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daemon_angelus) wrote2013-01-11 03:55 pm
daemon_angelus) wrote2013-01-11 03:55 pm
the lightning and thunder that lie beneath
us/uk fic done for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vengeanceofrain in my club's secret santa event :)
you can view the original post here but please leave any comments you may have on this post in my journal ^^
Title: the lightning and thunder that lie beneath
For:vengeanceofrain
Author:daemon_angelus
Fandom: axis powers hetalia
Pairing: america/england
Rating: pg13 (for that really realllllly minor reference to sex between two dudes)
Warnings: one really reallllly minor reference to sex? LOL
Summary: usuk. palace setting. "modern"/slight fantasy AU. Just two people in a mad, mad world.
they sit like king and queen -- royalty propped up by gilded tongues and schemes gone right, gone wrong, gone the way they played this game of power and conquest
he is all benevolent smiles (but you know, you just know, in that dark corner of your mind, where demons lie in wait to ravage your thoughts during blackest night, he’ll smile the same smile as he slides his polished blade in between your ribs - )
- and bright blue eyes, too bright, like the sky on a perfect summer’s day - you know how you should always be wary of perfection. he sees all, and the eagle perched atop his ornate, alabaster throne only serves to remind all who kneel before Alfred submit, or die.
a shift in the picture - the queen (peculiar or not so, the queen and the king are of the same gender, but then, stranger truths lie underneath this facade of amity) touches slender fingers to the back of the king’s hand. Alfred’s composure does not change at the sudden contact, no startled jerk into motion, everything is fluid, fluid, fluid - like water. or a snake. he blinks slowly, as if awaking from a reverie (perhaps of the bloody conflict with what was once Adamas recently), eyes shielded behind glasses sliding to his queen, his bright, amused smile quirking at the tips to become just a little bit coy what is it, my dear, he seems to ask, you can almost hear it - and the king is like a dagger cloaked in velvet.
his queen is grace and mystery with an edge of cunning in the light of acid green eyes, almost like emeralds sharp enough to cut. he wears no crown, both of them do not (there is no need for such displays of non-existent power. real power is silent, all-pervading. no need for markers of grandeur and splendour - people knew who you were even before you set foot in the room and exactly exactly, what you were capable of. and they lay in bed wondering if they were in your favour, and what it meant if they were not. oh, it was a very bad thing not to be in the favour of either Alfred or Arthur.)
Arthur’s expression is nonchalant, eyes almost lazy as he stares at where the tips of his fingers met the skin of his king. (he could afford to be ignorant of his surroundings, the massive gryphon seated proudly next to its master’s smaller but no less ornate throne was already enough to intimidate even the hardiest would-be assailant.) he seems to pay little heed to the captain of the royal guards, reporting on the aftermath of the conflict with Adamas (people died, villages burned, things to do, order to restore ho hum), but the queen could later always recite every word spoken (and those that weren’t) when royal inspection came round. no one could pull the wool ove these eyes. instead, Arthur swirls the tip of his index finger over the knobbed knuckles of his king, tracing invisible patterns over calloused skin.
Alfred’s eyes grow that much brighter, and his smile grows that much wider.
“Impatient, aren’t we?”
if this were five years earlier, if this was when they had just gotten betrothed to each other, Arthur would flash fierce, narrowed green eyes at Alfred, tightly wound annoyance written plain on his beautiful features. but this is not then now, Arthur merely meets Alfred’s cheeky remark with a crooked smile and a slight shake of the head, before he slips his hands under the collar of his king’s white shirt and slips his lips against Alfred’s in a breathless kiss.
the kiss is gentle but firm, Alfred’s eyes sliding close as he places his hands at the nape of Arthur’s neck and waist. they stay like this for a while, soft movements, until the king presses his queen tighter against his frame and tilts Arthur’s chin up for a far more passionate kiss - Alfred always took more than he should - that makes Arthur tsk away from. Alfred only laughs, nuzzles his nose against Arthur’s cheek in jest.
“Was Sebastian boring you, Arthur?”
Arthur’s eyes slide half-close again, hands shifting from Alfred’s shoulders down his arms, eyes tracking the movement. it helped him focus his thoughts, so he would not be distracted by Alfred’s expressions or subtle changes in the room, like the moonlight disappearing, wavering, as the moon hid behind clouds. (Arthur was far more perceptive than he, why would Alfred need, or want, rather, someone who did not complement him by his side? still, their marriage had been an arranged one and Alfred always thought it was only luck and good fortune that had led him to wed someone like Arthur - Alfred was powerful, perhaps even perceived a all-powerful but as king, oh, he knew better.)
“We do not need to listen to such.. trivialities.” Arthur’s eyes are hard, but his expression remains indifferent. desensitised, or having come to terms with what it really meant to be king and queen, Alfred doesn’t dwell on the thought. “We know war, Alfred.”
Alfred gives a chuckle, one almost pained. almost. “That we do, don’t we, Arthur...”
Arthur sighs, low under his breath, steps out of Alfred’s arms, past the large, four-poster bed decorated with an unnecessary amount of pillows and fabric, and stands at the glass wall overlooking the palace gardens. (each segment of glass had been enchanted to protect against intruders and wandering eyes - Alfred and Arthur could survey their kingdom, but no one was allowed to spy on the private matters of the king and queen. Arthur always knew the world was not made to be fair.)
against the navy of the night and a sleeping kingdom, Arthur’s robes of traditional Spada royal blue almost merge with the landscape. the royal gardens, the high alabaster walls that surrounded the palace, then the forest of azure trees with spade-shaped leaves, so dense, Alfred could barely make out the capital town of Spaten beyond. bathed in moonlight, the world shone dark blue and silver, distorted like a dream by the segments of glass making up an entire wall of the royal chambers.
Alfred took six long strides to reach his queen, Arthur’s sandy blond hair distinct against the surreal blue. Arthur almost always looked indifferent, a facade he had pieced together after all the wars, all the executions, all the deception and plotting that was part of being a royal. Alfred alone saw the fatigue underneath, sewn into the fabric of Arthur’s being, always there but never obvious. Alfred was always certain Arthur could see his.
resting his chin gently atop Arthur’s head, king and queen surveyed everything and nothing with eyes too tired, too bored with their world. but they would could, never admit it, perhaps only to each other. there was very little truth in this world of theirs. it only existed when they were alone, when they linked hands on the battlefield, when they shared smiles and knowing looks at royal functions, when Arthur was lying on white sheets, green eyes bright, face flushed, gasping but he was smiling really miling and Alfred was probably looking about the same, not like he would know oh
subtle but real, visceral moments that reminded them of why this life maybe, sort of, might be worth it, even just a little bit.
they were king and queen and they had vowed to stay by the side of the other for some human imagination of eternity. the court, the kingdom, their allies and their enemies - they might think Alfred and Arthur had been arranged to be together, out of necessity, out of advantage, and that meant they did not truly love each other.
yes, they sought after power. yes, they were brilliantly insidious. yes, they came, saw, conquered and destroyed.
but they were just two people in a mad world thrown together by luck, coincidence fate, and against all odds, actuall liked loved) the existence of the other. plus they just did their jobs well.
ain’t nobody could blame them for that.
vengeanceofrain in my club's secret santa event :)you can view the original post here but please leave any comments you may have on this post in my journal ^^
Title: the lightning and thunder that lie beneath
For:
vengeanceofrainAuthor:
daemon_angelusFandom: axis powers hetalia
Pairing: america/england
Rating: pg13 (for that really realllllly minor reference to sex between two dudes)
Warnings: one really reallllly minor reference to sex? LOL
Summary: usuk. palace setting. "modern"/slight fantasy AU. Just two people in a mad, mad world.
they sit like king and queen -- royalty propped up by gilded tongues and schemes gone right, gone wrong, gone the way they played this game of power and conquest
he is all benevolent smiles (but you know, you just know, in that dark corner of your mind, where demons lie in wait to ravage your thoughts during blackest night, he’ll smile the same smile as he slides his polished blade in between your ribs - )
- and bright blue eyes, too bright, like the sky on a perfect summer’s day - you know how you should always be wary of perfection. he sees all, and the eagle perched atop his ornate, alabaster throne only serves to remind all who kneel before Alfred submit, or die.
a shift in the picture - the queen (peculiar or not so, the queen and the king are of the same gender, but then, stranger truths lie underneath this facade of amity) touches slender fingers to the back of the king’s hand. Alfred’s composure does not change at the sudden contact, no startled jerk into motion, everything is fluid, fluid, fluid - like water. or a snake. he blinks slowly, as if awaking from a reverie (perhaps of the bloody conflict with what was once Adamas recently), eyes shielded behind glasses sliding to his queen, his bright, amused smile quirking at the tips to become just a little bit coy what is it, my dear, he seems to ask, you can almost hear it - and the king is like a dagger cloaked in velvet.
his queen is grace and mystery with an edge of cunning in the light of acid green eyes, almost like emeralds sharp enough to cut. he wears no crown, both of them do not (there is no need for such displays of non-existent power. real power is silent, all-pervading. no need for markers of grandeur and splendour - people knew who you were even before you set foot in the room and exactly exactly, what you were capable of. and they lay in bed wondering if they were in your favour, and what it meant if they were not. oh, it was a very bad thing not to be in the favour of either Alfred or Arthur.)
Arthur’s expression is nonchalant, eyes almost lazy as he stares at where the tips of his fingers met the skin of his king. (he could afford to be ignorant of his surroundings, the massive gryphon seated proudly next to its master’s smaller but no less ornate throne was already enough to intimidate even the hardiest would-be assailant.) he seems to pay little heed to the captain of the royal guards, reporting on the aftermath of the conflict with Adamas (people died, villages burned, things to do, order to restore ho hum), but the queen could later always recite every word spoken (and those that weren’t) when royal inspection came round. no one could pull the wool ove these eyes. instead, Arthur swirls the tip of his index finger over the knobbed knuckles of his king, tracing invisible patterns over calloused skin.
Alfred’s eyes grow that much brighter, and his smile grows that much wider.
“Impatient, aren’t we?”
if this were five years earlier, if this was when they had just gotten betrothed to each other, Arthur would flash fierce, narrowed green eyes at Alfred, tightly wound annoyance written plain on his beautiful features. but this is not then now, Arthur merely meets Alfred’s cheeky remark with a crooked smile and a slight shake of the head, before he slips his hands under the collar of his king’s white shirt and slips his lips against Alfred’s in a breathless kiss.
the kiss is gentle but firm, Alfred’s eyes sliding close as he places his hands at the nape of Arthur’s neck and waist. they stay like this for a while, soft movements, until the king presses his queen tighter against his frame and tilts Arthur’s chin up for a far more passionate kiss - Alfred always took more than he should - that makes Arthur tsk away from. Alfred only laughs, nuzzles his nose against Arthur’s cheek in jest.
“Was Sebastian boring you, Arthur?”
Arthur’s eyes slide half-close again, hands shifting from Alfred’s shoulders down his arms, eyes tracking the movement. it helped him focus his thoughts, so he would not be distracted by Alfred’s expressions or subtle changes in the room, like the moonlight disappearing, wavering, as the moon hid behind clouds. (Arthur was far more perceptive than he, why would Alfred need, or want, rather, someone who did not complement him by his side? still, their marriage had been an arranged one and Alfred always thought it was only luck and good fortune that had led him to wed someone like Arthur - Alfred was powerful, perhaps even perceived a all-powerful but as king, oh, he knew better.)
“We do not need to listen to such.. trivialities.” Arthur’s eyes are hard, but his expression remains indifferent. desensitised, or having come to terms with what it really meant to be king and queen, Alfred doesn’t dwell on the thought. “We know war, Alfred.”
Alfred gives a chuckle, one almost pained. almost. “That we do, don’t we, Arthur...”
Arthur sighs, low under his breath, steps out of Alfred’s arms, past the large, four-poster bed decorated with an unnecessary amount of pillows and fabric, and stands at the glass wall overlooking the palace gardens. (each segment of glass had been enchanted to protect against intruders and wandering eyes - Alfred and Arthur could survey their kingdom, but no one was allowed to spy on the private matters of the king and queen. Arthur always knew the world was not made to be fair.)
against the navy of the night and a sleeping kingdom, Arthur’s robes of traditional Spada royal blue almost merge with the landscape. the royal gardens, the high alabaster walls that surrounded the palace, then the forest of azure trees with spade-shaped leaves, so dense, Alfred could barely make out the capital town of Spaten beyond. bathed in moonlight, the world shone dark blue and silver, distorted like a dream by the segments of glass making up an entire wall of the royal chambers.
Alfred took six long strides to reach his queen, Arthur’s sandy blond hair distinct against the surreal blue. Arthur almost always looked indifferent, a facade he had pieced together after all the wars, all the executions, all the deception and plotting that was part of being a royal. Alfred alone saw the fatigue underneath, sewn into the fabric of Arthur’s being, always there but never obvious. Alfred was always certain Arthur could see his.
resting his chin gently atop Arthur’s head, king and queen surveyed everything and nothing with eyes too tired, too bored with their world. but they would could, never admit it, perhaps only to each other. there was very little truth in this world of theirs. it only existed when they were alone, when they linked hands on the battlefield, when they shared smiles and knowing looks at royal functions, when Arthur was lying on white sheets, green eyes bright, face flushed, gasping but he was smiling really miling and Alfred was probably looking about the same, not like he would know oh
subtle but real, visceral moments that reminded them of why this life maybe, sort of, might be worth it, even just a little bit.
they were king and queen and they had vowed to stay by the side of the other for some human imagination of eternity. the court, the kingdom, their allies and their enemies - they might think Alfred and Arthur had been arranged to be together, out of necessity, out of advantage, and that meant they did not truly love each other.
yes, they sought after power. yes, they were brilliantly insidious. yes, they came, saw, conquered and destroyed.
but they were just two people in a mad world thrown together by luck, coincidence fate, and against all odds, actuall liked loved) the existence of the other. plus they just did their jobs well.
ain’t nobody could blame them for that.