Masquerade (1/4)
Title: Masquerade (1/4)
Rating: FRAO
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto; OCs
Spoilers: None (Completely AU to the Whoniverse)
Warnings: M/M relations; Swearing
Summary: "Ianto Jones is the youngest son of a wealthy family and he's bored with his mother's attempts to marry him off. At a ball thrown for that very reason, he meets a man he's never seen before and games ensue. Maybe this year won't be as dull as he thought."
Disclaimer: The boys don't belong to me, but I promise RTD that I'll give them back as soon as I'm finished!
Author's Note: Okay, so this is probably one of the most random ideas I've ever had. For some reason, whilst i was driving to Hobbycraft with my dad to get a new art portfolio, I had this intense idea wash through me and knock everything off kilter. ALL my work has been thrown sharply to the sidelines for the past day and a half to get this written to my satisfactin and I really hope that paid off!
Basically, I thought 'What if Ianto was one of those posh kids that's rebelling against his parents? Wouldn't that be fun?' and evolved from there. There are a few parts that, as they stand, don't capture the complete raunchiness that I was trying to create, but they'll most likely be on the mark by the time you read them!
I really, really hope you enjoy this!
---
Masquerade
Chapter 1
Ianto Jones had never considered himself part of high society.
He was the youngest of three, his elder siblings - twins - five years his seniors. He, like them, had been educated well and had attended one of the more prestigious public schools in London - despite their close Welsh roots - and was currently studying mathematics at Cambridge university, aged twenty two.
This was close in the footsteps of the twins, Rhiannon and Emrys, who’d gone to the same school and moved to read English Literature and Politics and Economics, respectively, at Oxford.
From the moment of his birth, Emrys had been schooled and moulded to take their father’s place in the family company - and Ianto hadn’t objected at all. To him, it was all rather dull and boring. He would rather sit in his study and puzzle through his latest equation or problem.
Whilst he enjoyed reading a good novel, his taste of literature was usually looked down upon by his brother and sister. Not that he minded much anyway, for the moment they’d entered secondary school, they’d accepted their place in society and revelled in it.
By the time Ianto had followed them, they were so different to the siblings he’d grown up playing with that they were barely acquaintances, let alone family. So he’d become fonder of physics and maths and gone to study it for his degree, ignoring the protests of his mother - for she’d been determined to make him follow in Emrys’ wake. His father, at least, had supported his youngest in his plans.
But now, he had been dragged back to the family estate - a vast manor in the country, surrounded by gardens, woods and a small yet beautiful lake - for one of his mother’s famed masquerade balls.
She would dress the house in white, silver and gold and light it with candles and glittering lights that hugged the ornate stonework and cast and a mystical atmosphere. There were new curtains hanging in the wrought iron windows and drapes and swathes hung from banisters and pillars.
On a normal day, Ianto found walking into the house something vaguely similar to a Pride and Prejudice, but dressed like this, he felt he was stepping straight into the book. But now, he was being pushed and shoved to get dressed and ready. He was being hurried and scowled at as his mother exclaimed that he had creases in his suit, despite his own claims that he wasn’t wearing that one.
She never had paid much attention to her youngest son. From an early age, Ianto had worked out that whilst she cared for and loved him, she still only saw him as his brother’s shadow, his right hand man and deputy. Fortunately, his father’s attention and conversations had made up for this deficit.
With a sigh, Ianto looked in the mirror and smoothed the front of his shirt down once more. He flicked the collar up and reached out for the pale silver, silk tie that his mother was forcing him to wear. ‘You’re my son and I want the room to know it,’ she’d said with a surprisingly warm smile.
It was as close to sincere as a compliment was likely to get this evening. He wasn’t stupid, he knew his mother had an agenda every time she threw one of these balls and she hadn’t made a secret of the fact that she wanted him to marry soon.
It struck him as a little pointless for it to be a masquerade ball when everyone would know who he was, but arguing with his mother would just be pointless. Especially this late in the proceedings - hence the reason he hadn’t been told that he’d been excused from lectures for the weekend until two days before he was collected. Any earlier and he would’ve found a way to stay in his dorm room.
He sighed and tugged the neckwear into place, flicking the collar down and pulling on the fitted black dinner jacket. With a final, wistful glance at his bed - for he knew he wouldn’t see it for a good long time - he straightened his clothes out and headed to the door.
He was just about to step out of the room when he remembered the mask. It was simple and smooth, a white barrier between his eyes and the world, covering the upper half of his face. He’d worn it for the past four years - after his mother had deemed him an adult. It was his fifth year of attending ‘incognito’ and he was already tired of it.
He opened the door and could already hear the muffled sounds of the string group and the guests buzzing down from where the corridor exited to the large balcony. As a child, Ianto had loved sitting there and watching the household move about the large atrium, shoes clicking on the black and white marble tiles, soft voices echoing off the stone and wood that surrounded them.
The illusion of knowing everything had stayed with him throughout his life and gave no sign of leaving any time soon.
Determined to foil his mother’s courting plans, he slipped from his room and down the corridor, to the opposite end to the noise. He took the back stairs down to the kitchen and would move through the party from there. No one would pay much attention to yet another masked young man.
The kitchen staff looked up and threw him wry grins and a few snorts of laughter before making sure he integrated with the party smoothly. Several of the older women there had helped him hide in the kitchens when he was younger and knew his habits of avoiding his mother. They’d treated him like their own son most of the time, watching out for him and comforting him if he ran in with scraped knees and muddy clothes.
But now he was fully grown and still needed their help and they were more than willing to give it.
He was handed a flute of champagne as he moved gracefully through to the throng of the drawing room, heading towards the atrium. It was always something to see when the family descended.
He took up his place leaning back in an alcove between two pillars, the shadows concealing his torso and face well. For a few minutes, he simply enjoyed the soft, lilting music and glanced around the room at the multitude of concealed faces, the women all garbed in rich silks and expensive jewels, necks and fingers glittering as they delicately clasped their glasses and waited.
They chattered to men dressed in simple formalwear, all with their own white masks on. It was expected for the women to have intricate and ornate coverings of gems and feathers and lace, but it was an unspoken tradition that the men wore white. Only Ianto’s father and brother wore black.
He had refused point blank to be included in the colour scheme and there had been a raging argument that had echoed through the entire house at it. Only his father had defended him, Emrys and Rhiannon taking his mother’s side.
He decided he should just feel lucky that the two had matured somewhat since then and become increasingly benevolent over the past five years. Emrys was engaged and Rhiannon wed - that event had been something else completely - and with their partners had come a temperament that Ianto wished they’d had when he’d been younger.
Still, as they emerged together at the top of the wide central staircase, the crowd went silent, all faces turning to them. Emrys, as ever, looked valiant and handsome in his tailored suit, smart shoes and slick black mask, his dark hair smoothed and styled to an easy perfection. Rhiannon glided in her new gown of silver silk and chiffon, matching the gently curled, blonde hair tied in a way that the silver laced mask - in the shape of a butterfly - didn’t disturb.
Even Ianto couldn’t deny that the pair looked stunning. To him, and probably to the rest of the room, they embodied all of society’s conventions of ‘beautiful people’. They were polite and charismatic, charming and attractive - enticing in every way.
He simply sighed and drained his champagne, intensely glad that he wasn’t being forced to trail behind them on his own. It was one thing for the pair to clasp hands and present themselves - for they had always been a double act, always working in perfect synchronicity - but he would be alone and mediocre in their wake.
Then came his parents, in much the same way as his siblings, though his mother's dress and mask were more decorated and clearly marked her the woman of the house.
Once their feet hit the floor, the noise began again and party began to pick up.
*
Over an hour had passed and the ball was in full swing, dancing and drinking and discussion present in every room of the lower floor. The kitchen staff were rushed off their feet with the local dignitaries requesting every hor d’oeuvre under the sun and it was a testament to his mother’s diligence that they had each one requested in stock.
Ianto had found himself accosted by his mother and a gaggle of stylish young ladies at several points during the evening. He’d politely talked to them for a while before managing to slip away to find another safe place to rest at.
He was aware that he was doing nothing to change his mother’s opinion of him, but after the third time of being confronted by yet another group of strangers, he’d had enough. His parents knew about the parties in his sixth form and the drinking and occasional drugs. He had a strong suspicion that they also knew about the gay clubs and the men - as well as the more obvious girls.
Whilst his father showed a quiet acceptance, his mother outright refused to believe such stories. It was why she’d gathered together all the young ladies just entering society, in the hopes that one of them could prove her right and the ‘rumours’ wrong.
Ianto snorted gently and sipped his third glass of champagne disdainfully. He was leaning back on a gold and silver wire clad pillar, watching the guests milling and chattering and discussing in slightly raised voices various news and scandals.
There was a laugh from across the room and a man standing amongst a group of about ten people was grinning seductively at all of them. He held his glass loosely in a surprisingly large hand, managing to make the action artistic. He leant over to the woman by him and whispered something, chuckling as she blushed and nudged him lightly in the ribs. All of them watched him raptly.
For Ianto, it was intrigue at first sight.
It was then that the stranger looked up and locked eyes with him. Without missing a beat, a crooked smile tugged at his lips and he raised his glass slightly, the other man smirking and nodding, copying the action.
Ianto nodded in return and pushed away from the wall, heading out of the room and weaving his way politely through the guests. He quickly drained his glass of the last mouthful and collected another from a passing tray.
---
TBC - comments would be awesome, I'd love to know what you all think
Masquerade (2/4)
Rating: FRAO
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto; OCs
Spoilers: None (Completely AU to the Whoniverse)
Warnings: M/M relations; Swearing
Summary: "Ianto Jones is the youngest son of a wealthy family and he's bored with his mother's attempts to marry him off. At a ball thrown for that very reason, he meets a man he's never seen before and games ensue. Maybe this year won't be as dull as he thought."
Disclaimer: The boys don't belong to me, but I promise RTD that I'll give them back as soon as I'm finished!
Author's Note: Okay, so this is probably one of the most random ideas I've ever had. For some reason, whilst i was driving to Hobbycraft with my dad to get a new art portfolio, I had this intense idea wash through me and knock everything off kilter. ALL my work has been thrown sharply to the sidelines for the past day and a half to get this written to my satisfactin and I really hope that paid off!
Basically, I thought 'What if Ianto was one of those posh kids that's rebelling against his parents? Wouldn't that be fun?' and evolved from there. There are a few parts that, as they stand, don't capture the complete raunchiness that I was trying to create, but they'll most likely be on the mark by the time you read them!
I really, really hope you enjoy this!
---
Masquerade
Chapter 1
Ianto Jones had never considered himself part of high society.
He was the youngest of three, his elder siblings - twins - five years his seniors. He, like them, had been educated well and had attended one of the more prestigious public schools in London - despite their close Welsh roots - and was currently studying mathematics at Cambridge university, aged twenty two.
This was close in the footsteps of the twins, Rhiannon and Emrys, who’d gone to the same school and moved to read English Literature and Politics and Economics, respectively, at Oxford.
From the moment of his birth, Emrys had been schooled and moulded to take their father’s place in the family company - and Ianto hadn’t objected at all. To him, it was all rather dull and boring. He would rather sit in his study and puzzle through his latest equation or problem.
Whilst he enjoyed reading a good novel, his taste of literature was usually looked down upon by his brother and sister. Not that he minded much anyway, for the moment they’d entered secondary school, they’d accepted their place in society and revelled in it.
By the time Ianto had followed them, they were so different to the siblings he’d grown up playing with that they were barely acquaintances, let alone family. So he’d become fonder of physics and maths and gone to study it for his degree, ignoring the protests of his mother - for she’d been determined to make him follow in Emrys’ wake. His father, at least, had supported his youngest in his plans.
But now, he had been dragged back to the family estate - a vast manor in the country, surrounded by gardens, woods and a small yet beautiful lake - for one of his mother’s famed masquerade balls.
She would dress the house in white, silver and gold and light it with candles and glittering lights that hugged the ornate stonework and cast and a mystical atmosphere. There were new curtains hanging in the wrought iron windows and drapes and swathes hung from banisters and pillars.
On a normal day, Ianto found walking into the house something vaguely similar to a Pride and Prejudice, but dressed like this, he felt he was stepping straight into the book. But now, he was being pushed and shoved to get dressed and ready. He was being hurried and scowled at as his mother exclaimed that he had creases in his suit, despite his own claims that he wasn’t wearing that one.
She never had paid much attention to her youngest son. From an early age, Ianto had worked out that whilst she cared for and loved him, she still only saw him as his brother’s shadow, his right hand man and deputy. Fortunately, his father’s attention and conversations had made up for this deficit.
With a sigh, Ianto looked in the mirror and smoothed the front of his shirt down once more. He flicked the collar up and reached out for the pale silver, silk tie that his mother was forcing him to wear. ‘You’re my son and I want the room to know it,’ she’d said with a surprisingly warm smile.
It was as close to sincere as a compliment was likely to get this evening. He wasn’t stupid, he knew his mother had an agenda every time she threw one of these balls and she hadn’t made a secret of the fact that she wanted him to marry soon.
It struck him as a little pointless for it to be a masquerade ball when everyone would know who he was, but arguing with his mother would just be pointless. Especially this late in the proceedings - hence the reason he hadn’t been told that he’d been excused from lectures for the weekend until two days before he was collected. Any earlier and he would’ve found a way to stay in his dorm room.
He sighed and tugged the neckwear into place, flicking the collar down and pulling on the fitted black dinner jacket. With a final, wistful glance at his bed - for he knew he wouldn’t see it for a good long time - he straightened his clothes out and headed to the door.
He was just about to step out of the room when he remembered the mask. It was simple and smooth, a white barrier between his eyes and the world, covering the upper half of his face. He’d worn it for the past four years - after his mother had deemed him an adult. It was his fifth year of attending ‘incognito’ and he was already tired of it.
He opened the door and could already hear the muffled sounds of the string group and the guests buzzing down from where the corridor exited to the large balcony. As a child, Ianto had loved sitting there and watching the household move about the large atrium, shoes clicking on the black and white marble tiles, soft voices echoing off the stone and wood that surrounded them.
The illusion of knowing everything had stayed with him throughout his life and gave no sign of leaving any time soon.
Determined to foil his mother’s courting plans, he slipped from his room and down the corridor, to the opposite end to the noise. He took the back stairs down to the kitchen and would move through the party from there. No one would pay much attention to yet another masked young man.
The kitchen staff looked up and threw him wry grins and a few snorts of laughter before making sure he integrated with the party smoothly. Several of the older women there had helped him hide in the kitchens when he was younger and knew his habits of avoiding his mother. They’d treated him like their own son most of the time, watching out for him and comforting him if he ran in with scraped knees and muddy clothes.
But now he was fully grown and still needed their help and they were more than willing to give it.
He was handed a flute of champagne as he moved gracefully through to the throng of the drawing room, heading towards the atrium. It was always something to see when the family descended.
He took up his place leaning back in an alcove between two pillars, the shadows concealing his torso and face well. For a few minutes, he simply enjoyed the soft, lilting music and glanced around the room at the multitude of concealed faces, the women all garbed in rich silks and expensive jewels, necks and fingers glittering as they delicately clasped their glasses and waited.
They chattered to men dressed in simple formalwear, all with their own white masks on. It was expected for the women to have intricate and ornate coverings of gems and feathers and lace, but it was an unspoken tradition that the men wore white. Only Ianto’s father and brother wore black.
He had refused point blank to be included in the colour scheme and there had been a raging argument that had echoed through the entire house at it. Only his father had defended him, Emrys and Rhiannon taking his mother’s side.
He decided he should just feel lucky that the two had matured somewhat since then and become increasingly benevolent over the past five years. Emrys was engaged and Rhiannon wed - that event had been something else completely - and with their partners had come a temperament that Ianto wished they’d had when he’d been younger.
Still, as they emerged together at the top of the wide central staircase, the crowd went silent, all faces turning to them. Emrys, as ever, looked valiant and handsome in his tailored suit, smart shoes and slick black mask, his dark hair smoothed and styled to an easy perfection. Rhiannon glided in her new gown of silver silk and chiffon, matching the gently curled, blonde hair tied in a way that the silver laced mask - in the shape of a butterfly - didn’t disturb.
Even Ianto couldn’t deny that the pair looked stunning. To him, and probably to the rest of the room, they embodied all of society’s conventions of ‘beautiful people’. They were polite and charismatic, charming and attractive - enticing in every way.
He simply sighed and drained his champagne, intensely glad that he wasn’t being forced to trail behind them on his own. It was one thing for the pair to clasp hands and present themselves - for they had always been a double act, always working in perfect synchronicity - but he would be alone and mediocre in their wake.
Then came his parents, in much the same way as his siblings, though his mother's dress and mask were more decorated and clearly marked her the woman of the house.
Once their feet hit the floor, the noise began again and party began to pick up.
*
Over an hour had passed and the ball was in full swing, dancing and drinking and discussion present in every room of the lower floor. The kitchen staff were rushed off their feet with the local dignitaries requesting every hor d’oeuvre under the sun and it was a testament to his mother’s diligence that they had each one requested in stock.
Ianto had found himself accosted by his mother and a gaggle of stylish young ladies at several points during the evening. He’d politely talked to them for a while before managing to slip away to find another safe place to rest at.
He was aware that he was doing nothing to change his mother’s opinion of him, but after the third time of being confronted by yet another group of strangers, he’d had enough. His parents knew about the parties in his sixth form and the drinking and occasional drugs. He had a strong suspicion that they also knew about the gay clubs and the men - as well as the more obvious girls.
Whilst his father showed a quiet acceptance, his mother outright refused to believe such stories. It was why she’d gathered together all the young ladies just entering society, in the hopes that one of them could prove her right and the ‘rumours’ wrong.
Ianto snorted gently and sipped his third glass of champagne disdainfully. He was leaning back on a gold and silver wire clad pillar, watching the guests milling and chattering and discussing in slightly raised voices various news and scandals.
There was a laugh from across the room and a man standing amongst a group of about ten people was grinning seductively at all of them. He held his glass loosely in a surprisingly large hand, managing to make the action artistic. He leant over to the woman by him and whispered something, chuckling as she blushed and nudged him lightly in the ribs. All of them watched him raptly.
For Ianto, it was intrigue at first sight.
It was then that the stranger looked up and locked eyes with him. Without missing a beat, a crooked smile tugged at his lips and he raised his glass slightly, the other man smirking and nodding, copying the action.
Ianto nodded in return and pushed away from the wall, heading out of the room and weaving his way politely through the guests. He quickly drained his glass of the last mouthful and collected another from a passing tray.
---
TBC - comments would be awesome, I'd love to know what you all think
Masquerade (2/4)