows and rows of buildings looked so different, and so much bigger than they did from the castle windows.
Alfred kept his head hung, avoiding eye contact with everyone he passed. He was worried that he if looked up, someone would recognize him, then he would be sent back to the castle, and then he knew his father would come and confront him and ask, why did you leave the castle, you know you’re not allowed to leave.
He gritted his teeth and tried not to think about his father.
He stopped walking suddenly when he came across building slightly larger than those around it. Most of the buildings looked exactly the same to him, but there were a number of people gathered inside this one. There were people sitting alone or in groups around tables, and most of them had glasses or mugs sitting in front of them. Without his glasses he couldn’t read the name on the sign, but correctly guessed what this was: a bar.
He stared through the front window at the scene inside. He had partly expected it to be a grungy little dump, but inside it appeared to be clean and orderly. There would be people talking and gossiping inside. He could listen without being intrusive.
When he opened the door a bell jingled, startling Alfred. No one seemed to notice, so he slunk in and occupied the sole open seat at the bar. He didn’t like feeling so jittery, but what if people recognized him? Okay, so maybe walking into a crowded room was tempting fate, but he wanted to know -
“Did you want something?”
Alfred looked up at the bartender, a small man with brown hair and eyes. The bartender stared at Alfred for a moment, apparently deep in thought.
“Are you old enough to be here?” The bartender asked.
“Um...” Alfred hesitated. Was there an age limit for being in a certain place? Was that normal?
The bartender shrugged, maybe picking up on Alfred’s uncertainty. “Ve - it’s okay for you to be here, just don’t order anything with alcohol in it. Watchmen visit my place too, and I don’t want to get into trouble.”
“Okay, uh, I won’t then,” Alfred said, feeling a little stupid.
He barely had time to rid himself of the thought when he heard a deep rumble behind him.
“You.”
Alfred turned around and looked up into a face that could have belonged to a disagreeable and unhygienic ape.
“You’re in my spot,” growled the unpleasant man. “I always sit here.”
“I didn’t see your name on it,” Alfred said, turning away.
The unpleasant man’s frown deepened.
“Move. Now.”
Alfred didn’t even look up at the man. Until he felt a large hand clamp down on his shoulder, was lifted bodily into the air, and found himself at eye level with the angry red face of the unpleasant man.
“I don’t like cheek,” he growled.
It occurred to Alfred then, while hanging a foot in the air, that perhaps he was in a bit of trouble.
“Just leave the kid alone.”
The unpleasant man turned his head. The one who had spoken, another man sitting further down the bar. He had a glass of clear liquid in one hand, a white scarf around his neck, and bright violet eyes which were locked on Alfred and the unpleasant man. Next to him was an elegantly carved ivory staff leaning against the bar, identifying him as a sorcerer.
“The brat took my spot,” growled the unpleasant man.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t beat him up,” the sorcerer began, and Alfred’s heart sank, “but not in here. I’d like to drink in peace.”
The unpleasant man dropped Alfred, who landed with a thud and an undignified yelp, before striding over to the sorcerer. The unpleasant man looked the sorcerer up and down, noting the white fur hat and the embroidered blue and white coat, neither of which were common in this region. And the sorcerer’s accent may have been a clue as well.
“You’re foreign, aren’t you?”
The sorcerer swirled his drink, and didn’t look up.
“I don’t like foreigners.”
The sorcerer continued to ignore him. At the other side of the room the bartender was whispering nervously to a blond-haired bouncer.
“Hey!” the unpleasant man snapped, “I’m talking to you!”
He grabbed the sorcerer by the shoulder -
Approximately ten seconds later the unpleasant man was laying face down on the floor, moaning in pain, his right arm apparently broken. The sorcerer dug the heel of his boot into the small of his victim’s back. The sorcerer was smiling serenely.
“I do hope we understand each other now,” he said, apparently oblivious to the unpleasant man’s moans of pain.
“You,” said the blond bouncer, coming up behind the sorcerer, but while maintaining a safe distance. “I’ll have to ask you to leave. And you too, sir,” he added, addressing the unpleasant man, who didn’t answer.
The sorcerer dropped a couple of coins onto the bar, before walking out without another word, and all of the eyes in the bar followed him out. The bouncer had to drag the unpleasant man out. Alfred got to his feet, stunned by what he had seen.
“Are you okay, sir?” the bartender asked Alfred nervously, wringing his hands. “You didn’t get hurt, did you? Veve - I hate it when people fight in here!”
“I’m okay,” Alfred said automatically, staring after the sorcerer. Without another word he took off after him. Several seconds later, the sorcerer, hearing footsteps behind him, turned, looked down, and saw a young man staring up at him in awe, shaking with boyish excitement.
He frowned down at Alfred. “What do you want?”
“Th-that was amazing!” Alfred chirped, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. “You beat that guy up like he was nothing! Where’d you learn to do that?”
A pause.
“Goodbye.”
“Wait!”
Alfred ran after the sorcerer. “Don’t go! There’s so much I want to ask you!”
“I’m not here to amuse you,” the sorcerer said, picking up his pace a little, as if trying to outrun Alfred without actually running.
“C’mon, just a couple of questions?” Alfred pleaded.
The sorcerer stopped walking abruptly, which meant that Alfred ran into him. Before he could get his bearings he felt a hand grab his shoulder and slam him into the nearest wall. Only after he regained his bearings did he see that the sorcerer was now holding a small leather bag in one hand.
“H-hey!” Alfred snapped. “That’s mine!”
The sorcerer opened the pouch and took a look inside, and noted that it was full of bright gold coins. He made an unimpressed sound, before tossing the wallet back to Alfred, who caught it, fumbled, and caught it again.
“You’re lucky no one back in the bar saw that.” the sorcerer said. “I guess you’re the sheltered son of some nobleman, correct?”
Alfred froze.
“You’re not the first to try running away to the city to see what life there was like. Keep in mind that such excursions don’t always end well. Now go home.”
The sorcerer walked away, leaving Alfred behind. The runaway prince found himself unable to move or say a word. He leaned against the wall, slid down, and tried to figure out what to do next. He heard a meow and looked over to his left and spotted a gray alley cat staring at him.
“Hey,” he said, waving a little. The cat walked over, and Alfred reached out his hand, which the cat sniffed. It nuzzled his hand, and he asked, “How’s life?”
The cat meowed.
“Really?” Alfred perked up. “Congratulations!”
The cat meowed again, this time it was a harsher sound.
“Oh...”
He paused, and tried to think of something to say.
“I hope they’ll be cute, at least.”
The cat gave him a withering look. Then, apparently deciding that Alfred made poor company, it trotted off, tail in the air.
---
The king was tired.
He leaned back in his padded chair, staring out the window at his kingdom. He ran a hand through graying hair, and watched the world. Around him were shelves of dusty books carefully collected over the course of many years and lives. Anyone else could have spent hours exploring the room’s contents, but the king had no interest in such little things anymore. His thoughts rarely strayed far from the problems of the present or the uncertainties of the future, leaving room for little else.
“Is there anything you need, my lord?”
Arthur glance out of the corner of his eye. “Nothing that you can give me.”
The other man smiled, showing off perfectly white teeth. “Are you sure?” Francis asked, leaning in a little closer to his lord. “You seem rather distracted.”
“Probably because you keep bothering me,” Arthur snapped.
Francis chuckled, “I thought you liked it when I bothered you.”
“I neither know nor care what fantasies you choose to amuse yourself with,” Arthur crossed his arms, the faintest hint of a blush creeping onto his face. “just keep them to yourself. I’d prefer it if you did your job.”
“I could,” Francis replied, running a hand down the arm of Arthur’s chair. “I could advise you on the rituals and beliefs of the Eastern kingdoms, the ideal trading practices with the South, the nuances of the wars in the West,” He leaned closer, “Or - ”
“It’s a good thing that you do your job well,” Arthur interrupted, “otherwise I would find it necessary to dispose of you.”
Francis’ reply was cut short by the sound of the wood door behind them creaking open. The king turned in his chair and saw a young blond man standing nervously by the entrance.
“Alfred, it’s about time you came.”
“Um, sorry, I’m Matthew, Dad,” the prince said, in a quiet voice.
The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees. “Where’s your brother?”
“I don’t know,” Matthew admitted, shrugging. There was a nervous pause, then he added: “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No,” Arthur insisted, his frown deepening. “I really must see Alfred.”
Matthew hung his head. “...I’ll go see if I can find him.” Another pause. “But there’s something I wanted to ask you. See, I wanted to go on another expedition, but this time I should be gone for less than a week - ”
Arthur waved a hand dismissively. “Fine,” he said, still not looking at Matthew. “Take all the horsemen and supplies you need. If you see Alfred, send him straight to me, understand?”
Francis watched Matthew dart out of the room, his face blank.
“Matthew is a capable boy,” he said, not taking his eyes off the door.
“Quite,” Arthur shifted in his chair, “that’s why I trust him to take care of himself.”
“What about Alfred?”
“He is going to be the next king,” Arthur said, an edge to his voice, “so he needs all the guidance and instruction I can offer him, as I clearly will not be there to offer him any when he becomes king.”
Francis said nothing. He had more than once been reprimanded for ‘questioning the king’s judgment’, and had long since decided that there were some things he would not try to say. And Arthur wasn’t completely wrong, Alfred wouldn’t have his guidance when he became king, whenever that was.
“I see.”