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Language:
English
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Published:
2016-12-31
Completed:
2017-06-11
Words:
55,756
Chapters:
22/22
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One More Tale

Summary:

“I won't start with long ago because it makes the tale seem ancient and it's not. Nor in a distant land because it happened right here.” Maurice tapped a finger on the arm of his throne. “So why don't we use the most classic line of all?”

Once Upon A Time...

Or, the one where all our favourite characters are Gods.

Updated Weekly!

Notes:

This story is mainly inspired by Hades and Persephone but I've made some major edits and have ended up making my own religion for this fic. It may seem a little vague in the first few chapters but everything will be explained I promise (I'm about 3/4 of the way through writing this)
If there is anything you don't understand or think needs explaining better don't hesitate to leave a comment with your thoughts.
Oh and please excuse any random errors as English isn't my first language.
Enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

King Maurice's castle was cool despite the hot summer sun outside, something the king was thankful for. His kingdom was safe, no cause for alarm or panic and there hadn't been for years, to be honest he doubted Avonlea would ever come under attack again; no one dared try. Maurice's head throbbed with another one of his migraines so each and every one of the large green curtains to the right of his throne found themselves drawn leaving the room almost in complete darkness, there were a few candles dotted around the vast room, glowing with a warm orange-yellow color and the doors remained open to let in a breeze that the old man was grateful for, the King was alone save for the two guards by the open doors to his throne room; Hugh and Marcus. Through the doors came the sounds of his castle, a symphony of maids rushing too and fro, the clink of armour when the guards moved. His ears could hear his solders training in the far off distance and the faint chirp of birds in trees.

Aged blue eyes watched as small specks of dust danced through the air and thin rays of sunlight not blocked out by thick green curtains in a soft silence, no real thoughts passed across the inners of his mind, he liked to just sit in a quietude sometimes, it was relaxing and peaceful which had become of great comfort in his old age. High up on the wall facing the dark curtains hung the largest portrait of his darling daughter that Maurice could commission, Belle smiled down at him with those big blue eyes of hers and he couldn't help but upturn his lips, she was bathed in golden sunlight with her auburn hair glowing as though she wore a halo. My beautiful Belle thought her father.

 

The King knew he was old and didn't have many years left in him but there was no fear in him, his successor, Sir Philippe, was a good and noble man which Avonlea would be proud to call their king. The Knight was well respected by the people of the kingdom and he had the strength to lead them; Maurice knew Avonlea would be in good hands when he passed. Everything was just as it should have been, not what he'd expected, but as it should be nevertheless and that was what was important.

Just as the King was beginning to nod off with his head rested in an aged hand a small boy came running into the throne startling Maurice awake as he played with his straw doll. The boy was very young and had an unruly mop of golden hair that hung down around his pale thin face and the brightest green eyes he'd ever seen but they were frozen with fear, one arm hung in the air holding his straw doll as though it were flying. It suddenly seemed to dawn on the boy that he'd absent-mindedly charged into the throne room and interrupted the King, slowly the blonde's arm came down and he hugged the doll close to his chest as though guards would grab him and throw him away in the dungeon. Children and their over active imaginations chuckled Maurice's mind.

The King was just about to open his mouth and greet the young lad when a maid came charging in, her name escaped him, Anna? Hannah? Leanna? It's something like that, there were over fifty maids in the castle and Maurice couldn't remember them all; though he tried. It was almost amusing when he saw her green eyes – that matched the boy's exactly, her son then – widened in utter shock and horror at the sight of her King, he could swear he heard her audibly gulp. She grabbed her son by the arm and pulled him close to shout at him, which she somehow managed to do while whispering, it didn't matter though because Maurice could still hear her. In his old age the only thing not to fail him was his hearing.

Alistair, what did I say? This is the King's castle not a playground.” She looked up to the older man with a cross between panic and consternation coating her sharp but still quite lovely features. “I'm so sorry, Sire. I didn't have a choice but to bring him with me today, it won't happen again.”

Unlike her young son the maid had long red hair that was tied back in a loose braid, her dress was basic and a little wet at the knees suggesting she'd been scrubbing the floors before coming to find where her son had run off too. She looked tired and overworked which didn't surprise the King. She was somewhere in her thirties so probably had a few children by now and Maurice suspected that the fun loving blonde was the youngest of her little gang.

“It's quite alright.” Said the King easily.

The red-haired maid, maybe it's Susanna, seemed rather shocked that the King of Avonlea was not only speaking to her but seemed undisturbed by her son charging around his castle causing mischief and mayhem.

“Are you busy?” Maurice asked surprising the maid even more.

Nothing I can't cope with, Your Majesty.” Said Roxana? Viviana? He just couldn't place her name.

It wasn't lost on him that she tried to avoid eye contact with him, to her he was the omnipotent King of Avonlea while she was nothing more than a commoner. Maurice smiled softly.

I'm sure you can, but it cannot be easy with a young son.” Old eyes glanced down to the boy and then back to the maid. “I'll watch him for you for a while, if you'd like?”

“Your Majesty?”

“I raised a daughter, I know how to keep a child occupied and I miss the sound of children running around the castle on summer days. I could use the company as well.”

It was true, the castle held just him, Philippe and the staff now, occasionally there would be guests but that wasn't the same. Thera was the only child to ever enter the castle anymore and those visits were not as often as he'd have liked. The maid, I want to say Tiana, stood a moment or two in thought with her hand still loosely gripping her son's arm.

If you're sure, Your Majesty?” Maurice nodded but made no attempt to stand from his throne.

The redhead nodded to herself for a second before snapping down to look at her son with that glare that only a Mother could use, Maurice's Mother had terrified him with hers.

“Be on your best behaviour, this is our King.” Her tone was strong and warning.

“Yes, Mama.” Nodded the boy quickly.

“What is your name?” Asked Maurice when he couldn't stand not being able to remember any longer.

“Elizabeth, Sire.”

Good job I didn't just guess then.

All three let the room fall into a silence for a brief time, it wasn't comfortable or uncomfortable, then Elizabeth finally turned to leave the hall and return to her work, hoping beyond hope that Lord Jiminy was helping her son not to somehow insult the King. The boy under his shaggy mop of blonde locks watched his Mother go and the poor thing pinched himself to try and make sure he wasn't dreaming, the King of Avonlea had just offered to watch over him for his maid Mother, he soon snapped out of his thoughts and turned when he realised he'd given Maurice his back. Take away the title of King and Maurice didn't look so horrifying, no more so than the old man who owned the tavern or his grandfather.

Come over here, boy.” Said Maurice softly so as not to scare him. “Alistair, was it?

T he blonde gulped.

“Yes, Sire.” Alistair responded while crossing the large throne room, feet tapping on the hardwood floor stained a cherry red.

“There is no need for fear, I don't bite.” The older man assured. “How old are you?”

“Nine, Sire.”

The boy was short for his age and very thin. Green eyes watched the King through thick blonde hair as Maurice looked the boy over; he'd have Elizabeth take Alistair to the kitchens when she came back and get some real food into him.

“I remember my Belle at nine, that was when she stopped liking books and became obsessed with them.” Alistair smiled a little. “What is your doll called?”

“Aidan, Your Majesty.” Came Alistair's quick answer.

Maurice smiled, he missed children running around, he'd always wanted a large family but Colette had died before they could have more. His Belle was perfect though and he wouldn't trade her for all the children in the realms.

“And what is Aidan like? Is he a strong solider worshipping Mulan? Or maybe a hunter feeding his family with the aid of Robin?”

“He's brave like Lord Nolan.” Alistair began. “But wise too like Lord Jiminy.”

“A good combination.” Remarked the King. “Do you like stories of The Gods then, Alistair?”

“Yes, Sire. Very much.”

Maurice couldn't help but smile as an idea drifted to his mind and shuffled to sit straight in his large hooded throne, with his mind focused on the boy before him Maurice's headache had vanished into nothingness.

“Come and sit down.” He gestured to a smaller throne to his left but of course Alistair hesitated.

“On Princess Belle's chair?”

“My daughter is not here, and she wouldn't mind I assure you. Sit, please.”

After only a second Alistair moved towards Belle's chair and sat cautiously as though the King would suddenly change his mind and Alistair would have to live out his days in the dungeon. Maurice turned to face him.

“Shall I tell you a story of the Gods?” Asked Maurice curiously.

“I already know them, Sire.”

Instantly Alistair regretted saying that and held onto Aidan tighter, the King was being nice to him and he'd just insulted him. Maurice smiled at the boy's worry, none of it was needed, and looked up to his daughter's portrait once more.

“Trust me Alistair, you don't know this one. And I've got one more tale in me, I think.”

The blonde nine year old grinned with glee, he did love stories. Maurice took the eager look on the child's face to mean he wanted to hear it and the old King cleared his throat.

“I won't start with long ago because it makes the tale seem ancient and it's not. Nor in a distant land because it happened right here.” Maurice tapped a finger on the arm of his throne. “So why don't we use the most classic line of all?”

Once Upon A Time...