The Last Romanov: Prologue
Title: The Last Romanov
Pairing:
Fandom: RPF Olympic
Rating: PG
Warnings: Real person fiction; Real person slash;
Summary: Royalty AU; A royal prince seeks a suitable bachelor.
Notes: Tell me what you think of this & If you want more (or not).
The sudden rush of light into the dark room is blinding. Heavy silk curtains thrown aside, the maids tie them in place with braided ropes.
"Your Majesty. It's noon."
From the pile of silk comforters on the bed comes an unintelligible grunt. Ignoring the sound of displeasure, a maid goes to each corner of the bed and lifts the comforter and sheets as one bundle, carrying it out of the room and leaving the still form of their prince in his bedclothes exposed.
"Your Majesty," His head manservant repeats, eyes expertly trained on the gold embossment on the wall opposite himself.
With a heavy sigh, the form rolls over, "Yeah. I'm up."
The servants file in, one after another, arms full of the royal wardrobe. He stands, arms out like a crucifixion, and lets himself be dressed.
"Today's the day."
The manservant nods, "Yes. Today is the day."
Crossing to the balcony, he pushes on the glass doors and steps out to stare across the expansive, silent grounds. The large white fountain in the center provides the only sound, water spurting from the mouths of the gods and cascading down into the main basin.
He can feel the presence of the servants at his back.
"Would you care for a late lunch, Your Majesty?"
He shakes his head then, turning away from the scene and going back inside, "No. Where's my father?"
"I should suspect he's in the formal receiving room with the Queen. Your guests will be here shortly."
He waves a hand in dismissal at the comment and leaves his chambers, "Well, tell them I'm in the garden. If they ask for me."
He bows his head, "Yes, Your Majesty."
Taking the grand stairs down two at a time, boot soles echoing off the marble steps, he makes his way out the main entrance and across the sand drive to the lawn, trimmed short and lush for the guests. Crossing to the fountain, he perches on the stone side and trails his fingers through cool water, looking up into the eyes of one of the robed goddesses.
"Today's the day."
And then, in the distance, at the end of the long manicured drive, he sees rising dust.
Pairing:
Fandom: RPF Olympic
Rating: PG
Warnings: Real person fiction; Real person slash;
Summary: Royalty AU; A royal prince seeks a suitable bachelor.
Notes: Tell me what you think of this & If you want more (or not).
The sudden rush of light into the dark room is blinding. Heavy silk curtains thrown aside, the maids tie them in place with braided ropes.
"Your Majesty. It's noon."
From the pile of silk comforters on the bed comes an unintelligible grunt. Ignoring the sound of displeasure, a maid goes to each corner of the bed and lifts the comforter and sheets as one bundle, carrying it out of the room and leaving the still form of their prince in his bedclothes exposed.
"Your Majesty," His head manservant repeats, eyes expertly trained on the gold embossment on the wall opposite himself.
With a heavy sigh, the form rolls over, "Yeah. I'm up."
The servants file in, one after another, arms full of the royal wardrobe. He stands, arms out like a crucifixion, and lets himself be dressed.
"Today's the day."
The manservant nods, "Yes. Today is the day."
Crossing to the balcony, he pushes on the glass doors and steps out to stare across the expansive, silent grounds. The large white fountain in the center provides the only sound, water spurting from the mouths of the gods and cascading down into the main basin.
He can feel the presence of the servants at his back.
"Would you care for a late lunch, Your Majesty?"
He shakes his head then, turning away from the scene and going back inside, "No. Where's my father?"
"I should suspect he's in the formal receiving room with the Queen. Your guests will be here shortly."
He waves a hand in dismissal at the comment and leaves his chambers, "Well, tell them I'm in the garden. If they ask for me."
He bows his head, "Yes, Your Majesty."
Taking the grand stairs down two at a time, boot soles echoing off the marble steps, he makes his way out the main entrance and across the sand drive to the lawn, trimmed short and lush for the guests. Crossing to the fountain, he perches on the stone side and trails his fingers through cool water, looking up into the eyes of one of the robed goddesses.
"Today's the day."
And then, in the distance, at the end of the long manicured drive, he sees rising dust.