The Heart of Summerlin (Masterpost + Prologue)
Title: The Heart of Summerlin
Authors: redorchids and salire
Beta: piecesof_reeses
Word Count: 36 000
Band(s): Panic! at the Disco (background TYV, HS, MCR, FOB, TAI, CS, The Cab, Paramore)
Pairing(s): Spencer/Brendon (background Ryan/Greta, Pete/Patrick, Frank/Gerard)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Regency AU with a Steampunk flair. In the romance novel-patented, historically inaccurate time best known as “the olden days”, Lord Spencer Smith, Marquess of Summerlin has managed to fall head over heels with an oblivious Sir Brendon Urie, son of a lowly baron. Due to a fortunate twist of fate, the two meet again as Brendon is running away to escape an undesirable match his parents have made for him, and Spencer manages to convince him that the two of them should marry instead.
Read on LiveJournal
Masterpost and Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Epilogue
Download as .pdf
TheHeartofSummerlin.pdf
BONUS MATERIAL
Art by saint_vee
Mix: Together, A New Pace by lady_writes
Mix: The Heart of Summerlin by quarterturn
A/N: Big thanks to everyone who helped cheerlead and brainstorm this fic. You guys are all awesome. We love you. ♥
The king was getting married, and the entire kingdom and more had turned up for the wedding. It was an event unlike any that people could remember; airships crossed the skies for months proclaiming the happy news, and dragonlords rode their charges far and wide, spreading the message to the colonies and to foreign kingdoms.
Spencer Smith, newly titled Marquess of Summerlin after his father’s passing, came with his oldest friend to partake in the festivities. Lord Ryan’s father was the Duke of Rosings, and in addition to three country estates and a small province in the West Indies, the title brought with it rooms at the royal palace far grander than those of Spencer’s family.
The two friends spent the weeks leading up to the event racing their horses through the fine woods surrounding the palace and dancing late into the night, watching merrily from the sidelines as troves of King Peter’s subjects arrived to show their support and pledge allegiance to the new royal consort.
The wedding went on for seven days, beginning with the ceremony itself and filling the days leading up to Prince Patrick’s coronation with tourneys and magic shows, an inventor’s fair and more balls than Spencer cared to count.
On the fifth day, he met Brendon Urie.
It all happened because Ryan was running late. Not an unusual occurrence, but one which never failed to annoy Spencer to no end. In the distance, he could see the first explosions of water from the lake, signalling the start of the competition he was supposed to be watching. He pulled out his pocket watch and winced at the time. How could it possibly take such a long time to change out of one’s riding clothes?
“Look out!”
Spencer barely had time to register the sound before something large and hard connected with his back, crashing to the ground in a mess of grinding metal and bringing Spencer with it.
Spencer cried out, pain shooting through his hip and one of his forearms as he tried to twist around. The thing on top of him was moving too, trying to disentangle itself from what looked like a complicated harness. Also, there were feathers everywhere.
“God, I’m so sorry,” the person on top of him said, trying frantically to free himself while not hitting Spencer over the head with what turned out to be large mechanical wings attached to his back. Spencer swore as one of them swept over his face, nearly hitting him in the nose.
“They promised it was safe,” the man continued, getting one leg free and managing to move half his body off of Spencer’s. “It’s a prototype, but the man who had it swore he’d tested it. It was supposed to be really easy to control, I swear I didn’t mean to take it so high. I’m so, so sorry. Are you all right?”
Spencer tore his focus away from the pain in his side (and the way one of the wings was still swaying menacingly right behind the man’s shoulder) and looked up.
And.
Oh.
Art by saint_vee
The man above him was exceedingly attractive. Dark brown eyes and beautiful features, combined with dark, tousled hair and full, rosy lips. He was breathing hard from fighting with the harness and wings, eyes bright and colour in his cheeks from the exertion. Spencer swallowed.
Before he could answer, there were people all around them, helping them both to their feet and pulling them in different directions. At least five people began trying to brush dust off Spencer’s clothing at the same time, asking if he needed anything and if a physician should be called. Somewhere in the chaos, Ryan appeared, and Spencer gratefully latched on to him, trusting Ryan to help him escape the thickening crowd.
He looked back over his shoulder once they were at a safe distance, hoping to catch another glimpse of the man who had crashed into him. The crowd was starting to disperse, and Spencer saw a flash of grey feathers. He craned his neck, trying to get a better view, and couldn’t help but feel stupidly disappointed when the only thing on the ground turned out to be banged-up metal and a pair of crooked wings.
After meeting the man so dramatically, it seemed like Spencer couldn’t make himself stop seeing him. He was present at the royal picnic the next morning; Spencer spotted him on one of the blankets furthest from the king, sitting together with two ladies and a gentleman who all bore a striking family resemblance to him. After the picnic came the archery contest in the afternoon, then the water symphony and the banquet that night. Whenever Spencer saw him, he was smiling and laughing; Spencer found it hard to look away.
He made some discreet enquiries and found out who the man was easily enough: Brendon Urie, youngest son of one of the many new barons that had sprung up after the war with France half a century back. No one important as far as the court was concerned and with no real reputation to speak of.
He also didn’t show any sign of knowing who Spencer was, or of being aware that Spencer kept watching him. Brendon mostly kept to the sidelines with his family, never crossing the unspoken barriers between the higher and the lower court.
Spencer found himself more and more tempted to go cross that line.
On the last day, at the celebration of Prince Patrick’s coronation, Ryan Ross all but led him right up to it and shoved.
“You’re looking at him again,” Ryan said, in a voice that was half amused, half exasperated.
Spencer forced his eyes away from the end of the room and promptly fixed his attention on the dancing couples on the floor. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“The youngest Urie boy,” Ryan said. “The same one you’ve been unable to keep your eyes off for almost three days now. Really, it’s getting embarrassing to watch.”
“What do you suggest?” Spencer shot back. “Should I lead him into the garden, fall to my knees and read him a sonnet, perhaps? Because that worked really well for you last season when you were trying to court Lady Elizabeth.”
“I still maintain that she was taken with me,” Ryan replied. “How was I supposed to know she was about to be married? Court gossip takes so much energy to keep up with.”
Spencer rolled his eyes.
“I’m thirsty,” Ryan declared a moment later. “Go fetch me a drink.”
“Do it yourself.”
“Spencer,” Ryan said plaintively. “I’m to be a duke. You’re a measly marquess. And I’m a whole year older. Now scoot.”
“Technically, since I’ve come into my title and you are still to inherit yours, I outrank you,” Spencer said, but left to get refreshments anyway; denying Ryan usually took a lot more effort than going along with whatever he wanted, and tonight, Spencer just didn’t feel like bothering with it.
The refreshment area was busy. Since it was the last night of the festivities, King Peter had invited the entire court-high and low alike-to the banquet, and together with the foreign guests (not to mention the servants), they made up quite a number. Spencer navigated himself around a group of ladies and reached for the flutes of champagne lined up on a table, putting a light hand on the elbow of a lower noble in front of him to nudge him out of the way.
“Pardon me.”
The man turned around, his eyes growing almost comically wide as he met Spencer’s. “Lord Smith!”
Spencer stared, taking in now familiar brown eyes and lashes far longer than he remembered. Brendon had changed his jacket, he noted; when Spencer had seen him earlier, it had been a deep blue instead of the red he was now wearing. The red looked amazing on him. Spencer’s fingers itched to reach out and touch, to see if the material was as smooth against his skin as it looked.
“You know my name.” It wasn’t what he had intended to say. Hadn’t managed to think of anything at all to say yet, really. In front of him, Brendon’s surprised expression turned deeply embarrassed.
“People were quick to tell me,” he replied. “After I-Lord, I’m so sorry. Knocking you over like that was completely unforgivable. If there’s anything I can do, or my father can-I’m sure he’d be more than happy to compensate you for...any...cost you might...” Brendon trailed off, eyes flicking uncertainly to his feet before meeting Spencer’s eyes again.
Spencer really needed to stop staring.
“I’m going to go,” Brendon said quickly. “Please forgive me for intruding on you. Again.” He bowed quickly, turning to walk away. “My lord.”
“Wait!”
Brendon turned around, looking vaguely apprehensive.
“Forgive me for not greeting you properly,” Spencer said. “I realise we haven’t been formally introduced, but please allow me to make up for addressing you so brusquely just now. I’m Lord Spencer Smith.”
He held out his hand. Brendon looked at it with a bewildered expression for a split moment before breaking into a polite smile and taking it. “Sir Brendon Urie. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Spencer said, feeling a smile break out on his own face as well.
“I really am sorry about the accident,” Brendon said, letting go of Spencer’s hand, some of the flush seeping back onto his cheeks. “It was terrible of me. I have no idea how to even begin apologising.”
“Consider it forgotten,” Spencer said quickly, feeling his heart miss a beat as Brendon gave him a grateful smile. “How are you finding the wedding?”
“Very grand, my lord,” Brendon replied. “I’m honoured to be a part of it. Being the youngest, I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to come.”
“Oh? Do you have a large family?” Spencer asked, hoping that the fact that he already knew the answer-down to the number, age, gender, marital status and occupation of all of Brendon’s siblings- wouldn’t somehow show on his face as Brendon launched into an animated description of his family, talking about how his eldest brother had recently become a father, preventing him from attending the royal wedding and thus enabling Brendon to take his place.
“Forgive me, I talk too much,” Brendon said a rather long time later, effectively pulling Spencer out of the haze he’d slipped into while Brendon talked and making him realise that he hadn’t heard a word Brendon had said but could probably describe exactly what his mouth had looked like doing it.
“Would you like to dance?”
Another thing he hadn’t meant to say, but once the words were out of Spencer’s mouth, he was fiercely happy that he had. Brendon looked up at him in surprise, but accepted, and Spencer felt his heart beat hard and fast as he lead them both onto the dance floor and took his position next to Brendon in the double line of a pavane. Brendon smiled, his hand warm and steady in Spencer’s as the music started and they took the first, slow steps.
“My sister and I used to get reprimanded by our tutor all the time for talking during this dance,” Brendon said, giving Spencer a quick grin as they started circling each other. “He said this was a traditional, serious dance that needed to be treated with respect, but I’ve always found it dull to dance without making conversation.”
“Indeed?” Spencer replied, unable to think of something more intelligent to say, most of his focus going into not staring at the graceful movements of Brendon’s body as they moved down the line.
“It just seems a little sad,” Brendon continued happily. “Being so serious about spending a couple of minutes in the company of someone you probably don’t even know. I guess it would be different if you were dancing with someone you were courting.”
“How so?” Spencer managed, taking careful, even breaths as they started moving together again, circling closer to each other.
“It’s probably silly,” Brendon said, throwing Spencer a quick smile, “but I imagine that when you dance the pavane with someone you love, all these slow movements narrow down to something almost electric, like there’s a bubble around you shutting out everything else and the touch of your hands turns into this... romantic thing, I suppose.” He let out a small laugh. “Listen to me. No wonder my mother tells me I’m too young to have a suitor.”
The words effectively cut through Spencer’s dreamlike state. He looked Brendon up and down and frowned. “You don’t seem too young to be out in society?” According to Spencer’s information, Brendon had turned one-and-twenty that spring, more than old enough to be out, as most parents introduced their children at the age of sixteen.
Brendon shrugged. “It’s because I’m the youngest, I suppose. All my siblings have left home and three of them are married. I don’t mind. Being young and unattached means having a lot of freedom.”
“It does,” Spencer agreed, trying to figure out how to ask if Brendon knew when his parents might reconsider their stance without sounding too forward.
The musicians brought the song to a close before he could think of anything, and Brendon stepped away smoothly, letting go of Spencer’s hand and bowing politely.
“I should go back to my family,” he said, and Spencer desperately wanted to believe there was at least a hint of wistfulness in his voice. “Thank you for the dance, Lord Smith. And the company.” He made another bow, which Spencer managed to echo, murmuring a “Sir Urie” back.
He watched Brendon cross to the other side of the hall before breathing a sigh and returning to where Ryan was standing.
He didn’t see Brendon again for the rest of the night.
Authors: redorchids and salire
Beta: piecesof_reeses
Word Count: 36 000
Band(s): Panic! at the Disco (background TYV, HS, MCR, FOB, TAI, CS, The Cab, Paramore)
Pairing(s): Spencer/Brendon (background Ryan/Greta, Pete/Patrick, Frank/Gerard)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Regency AU with a Steampunk flair. In the romance novel-patented, historically inaccurate time best known as “the olden days”, Lord Spencer Smith, Marquess of Summerlin has managed to fall head over heels with an oblivious Sir Brendon Urie, son of a lowly baron. Due to a fortunate twist of fate, the two meet again as Brendon is running away to escape an undesirable match his parents have made for him, and Spencer manages to convince him that the two of them should marry instead.
Read on LiveJournal
Masterpost and Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Epilogue
Download as .pdf
TheHeartofSummerlin.pdf
BONUS MATERIAL
Art by saint_vee
Mix: Together, A New Pace by lady_writes
Mix: The Heart of Summerlin by quarterturn
A/N: Big thanks to everyone who helped cheerlead and brainstorm this fic. You guys are all awesome. We love you. ♥
The king was getting married, and the entire kingdom and more had turned up for the wedding. It was an event unlike any that people could remember; airships crossed the skies for months proclaiming the happy news, and dragonlords rode their charges far and wide, spreading the message to the colonies and to foreign kingdoms.
Spencer Smith, newly titled Marquess of Summerlin after his father’s passing, came with his oldest friend to partake in the festivities. Lord Ryan’s father was the Duke of Rosings, and in addition to three country estates and a small province in the West Indies, the title brought with it rooms at the royal palace far grander than those of Spencer’s family.
The two friends spent the weeks leading up to the event racing their horses through the fine woods surrounding the palace and dancing late into the night, watching merrily from the sidelines as troves of King Peter’s subjects arrived to show their support and pledge allegiance to the new royal consort.
The wedding went on for seven days, beginning with the ceremony itself and filling the days leading up to Prince Patrick’s coronation with tourneys and magic shows, an inventor’s fair and more balls than Spencer cared to count.
On the fifth day, he met Brendon Urie.
It all happened because Ryan was running late. Not an unusual occurrence, but one which never failed to annoy Spencer to no end. In the distance, he could see the first explosions of water from the lake, signalling the start of the competition he was supposed to be watching. He pulled out his pocket watch and winced at the time. How could it possibly take such a long time to change out of one’s riding clothes?
“Look out!”
Spencer barely had time to register the sound before something large and hard connected with his back, crashing to the ground in a mess of grinding metal and bringing Spencer with it.
Spencer cried out, pain shooting through his hip and one of his forearms as he tried to twist around. The thing on top of him was moving too, trying to disentangle itself from what looked like a complicated harness. Also, there were feathers everywhere.
“God, I’m so sorry,” the person on top of him said, trying frantically to free himself while not hitting Spencer over the head with what turned out to be large mechanical wings attached to his back. Spencer swore as one of them swept over his face, nearly hitting him in the nose.
“They promised it was safe,” the man continued, getting one leg free and managing to move half his body off of Spencer’s. “It’s a prototype, but the man who had it swore he’d tested it. It was supposed to be really easy to control, I swear I didn’t mean to take it so high. I’m so, so sorry. Are you all right?”
Spencer tore his focus away from the pain in his side (and the way one of the wings was still swaying menacingly right behind the man’s shoulder) and looked up.
And.
Oh.
Art by saint_vee
The man above him was exceedingly attractive. Dark brown eyes and beautiful features, combined with dark, tousled hair and full, rosy lips. He was breathing hard from fighting with the harness and wings, eyes bright and colour in his cheeks from the exertion. Spencer swallowed.
Before he could answer, there were people all around them, helping them both to their feet and pulling them in different directions. At least five people began trying to brush dust off Spencer’s clothing at the same time, asking if he needed anything and if a physician should be called. Somewhere in the chaos, Ryan appeared, and Spencer gratefully latched on to him, trusting Ryan to help him escape the thickening crowd.
He looked back over his shoulder once they were at a safe distance, hoping to catch another glimpse of the man who had crashed into him. The crowd was starting to disperse, and Spencer saw a flash of grey feathers. He craned his neck, trying to get a better view, and couldn’t help but feel stupidly disappointed when the only thing on the ground turned out to be banged-up metal and a pair of crooked wings.
After meeting the man so dramatically, it seemed like Spencer couldn’t make himself stop seeing him. He was present at the royal picnic the next morning; Spencer spotted him on one of the blankets furthest from the king, sitting together with two ladies and a gentleman who all bore a striking family resemblance to him. After the picnic came the archery contest in the afternoon, then the water symphony and the banquet that night. Whenever Spencer saw him, he was smiling and laughing; Spencer found it hard to look away.
He made some discreet enquiries and found out who the man was easily enough: Brendon Urie, youngest son of one of the many new barons that had sprung up after the war with France half a century back. No one important as far as the court was concerned and with no real reputation to speak of.
He also didn’t show any sign of knowing who Spencer was, or of being aware that Spencer kept watching him. Brendon mostly kept to the sidelines with his family, never crossing the unspoken barriers between the higher and the lower court.
Spencer found himself more and more tempted to go cross that line.
On the last day, at the celebration of Prince Patrick’s coronation, Ryan Ross all but led him right up to it and shoved.
“You’re looking at him again,” Ryan said, in a voice that was half amused, half exasperated.
Spencer forced his eyes away from the end of the room and promptly fixed his attention on the dancing couples on the floor. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“The youngest Urie boy,” Ryan said. “The same one you’ve been unable to keep your eyes off for almost three days now. Really, it’s getting embarrassing to watch.”
“What do you suggest?” Spencer shot back. “Should I lead him into the garden, fall to my knees and read him a sonnet, perhaps? Because that worked really well for you last season when you were trying to court Lady Elizabeth.”
“I still maintain that she was taken with me,” Ryan replied. “How was I supposed to know she was about to be married? Court gossip takes so much energy to keep up with.”
Spencer rolled his eyes.
“I’m thirsty,” Ryan declared a moment later. “Go fetch me a drink.”
“Do it yourself.”
“Spencer,” Ryan said plaintively. “I’m to be a duke. You’re a measly marquess. And I’m a whole year older. Now scoot.”
“Technically, since I’ve come into my title and you are still to inherit yours, I outrank you,” Spencer said, but left to get refreshments anyway; denying Ryan usually took a lot more effort than going along with whatever he wanted, and tonight, Spencer just didn’t feel like bothering with it.
The refreshment area was busy. Since it was the last night of the festivities, King Peter had invited the entire court-high and low alike-to the banquet, and together with the foreign guests (not to mention the servants), they made up quite a number. Spencer navigated himself around a group of ladies and reached for the flutes of champagne lined up on a table, putting a light hand on the elbow of a lower noble in front of him to nudge him out of the way.
“Pardon me.”
The man turned around, his eyes growing almost comically wide as he met Spencer’s. “Lord Smith!”
Spencer stared, taking in now familiar brown eyes and lashes far longer than he remembered. Brendon had changed his jacket, he noted; when Spencer had seen him earlier, it had been a deep blue instead of the red he was now wearing. The red looked amazing on him. Spencer’s fingers itched to reach out and touch, to see if the material was as smooth against his skin as it looked.
“You know my name.” It wasn’t what he had intended to say. Hadn’t managed to think of anything at all to say yet, really. In front of him, Brendon’s surprised expression turned deeply embarrassed.
“People were quick to tell me,” he replied. “After I-Lord, I’m so sorry. Knocking you over like that was completely unforgivable. If there’s anything I can do, or my father can-I’m sure he’d be more than happy to compensate you for...any...cost you might...” Brendon trailed off, eyes flicking uncertainly to his feet before meeting Spencer’s eyes again.
Spencer really needed to stop staring.
“I’m going to go,” Brendon said quickly. “Please forgive me for intruding on you. Again.” He bowed quickly, turning to walk away. “My lord.”
“Wait!”
Brendon turned around, looking vaguely apprehensive.
“Forgive me for not greeting you properly,” Spencer said. “I realise we haven’t been formally introduced, but please allow me to make up for addressing you so brusquely just now. I’m Lord Spencer Smith.”
He held out his hand. Brendon looked at it with a bewildered expression for a split moment before breaking into a polite smile and taking it. “Sir Brendon Urie. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Spencer said, feeling a smile break out on his own face as well.
“I really am sorry about the accident,” Brendon said, letting go of Spencer’s hand, some of the flush seeping back onto his cheeks. “It was terrible of me. I have no idea how to even begin apologising.”
“Consider it forgotten,” Spencer said quickly, feeling his heart miss a beat as Brendon gave him a grateful smile. “How are you finding the wedding?”
“Very grand, my lord,” Brendon replied. “I’m honoured to be a part of it. Being the youngest, I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to come.”
“Oh? Do you have a large family?” Spencer asked, hoping that the fact that he already knew the answer-down to the number, age, gender, marital status and occupation of all of Brendon’s siblings- wouldn’t somehow show on his face as Brendon launched into an animated description of his family, talking about how his eldest brother had recently become a father, preventing him from attending the royal wedding and thus enabling Brendon to take his place.
“Forgive me, I talk too much,” Brendon said a rather long time later, effectively pulling Spencer out of the haze he’d slipped into while Brendon talked and making him realise that he hadn’t heard a word Brendon had said but could probably describe exactly what his mouth had looked like doing it.
“Would you like to dance?”
Another thing he hadn’t meant to say, but once the words were out of Spencer’s mouth, he was fiercely happy that he had. Brendon looked up at him in surprise, but accepted, and Spencer felt his heart beat hard and fast as he lead them both onto the dance floor and took his position next to Brendon in the double line of a pavane. Brendon smiled, his hand warm and steady in Spencer’s as the music started and they took the first, slow steps.
“My sister and I used to get reprimanded by our tutor all the time for talking during this dance,” Brendon said, giving Spencer a quick grin as they started circling each other. “He said this was a traditional, serious dance that needed to be treated with respect, but I’ve always found it dull to dance without making conversation.”
“Indeed?” Spencer replied, unable to think of something more intelligent to say, most of his focus going into not staring at the graceful movements of Brendon’s body as they moved down the line.
“It just seems a little sad,” Brendon continued happily. “Being so serious about spending a couple of minutes in the company of someone you probably don’t even know. I guess it would be different if you were dancing with someone you were courting.”
“How so?” Spencer managed, taking careful, even breaths as they started moving together again, circling closer to each other.
“It’s probably silly,” Brendon said, throwing Spencer a quick smile, “but I imagine that when you dance the pavane with someone you love, all these slow movements narrow down to something almost electric, like there’s a bubble around you shutting out everything else and the touch of your hands turns into this... romantic thing, I suppose.” He let out a small laugh. “Listen to me. No wonder my mother tells me I’m too young to have a suitor.”
The words effectively cut through Spencer’s dreamlike state. He looked Brendon up and down and frowned. “You don’t seem too young to be out in society?” According to Spencer’s information, Brendon had turned one-and-twenty that spring, more than old enough to be out, as most parents introduced their children at the age of sixteen.
Brendon shrugged. “It’s because I’m the youngest, I suppose. All my siblings have left home and three of them are married. I don’t mind. Being young and unattached means having a lot of freedom.”
“It does,” Spencer agreed, trying to figure out how to ask if Brendon knew when his parents might reconsider their stance without sounding too forward.
The musicians brought the song to a close before he could think of anything, and Brendon stepped away smoothly, letting go of Spencer’s hand and bowing politely.
“I should go back to my family,” he said, and Spencer desperately wanted to believe there was at least a hint of wistfulness in his voice. “Thank you for the dance, Lord Smith. And the company.” He made another bow, which Spencer managed to echo, murmuring a “Sir Urie” back.
He watched Brendon cross to the other side of the hall before breathing a sigh and returning to where Ryan was standing.
He didn’t see Brendon again for the rest of the night.