Checkmate, Darling [Arthur]

[Deleted]

"Into the night, Desperate and broken"

After discovering that Alfred had led Arthur around his place, showing him around as if the American owned the place, Francis had finally decided it was about time he spent some time with Arthur himself. It was not as if he was ungrateful to Alfred – just slightly irritated. To be perfectly frank, Francis had been planning on showing Arthur around as soon as he had found the opportunity. Unfortunately, he hadn't yet that day, being swamped with endless paperwork and obligations to his duty as attorney general, and Alfred had, of course, snuck into his humble home for some purpose and intentions. But he had bought Arthur for a reason: one to be able to communicate with him privately, regarding the goals of the Freedom Fighters; two, to be able to meet Arthur in a more personal manner. Francis had enjoyed what he had seen when he first met the Englishman in the Underground. He seemed to be eccentric; lovely, really, and intriguing so as to Francis desiring to learn more about what was beneath the superficial walls he had erected.

He was the sort of man who Francis would really fancy playing a game of chess with.

By offering the chance to play, besides being able to test Arthur's strategizing skills by playing such a game of wit, Francis would be also be able to see how capable his intelligence was – right up front, a proper display, without having to dance around anything. It would certainly be fun, Francis thought, and he had invited Arthur to the living room without explicitly revealing the reason – although, making it clearly light-hearted and with good intentions.

He had prepared his favorite glass set and placed it gingerly on the table, so as to not disrupt the already perfect positions of the delicate pieces. He had missed playing this game; although, the only person he had had to oppose him really was his father, who had educated him on everything to know. Chess was a game that everybody who valued their wits and cleverness knew how to play, and it was essentially a battle of strategy when playing. Francis had, on occasions, played with some of the servants around the house – some were quite good of varying degrees, and he had learned from challenging opponents of different levels and lines of thinking. Throughout the years, he had managed to cultivate his very own style and maneuvers of chess; some fancied their knights – others, their rooks or their bishops, and the more careless, their queens above all else – but Francis cherished his pawns. They were most usually considered useless and fodder for the more powerful pieces, sacrificed without another thought; but, without the pawns, the rest would be unable to accomplish anything. They were just as important as any other piece, and without them, the game simply wouldn't be the same.

Francis looked up from his prized chessboard as he heard the soft padding of footsteps approaching with a smile. ”Bonjour, dear Arthur! Thank you for joining me this afternoon; I do hope I was not bothering you! Would you fancy a game of chess~?”

electric has gangnam style

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

better not to breathe than to breathe a lie

So, the contract-holder had finally called on him. Arthur was still debating whether he should be alarmed by the fact or admit to feeling the scantest bit of relief that he hadn’t been completely forgotten amidst the grandeur of the man’s litany of professional and personal duties. Surely, Arthur had been making good with the time he’d been given, relishing in the small freedoms that he could pretend to have, and even once slipping from the home undetected and returning just as quietly soon after. There had been so few conversations between Francis and him, it was still difficult to form even a neutral opinion of the man. Taking notice of his lavish lifestyle and his even grander title, there was still a matter of confusion over the simple lack of an explanation for why he didn’t seem to take advantage of the contract like Arthur had anticipated him to. From what he’d been taught in Weeds, it was to be expected to be subjected to a number of whims, whatever best pleased the contract-holder. However, very little had happened since the two of them had returned from the mandatory chip injection.

Not that Arthur was displeased, quite the opposite. It was hardly a secret that he was not the most compliant mutant the Underground had to offer. If Francis decided to attempt to employ some sort of authority over him, then Arthur would prefer to be dragged back to his cell in the Underground, even at the expense of missing his chance at mock freedom. Still, if it wasn’t that, then Arthur had little idea as to why the man would desire a meeting of sorts with him for the afternoon.

He had little else to do that day other than revisit the areas that he had explored with Alfred, an unexpected and most strange visitor. Although part of him missed the company, he also harboured the desire for quiet moments to himself as well, to gather his thoughts, to find something that he could read, or to tease his untried palette with the various liquors he was able to find in the cellar. His current time was being spent in the library, searching among the books for something that he could read, ‘could’ being the strongest indicator, as the majority were linguistically indecipherable to his eyes. He was in the middle of pulling another volume out to check the contents when he heard the soft chime from the library’s mantel clock, signaling the hour. It was only then, with a brief look at the time, that he was aware that the afternoon had approached.

Closing the thick volume, accidentally releasing the content’s dust, he pushed it back into place. It took Arthur only a few minutes to maneuver his way through the network of corridors, remembering them much more easily after yesterday’s antics with the young American. There were a number of different drawing rooms, parlours, and studies, that the prospect of finding Francis in one of them was only slightly daunting. He’d had some experience with maneuvering among the much more complicated network of Underground corridors, surely an excessively large manor would be far easier.

Upon finding the correct room, he was first greeted with the elegant furnishings before focusing on the man setting at a small table, currently setting what looked to be a chessboard. Arthur nearly stopped in his soft gait into the room, coming to the uncomfortable realisation that the man may ask him to play. Weeds wasn’t without its occasional games, though the vast majority of them were donated (had even the most charitable people managed to find it in their hearts to donate to an institution that was at times deemed as a lost cause for intellectual pursuits) and the donated games were often so secondhand that several pieces were usually missing, marking it as useless. In short, as attractive as the game appeared, Arthur had never learned to play. It was an embarrassing admission, as he was sure that most people outside of the stringent institute were far more familiar with the game and probably played it often. He'd like to think that he would. 

Francis glanced up from what looked to be a beautifully crafted chessboard and offered a firsthand smile, actually looking pleased with the prospect of his company. ”Hello,” Arthur reflected the greeting politely. The corners of his mouth tightened in the slightest with sardonic amusement when Francis stated that he hoped he wasn’t bothering him. ”Aren’t you supposed to be ‘bothering’ me whenever you’d like?” His question was a bit of a dry tease, though there was a level of genuine curiosity. If Arthur had learned anything in the short amount of time being with Francis, it was that he was likely not a conventional contract-holder. There was a refreshing leniency to the way he’d been treated so far, as if he were a person whose company was to be desired instead of property to be rented out. Then again, Francis was still the contract-holder, being 'bothered', as the Frenchman termed it, to play a game of chess seemed a far cry from the other expectations that Arthur had been taught to expect from potential owners.

He drew closer, taking a seat opposite of Francis, eyeing the lovely glass chess set up, noticing how each piece exquisitely fashioned. It was a tempting display, raising Arthur’s own curiosity for how the game worked and if it was as stimulating as the appearance suggested. After glancing over the pieces, his eyes rose towards Francis. ”I’d hate to be of poor company, but I’ve never been taught.” Arthur leaned slightly in his seat, situating one leg comfortably over the other, languidly proper, even in his relaxed posture. ”Not that we had suitable materials at the Academy, even if I’d known how to play.”

CODED BY DUCKIE OF GS