By Any Other Name - Primeval Fanfic
Title: By Any Other Name Part One
Author: Clea2011
Word Count: 10,704 total. This part 3,287
Characters: Becker/Connor, Jess, Lester, Danny, Philip, April, Ryan
Rating: 15
Spoilers: No
Warnings: No
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures, I'm just writing for fun and non-profit.
A/N: For the
trope_bingo square au: royalty / aristocracy / feudal. Thanks to fififolle for the beta, and to celeste9 for all the Fairy Tale discussions.
Summary: This is a retelling of the Rumpelstiltskin fairy tale. It contains no mpreg, as requested by Celeste. It is very much crackfic.
By Any Other Name
Once upon a time, there was a young man named Connor, who lived in a faraway land with his sarcastic yet kindly father. His father, who strictly speaking was his guardian having taken him in when he was found on the temple steps as a child, had risen up to become Prime Minister, and although this meant he was very busy he still found time for Connor and better yet could afford to indulge him in his interest in science. Connor was very happy, and knew that he had been very fortunate in all but one thing. His father's lifestyle meant that they regularly had to spend time with the royal family, and as soon as Connor saw the very handsome crown prince he knew that he would never love another. Sadly, the prince barely knew that Connor existed.
King Philip had been on the throne for many years. He knew that one day his reign would come to an end, and it would be time for his son to take over, but he hoped that wouldn't be for a long time yet. Philip liked being king. He liked having people bowing and scraping to him and doing exactly what he told them to. It was right, what with him being so far superior to them all. He hoped that one day his son would be able to see things like that and appreciate how much better they were than everyone else. Unfortunately, he showed little sign of it, and often would bite his knuckles in distress when some menial serf came into the throne room on their knees. Apparently he felt he should be saving them, because that was what he did, and the king had sometimes had to stop him helping up any number of lowly peasants who only wanted to lick the king's royal boots.
Temperament aside, Prince Hilary was the model prince. Exactly as he should be, the price King Philip paid for him. He was tall, dark and extremely handsome. He was equally adept with the rifle and the sword, and set their subjects' hearts aflame wherever he went. He also had perfect hair that was never mussed, and wore tight black leather trousers, thigh-length boots and a white billowing shirt open to the navel whatever the occasion.
Philip was very proud of his son and heir and took him along whenever there was any sort of press call or publicity, as he always increased the royal family's approval rating. Truthfully, he was only the adopted son, as Queen April was not only too posh to push but too vain to soil her figure with the stain of pregnancy. She also was very proud of Prince Hilary, and once every month or so deigned to spend a small amount of time with him to ensure that he was still worthy of that pride.
Queen April was rather difficult to please. And if she was unhappy, she wouldn't let King Philip into the royal bedchamber. She was often unhappy, and King Philip was therefore often forced to spank the royal monkey. It was most vexing.
There were many things in Philip's life which were vexing. The Prime Minister was high up on the list of these things.
James Lester was, as far as Philip was concerned, an odious little man. His bows and scrapes were never very deep, and there was always an undercurrent of scorn in his voice. Or boredom. Philip could often hear boredom, and condescension, and disdain. And sarcasm. He heard an awful lot of sarcasm.
On one particular day, Prime Minister Lester was looking exceptionally unimpressed as Prince Hilary single-handedly fought off all his knights and won the royal tournament for the sixth year in a row. Sir Danny of Quinn had taken part that year, and proved a most trying opponent. Even Sir Ryan had struggled with his underhand methods which invariably went against the knightly code, which unfortunately had meant that Sir Danny met Prince Hilary in the final instead, and in the place of the normal annual glorious display of perfect swordsmanship from both men resulting in the contrived but expected royal victory, there was an unsporting game of hide and seek, a great deal of mud and the prince looking quite put out.
In the end Hilary had emerged victorious, but it had been a close thing.
"Quinn is here on your invitation, is he not?" Philip enquired of his prime minister, knowing full well the answer. He was predisposed to dislike Quinn, particularly as Queen April was currently commiserating with him on his loss far more than was necessary as she presented him with the runners-up trophy.
"You know that he is. Sire."
Lester always managed to make 'Sire' or 'Your Majesty' sound like a thinly-veiled insult. Philip ignored it. He was, after all, king for life. This annoying prime minister would be gone in a few years. As long as he wasn't replaced by that awful Johnson woman. He didn't think he could stand another term with her.
"A pity, then, that he failed to win. Despite his...ah...unusual style of fighting. Hilary is of course the very best and is undefeated in the field."
"Largely because your knights are under orders to make sure that is the case. I very much doubt your boy would be able to hold his own against Sir Ryan in an even fight."
It was unfair, and it wasn't even entirely true. Philip had never ordered the knights to let Hilary win, they had just taken it as a given. And Ryan had been the prince's instructor, of course he wanted his pupil to win. Besides, Hilary had managed to defeat Quinn, eventually, and he definitely hadn't been wanting to let the prince win.
"I never see your boy taking part here," Philip pointed out. "I suppose he has a delicate constitution, unsuited to manly pursuits?"
"Connor is more interested in intellectual matters," Lester told him. "He is acknowledged far and wide as a genius. He would hardly lower himself to waste his days lugging a sword around like some kind of barbarian."
"Strange, because many times I have seen him sitting up here gazing at Prince Hilary while he's fighting, in a way that I could only describe as besotted. It's quite pathetic, poor boy. And hardly intellectual."
It was with a certain satisfaction that Philip watched Lester draw himself up to his full height (which was, unfortunately, still only up to the king's shoulder) and started reeling off his son's many accomplishments. Philip's eyes glazed over, not really interested. He'd succeeded in hitting a nerve, and that was all he'd really been after. That was, until Lester started telling him about the science project Connor had started at university which was opening up anomalies in time and space and allowing travel through them. Philip scoffed, but was secretly very interested. Lester's claims grew, until he started to talk about a land Connor had found where everything was gold, even the trees. A man could be very wealthy if he had the ability to reach that land. Philip's treasury had been looking very unhealthy recently, largely due to Queen April's regular spending sprees.
"I don't believe you," Philip told him.
"Well, you're not a man of science."
Philip ignored that. He owned a vast library, and sometimes he stood in there and looked at all his books that were sitting on the shelves. The spines were all colour-coordinated. He was, he felt, an extremely learned man. And even if he wasn't, he was king and everyone had to say he was very intelligent indeed. This insubordinate prime minister needed to be taught a lesson. Also, Philip had just thought of an excellent way in which he could also benefit from the situation. "You'll have to prove it. Bring your boy to the palace tomorrow. He'll have 24 hours to open up this anomaly thing to the land of gold. If he succeeds, I will give him Hilary's hand in marriage."
Lester snorted. "Well, that should lower his IQ level by several notches but I daresay he won't mind. What if he fails?"
"He'll be hailed far and wide as a fraud and never find work in his chosen field. But he's a comely boy. I'll take him in as the royal bedwarmer."
"That's abuse of power. You can't..."
"I think you'll find, Mr Lester, that I am king and therefore I most certainly can. I find myself almost hoping that he fails. Now, bring him here in the morning, and I'll explain things to him. If you like, I can even take him through his new duties."
"That won't be necessary," Lester told him through gritted teeth.
Philip smiled to himself as the prime minister made his excuses and hurried away. Whatever happened the next day, the outcome for Philip could only be good.
Now all he had to do was break the news to Prince Hilary...
---
Hilary had not taken the news well.
In fact, he was lying on Philip's favourite fainting couch, the one he used when wanting to appear particularly distressed to the nation about some minor thing he couldn't care less about. Hilary, it appeared, had perfected the swoon on his first try. Philip was rather envious. Hilary was going to be a great king. One day. A very, very long time in the future. He was reclining dramatically with the back of his hand pressed over his forehead. Queen April had torn herself away from Sir Danny's side and was making some effort to calm her son. If nothing else, it always made her look good in the papers if she was seen to be a caring mother.
Philip was sure he heard Sir Danny mutter something about "What a wuss!" and contemplated ways that the newly appointed knight (the queen had insisted...) could be accused of treason and executed in a slow and painful manner.
"But Pater," Hilary wailed. "He's an intellectual! A scientist! I have heard that he may even be a geek! What could we possibly have in common?"
April patted his hand reassuringly. "There, there, dearest boy, your father is sure the task is quite impossible and you won't have to marry him."
"But he's a genius!" Hilary cried. "He's won prizes. At school he used to do all my homework for me! Dear lord, I'll have to talk to him! He knows all the episodes of Dr Who, you know? He can quote them!"
"Your suffering is indeed going to be great," Sir Danny put in helpfully. "I hear there's a new series out soon!"
Philip glared at him. Hilary let out a fresh wail of distress.
"I'll just go and tell the rest of the knights that the prince is indisposed, shall I?" Quinn offered. The queen beamed at him. Philip glared some more and pretended not to hear what the newest knight muttered about the crown prince as he exited.
---
It had been a long and trying day. It wasn't easy being prime minister when the king was such a smug and irritating bastard. Lester couldn't wait for the revolution and intended being right at the head of it, leading the country into a glorious republic.
Dragging Connor away from watching the knights had been a lot easier once the prince had been called away to speak with his father. It was true, Lester reflected sadly, that his boy did indeed have a gigantic crush on the prince. He'd hoped Connor would make a good marriage with a fellow scientist, and produce many grandchildren who would make great advances in their chosen fields and provide him with much boasting material once he moved on to the House of Lords with his inevitable knighthood.
As it was, if any genetic children appeared it would be a small miracle. Lester supposed they would be purchased from the same source as their princely father, and doubtless have similar traits. It was deeply disappointing. Still, it was time to break the news. Connor was hunched over his computer, playing some interminable game. Again. It was sometimes hard to remember just how smart he was.
"Connor, my boy, how would you like to be married to Prince Hilary?"
Judging by the wide-eyed and hopeful expression on his face, the answer was very much indeed. Lester sighed.
"There's one small problem..."
---
Connor had been to the palace many times, and even been introduced to the king once. He'd not liked the way that King Philip looked at him then, and he certainly didn't like the way he was looking at him when Connor arrived to start his trial.
Prince Hilary was standing behind the king, looking extremely sulky and cross. It made him look even more attractive than usual. Connor hoped it wasn't because he didn't want to marry Connor, though he knew that was a faint hope on both counts.
Up until this point, Connor had always been very happy that James Lester had taken him in when he was found on the temple steps as a small child. The prime minister was a kind father, despite trying very hard to pretend not to let anyone see that he was. Sometimes, though, he was over-proud of his clever son, and on this occasion had stepped over the mark with his boasting. Connor didn't blame him, the king was very annoying and probably had goaded his father into it.
If only his father hadn't exaggerated so very much about the golden lands. In truth, Connor had managed to open one single anomaly. A very large dinosaur had stuck its head through and been decapitated when Connor panicked and turned the machine off. It had made a terrible mess of the carpet. Since then his attempts to replicate the experiment had failed, although he'd told his father they were going very well and had possibly made out that he had managed to open several more gateways.
He knew he was going to spend many years in the king's bedchamber, and then probably be thrown out on the street to sell his body when the king tired of him because he didn't think his father was going to want to take him back after he'd shamed the family so, and he'd never be able to get a job as anything other than a whore with only 'King's bedwarmer' on his CV. Worse, because he was the prime minister's son it would be all across the papers. Lester would probably have to resign. He could feel the tears welling up. Why hadn't he been honest with his father?
The king was speaking to him again. He'd laid a friendly hand on Connor's shoulder, which he kept rubbing in an overly familiar manner. Connor gathered that he was supposed to follow the king to a specially prepared laboratory, where he would be given everything he asked for and then left alone for a day to concentrate on his work. A day. It had taken Connor six months to work out the calculations on the first anomaly and another year to build a machine that successfully opened them. The decapitated dinosaur head had fallen on the prototype and broken it and he hadn't been able to replicate it.
He was never going to be able to build another one in so short a space of time.
Miserably he asked for everything from his lab at home to be brought over, including the smashed prototype, and contemplated his fate.
Philip beamed at him happily, contemplating the same thing.
---
After ten hours, Connor started to lose what little hope he had. The prototype showed no signs of working, and he couldn't read half his notes because he'd either written them so poorly or cried all over them.
After fifteen hours he started to despair.
After twenty hours he ripped up all his notes, then panicked and tried to stick them all back together again.
After twenty-two hours, he gave up, put his head in his hands, and sobbed his heart out.
Connor had been crying for quite a while, his face was all red and blotchy and he'd used most of a mansize box of tissues. He was so wrapped up in his own misery, and the thought of what King Philip would want him to do in his new role, and the fact that Prince Hilary would never look at him with anything but disgust ever again, and that his father would probably be forced to disown him, that he didn't notice that he was no longer alone until his new companion spoke.
"Dear me, whatever is the matter?"
It was a small, weaselly little man with sharp features and a suit that didn't quite fit. There was something vaguely unwholesome about him, the sort of untrustworthiness you'd associate with a loan shark or a used car salesman. Connor blinked at him, wiped his nose and sat up.
"Has the king sent you? Is my time up already?"
"Not at all." The strange man gave him a twisted little smile. "I heard someone crying, and came to see if I could help."
"That's very kind of you," Connor sniffed. Lester had taught him that he should always be polite. "But nobody can help me. I've got to get this mended and working before the deadline, otherwise I'm to be given to the king for his pleasure and Prince Hilary will never look at me ever again!"
"Oh dear, that would be rather a pity," the man told him. "I hear the king is most vigorous in his attentions, and very active when he gets the opportunity."
This revelation set Connor off again. When he'd calmed himself a little, he noticed that the little man had gone over to the prototype and was examining it.
"It was a science project at uni," Connor explained. "I can't replicate it and I only have about an hour left."
"Hmm. I suppose it would be worth a great deal to you if someone were to help you get it working?"
"Nobody can," Connor moaned. "I'm the only one who's ever done it."
"But if someone could," the man continued. "What would it be worth to you?"
The man was even less attractive than the king. Connor hoped this wasn't leading up to a proposition. Still, it couldn't be done so it didn't really matter.
"If someone could do that it would be a miracle, I think right now it would be worth whatever they wanted."
"Excellent. Shall we say your first born child?"
"What?"
"If I fix this for you, in return you will give me your first born child."
If Connor somehow got through the trial, he would be marrying Prince Hilary and no amount of infatuation was going to help him provide the prince with a son, first born or otherwise. It seemed a safe enough deal.
"Done," Connor agreed. "But I only have thirty five minutes left now."
The little man rubbed his hands together happily. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, Connor. You go and wash away those tears and get some sleep, you'll want to look nice and refreshed to greet your future father-in-law in the morning, won't you?"
Connor was still very dubious about seeing King Philip in the morning, or at any other time of day, but there was no fixing of the anomaly device in the small amount of time he had left, so he rinsed his face off in the small sink, then curled up in the corner of the laboratory, wrapped his coat around himself, and went to sleep.
---
Part Two is here
Author: Clea2011
Word Count: 10,704 total. This part 3,287
Characters: Becker/Connor, Jess, Lester, Danny, Philip, April, Ryan
Rating: 15
Spoilers: No
Warnings: No
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures, I'm just writing for fun and non-profit.
A/N: For the
trope_bingo square au: royalty / aristocracy / feudal. Thanks to fififolle for the beta, and to celeste9 for all the Fairy Tale discussions.
Summary: This is a retelling of the Rumpelstiltskin fairy tale. It contains no mpreg, as requested by Celeste. It is very much crackfic.
By Any Other Name
Once upon a time, there was a young man named Connor, who lived in a faraway land with his sarcastic yet kindly father. His father, who strictly speaking was his guardian having taken him in when he was found on the temple steps as a child, had risen up to become Prime Minister, and although this meant he was very busy he still found time for Connor and better yet could afford to indulge him in his interest in science. Connor was very happy, and knew that he had been very fortunate in all but one thing. His father's lifestyle meant that they regularly had to spend time with the royal family, and as soon as Connor saw the very handsome crown prince he knew that he would never love another. Sadly, the prince barely knew that Connor existed.
King Philip had been on the throne for many years. He knew that one day his reign would come to an end, and it would be time for his son to take over, but he hoped that wouldn't be for a long time yet. Philip liked being king. He liked having people bowing and scraping to him and doing exactly what he told them to. It was right, what with him being so far superior to them all. He hoped that one day his son would be able to see things like that and appreciate how much better they were than everyone else. Unfortunately, he showed little sign of it, and often would bite his knuckles in distress when some menial serf came into the throne room on their knees. Apparently he felt he should be saving them, because that was what he did, and the king had sometimes had to stop him helping up any number of lowly peasants who only wanted to lick the king's royal boots.
Temperament aside, Prince Hilary was the model prince. Exactly as he should be, the price King Philip paid for him. He was tall, dark and extremely handsome. He was equally adept with the rifle and the sword, and set their subjects' hearts aflame wherever he went. He also had perfect hair that was never mussed, and wore tight black leather trousers, thigh-length boots and a white billowing shirt open to the navel whatever the occasion.
Philip was very proud of his son and heir and took him along whenever there was any sort of press call or publicity, as he always increased the royal family's approval rating. Truthfully, he was only the adopted son, as Queen April was not only too posh to push but too vain to soil her figure with the stain of pregnancy. She also was very proud of Prince Hilary, and once every month or so deigned to spend a small amount of time with him to ensure that he was still worthy of that pride.
Queen April was rather difficult to please. And if she was unhappy, she wouldn't let King Philip into the royal bedchamber. She was often unhappy, and King Philip was therefore often forced to spank the royal monkey. It was most vexing.
There were many things in Philip's life which were vexing. The Prime Minister was high up on the list of these things.
James Lester was, as far as Philip was concerned, an odious little man. His bows and scrapes were never very deep, and there was always an undercurrent of scorn in his voice. Or boredom. Philip could often hear boredom, and condescension, and disdain. And sarcasm. He heard an awful lot of sarcasm.
On one particular day, Prime Minister Lester was looking exceptionally unimpressed as Prince Hilary single-handedly fought off all his knights and won the royal tournament for the sixth year in a row. Sir Danny of Quinn had taken part that year, and proved a most trying opponent. Even Sir Ryan had struggled with his underhand methods which invariably went against the knightly code, which unfortunately had meant that Sir Danny met Prince Hilary in the final instead, and in the place of the normal annual glorious display of perfect swordsmanship from both men resulting in the contrived but expected royal victory, there was an unsporting game of hide and seek, a great deal of mud and the prince looking quite put out.
In the end Hilary had emerged victorious, but it had been a close thing.
"Quinn is here on your invitation, is he not?" Philip enquired of his prime minister, knowing full well the answer. He was predisposed to dislike Quinn, particularly as Queen April was currently commiserating with him on his loss far more than was necessary as she presented him with the runners-up trophy.
"You know that he is. Sire."
Lester always managed to make 'Sire' or 'Your Majesty' sound like a thinly-veiled insult. Philip ignored it. He was, after all, king for life. This annoying prime minister would be gone in a few years. As long as he wasn't replaced by that awful Johnson woman. He didn't think he could stand another term with her.
"A pity, then, that he failed to win. Despite his...ah...unusual style of fighting. Hilary is of course the very best and is undefeated in the field."
"Largely because your knights are under orders to make sure that is the case. I very much doubt your boy would be able to hold his own against Sir Ryan in an even fight."
It was unfair, and it wasn't even entirely true. Philip had never ordered the knights to let Hilary win, they had just taken it as a given. And Ryan had been the prince's instructor, of course he wanted his pupil to win. Besides, Hilary had managed to defeat Quinn, eventually, and he definitely hadn't been wanting to let the prince win.
"I never see your boy taking part here," Philip pointed out. "I suppose he has a delicate constitution, unsuited to manly pursuits?"
"Connor is more interested in intellectual matters," Lester told him. "He is acknowledged far and wide as a genius. He would hardly lower himself to waste his days lugging a sword around like some kind of barbarian."
"Strange, because many times I have seen him sitting up here gazing at Prince Hilary while he's fighting, in a way that I could only describe as besotted. It's quite pathetic, poor boy. And hardly intellectual."
It was with a certain satisfaction that Philip watched Lester draw himself up to his full height (which was, unfortunately, still only up to the king's shoulder) and started reeling off his son's many accomplishments. Philip's eyes glazed over, not really interested. He'd succeeded in hitting a nerve, and that was all he'd really been after. That was, until Lester started telling him about the science project Connor had started at university which was opening up anomalies in time and space and allowing travel through them. Philip scoffed, but was secretly very interested. Lester's claims grew, until he started to talk about a land Connor had found where everything was gold, even the trees. A man could be very wealthy if he had the ability to reach that land. Philip's treasury had been looking very unhealthy recently, largely due to Queen April's regular spending sprees.
"I don't believe you," Philip told him.
"Well, you're not a man of science."
Philip ignored that. He owned a vast library, and sometimes he stood in there and looked at all his books that were sitting on the shelves. The spines were all colour-coordinated. He was, he felt, an extremely learned man. And even if he wasn't, he was king and everyone had to say he was very intelligent indeed. This insubordinate prime minister needed to be taught a lesson. Also, Philip had just thought of an excellent way in which he could also benefit from the situation. "You'll have to prove it. Bring your boy to the palace tomorrow. He'll have 24 hours to open up this anomaly thing to the land of gold. If he succeeds, I will give him Hilary's hand in marriage."
Lester snorted. "Well, that should lower his IQ level by several notches but I daresay he won't mind. What if he fails?"
"He'll be hailed far and wide as a fraud and never find work in his chosen field. But he's a comely boy. I'll take him in as the royal bedwarmer."
"That's abuse of power. You can't..."
"I think you'll find, Mr Lester, that I am king and therefore I most certainly can. I find myself almost hoping that he fails. Now, bring him here in the morning, and I'll explain things to him. If you like, I can even take him through his new duties."
"That won't be necessary," Lester told him through gritted teeth.
Philip smiled to himself as the prime minister made his excuses and hurried away. Whatever happened the next day, the outcome for Philip could only be good.
Now all he had to do was break the news to Prince Hilary...
---
Hilary had not taken the news well.
In fact, he was lying on Philip's favourite fainting couch, the one he used when wanting to appear particularly distressed to the nation about some minor thing he couldn't care less about. Hilary, it appeared, had perfected the swoon on his first try. Philip was rather envious. Hilary was going to be a great king. One day. A very, very long time in the future. He was reclining dramatically with the back of his hand pressed over his forehead. Queen April had torn herself away from Sir Danny's side and was making some effort to calm her son. If nothing else, it always made her look good in the papers if she was seen to be a caring mother.
Philip was sure he heard Sir Danny mutter something about "What a wuss!" and contemplated ways that the newly appointed knight (the queen had insisted...) could be accused of treason and executed in a slow and painful manner.
"But Pater," Hilary wailed. "He's an intellectual! A scientist! I have heard that he may even be a geek! What could we possibly have in common?"
April patted his hand reassuringly. "There, there, dearest boy, your father is sure the task is quite impossible and you won't have to marry him."
"But he's a genius!" Hilary cried. "He's won prizes. At school he used to do all my homework for me! Dear lord, I'll have to talk to him! He knows all the episodes of Dr Who, you know? He can quote them!"
"Your suffering is indeed going to be great," Sir Danny put in helpfully. "I hear there's a new series out soon!"
Philip glared at him. Hilary let out a fresh wail of distress.
"I'll just go and tell the rest of the knights that the prince is indisposed, shall I?" Quinn offered. The queen beamed at him. Philip glared some more and pretended not to hear what the newest knight muttered about the crown prince as he exited.
---
It had been a long and trying day. It wasn't easy being prime minister when the king was such a smug and irritating bastard. Lester couldn't wait for the revolution and intended being right at the head of it, leading the country into a glorious republic.
Dragging Connor away from watching the knights had been a lot easier once the prince had been called away to speak with his father. It was true, Lester reflected sadly, that his boy did indeed have a gigantic crush on the prince. He'd hoped Connor would make a good marriage with a fellow scientist, and produce many grandchildren who would make great advances in their chosen fields and provide him with much boasting material once he moved on to the House of Lords with his inevitable knighthood.
As it was, if any genetic children appeared it would be a small miracle. Lester supposed they would be purchased from the same source as their princely father, and doubtless have similar traits. It was deeply disappointing. Still, it was time to break the news. Connor was hunched over his computer, playing some interminable game. Again. It was sometimes hard to remember just how smart he was.
"Connor, my boy, how would you like to be married to Prince Hilary?"
Judging by the wide-eyed and hopeful expression on his face, the answer was very much indeed. Lester sighed.
"There's one small problem..."
---
Connor had been to the palace many times, and even been introduced to the king once. He'd not liked the way that King Philip looked at him then, and he certainly didn't like the way he was looking at him when Connor arrived to start his trial.
Prince Hilary was standing behind the king, looking extremely sulky and cross. It made him look even more attractive than usual. Connor hoped it wasn't because he didn't want to marry Connor, though he knew that was a faint hope on both counts.
Up until this point, Connor had always been very happy that James Lester had taken him in when he was found on the temple steps as a small child. The prime minister was a kind father, despite trying very hard to pretend not to let anyone see that he was. Sometimes, though, he was over-proud of his clever son, and on this occasion had stepped over the mark with his boasting. Connor didn't blame him, the king was very annoying and probably had goaded his father into it.
If only his father hadn't exaggerated so very much about the golden lands. In truth, Connor had managed to open one single anomaly. A very large dinosaur had stuck its head through and been decapitated when Connor panicked and turned the machine off. It had made a terrible mess of the carpet. Since then his attempts to replicate the experiment had failed, although he'd told his father they were going very well and had possibly made out that he had managed to open several more gateways.
He knew he was going to spend many years in the king's bedchamber, and then probably be thrown out on the street to sell his body when the king tired of him because he didn't think his father was going to want to take him back after he'd shamed the family so, and he'd never be able to get a job as anything other than a whore with only 'King's bedwarmer' on his CV. Worse, because he was the prime minister's son it would be all across the papers. Lester would probably have to resign. He could feel the tears welling up. Why hadn't he been honest with his father?
The king was speaking to him again. He'd laid a friendly hand on Connor's shoulder, which he kept rubbing in an overly familiar manner. Connor gathered that he was supposed to follow the king to a specially prepared laboratory, where he would be given everything he asked for and then left alone for a day to concentrate on his work. A day. It had taken Connor six months to work out the calculations on the first anomaly and another year to build a machine that successfully opened them. The decapitated dinosaur head had fallen on the prototype and broken it and he hadn't been able to replicate it.
He was never going to be able to build another one in so short a space of time.
Miserably he asked for everything from his lab at home to be brought over, including the smashed prototype, and contemplated his fate.
Philip beamed at him happily, contemplating the same thing.
---
After ten hours, Connor started to lose what little hope he had. The prototype showed no signs of working, and he couldn't read half his notes because he'd either written them so poorly or cried all over them.
After fifteen hours he started to despair.
After twenty hours he ripped up all his notes, then panicked and tried to stick them all back together again.
After twenty-two hours, he gave up, put his head in his hands, and sobbed his heart out.
Connor had been crying for quite a while, his face was all red and blotchy and he'd used most of a mansize box of tissues. He was so wrapped up in his own misery, and the thought of what King Philip would want him to do in his new role, and the fact that Prince Hilary would never look at him with anything but disgust ever again, and that his father would probably be forced to disown him, that he didn't notice that he was no longer alone until his new companion spoke.
"Dear me, whatever is the matter?"
It was a small, weaselly little man with sharp features and a suit that didn't quite fit. There was something vaguely unwholesome about him, the sort of untrustworthiness you'd associate with a loan shark or a used car salesman. Connor blinked at him, wiped his nose and sat up.
"Has the king sent you? Is my time up already?"
"Not at all." The strange man gave him a twisted little smile. "I heard someone crying, and came to see if I could help."
"That's very kind of you," Connor sniffed. Lester had taught him that he should always be polite. "But nobody can help me. I've got to get this mended and working before the deadline, otherwise I'm to be given to the king for his pleasure and Prince Hilary will never look at me ever again!"
"Oh dear, that would be rather a pity," the man told him. "I hear the king is most vigorous in his attentions, and very active when he gets the opportunity."
This revelation set Connor off again. When he'd calmed himself a little, he noticed that the little man had gone over to the prototype and was examining it.
"It was a science project at uni," Connor explained. "I can't replicate it and I only have about an hour left."
"Hmm. I suppose it would be worth a great deal to you if someone were to help you get it working?"
"Nobody can," Connor moaned. "I'm the only one who's ever done it."
"But if someone could," the man continued. "What would it be worth to you?"
The man was even less attractive than the king. Connor hoped this wasn't leading up to a proposition. Still, it couldn't be done so it didn't really matter.
"If someone could do that it would be a miracle, I think right now it would be worth whatever they wanted."
"Excellent. Shall we say your first born child?"
"What?"
"If I fix this for you, in return you will give me your first born child."
If Connor somehow got through the trial, he would be marrying Prince Hilary and no amount of infatuation was going to help him provide the prince with a son, first born or otherwise. It seemed a safe enough deal.
"Done," Connor agreed. "But I only have thirty five minutes left now."
The little man rubbed his hands together happily. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, Connor. You go and wash away those tears and get some sleep, you'll want to look nice and refreshed to greet your future father-in-law in the morning, won't you?"
Connor was still very dubious about seeing King Philip in the morning, or at any other time of day, but there was no fixing of the anomaly device in the small amount of time he had left, so he rinsed his face off in the small sink, then curled up in the corner of the laboratory, wrapped his coat around himself, and went to sleep.
---
Part Two is here