@leroidepique
leroidepique:
small-but-strong:
Alfred stared up at his friend disbelievingly, his arms held limply at his sides, as the king carefully tucked the books away in their rightful place with a frown and a small shake of his head. It’s not that Al hadn’t been expecting it; he was entirely sympathetic to Alfred’s lack of magical ability. But it still stung just a bit to see him give up on him so easily, dooming him to stay a child until Arthur’s return.
After all, Al hoped that if their positions were reversed, he would at least try to help him out in any way that he could.
Regardless, Al let it pass somewhat as he begrudgingly settled in to Alfred’s palm with his back turned to him and a tiny pout on his lips. “I don’t know, why don’t you just entertain yourself?” He snapped out, not entirely satisfied with the way his voice squeaked. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Al scowled and curled in on himself, hating how damn big Alfred’s hand seemed in comparison to himself.
Alfred arched a brow and rolled his eyes, not in the mood for this. ”Sheesh, who knew turning younger would make you such a brat? It’s not my fault that those books have a completely different way of doing things from each other. If they were coherent and consistent I would have tried out a few spells, but they’re not, so I can’t,” he retorted.
Only a few minutes as a kid and he was already getting on his nerves. Maybe the fairy should take a nap? That’s what parents made their kids do when they misbehaved, right? Sure, Alfred didn’t have any kids, but he could assume.
“I think you need to sleep or something. You’re grouchy,” he commented, arriving to his own room and plopping down on the bed. He gently placed the fairy in the basket on the nightstand, which was filled with cotton and little doll blankets and pillows that Alfred managed to get from a castle girl who had outgrown her dolls. He didn’t know how comfortable it was, but the fairy had never complained about it.
“I-I, grouchy!?” Alfred spluttered as he was placed in the bottom of the basket, barely even tall enough to see over the top as the king walked away from him and settled in to his own plush bed. Pouting like only a child can, Al crossed his arms over his chest and turned his back on Alfred, tucking his chin down against his neck as he stared petulantly at the wad of blankets under him. “I’m not sleepy and I’m not grouchy!” He snapped. “Just because I might look like a little kid, doesn’t mean I am one!”
Al could feel tears start to prick in the corner of his eyes, and he was surprised to realize just how upset he was. Normally, he would probably joke around with Alfred if he insulted him, maybe even make fun of the king himself, but for some reason all he wanted to do was sit down and have a nice cry. And why shouldn’t he? Everyone needs to let it out sometimes…(even if they’re not quite sure what they’re “letting out”)
Hiccuping just slightly, Alfred let the tears slip down his cheeks as he stared angrily at the wall. He barely made a sound other than a few small sniffs, but he could tell that the king heard him, and for some reason that only made him cry harder. His tears collected near his chin and slowly dropped on to the blankets below as he curled in on himself, shaking slightly.
