Lams One-Shots

The Lonely Prince and His Scribe

guess whos back? for a random one shot cuz i was in a hamilton mood hahaha

The sun painted the sky a pinkish hue and dotted the clouds a tangerine orange. John loved those types of sunset, where vibrant pinks, reds, oranges and purples cast over the sky and engulfed the world in its rainbow blush. 

John loved a lot of things in the world, the sunset being one of them. Another thing he held dearly to his heart was his Alexander. It had only been a month since he had come to work at the forlorn, cold castle but he'd already reached out his finger and touched John. 

The castle, to John, had always been more of a cage than a dignified place of luxury. The golden spirals that complimented the windows were not so much of "architectural art" as they were prison bars that taunted him with the view of freedom but refused to open up. 

The abnormally large bedrooms and extravagant curtains were just a painful reminder that he was born different, not by choice but by "luck." Sometimes, John wished he didn't have such a strong duty to his kingdom because, if he could, he'd jump on his stallion and ride past the jaws of the iron gates and never look back at the looming palace. 

His father was ill and very soon, John would no longer wear the mantle of prince, but of king. It was his duty to stay planted in the suffocating black and white tiles that lined the regal hallways and wait to become the king, a title he dreaded wearing but knew he must, knew it was only a matter of time. 

Then Alexander came. A lowly scribe with big, bright eyes and lips that were curved into a determined grit. Little by little, more light came into John's vision when he looked at the dark, dismal palace. 

Talking to Alexander, laughing with Alexander, being with Alexander. It, by miracle or love, had made the tiles seem less suffocating and the gates became less of jaws and more of opportunities. And he began to see everything in a new light. Because, he would think, if Alexander is by my side, perhaps being king won't be as bad as I dreaded. 

Dinner with his father was excruciating. The only sounds made were his sickly coughs, utensils clacking against porcelain and the lectures his father made in between hacks. Telling John he must do this when crowned, he must do that and must not do this and he'll be sorely punished if he says a certain thing. It had all become very angering. His siblings said nothing, they stuck their heads down and stared into the broth in their soup bowls. John doesn't blame them, he would too if he was in their position. 

"Yes Father," were the only words that left John's lips through the hour of dinnertime. Knowing he'd go to Alexander's workshop as soon as the meal had ended was his only solace and the only way he kept from going insane in their dining hall. That, and the crystal chandelier that hung over their head, glistening and glittering in the evening light. 

John liked to watch the way it swung back and forth, ever so slightly.

The signal that the dinner hour was over was when his father stood up, signalling he wanted to go back to his bed chamber and was helped by two servants to make his way towards the bedroom. Then, once he was out of sight, John would stand up and leave, trying his best not to run instead of walk in a "dignified" way, "just like a prince should." 

Once he's escaped the stone walls of the confining castle, John began to run along the cobblestone path that led to the workshops and huts of the servants, help and other people who worked for the king. 

Alexander's workshop was a good size, he was the smartest, hardest working scribe in the kingdom so the king was keen on giving him a good enough space to work. There were candles littered through his desk, wax melting down the side and dripping to the table. Not that Alexander would notice, once he got down to scribbling an idea or quote, he tuned everything else out. 

A small bed decorated the side, an even smaller night table with a water pitcher and basin. There was a red chair by his desk and Alexander had sat in it for so long and so hard, his curved body frame was indented into the cushion. 

John opened the door letting himself in. 

"Good evening, my love," John said, announcing that he'd come in. Alexander was hunched over the wooden table, hand scribbling furiously. He barely spared John a glance as the prince closed the door. 

"Good evening, John," he replied, lifting a hand, momentarily, to fix his crooked glasses. John always thought it was a shame he'd wrecked his eyes at such a young age, though he looked devilishly handsome with or without glasses. "I'm almost done with this piece, give me a few moments."

"Of course," John replied, sitting on the dusty bed. The frame creaked when John put his weight on top of it. "Take your time."

John admires Alexander for the couple minutes he works, feverishly. His drawn features, the way his eyes squint, slightly, when he's focusing. John loves him, every part of Alexander. And he's so grateful for the day Alexander came to work in the castle, showing him more brightness in a gloomy existence of expectations and fear. 

"Okay," Alexander says, pushing his chair back as he stands up. "I finished!" 

John smiles as Alexander crosses the room to lie down with him in the creaky bed. Alexander's palms are sweaty, probably from gripping the pen so hard but John doesn't care. He tucks his body around Alexander's, spooning him tightly. 

"What were you writing?"John asks, his voice a whisper as a few candles flicker out. He knows he should leave for his own bedroom chamber soon, he doesn't want any suspicion to arise if he's seen leaving Alexander's workshop too late in the night. 

"Your father required a proclamation for your coronation that I was to write. For when he...is ready to give up the crown...he wanted to make sure you were to be king."

"You mean," John breathes out, closing his eyes. He feels Alexander grip his arm, tightly and reassuringly, "when he dies. I'm officially to be king...?"

"Yes," Alexander tells him. When John says nothing, tentatively, Alexander asks, "are you okay, my dear?" 

"Will I be a good king?" John asks. "For so long, all I've wanted to do was leave this kingdom, these responsibilities, this life that was bestowed on me for no will of my own. But now, I am to be crowned the leader, will I be good at this job?"

"You're going to try, aren't you?" Alexander asks him after a moment of silence. "You're going to try your absolute best to be a great ruler and a fair king?"

John's shocked, "of course I am."

"Then," Alexander replies, sleepiness clinging to his voice, "you'll make a fantastic King. As long as the people know you have their best interests at heart. That's why you stayed, right? Because you had a duty to them, you wanted to be the best leader for them, right?"

"I suppose so," John muttered. Then, a soft smile tugged at his lips. He kisses the crown of Alexander's head, the only crown that he was sure rightfully belonged to him. "For that reason, and because you were here. How could I leave the castle when the love of my life was still there?"

"Oh, John," Alexander replied, turning around in John's arms so he facing the young prince. "You do flatter me. Every loving word you say, and I fall all over again."

Their lips lock and with that breathless kiss, John knows he is no longer a lonely prince, but he is a loved King.

kingdom AUs aka my weakness

hope you liked it!! sorry for being m.i.a for so long!