Alfred’s eyes snapped open in the darkness, arms empty of their usual warm body. Said warm body was tossing and turning on the other side of the bed, talking in his sleep. Alfred sat up, half awake, and listened groggily to the sound of his lover’s voice. However, unlike that time when Arthur had suddenly decided to lecture about the medicinal properties of sauerkraut, or when Alfred had managed to obtain an unwitting declaration of love for a red nose tree frog, Arthur was now distressed. The language he was speaking might have been Cornish, but honestly Alfred had no idea what he was saying, except for the occasional “No!” now and again. Arthur didn’t usually like being woken from his sleep, but if this went on much more Alfred would wake him, whether Arthur had wanted his nightmares or not.
Suddenly, Arthur’s face clenched in pain, and Alfred made a quick decision. Alfred grabbed his shoulders and shook him a little more forcefully than was probably necessary, raising his voice a little as he called Arthur’s name insistently. “Come on Arthur, wake up, it can’t be fun in there, wake up, come on Arthur…”
Arthur’s eyes flew open, wide and dilated, and even with his crap non glasses vision, Alfred could see that his eyes were so open he could see a ring of white around every side of the green irises. “Look, Arthur, it’s okay now, you’re awake, it was all a nightmare, all gone.” Alfred picked up a still board-stiff Arthur and manhandled him into a hug, grateful he got to return the favor Arthur usually gave him after some nightmare fuel sci-fi.
After a moment of rocking, he felt Arthur loosen and then try to claw his was out of the embrace. “Woah!” Alfred said, definitely worried now. This part had never happened before. “Look, Arthur, it’s me, I – “
“Let me go!” Arthur roared, and Alfred did, scrambling back from the enraged Englishman a few feet. Arthur sat panting, wild, feral looking as his eyes roved the room methodically, searching. “Crowe…” Arthur crooned, his voice sickly sweet like saccharine. “Crowe, I know you’re here. Show yourself, you’re in my house after all. It’s only polite.”
A dark form materialized near the foot of the bed, and Alfred jumped and emitted a little shriek, hairs standing on end. Arthur hissed through suddenly sharp canines. “Now, is that any way to treat guests, Anglia? I thought you were a gentleman. What would your mother say? I could ask her, you know.” Arthur snarled, placing himself between Alfred and this crow person. The figure laughed, and it was akin to tinkling bells and grating gravel and sloshing water all at once, in a combination of sounds so unearthly, it should have never been made. It was creation and apocalypse and potential and destruction, all rolled into a figure black and empty as octopus heart. Alfred felt its gaze rove to his face now, never blinking but smiling. “And hello to you Tungolbyre! I’m glad we finally get to have a little chat again.”
Alfred’s curiosity caused him to open his mouth, but Arthur fired off rapid instructions before he could make a sound. “Do not speak, do not trust, and for God’s sake, put on those blasted glasses of yours!”
Alfred quickly did as told, and Crowe looked simultaneously amused and disappointed. “What a shame…” Crowe said thoughtfully. “You’d be an ornament at court, Tungolbyre. I knew you before you got all that nasty industrial iron and guns and steel. Such a handsome boy… But yes, I knew you briefly. Quoth the Raven, Nevermore, and all. But yes, you’re much too well protected by your lover here for me to do any more than talk to you. You could still come willingly you know. No? What a shame…” Crowe turned to Arthur. “Indeed you have protected him well. You might as well relax for his sake. However, I would not be so sure about yours.”
Crowe laughed again, this time a little snarkily. “You and your family always make those same mistakes I think. It makes it so easy. You were so challenging though, in some ways it is sad to see our little game come to an end.” Crowe’s lips stretched widely, wider than was humanly possible. He leaned forward, and with long slender fingers, leaned gently on the foot of the bed.
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Crowe 1a/?
(Anonymous) 2012-07-14 06:50 am (UTC)(link)Suddenly, Arthur’s face clenched in pain, and Alfred made a quick decision. Alfred grabbed his shoulders and shook him a little more forcefully than was probably necessary, raising his voice a little as he called Arthur’s name insistently. “Come on Arthur, wake up, it can’t be fun in there, wake up, come on Arthur…”
Arthur’s eyes flew open, wide and dilated, and even with his crap non glasses vision, Alfred could see that his eyes were so open he could see a ring of white around every side of the green irises. “Look, Arthur, it’s okay now, you’re awake, it was all a nightmare, all gone.” Alfred picked up a still board-stiff Arthur and manhandled him into a hug, grateful he got to return the favor Arthur usually gave him after some nightmare fuel sci-fi.
After a moment of rocking, he felt Arthur loosen and then try to claw his was out of the embrace. “Woah!” Alfred said, definitely worried now. This part had never happened before. “Look, Arthur, it’s me, I – “
“Let me go!” Arthur roared, and Alfred did, scrambling back from the enraged Englishman a few feet. Arthur sat panting, wild, feral looking as his eyes roved the room methodically, searching. “Crowe…” Arthur crooned, his voice sickly sweet like saccharine. “Crowe, I know you’re here. Show yourself, you’re in my house after all. It’s only polite.”
A dark form materialized near the foot of the bed, and Alfred jumped and emitted a little shriek, hairs standing on end. Arthur hissed through suddenly sharp canines. “Now, is that any way to treat guests, Anglia? I thought you were a gentleman. What would your mother say? I could ask her, you know.” Arthur snarled, placing himself between Alfred and this crow person. The figure laughed, and it was akin to tinkling bells and grating gravel and sloshing water all at once, in a combination of sounds so unearthly, it should have never been made. It was creation and apocalypse and potential and destruction, all rolled into a figure black and empty as octopus heart. Alfred felt its gaze rove to his face now, never blinking but smiling. “And hello to you Tungolbyre! I’m glad we finally get to have a little chat again.”
Alfred’s curiosity caused him to open his mouth, but Arthur fired off rapid instructions before he could make a sound. “Do not speak, do not trust, and for God’s sake, put on those blasted glasses of yours!”
Alfred quickly did as told, and Crowe looked simultaneously amused and disappointed. “What a shame…” Crowe said thoughtfully. “You’d be an ornament at court, Tungolbyre. I knew you before you got all that nasty industrial iron and guns and steel. Such a handsome boy… But yes, I knew you briefly. Quoth the Raven, Nevermore, and all. But yes, you’re much too well protected by your lover here for me to do any more than talk to you. You could still come willingly you know. No? What a shame…” Crowe turned to Arthur. “Indeed you have protected him well. You might as well relax for his sake. However, I would not be so sure about yours.”
Crowe laughed again, this time a little snarkily. “You and your family always make those same mistakes I think. It makes it so easy. You were so challenging though, in some ways it is sad to see our little game come to an end.” Crowe’s lips stretched widely, wider than was humanly possible. He leaned forward, and with long slender fingers, leaned gently on the foot of the bed.