dragojustine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragojustine) wrote2009-03-18 11:21 am
dragojustine) wrote2009-03-18 11:21 am
Entry tags:
Kings fic: Though this be madness
Like I said last night: Jack is such a problem in this show. How does he get from where he is to where we know he needs to end up? Also, this is me loving how the second confrontation on the front lines was made into the real Goliath confrontation, when something without agency and without power (man standing in front of the tank) is turned into a heavily symbolic choice.
It's strangely freeing, knowing this will be Jossed all to hell next week.
Five ways Jack falls in love
Part 1: Though this be madness
Not a WIP, stands alone. G and gen (this part, more or less, I guess) and 1100 words, thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
synecdochic, whose meta posts you all oughta read.
It goes like this:
The first time Jack sees David after his stunt, after his crazy stupid standing-in-front-of-tanks stunt (the one Jack can't help watching, over and over and over again, grainy black and white footage from his father's spy satellites with David's blond hair and blue eyes filled in by his own mind's eye), David takes his arm and drags him away towards the family section of the palace, to the room where Jack sent him to change his clothes that first day.
David grips him hard by the upper arms, his eyes wild and bright, and Jack thinks again, he's crazy (this divine crazy that has snatched his whole future away from him, this insanity that has forced him into dirty secret conferences with usurpers to the throne, this beautiful madness he cannot stop watching).
"I want this," David says.
Jack wants to punch him. It's a struggle to keep his face blank, to try to remember what persona he plays around David.
"Why the hell would you want this?"
"It's a chance to make a difference! It's a chance to do something important, to make all this-- my father, my brother-- to make it all mean something. I can do this."
Jack reaches up to David's arms in turn, wondering how to best squirm away from this unsettling grasp. Is David willfully cruel, to push his face in it this way? He wouldn't have thought, but here it is.
"That's why I need your help," David continues, like maybe he's reading Jack's touch all wrong. "You know what it's like to be a media figure; you know how this is done. Maybe together--"
"You don't have any power," Jack spits out, low and vicious and helpless. "You think you do, but it's all a trap. As long as he's alive, it'll only be a cage."
"No." David's face goes soft and hurt, worry lines between his eyebrows, everything written there on his face. He squeezes Jack's arms a little tighter, like he's trying to press his own madness in by force of will. "We have the power to make people pay attention to us."
The 'we' hits Jack like an electrical surge, shorting out all his resentment and built-up barriers of enmity and leaving only David, one man standing there in front of a tank. He's right, and Jack wonders if this madness is the cause of kingship or the result of it.
"You really want this?" Jack whispers, and David gives a very small, tight nod. "Wear your uniform tonight." He jerks his head to the closet where his own altered tux is still hanging. "Not that thing again, your uniform."
Yet again a banquet, yet again swarming with press. Now that David refuses to be sent away, his father is determined to keep him under the eye of the palace, even at the expense of giving him access to a few more microphones. Silas can't stop him from being wildly popular, but he can at least make sure that popularity is seen as connected to the crown, not underground and revolutionary. Anyway, David isn't even supposed to be the guest of honor tonight.
Jack wears his own uniform, the fully formal one, complete with all his badges on the front. It's a little too up for the occasion, but Silas doesn't make a scene.
Somewhere during the round of stilted remarks and pro forma speechifying, Jack seizes a pause and taps his own glass sharply. The crystal ring of it cuts through the crowd, and every eye turns to him. David was right about this power of theirs-- of course he was, and how could Jack have forgotten it?-- but he was right about something else, too. Jack has been living in this world all his life. He knows how to do this.
So he waits until every eye has turned, until the press is starting to get very slightly impatient. Then he raises his voice to carry in a clear, strong tone utterly at odds with all the petty small ponderous talk of the evening, and calls, "David, please step forward."
David does, in his own uniform, and Jack reaches forward to clasp him around the shoulders. They are the same height, exactly the same height, and Jack revels in the picture that makes: The two of them, blond and dark like mirror images of each other, dressed as brothers in arms and holding each other as brothers.
He pulls back again and makes the speech, short and simple and ringing: the debt the nation owes David, now added to the debt Jack himself owes him; one man with the bravery to stop a war, instead of fight in one; my inspiration, my friend, my brother. The words aren't important.
What is important is this. He reaches up to David's shoulder and pulls the captain's bars off his epaulette, and lets the insignia drop to the hardwood floor with a tiny clatter that echoes in the breathless silence. He moves to the other shoulder. David's eyes meet his, wide and slightly lost, and Jack smiles trust me.
He reaches to his own shoulder, pulls off the golden oak leaf, and pins it on David. A murmur sweeps through the crowd. He does it again.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Michelle, all in red against the dark sea of suits. Her hands are clasped in front of her and her face is unreadable. He wonders for the first time whether she knows, what she sees on his face now.
After the oak leaves come his Medal of Valor (the one no one seemed to know he'd won, because the press suspected simple favoritism; the one Silas was fighting to make sure David did not win). Then, last of all, the smallest badge on his chest: the two tiny butterfly wings, sign of the royal family, tiny and inconspicuous and never ever unnoticed.
When it's in place, he reaches forward and pulls David back into his arms. "See?" David whispers against his ear, and Jack feels the shape of the cheek against his cheek change as David's face splits into a huge grin. "See?" It's so irrelevant, so I told you so in this moment of gravity, that Jack laughs and holds David tighter and spins them around a little, giddy with possibility.
Silas is standing against the far wall, thunderclouds in his eyes, and Jack is pretty sure he ought to be frightened of the way he has courted the man's wrath. But David's madness must be contagious, because there they are, clutching each other before the court and the cameras and the country, laughing as the future opens up before them.
Part 2
It's strangely freeing, knowing this will be Jossed all to hell next week.
Five ways Jack falls in love
Part 1: Though this be madness
Not a WIP, stands alone. G and gen (this part, more or less, I guess) and 1100 words, thanks to
synecdochic, whose meta posts you all oughta read.It goes like this:
The first time Jack sees David after his stunt, after his crazy stupid standing-in-front-of-tanks stunt (the one Jack can't help watching, over and over and over again, grainy black and white footage from his father's spy satellites with David's blond hair and blue eyes filled in by his own mind's eye), David takes his arm and drags him away towards the family section of the palace, to the room where Jack sent him to change his clothes that first day.
David grips him hard by the upper arms, his eyes wild and bright, and Jack thinks again, he's crazy (this divine crazy that has snatched his whole future away from him, this insanity that has forced him into dirty secret conferences with usurpers to the throne, this beautiful madness he cannot stop watching).
"I want this," David says.
Jack wants to punch him. It's a struggle to keep his face blank, to try to remember what persona he plays around David.
"Why the hell would you want this?"
"It's a chance to make a difference! It's a chance to do something important, to make all this-- my father, my brother-- to make it all mean something. I can do this."
Jack reaches up to David's arms in turn, wondering how to best squirm away from this unsettling grasp. Is David willfully cruel, to push his face in it this way? He wouldn't have thought, but here it is.
"That's why I need your help," David continues, like maybe he's reading Jack's touch all wrong. "You know what it's like to be a media figure; you know how this is done. Maybe together--"
"You don't have any power," Jack spits out, low and vicious and helpless. "You think you do, but it's all a trap. As long as he's alive, it'll only be a cage."
"No." David's face goes soft and hurt, worry lines between his eyebrows, everything written there on his face. He squeezes Jack's arms a little tighter, like he's trying to press his own madness in by force of will. "We have the power to make people pay attention to us."
The 'we' hits Jack like an electrical surge, shorting out all his resentment and built-up barriers of enmity and leaving only David, one man standing there in front of a tank. He's right, and Jack wonders if this madness is the cause of kingship or the result of it.
"You really want this?" Jack whispers, and David gives a very small, tight nod. "Wear your uniform tonight." He jerks his head to the closet where his own altered tux is still hanging. "Not that thing again, your uniform."
Yet again a banquet, yet again swarming with press. Now that David refuses to be sent away, his father is determined to keep him under the eye of the palace, even at the expense of giving him access to a few more microphones. Silas can't stop him from being wildly popular, but he can at least make sure that popularity is seen as connected to the crown, not underground and revolutionary. Anyway, David isn't even supposed to be the guest of honor tonight.
Jack wears his own uniform, the fully formal one, complete with all his badges on the front. It's a little too up for the occasion, but Silas doesn't make a scene.
Somewhere during the round of stilted remarks and pro forma speechifying, Jack seizes a pause and taps his own glass sharply. The crystal ring of it cuts through the crowd, and every eye turns to him. David was right about this power of theirs-- of course he was, and how could Jack have forgotten it?-- but he was right about something else, too. Jack has been living in this world all his life. He knows how to do this.
So he waits until every eye has turned, until the press is starting to get very slightly impatient. Then he raises his voice to carry in a clear, strong tone utterly at odds with all the petty small ponderous talk of the evening, and calls, "David, please step forward."
David does, in his own uniform, and Jack reaches forward to clasp him around the shoulders. They are the same height, exactly the same height, and Jack revels in the picture that makes: The two of them, blond and dark like mirror images of each other, dressed as brothers in arms and holding each other as brothers.
He pulls back again and makes the speech, short and simple and ringing: the debt the nation owes David, now added to the debt Jack himself owes him; one man with the bravery to stop a war, instead of fight in one; my inspiration, my friend, my brother. The words aren't important.
What is important is this. He reaches up to David's shoulder and pulls the captain's bars off his epaulette, and lets the insignia drop to the hardwood floor with a tiny clatter that echoes in the breathless silence. He moves to the other shoulder. David's eyes meet his, wide and slightly lost, and Jack smiles trust me.
He reaches to his own shoulder, pulls off the golden oak leaf, and pins it on David. A murmur sweeps through the crowd. He does it again.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Michelle, all in red against the dark sea of suits. Her hands are clasped in front of her and her face is unreadable. He wonders for the first time whether she knows, what she sees on his face now.
After the oak leaves come his Medal of Valor (the one no one seemed to know he'd won, because the press suspected simple favoritism; the one Silas was fighting to make sure David did not win). Then, last of all, the smallest badge on his chest: the two tiny butterfly wings, sign of the royal family, tiny and inconspicuous and never ever unnoticed.
When it's in place, he reaches forward and pulls David back into his arms. "See?" David whispers against his ear, and Jack feels the shape of the cheek against his cheek change as David's face splits into a huge grin. "See?" It's so irrelevant, so I told you so in this moment of gravity, that Jack laughs and holds David tighter and spins them around a little, giddy with possibility.
Silas is standing against the far wall, thunderclouds in his eyes, and Jack is pretty sure he ought to be frightened of the way he has courted the man's wrath. But David's madness must be contagious, because there they are, clutching each other before the court and the cameras and the country, laughing as the future opens up before them.
Part 2
no subject
>laughing as the future opens up before them.
*loves*
*sigh* I'm actually going to have to dig out a bible and read this story if I'm going to keep up with your conversation about this fandom, aren't I? I know I've got a couple stored somewhere
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I like this, that his own heroism is downplayed. Because Jack is, in himself, a good soldier, and a good leader. And pinning the butterfly wings pin was definitely a moment of yay :-)
no subject
no subject
sigh~ this is beautiful. Everything is perfectly vivid:
It's so irrelevant, so I told you so in this moment of gravity, that Jack laughs and holds David tighter and spins them around a little, giddy with possibility.
SO GREAT.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
(and you read! Even though you didn't want David/Jack till the show went that direction! I am so flattered)
no subject
no subject
no subject
Yaay!
no subject
In canon, that is. David/Jack in fanfic!
no subject
no subject
So I had to stream it. But I think they count that, so their numbers should have gone up. (er, not just because of me, lol)
no subject
no subject
no subject