Post by Jayeee on Nov 14, 2014 11:42:39 GMT -5
OMG
I've totally been bitten by this Medieval fic bug that's going round. I hear it's incurable. I don't even know if i'll write more than once, but I just had the sudden urge to write something with Garrick! 8D
PFA's AU!Jofffrey fic made me wonder what Garrick would be like as Grand Duke. <_< So I wrote a short random thing with it! I didn't want to kill off or ruin anything with other characters so I held off on mentioning how this happens! XD
This is what happens when Jay gets bored and does something on a whim.
I've totally been bitten by this Medieval fic bug that's going round. I hear it's incurable. I don't even know if i'll write more than once, but I just had the sudden urge to write something with Garrick! 8D
PFA's AU!Jofffrey fic made me wonder what Garrick would be like as Grand Duke. <_< So I wrote a short random thing with it! I didn't want to kill off or ruin anything with other characters so I held off on mentioning how this happens! XD
Garrick Stallion lounged atop the throne he'd had commissioned for that very purpose. It was beautiful – perfectly befitting a Grand Duke such as himself.
He clicked his fingers. “We need to have a discussion about these drapes,” he said curtly, kicking his legs out in a rhythmical fashion towards the curtains in question.
A young man stepped up to the throne and nodded. “Certainly, young master.”
“Winter is coming, Advisor number fifteen. And that means that fall colours are going to be out soon. We'll have to replaced the furniture with something more chilling, to befit the weather.”
Garrick wasn't sure what Advisor number fifteen's name was, and in truth he didn't much care. His advisor's never lasted long anyway. So easily replaced. “Where is my fashion designer, anyway?”
Advisor fifteen looked down at the ground. “Executed, your highness. Last week, you hung him for picking a colour that failed to accurately represent the leaves falling of autumn.”
Garrick threw his jazz hands into the air. “Of course, of course,” he exclaimed excitedly, “I remember it well! I do believe I also ate his left lung as part of a cake of my own making!”
Advisor fifteen clutched his stomach. “That is correct. What an impeccable memory you have.”
“One could never forget how delectable my baked creations are. Ironic really – his organs would have made a lovely colour for my chaise lounge.” He flung his hands about a little slower at this realisation.
Advisor fifteen took an uncertain step forward. “Young master, it is almost time for your show.”
Garrick nodded aggressively. “Oh, it is! I am most perplexed though. There seem to be less viewers than previous days as of late. Why is that?”
“Well you do execute at least ten peasants a week, your highness. I'm not sure how many are left...”
The Grand Duke jumped to his feet. “That is no excuse – they can always make more! It's any wonder I don't run out of organs to experiment with in my culinary concoctions!”
“Don't forget about the drapes,” Garrick added as he moonwalked out of his throne room.
One of the very first things the new Grand Duke had done was to have a stage erected just outside of the mansion gates. He performed there twice a day, and attendance was mandatory. There was a wooden hanging platform situated just behind it to emphasise just how obligatory it was.
There was already quite the crowd present as he moonwalked deftly up the stairs, all of whom bowed down as he appeared before them.
“Your Grand Duke has arrived,” Garrick announced with a flourish. He shimmied back and forth along the stage. “Today, I have a special performance.”
There was avid applause, which he soaked in. His performance only lasted roughly five minutes, but peasants were instructed to clap after everything he said, so usually shows lasted for at least an hour.
“I call this one: Grand Duke Stallion dances amidst the poor folk for if he doesn't, he'll probably grow so bored that he'll kill them all to liven up his day. I just know that you're going to love it.”
He clicked his fingers. “We need to have a discussion about these drapes,” he said curtly, kicking his legs out in a rhythmical fashion towards the curtains in question.
A young man stepped up to the throne and nodded. “Certainly, young master.”
“Winter is coming, Advisor number fifteen. And that means that fall colours are going to be out soon. We'll have to replaced the furniture with something more chilling, to befit the weather.”
Garrick wasn't sure what Advisor number fifteen's name was, and in truth he didn't much care. His advisor's never lasted long anyway. So easily replaced. “Where is my fashion designer, anyway?”
Advisor fifteen looked down at the ground. “Executed, your highness. Last week, you hung him for picking a colour that failed to accurately represent the leaves falling of autumn.”
Garrick threw his jazz hands into the air. “Of course, of course,” he exclaimed excitedly, “I remember it well! I do believe I also ate his left lung as part of a cake of my own making!”
Advisor fifteen clutched his stomach. “That is correct. What an impeccable memory you have.”
“One could never forget how delectable my baked creations are. Ironic really – his organs would have made a lovely colour for my chaise lounge.” He flung his hands about a little slower at this realisation.
Advisor fifteen took an uncertain step forward. “Young master, it is almost time for your show.”
Garrick nodded aggressively. “Oh, it is! I am most perplexed though. There seem to be less viewers than previous days as of late. Why is that?”
“Well you do execute at least ten peasants a week, your highness. I'm not sure how many are left...”
The Grand Duke jumped to his feet. “That is no excuse – they can always make more! It's any wonder I don't run out of organs to experiment with in my culinary concoctions!”
“Don't forget about the drapes,” Garrick added as he moonwalked out of his throne room.
One of the very first things the new Grand Duke had done was to have a stage erected just outside of the mansion gates. He performed there twice a day, and attendance was mandatory. There was a wooden hanging platform situated just behind it to emphasise just how obligatory it was.
There was already quite the crowd present as he moonwalked deftly up the stairs, all of whom bowed down as he appeared before them.
“Your Grand Duke has arrived,” Garrick announced with a flourish. He shimmied back and forth along the stage. “Today, I have a special performance.”
There was avid applause, which he soaked in. His performance only lasted roughly five minutes, but peasants were instructed to clap after everything he said, so usually shows lasted for at least an hour.
“I call this one: Grand Duke Stallion dances amidst the poor folk for if he doesn't, he'll probably grow so bored that he'll kill them all to liven up his day. I just know that you're going to love it.”