Wednesday, 13 March 2013

Two Thrones

Do you remember when I posted Two Thrones ages ago?
Well I wanted to take it somewhere, because the story kept coming back to me, and i could not get it out of my head and thats usually a sign that its a good idea.
so last week I was board and I began to write more of the story and i'm hoping that this will go somewhere as it keeps growing every time I look at it.

Like Always Guys please Review

May xxx

P.s If you want to read it on Fanfictionpress. net please do my name is Rebel

Well.....Heres part 2

Enjoy ;)

Part 2

Arthur drove through the gates that towered above him. The drive leading up to the country house they owned in Surrey, which was better than living in the stifling atmosphere of Buckingham palace. Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about the boy in the cafĂ©, and with a sinking heart he realised he would probably never see Tony again. Sam had found Arthur still in deep conversation with Tony and the three of them had spoken for a while. It was nice to feel normal for a change rather than having the constant threat of the other brother hanging over his head. Sam slid easily into the conversation they had both been having and kept any Royal lifestyle out of the conversation. As Arthur gave his a quick grateful smile he once again thanked the Gods that Sam was on his side. Sam had always been there for him, through all of the disapproving glares from his father, and the…. But his thoughts stopped there. He wasn’t going to think about his twin brother, Eric, he was away from London and away from his brothers piecing blue eyes. Arthur and Eric had never seen eye to eye, although they were twins, they couldn’t be more different. Arthur was blond while Eric was dark haired; Arthur was light whereas Eric was dark and in all aspects strove to be the “ perfect King,” whatever the fuck that meant. The only thing they shared was the piecing blue colour of their eyes, but Arthur had always noticed the difference in those as well. Eric’s were hard and cold like Ice, whereas Arthur’s were warm like the sea on a hot day. To the press they were both seen as the golden boys, both handsome and brought up to be gentlemen, and everyone looked up to them from the day that they were born. Their beloved mother, the queen of England, had passed away a few months after their first Birthday because of a fatal illness. It had been a tragedy that had swept Briton up in turmoil and that was when the rivalry begun. It had always been asked, with two twin boys who would be the heir to the thrown? Although Arthur should have been the first choice as he strove to help others and tried to understand the rules of the law from a young age. However  his brother was always the one that everyone adored, Arthur was shoved to the side as Eric smirked his way through the press interviews. Arthur had never liked his brother, he had never told anyone but his brother scared him. He saw Eric differently from others. He could see the way Eric manipulated the people around him while casting the blame on his twin brother. There was no real reason to be afraid and Arthur in the logical part of his brain understood that, but even now when he was twenty one his brothers gaze made tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was the subtle things that used to make Arthur shiver. When they were young, it was the odd sentence that wouldn’t sit right in the conversation or the stories he used to tell Arthur about the medieval times. Eric was fascinated with all things horror related, however when he told his father this he just laughed and then the glare that was always fixated on Arthur came back into play. Arthur truly was the only one to see the darkness in his brother, apart from Sammy.

He remembered clearly one night, when he was fourteen, dreaming of a field. It was dark but the moon and the stars shone brightly illuminating the water that babbled as it rushed over the rocks. On one side of the field sat his brother, on a stone throne in amongst the brambles, watching him. The shadows seemed to reach out towards him and his eyes gleamed an unnatural blue in the gloom that was surrounding him. What made Arthur start was the black wings that beat softly as the shadows caressed his brother’s body. He looked down at his body, and where Eric drew in the darkness, Arthur glowed a bright silver like the moon. Lights pooled around his fingertips and he could feel the soft flutter of wigs beating with the pulse of his heartbeat. He could feel the life of the stream and almost hear the moon whispering to him. The moon whispered words over and over ‘Arthur… Arthur listen to me! Your other will try to take the one that makes you whole in any way he can. You must find him first as your Brother cannot achieve this, as darkness will once again rule if he should succeed. You must become King, Arthur; it has been written in the stars since the beginning of time.’ These words echoed in Arthur’s head over and over, as he stared at his brothers figure, watching as the darkness lapped at his body. He had seen the darkness in his brother for a long time and although Arthur knew this was a dream, there was suddenly hope, as for the first time Eric was not the chosen child, someone could see the darkness that Arthur saw every day. When he had woken he had not told his father, he knew that this was something he must never tell anyone. 

He realised finally why the thought of his brother ruling over Britain made his skin crawl. As they had grown older Arthur had done everything in his power to try and be one step ahead. Eric had a taste for warfare and begun to plot with his father how to make Brittan stronger under the false pretence of peace, yet Arthur understood Eric wanted to see Brittan in battle once more. However as Arthur grew up and learned that the public only saw a golden boy in Eric, he began to make a plan on how to turn the focus away from himself, make himself a worthless case, a person Eric would not see as a threat. And so the while the press wrote over and over about how one day Eric would be their king, Arthur understood the only way he could get the upper hand was to faked being the wayward child. Only Sam knew that late at night Arthur would spend hours working with his close five closet friends, who were loyal to Arthur and saw Eric as the enemy.  As a joke they called themselves the knights of the round table, and somehow it had stuck. Arthur’s friends had been with him for as long as he could remember and he knew as he got out of the car that they would be waiting for him in the drawing room of the large house. 

I know its only short but i'm working on the next part and should be up ASAP

No comments:

Post a Comment