30 Days of Writing: Haze
Like a Circle in the Water
30 Days of Writing - A Drabble A Day Challenge
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Prussia/England
Summary: After weeks of pestering, Arthur is delighted when Gilbert finally agrees to take him to an ale house. Medieval AU.
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |
Haze
After weeks of pestering, Arthur is delighted when Gilbert finally agrees to take him to an ale house. He hasn’t a clue what exactly had prompted Gilbert’s change of heart, but he certainly isn’t in a mind to question his good fortune.
He makes a conscious effort to appear natural the following day, remembering to scowl into his breakfast to avoid suspicion. A grin threatens to spill across his features all day and it is a relief when he is finally dismissed from dinner, allowing him to retire to his room.
He retrieves the satchel he had received from Gilbert the previous evening and spreads the contents over his bed. He looks at the simple clothing for a moment, absently thinking that Gilbert must have leant him his own clothing after all, before running his fingers over the coarse material. He shrugs into the ensemble and has to dig out a belt to ensure he won’t be tripping over his feet for the whole evening; he doesn’t need to give Gilbert more reasons to poke fun at him.
Finally, he fastens his cloak at his neck and catches his reflection in the mirror. Arthur frowns at the image: he is swallowed by the swathes of fabric making him look too young. It is only when he grimaces at his the image that he looks any older.
A wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he slips, silent as a shadow, into the hallway. Gilbert had once asked, in that blunt way of his, how he could possibly frown so much when he had so many resources at his supposed disposal.
He’s fairly certain that given his small wiry build, Gilbert will agree that his more often than not sarcastic temperament and sober countenance will be an asset today.
It takes a few minutes to navigate his way through the darkened passages he’d lost himself in as a child, re-emerging outside the castles walls precisely where planned. He quickly trots over to where can see Gilbert leaning casually against a wall a few feet away.
Gilbert gives him a once over and nods his approval while trying to tuck away the small smile that creeps onto his face at the sight Arthur makes. Mercifully, he stays silent, choosing instead to sling an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and steering him in the direction of the path that winds down to town.
They amble through the markets on foot, Gilbert’s arm acting like an anchor to keep from losing Arthur to the tide of people flooding the square. Gilbert snickers at Arthur’s wide eyes as he struggles to take everything in, saying he may as well be the country lad he’s to pretend he is this evening. Arthur ignores him with a now practiced ease and welcomes the attack on his senses; seeing, smelling, touching, tasting, hearing, feeling the atmosphere. The experience is entirely different from when on horseback.
His mind is still reeling as the two of them meander through quieter streets. Arthur resolves to pester Gilbert into bringing him down to the town more often - preferably on a regular basis. Though as the building of their destination comes into view, he admits to himself that whether or not his friend agrees may possibly depend on the outcome of tonight’s outing.
Gilbert throws open the tavern’s doors without ceremony, striding inside with confidence as he drags Arthur in behind him.
The place looks bigger inside than it had done from outside, and Arthur has a vague recollection of Gilbert mentioning that there are rooms available to stay in upstairs for paying customers. The low lighting makes Arthur think of muted laughter and shared secrets, though the only sinister presence that he can detect presently is the severe looking man standing behind the bar. Gilbert tilts his head to the man as he walks by; Arthur feels that he’s intimidating enough to deserve a shallow bow at least, but is pulled away before he can do much more than nod.
There is a jovial shout for Gilbert from one corner of the room, and Gilbert promptly changes direction as he heads towards the sound. Arthur winces at the sharp tug on his wrist and stumbles after the older boy, attempting to peer around the taller figure to catch sight of Gilbert’s much spoken of friends.
He eyes the table from which the call had originated with a little trepidation. Being one of the younger sons of a noble house outside of the intrigue of the King’s Court has meant that Arthur’s interactions with other children of noble birth have been few and far between; of those he did meet, few were openly antagonistic but the grudging respect and wary truces between them showed none of the amity spoken of in the stories he’d found in their library. His fledgling friendship with Gilbert is not conventional in the least, but has given him a first taste of what friendship can truly be.
Even if he is unable to befriend Gilbert’s comrades, he certainly wants to make a good impression; the last thing he wants is for Gilbert to feel ashamed to be his friend - for Gilbert to regret befriending him at all.
One of the people seated at the booth slides out from behind the table to throw an arm around one of Gilbert’s shoulders, thumping the other on the back with a loud, bright laugh. He towers over both of the new arrivals, blue eyes appraising Arthur from over Gilbert’s shoulder.
Gilbert’s grip tightens on his wrist for a moment in reassurance before allowing his fingers to uncurl so that he can return the enthusiastic embrace.
“So,” the tall stranger says, smiling at Arthur. “This must be the Artie we’ve been hearing so much about recently.” He holds out a hand and Arthur takes it, his grip firm, He’s startled when the formal handshake he is expecting does not happen and he is instead tugged forward where the man stoops slightly to get a closer look at his face. “Well I’ll be,” he breathes, looking thoroughly amused. “Looks like those brows really are that big up close.”
Arthur can feel two spots of colour burning onto his cheeks - Gilbert’s friend has recognised him, it seems - as Gilbert rolls his eyes and cuffs the man’s head while he can still reach, hissing “Mathias; discretion!”
Mathias just booms out another laugh, ruffling Gilbert’s hair so hard that it resembles a bird’s nest by the time he’s done. Gilbert is still muttering to himself murderously when a quiet voice rings clearly from behind Mathias.
“I don’t think Mathias knows the meaning of the word, Gil.” Arthur shifts so that he can inspect the owner of this new voice; intelligent eyes and a knowing, slightly exasperated smile are set into a small face. He has a softer look about him, counteracting the sharp edges and angles that make up Gilbert and Mathias. “And neither of you seem to possess any sense of self preservation. No wonder everyone treats me like I’m your keeper.” That said, he turns his attention back to Arthur. “I’m Brandt, by the way. Why don’t you sit down?”
This is how he finds himself firmly wedged between Brandt and Gilbert, sipping on the lemonade as that has been restricted to.
“There is no way I’m going to be able to sneak you back into the castle if you’re drunk,” Gilbert had grumbled before agreeing to bring Arthur along at all. “It’s lemonade for you, or nothing.”
Not that Arthur lets that stop him from stealing a sip from Gilbert’s tankard while the elder is distracted. Mathias catches him the act an hour or so after they arrive, but instead of bringing it to Gilbert’s attention as Arthur had feared, he just throws him a conspiratorial wink before proceeding to draw Gilbert’s attention away even more frequently.
Arthur feels himself relax as the evening wears on; it is in part due to the alcohol flowing through his veins, but the credit is equally, if not more, deserved by Gilbert’s friends.
He listens attentively to tales of their exploits around town, each growing more outrageous with every interjection as Mathias and Gilbert interrupt each other. Brandt occasionally cuts into the conversation with fond amusement when something said is just a little too extravagant and instead provides Arthur with the unembellished truth.
The first time that this happens, Arthur can’t supress the snort of laughter that leaves him. There is a moment of silence at the table as Arthur clams up, not wanting to offend his new friends. Then Mathias breaks into laughter, Brandt following shortly after. The only one not laughing is Gilbert, who is busy vehemently denying ever being sent home black and blue by one of the girls who works in the castle’s kitchen.
Soon, he’s chuckling along with Brandt as Mathias and Gilbert start to flirt shamelessly with the barmaids, and even eggs them both on as they continue to be rejected.
Arthur’s luck is apparently better than theirs; after Gilbert catches Arthur taking a rather hearty gulp of ale from his tankard a girl with a ribbon in her hair and warm green eyes sets a fresh glass of lemonade in front of him, saying that it is on the house. He accepts it dubiously, but with thanks. She gives him an affectionate pat on the cheek before rounding on Gilbert and Mathias with reprove. “If you two were half this sweet, you might actually be getting somewhere.”
She bustles away, clearing the table of empty glasses as she goes. Gilbert catches sight of the embarrassed flush creeping up Arthur’s neck and snickers. The three older boys tease him mercilessly for the rest of the evening, and although Arthur retaliates in his usual fashion of barbed remarks and cutting dry humour he finds that he’s still enjoying himself - that this is the most fun he has had for a very long time.
-
Despite the distinct lack of activity with how empty the streets have become, the walk back up to the castle is considerably slower than the journey down to the town had been only a few hours ago. Gilbert mutters to himself for the entire trip, though the words lack any bite. Arthur glances up blearily through his lashes and catches a small smile on his friend’s face. It stays there until Gilbert notices his gaze, when he raises a brow at Arthur and asks, “And just what are you smiling so happily about?”
He isn’t aware that he is smiling; the fact that he makes no move to school his expression at all once he is aware has Gilbert blinking at him for a moment, before he’s rolling his eyes. “We’re going to need to build up your tolerance if this is what a little ale does to you. I thought you said you’d had wine before…”
Arthur allows himself to be lead through back streets, his grip on Gilbert’s hand a little slack as he nods along without the words really registering. His mind is still revelling in the wealth of memories he’s acquired this evening - the new people he has met and befriended, the new places he’s seen, the new feelings he’s experienced. It’s this, he thinks absently, rather than the alcohol that he’s consumed that is making him feel so dazed and causing him to run into Gilbert’s back every so often when he’s not paying attention.
It takes until the next time he crashes into his friend’s back for Arthur to fully recognise what Gilbert has said to him, and when he does finally understand his eyes grow to be as wide as saucers as he stares down at their joined hands.
“We’re going to build up my tolerance?”
Gilbert throws him an amused look over his shoulder before tugging Arthur forward again by the hand. “What, you want to be drinking lemonade for the rest of your life? Cause unless we take it slowly that’s all you’re going to be allowed from now on; no more hand outs from Mathias.”
“You mean I can come with you again?”
“You going to let me keep you away?”
Gilbert informs him that the grin that then spreads across his face is positively frightening. Arthur doesn’t care in the slightest.
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
Mathias - Denmark
Brandt - Margraviate of Brandenburg
Apologies for the delay getting this posted - I’m hoping the length makes up for this somewhat? :3 I’m also really sleepy at the minute, so apologies if there are any mistakes! (If you spot any, please feel free to point them out, as always~)
The next part may also take a little longer than usual to post as I have a few things I need to read up on before I can write it; I’ll try not to take too long though!
30 Days of Writing - A Drabble A Day Challenge
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Prussia/England
Summary: After weeks of pestering, Arthur is delighted when Gilbert finally agrees to take him to an ale house. Medieval AU.
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |
Haze
After weeks of pestering, Arthur is delighted when Gilbert finally agrees to take him to an ale house. He hasn’t a clue what exactly had prompted Gilbert’s change of heart, but he certainly isn’t in a mind to question his good fortune.
He makes a conscious effort to appear natural the following day, remembering to scowl into his breakfast to avoid suspicion. A grin threatens to spill across his features all day and it is a relief when he is finally dismissed from dinner, allowing him to retire to his room.
He retrieves the satchel he had received from Gilbert the previous evening and spreads the contents over his bed. He looks at the simple clothing for a moment, absently thinking that Gilbert must have leant him his own clothing after all, before running his fingers over the coarse material. He shrugs into the ensemble and has to dig out a belt to ensure he won’t be tripping over his feet for the whole evening; he doesn’t need to give Gilbert more reasons to poke fun at him.
Finally, he fastens his cloak at his neck and catches his reflection in the mirror. Arthur frowns at the image: he is swallowed by the swathes of fabric making him look too young. It is only when he grimaces at his the image that he looks any older.
A wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he slips, silent as a shadow, into the hallway. Gilbert had once asked, in that blunt way of his, how he could possibly frown so much when he had so many resources at his supposed disposal.
He’s fairly certain that given his small wiry build, Gilbert will agree that his more often than not sarcastic temperament and sober countenance will be an asset today.
It takes a few minutes to navigate his way through the darkened passages he’d lost himself in as a child, re-emerging outside the castles walls precisely where planned. He quickly trots over to where can see Gilbert leaning casually against a wall a few feet away.
Gilbert gives him a once over and nods his approval while trying to tuck away the small smile that creeps onto his face at the sight Arthur makes. Mercifully, he stays silent, choosing instead to sling an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and steering him in the direction of the path that winds down to town.
They amble through the markets on foot, Gilbert’s arm acting like an anchor to keep from losing Arthur to the tide of people flooding the square. Gilbert snickers at Arthur’s wide eyes as he struggles to take everything in, saying he may as well be the country lad he’s to pretend he is this evening. Arthur ignores him with a now practiced ease and welcomes the attack on his senses; seeing, smelling, touching, tasting, hearing, feeling the atmosphere. The experience is entirely different from when on horseback.
His mind is still reeling as the two of them meander through quieter streets. Arthur resolves to pester Gilbert into bringing him down to the town more often - preferably on a regular basis. Though as the building of their destination comes into view, he admits to himself that whether or not his friend agrees may possibly depend on the outcome of tonight’s outing.
Gilbert throws open the tavern’s doors without ceremony, striding inside with confidence as he drags Arthur in behind him.
The place looks bigger inside than it had done from outside, and Arthur has a vague recollection of Gilbert mentioning that there are rooms available to stay in upstairs for paying customers. The low lighting makes Arthur think of muted laughter and shared secrets, though the only sinister presence that he can detect presently is the severe looking man standing behind the bar. Gilbert tilts his head to the man as he walks by; Arthur feels that he’s intimidating enough to deserve a shallow bow at least, but is pulled away before he can do much more than nod.
There is a jovial shout for Gilbert from one corner of the room, and Gilbert promptly changes direction as he heads towards the sound. Arthur winces at the sharp tug on his wrist and stumbles after the older boy, attempting to peer around the taller figure to catch sight of Gilbert’s much spoken of friends.
He eyes the table from which the call had originated with a little trepidation. Being one of the younger sons of a noble house outside of the intrigue of the King’s Court has meant that Arthur’s interactions with other children of noble birth have been few and far between; of those he did meet, few were openly antagonistic but the grudging respect and wary truces between them showed none of the amity spoken of in the stories he’d found in their library. His fledgling friendship with Gilbert is not conventional in the least, but has given him a first taste of what friendship can truly be.
Even if he is unable to befriend Gilbert’s comrades, he certainly wants to make a good impression; the last thing he wants is for Gilbert to feel ashamed to be his friend - for Gilbert to regret befriending him at all.
One of the people seated at the booth slides out from behind the table to throw an arm around one of Gilbert’s shoulders, thumping the other on the back with a loud, bright laugh. He towers over both of the new arrivals, blue eyes appraising Arthur from over Gilbert’s shoulder.
Gilbert’s grip tightens on his wrist for a moment in reassurance before allowing his fingers to uncurl so that he can return the enthusiastic embrace.
“So,” the tall stranger says, smiling at Arthur. “This must be the Artie we’ve been hearing so much about recently.” He holds out a hand and Arthur takes it, his grip firm, He’s startled when the formal handshake he is expecting does not happen and he is instead tugged forward where the man stoops slightly to get a closer look at his face. “Well I’ll be,” he breathes, looking thoroughly amused. “Looks like those brows really are that big up close.”
Arthur can feel two spots of colour burning onto his cheeks - Gilbert’s friend has recognised him, it seems - as Gilbert rolls his eyes and cuffs the man’s head while he can still reach, hissing “Mathias; discretion!”
Mathias just booms out another laugh, ruffling Gilbert’s hair so hard that it resembles a bird’s nest by the time he’s done. Gilbert is still muttering to himself murderously when a quiet voice rings clearly from behind Mathias.
“I don’t think Mathias knows the meaning of the word, Gil.” Arthur shifts so that he can inspect the owner of this new voice; intelligent eyes and a knowing, slightly exasperated smile are set into a small face. He has a softer look about him, counteracting the sharp edges and angles that make up Gilbert and Mathias. “And neither of you seem to possess any sense of self preservation. No wonder everyone treats me like I’m your keeper.” That said, he turns his attention back to Arthur. “I’m Brandt, by the way. Why don’t you sit down?”
This is how he finds himself firmly wedged between Brandt and Gilbert, sipping on the lemonade as that has been restricted to.
“There is no way I’m going to be able to sneak you back into the castle if you’re drunk,” Gilbert had grumbled before agreeing to bring Arthur along at all. “It’s lemonade for you, or nothing.”
Not that Arthur lets that stop him from stealing a sip from Gilbert’s tankard while the elder is distracted. Mathias catches him the act an hour or so after they arrive, but instead of bringing it to Gilbert’s attention as Arthur had feared, he just throws him a conspiratorial wink before proceeding to draw Gilbert’s attention away even more frequently.
Arthur feels himself relax as the evening wears on; it is in part due to the alcohol flowing through his veins, but the credit is equally, if not more, deserved by Gilbert’s friends.
He listens attentively to tales of their exploits around town, each growing more outrageous with every interjection as Mathias and Gilbert interrupt each other. Brandt occasionally cuts into the conversation with fond amusement when something said is just a little too extravagant and instead provides Arthur with the unembellished truth.
The first time that this happens, Arthur can’t supress the snort of laughter that leaves him. There is a moment of silence at the table as Arthur clams up, not wanting to offend his new friends. Then Mathias breaks into laughter, Brandt following shortly after. The only one not laughing is Gilbert, who is busy vehemently denying ever being sent home black and blue by one of the girls who works in the castle’s kitchen.
Soon, he’s chuckling along with Brandt as Mathias and Gilbert start to flirt shamelessly with the barmaids, and even eggs them both on as they continue to be rejected.
Arthur’s luck is apparently better than theirs; after Gilbert catches Arthur taking a rather hearty gulp of ale from his tankard a girl with a ribbon in her hair and warm green eyes sets a fresh glass of lemonade in front of him, saying that it is on the house. He accepts it dubiously, but with thanks. She gives him an affectionate pat on the cheek before rounding on Gilbert and Mathias with reprove. “If you two were half this sweet, you might actually be getting somewhere.”
She bustles away, clearing the table of empty glasses as she goes. Gilbert catches sight of the embarrassed flush creeping up Arthur’s neck and snickers. The three older boys tease him mercilessly for the rest of the evening, and although Arthur retaliates in his usual fashion of barbed remarks and cutting dry humour he finds that he’s still enjoying himself - that this is the most fun he has had for a very long time.
-
Despite the distinct lack of activity with how empty the streets have become, the walk back up to the castle is considerably slower than the journey down to the town had been only a few hours ago. Gilbert mutters to himself for the entire trip, though the words lack any bite. Arthur glances up blearily through his lashes and catches a small smile on his friend’s face. It stays there until Gilbert notices his gaze, when he raises a brow at Arthur and asks, “And just what are you smiling so happily about?”
He isn’t aware that he is smiling; the fact that he makes no move to school his expression at all once he is aware has Gilbert blinking at him for a moment, before he’s rolling his eyes. “We’re going to need to build up your tolerance if this is what a little ale does to you. I thought you said you’d had wine before…”
Arthur allows himself to be lead through back streets, his grip on Gilbert’s hand a little slack as he nods along without the words really registering. His mind is still revelling in the wealth of memories he’s acquired this evening - the new people he has met and befriended, the new places he’s seen, the new feelings he’s experienced. It’s this, he thinks absently, rather than the alcohol that he’s consumed that is making him feel so dazed and causing him to run into Gilbert’s back every so often when he’s not paying attention.
It takes until the next time he crashes into his friend’s back for Arthur to fully recognise what Gilbert has said to him, and when he does finally understand his eyes grow to be as wide as saucers as he stares down at their joined hands.
“We’re going to build up my tolerance?”
Gilbert throws him an amused look over his shoulder before tugging Arthur forward again by the hand. “What, you want to be drinking lemonade for the rest of your life? Cause unless we take it slowly that’s all you’re going to be allowed from now on; no more hand outs from Mathias.”
“You mean I can come with you again?”
“You going to let me keep you away?”
Gilbert informs him that the grin that then spreads across his face is positively frightening. Arthur doesn’t care in the slightest.
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
Mathias - Denmark
Brandt - Margraviate of Brandenburg
Apologies for the delay getting this posted - I’m hoping the length makes up for this somewhat? :3 I’m also really sleepy at the minute, so apologies if there are any mistakes! (If you spot any, please feel free to point them out, as always~)
The next part may also take a little longer than usual to post as I have a few things I need to read up on before I can write it; I’ll try not to take too long though!