(no subject)
Fandom: CSI
Warnings: AU
Author's note: This will not be continued. This is being posted as is.
There was something about the anonymity of crowds that allowed one to just vanish into seemingly thin air. Nicholas glanced back the way he'd come, trying to see if he really had lost the tracker his uncle had set on him. There was no sign of the man that had followed him out of the palace, so hopefully he had.
Nicholas sighed, double-checking to make sure his cloak was carefully tucked around him. It wasn't like his uncle, the Crown Regent, really needed him in the palace. After all, he wasn't even in the consideration for the throne, what with his brother hale and hearty and six months from ascending. There was always talk of assassination, but Nicholas knew that his brother Grey was a good man, and would make a great king.
He sighed again and turned his gaze upward, eying the battered sign hanging lopsidedly above the equally weather-beaten door. The sign, bearing what looked like a dead horned beat, declared the tavern The Dead Unicorn. Not exactly a fitting name for a tavern near the docks, but who was a prince to question the thoughts of the common people? Nicholas took a deep breath, pulled the cloak of his hood up, and was just about to push the door open when it opened.
The prince quickly stepped aside as a burly man tossed out a skinnier man, drunk from the smell of him. The drunk shouted slurs at the burly man's back as the man turned to go back into the pub. Nicholas glanced toward the drunk as he quickly followed.
The inside of the tavern looked just as beaten as the outside, the wooden walls, floor, and ceiling telling of a history of fights between the patrons of the alehouse. A glance toward the battered chairs, stools and tables gave a hint that the furniture of the place was frequently used in aforementioned fights.
For it being later afternoon, the place wasn't packed, but there was still a scattering of patrons, most around the tables, but a few, noticeably a young man huddled over a tankard and an old soldier trying to engage the younger man in conversation, were at the bar. Nicholas, deciding that the bar was as good a place as any to sit, approached and chose a stool halfway between the huddled young man and the old soldier. The young man barely spared him a glance, seeming to chose to stare into the depths of his ale, but the soldier saluted the prince with his own tankard. Nicholas offered a smile in return, and beckoned the barkeep over.
The barkeep turned out to be the burly man that had tossed the drunk out. "What's yer poison, boy?" The man's voice was rough, and the prince wondered if it had come from a lifetime of being on a ship or from soldiering.
Nicholas glanced over toward the soldier and jerked his head in that direction. "I'll have what he's having."
The young man snorted into his ale at the sound of Nicholas' clipped voice, the sound speaking reams of the prince's education. Nicholas glanced toward the young man and saw the young man boldly staring back from behind messy sun-bleached brown hair. The youth couldn't have been that much younger than him, but the brown skin spoke of a lifetime already spent at sea. And he wasn't that bad looking either. Before Nicholas could respond to the snort, the soldier did.
"Whatchu snortin' at, lad?" The soldier shook his finger warningly at the youth, and the youth's chocolate brown eyes left Nicholas's face and settled on the old warrior. Despite the tankard in front of him, there was no hint of drunkenness to the boy.
"'m snortin' at the newcomer wit' 'is fancy words." The youth drawled, taking a drink from his tankard. Mockingly, the youth saluted Nicholas with his tankard. "Ah'll 'ave what 'e's 'avin'."
Nicholas was thankful of the hood covering his face because he knew his face was burning at the mockery the youth was doing, but the boy didn't go further, choosing instead to slump back into silence and the depths of his tankard.
"Linnean." The soldier offered almost apologetically, as if it explained everything. "Or, at least, ancestors was one. Considerin'."
Nicholas glanced toward the soldier, then back to the youth in question. "…really?"
The soldier grunted agreement, then leaned in. "Know the histr'y of Linnea?"
"Child's tales." The youth spoke to his tankard.
Nicholas turned his attention back to the soldier. "I… know rumors…"
"'eard of the 'alteese Empire?" The youth said before the soldier could reply. "If'n rumors're ta be 'lieved, Linnea was destroyed by 'em."
"There were rumors about the queen escaping the same fate as the king…" Nicholas said carefully, trying to remember what his tutors had told him about the Halteese Empire's brutalities and conquered countries. The story of the small kingdom of Linnea had always seemed well-liked by his tutors; they were always bringing it up whenever discussing the Halteese Empire. The king of the country had been ruthlessly murdered, and, according to rumor, the queen, heavy with child, had escaped the brutal massacre with a trusted servant.
The youth stood up and drowned what was left of his ale. "Stories tol' ta give people 'ope." He commented, slamming his tankard down on the bar. "Queen died 'fore she gave birth. If'n ya 'lieve rumors." Having said this, the youth grabbed his duffel by the foot of his stool, tossed a bronze coin next to his empty tankard, and left. As Nicholas watched him go, he noticed the patrons giving the youth a wide berth. Almost as if they… were scared of him.
He turned to comment on this to the soldier and saw that the soldier had turned back to his ale.
"'e's always like that." The barkeep told Nicholas, shrugging. "T'e missus 'as a theory that the lad's got a bad rep for 'avin' a berth on t'e Dragon's Poison."
Nicholas glanced toward the door. "…The Dragon's Poison? The pirate ship?" Stories about that pirate ship, and its terrible captain, were almost as popular among his tutors as stories of the Halteese Empire.
"One an' t'e same." The barkeep nodded. "Kid always comes in whenever she docks. Name's Gregory, from what I kin gather." The keep sighed, and cleaned the abandoned tankard with a dirty cloth. "Poor kid."
Nicholas nodded, thinking that over. A pirate, huh? Well, a pirate, and subsequently a pirate ship, fit into the plans he'd made rather nicely. He got to his feet and tossed his own fare onto the bar. "Thanks."
He quickly headed out, wondering if he'd even catch up to the youth. He breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of a familiar messy-haired lad, visible even through the crowds. Force of habit made the prince check to make sure that his tracker still hadn't caught up before he plunged into the throng after his target.
Warnings: AU
Author's note: This will not be continued. This is being posted as is.
There was something about the anonymity of crowds that allowed one to just vanish into seemingly thin air. Nicholas glanced back the way he'd come, trying to see if he really had lost the tracker his uncle had set on him. There was no sign of the man that had followed him out of the palace, so hopefully he had.
Nicholas sighed, double-checking to make sure his cloak was carefully tucked around him. It wasn't like his uncle, the Crown Regent, really needed him in the palace. After all, he wasn't even in the consideration for the throne, what with his brother hale and hearty and six months from ascending. There was always talk of assassination, but Nicholas knew that his brother Grey was a good man, and would make a great king.
He sighed again and turned his gaze upward, eying the battered sign hanging lopsidedly above the equally weather-beaten door. The sign, bearing what looked like a dead horned beat, declared the tavern The Dead Unicorn. Not exactly a fitting name for a tavern near the docks, but who was a prince to question the thoughts of the common people? Nicholas took a deep breath, pulled the cloak of his hood up, and was just about to push the door open when it opened.
The prince quickly stepped aside as a burly man tossed out a skinnier man, drunk from the smell of him. The drunk shouted slurs at the burly man's back as the man turned to go back into the pub. Nicholas glanced toward the drunk as he quickly followed.
The inside of the tavern looked just as beaten as the outside, the wooden walls, floor, and ceiling telling of a history of fights between the patrons of the alehouse. A glance toward the battered chairs, stools and tables gave a hint that the furniture of the place was frequently used in aforementioned fights.
For it being later afternoon, the place wasn't packed, but there was still a scattering of patrons, most around the tables, but a few, noticeably a young man huddled over a tankard and an old soldier trying to engage the younger man in conversation, were at the bar. Nicholas, deciding that the bar was as good a place as any to sit, approached and chose a stool halfway between the huddled young man and the old soldier. The young man barely spared him a glance, seeming to chose to stare into the depths of his ale, but the soldier saluted the prince with his own tankard. Nicholas offered a smile in return, and beckoned the barkeep over.
The barkeep turned out to be the burly man that had tossed the drunk out. "What's yer poison, boy?" The man's voice was rough, and the prince wondered if it had come from a lifetime of being on a ship or from soldiering.
Nicholas glanced over toward the soldier and jerked his head in that direction. "I'll have what he's having."
The young man snorted into his ale at the sound of Nicholas' clipped voice, the sound speaking reams of the prince's education. Nicholas glanced toward the young man and saw the young man boldly staring back from behind messy sun-bleached brown hair. The youth couldn't have been that much younger than him, but the brown skin spoke of a lifetime already spent at sea. And he wasn't that bad looking either. Before Nicholas could respond to the snort, the soldier did.
"Whatchu snortin' at, lad?" The soldier shook his finger warningly at the youth, and the youth's chocolate brown eyes left Nicholas's face and settled on the old warrior. Despite the tankard in front of him, there was no hint of drunkenness to the boy.
"'m snortin' at the newcomer wit' 'is fancy words." The youth drawled, taking a drink from his tankard. Mockingly, the youth saluted Nicholas with his tankard. "Ah'll 'ave what 'e's 'avin'."
Nicholas was thankful of the hood covering his face because he knew his face was burning at the mockery the youth was doing, but the boy didn't go further, choosing instead to slump back into silence and the depths of his tankard.
"Linnean." The soldier offered almost apologetically, as if it explained everything. "Or, at least, ancestors was one. Considerin'."
Nicholas glanced toward the soldier, then back to the youth in question. "…really?"
The soldier grunted agreement, then leaned in. "Know the histr'y of Linnea?"
"Child's tales." The youth spoke to his tankard.
Nicholas turned his attention back to the soldier. "I… know rumors…"
"'eard of the 'alteese Empire?" The youth said before the soldier could reply. "If'n rumors're ta be 'lieved, Linnea was destroyed by 'em."
"There were rumors about the queen escaping the same fate as the king…" Nicholas said carefully, trying to remember what his tutors had told him about the Halteese Empire's brutalities and conquered countries. The story of the small kingdom of Linnea had always seemed well-liked by his tutors; they were always bringing it up whenever discussing the Halteese Empire. The king of the country had been ruthlessly murdered, and, according to rumor, the queen, heavy with child, had escaped the brutal massacre with a trusted servant.
The youth stood up and drowned what was left of his ale. "Stories tol' ta give people 'ope." He commented, slamming his tankard down on the bar. "Queen died 'fore she gave birth. If'n ya 'lieve rumors." Having said this, the youth grabbed his duffel by the foot of his stool, tossed a bronze coin next to his empty tankard, and left. As Nicholas watched him go, he noticed the patrons giving the youth a wide berth. Almost as if they… were scared of him.
He turned to comment on this to the soldier and saw that the soldier had turned back to his ale.
"'e's always like that." The barkeep told Nicholas, shrugging. "T'e missus 'as a theory that the lad's got a bad rep for 'avin' a berth on t'e Dragon's Poison."
Nicholas glanced toward the door. "…The Dragon's Poison? The pirate ship?" Stories about that pirate ship, and its terrible captain, were almost as popular among his tutors as stories of the Halteese Empire.
"One an' t'e same." The barkeep nodded. "Kid always comes in whenever she docks. Name's Gregory, from what I kin gather." The keep sighed, and cleaned the abandoned tankard with a dirty cloth. "Poor kid."
Nicholas nodded, thinking that over. A pirate, huh? Well, a pirate, and subsequently a pirate ship, fit into the plans he'd made rather nicely. He got to his feet and tossed his own fare onto the bar. "Thanks."
He quickly headed out, wondering if he'd even catch up to the youth. He breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of a familiar messy-haired lad, visible even through the crowds. Force of habit made the prince check to make sure that his tracker still hadn't caught up before he plunged into the throng after his target.