Untitled Glee Fantasy Project - Prologue: Flight (1/?)
Title: Untitled Glee Fantasy Project - Prologue: Flight
Author: GoldringI
Characters/Pairings: In this prologue: Quinn, Finn, Schuester (Pairings for overall story: Faberry, Brittana, possibly others later).
Rating: (15)/[PG-13/Light-R] (For violence)
Length: 968
Spoilers: N/A - A/U
Summary: Princess Quinn is forced to go on the run after her parents are murdered.
Author's Note(s): I haven't posted anything in a while because of procrastination on my part, for which I apologise. Basically, I was hoping to release some character sketches with accompanying pictures for this fic before posting anything of the fic itself, but I spent ages getting those character sketches and accompanying picture research to the person doing the pictures for me (he's a professional artist I know), and have no idea when he'll finish them; as such, and given that I just saw the Glee movie yesterday (verdict: good, but I think the automatic projectionist was out of whack, because the 3D was frequently way out), I decided to post this prologue whilst it's still August where I am.
It should be noted that this is going to be pretty slow burning, I'm mostly finished with the first chapter now, and out of the main pairings only Quinn has been seen so far, so please bear with me.
So, to the fic:
Prologue: Flight
“Run.”
That was the command. And when it’s given by the Captain of the Guard, who’s just broken down your bedroom door and grabbed you from your bed, pushing you towards the door shards before you can even don a pair of slippers, you obey.
You run.
Following him without question.
You knew this was coming, after all.
Three attempts on your Father’s life in the last year. It was only a matter of time before they attacked the castle itself.
You can’t believe they actually got in.
How did they get in?
Why are you running from them in your own home?
It doesn’t matter. They got in. You are running.
You turn a corner and run into two of them. The Captain’s blade guts one before he can blink; you catch the man’s sword as it falls from his grasp, and, with the most ladylike of twirls, slice the throat of the other, spraying the wall with the deep crimson of arterial blood.
You’ve never been more glad that you have no brothers for your Father to’ve trained in weaponcraft.
You’re going down, now, into the bowels of the castle. Towards the kitchens. Your heart sinks. You haven’t been down here in a year. Not since... No. No time for guilt.
Just run.
As fast as you can.
The two of you barrel into the kitchens. Empty, thank god.
As you run through, you spare a glance at the long table, scene of The Worst Thing You’ve Ever Done™.
(It was just... The Way her hair caught the candlelight...)
So the guilt comes anyway, but there’s no time for you to dwell on it, as the door you’re nearing opens to the tune of five attackers.
But the two of you have surprise, and momentum, which takes care of the first two. You slash the legs of the third; the Captain goes for the throat of the fourth. The fifth throws his weapon at you and then just blinks as you split him from heart to testes.
You continue to run, trying not to slip on the blood.
You mostly succeed.
You run into the open air, the small courtyard, used by the staff to bring goods into the castle.
You run through to the stables on the other side, and it’s only the Captain’s swift reactions that stop you from attacking the people there. The Captain’s Lieutenant is finishing saddling a horse, one of two, the other ready to continue their flight. He looks tired, and you try not to notice the dark liquid dripping from his hand. The two men with him look almost as bad.
The Captain thanks him as you mount your steed, then mounts his. You cast a glance to the men whilst spurring the horse into the courtyard.
“Thank you.”
It’s addressed to them all, the Captain included. They simply nod.
The Captain takes the lead as the two of you race out of the confines of the castle.
You think you hear shouting behind you, but neither of you look back.
The road is long, and hard. You have no idea where the Captain is taking you.
You wish you’d paid more attention during Royal visits to the countryside, instead of just smiling and waving and not really caring where you were travelling through as long as the staff at whatever country house you stayed at for the night knew what temperature you liked your bath.
Now, you simply hope that there will be a change of nightdress, and find yourself not really caring that there might not be.
You start to lose the adrenaline from the flight. Your body tires, and pain seeps in.
Your right foots feels more painful than your left. You wonder if it’s a splinter from your door.
It’s only that pain, sometimes catching on the stirrup, that keeps you awake.
The sky has turned from black to blue, dawn threatening to break out within the hour, when the Captain finally reigns in his horse. You draw up alongside him, and use what light there is to peruse the building he has pulled up at.
A small run-down priory.
It could be worse.
The Captain dismounts, motioning for you to stay on your horse as he enters the walled garden in front of the building.
He’s not gone long enough for you to start worrying. You’re too tired to worry anyway.
He reappears with a monk in tow, holding a lantern. He looks like a nice man. Earnest, at least. The Captain helps you down, keeping you held firmly in his arms.
The monk leads the two of you into his residence. He puts his lantern down on a table, and the Captain places you on a bench, before taking your hands and placing them in the monk’s.
“Princess Quinn, this is Fr. Schuester. You can trust him, Your Highness. He practically raised me, and I turned out alright.”
It feels the time for humour.
“Don’t forget that Ladysmaids do gossip, Captain.”
He grins that lopsided grin that apparently charms them so, and then becomes serious again.
“I must go back, my Lady. My men will need help retaking the castle.”
You both know that’s not going to happen.
You withdraw your right hand from Fr. Schuester’s, and grip the Captain’s arm tightly, putting your last ounce of strength into the act.
“Thank you, Hudson.”
“It was my duty, Your Highness. And my honour.”
He grips your arm just as tightly, and then places your hand back in the monk’s.
You can no longer keep your eyes open. You hear the monk say goodbye to the Captain.
Opening and shutting your heavy eyes one last time, you see the Captain nod to the monk.
You wonder if you’ll ever see him again.
Author: GoldringI
Characters/Pairings: In this prologue: Quinn, Finn, Schuester (Pairings for overall story: Faberry, Brittana, possibly others later).
Rating: (15)/[PG-13/Light-R] (For violence)
Length: 968
Spoilers: N/A - A/U
Summary: Princess Quinn is forced to go on the run after her parents are murdered.
Author's Note(s): I haven't posted anything in a while because of procrastination on my part, for which I apologise. Basically, I was hoping to release some character sketches with accompanying pictures for this fic before posting anything of the fic itself, but I spent ages getting those character sketches and accompanying picture research to the person doing the pictures for me (he's a professional artist I know), and have no idea when he'll finish them; as such, and given that I just saw the Glee movie yesterday (verdict: good, but I think the automatic projectionist was out of whack, because the 3D was frequently way out), I decided to post this prologue whilst it's still August where I am.
It should be noted that this is going to be pretty slow burning, I'm mostly finished with the first chapter now, and out of the main pairings only Quinn has been seen so far, so please bear with me.
So, to the fic:
Prologue: Flight
“Run.”
That was the command. And when it’s given by the Captain of the Guard, who’s just broken down your bedroom door and grabbed you from your bed, pushing you towards the door shards before you can even don a pair of slippers, you obey.
You run.
Following him without question.
You knew this was coming, after all.
Three attempts on your Father’s life in the last year. It was only a matter of time before they attacked the castle itself.
You can’t believe they actually got in.
How did they get in?
Why are you running from them in your own home?
It doesn’t matter. They got in. You are running.
You turn a corner and run into two of them. The Captain’s blade guts one before he can blink; you catch the man’s sword as it falls from his grasp, and, with the most ladylike of twirls, slice the throat of the other, spraying the wall with the deep crimson of arterial blood.
You’ve never been more glad that you have no brothers for your Father to’ve trained in weaponcraft.
You’re going down, now, into the bowels of the castle. Towards the kitchens. Your heart sinks. You haven’t been down here in a year. Not since... No. No time for guilt.
Just run.
As fast as you can.
The two of you barrel into the kitchens. Empty, thank god.
As you run through, you spare a glance at the long table, scene of The Worst Thing You’ve Ever Done™.
(It was just... The Way her hair caught the candlelight...)
So the guilt comes anyway, but there’s no time for you to dwell on it, as the door you’re nearing opens to the tune of five attackers.
But the two of you have surprise, and momentum, which takes care of the first two. You slash the legs of the third; the Captain goes for the throat of the fourth. The fifth throws his weapon at you and then just blinks as you split him from heart to testes.
You continue to run, trying not to slip on the blood.
You mostly succeed.
You run into the open air, the small courtyard, used by the staff to bring goods into the castle.
You run through to the stables on the other side, and it’s only the Captain’s swift reactions that stop you from attacking the people there. The Captain’s Lieutenant is finishing saddling a horse, one of two, the other ready to continue their flight. He looks tired, and you try not to notice the dark liquid dripping from his hand. The two men with him look almost as bad.
The Captain thanks him as you mount your steed, then mounts his. You cast a glance to the men whilst spurring the horse into the courtyard.
“Thank you.”
It’s addressed to them all, the Captain included. They simply nod.
The Captain takes the lead as the two of you race out of the confines of the castle.
You think you hear shouting behind you, but neither of you look back.
The road is long, and hard. You have no idea where the Captain is taking you.
You wish you’d paid more attention during Royal visits to the countryside, instead of just smiling and waving and not really caring where you were travelling through as long as the staff at whatever country house you stayed at for the night knew what temperature you liked your bath.
Now, you simply hope that there will be a change of nightdress, and find yourself not really caring that there might not be.
You start to lose the adrenaline from the flight. Your body tires, and pain seeps in.
Your right foots feels more painful than your left. You wonder if it’s a splinter from your door.
It’s only that pain, sometimes catching on the stirrup, that keeps you awake.
The sky has turned from black to blue, dawn threatening to break out within the hour, when the Captain finally reigns in his horse. You draw up alongside him, and use what light there is to peruse the building he has pulled up at.
A small run-down priory.
It could be worse.
The Captain dismounts, motioning for you to stay on your horse as he enters the walled garden in front of the building.
He’s not gone long enough for you to start worrying. You’re too tired to worry anyway.
He reappears with a monk in tow, holding a lantern. He looks like a nice man. Earnest, at least. The Captain helps you down, keeping you held firmly in his arms.
The monk leads the two of you into his residence. He puts his lantern down on a table, and the Captain places you on a bench, before taking your hands and placing them in the monk’s.
“Princess Quinn, this is Fr. Schuester. You can trust him, Your Highness. He practically raised me, and I turned out alright.”
It feels the time for humour.
“Don’t forget that Ladysmaids do gossip, Captain.”
He grins that lopsided grin that apparently charms them so, and then becomes serious again.
“I must go back, my Lady. My men will need help retaking the castle.”
You both know that’s not going to happen.
You withdraw your right hand from Fr. Schuester’s, and grip the Captain’s arm tightly, putting your last ounce of strength into the act.
“Thank you, Hudson.”
“It was my duty, Your Highness. And my honour.”
He grips your arm just as tightly, and then places your hand back in the monk’s.
You can no longer keep your eyes open. You hear the monk say goodbye to the Captain.
Opening and shutting your heavy eyes one last time, you see the Captain nod to the monk.
You wonder if you’ll ever see him again.