Prompt 95: Mime

[tigerstriped86.livejournal.com]

Title: Come Around Knocking (Fanfic 100)
Sub-Title: Ancient Hoods
Author: tigerstriped86
Fandom/Pairing: Torchwood, Ianto/Lisa

Summary: Ianto and Lisa fall into Cardiff in a time long before their own.  Lisa is a queen and Ianto must be the jester to jog her memory.  
Rating: PG
Prompt 95: Mime
Disc. 1: Done for the fanfic100 community prompt 47 Heart as well.  I chose a het pairing.  So the world must be ending, right? 

Disc. 2: I own nothing, but the story might need to be longer.  And charades is as close to miming as I could get Ianto to comply with.  You all almost made me lose my favorite muse, but I talked him off the ledge.  All I remember is him cursing (a lot) in Welsh and making several vague references to the French.

Go here to read from the beginning of this part of the saga (read it all if you so wish): http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4242136/6/Fanfic100_Come_Around_Knocking

“Well?! You'd best do something jester. The queen does not look kindly on waiting.”

The blood seemed to stop in Ianto's arm. He couldn't think straight, at a loss for what to do. Ianto had tried to think this far, but a skilled performer at commedia del arte and folk hero songs, he was not. He wondered if coffee making and system filing were a talent to be considered. But his arm promptly fell asleep and he tried to rotate it back to health.

“Charades.” Lisa said it suddenly, blinking from her stupor. Ianto looked down, slightly confused, until he realized he was making the motion for a movie title.

“What was that, my love?”

“Oh my lord, isn't that the rage now in France? Aren't all the French entertaining with charades?”

“I would not know”, the King replied dimly, “unless the jester cares to explain himself.” The fact hung in the air.

“If the Lord of the land would beg my indulgence, but what is it the King seeks?”

“Wise entertainment.” The response bore the same dryness.

“But what is more, wise counsel. How else might I offer this but through woven proverb over silly joke or song?”

“My queen?”

“Silly jokes and songs are the marks of heathens, good King.” Ianto caught Lisa's half-knowing sharpness out of the corner of her eye, meeting his.

“Then let it never be said that I am a heathen, but a God-fearing King. Continue, jester.” And with a wave of his hand, the guards that had been stepping forward moved back towards the stone columns.

In his silence, Ianto twisted his nose and looked for his first word. He raised four fingers into the air.

“Four words?, First word then.”

Ianto grabbed a lit torch from the side of a column and began to flail the fire about in his arm.

“Heat...Warmth...Fire...”

“Maybe it's the torch he's holding?” Ianto nodded. “Second word then.”

Ianto grimaced just briefly, extinguishing the flame by rubbing it against the ground and then presenting the until object, bowing slightly.

“Let's see...Staff...Long...Bark...what do you think, my King?”

“Isn't it obvious? The first two words are Torchwood.”

“Oh, you are so much more clever!”

“Don't show too much excitement, my dear, the aristocracy should not be known for their excitement.” What the King did not realize was the the word Torchwood was enough to jog Lisa's memory and now she sat waiting for the last word, rehearsing a way to find time alone with Ianto to try and figure out a plan.

“Let's say the third word is inconsequential, jester, last word. What is that he is doing?”

“I believe he's pulling a stitch of cloth away.”

“From the center of his chest? Don't be absurd. Why, that's the area across the man's...”

“Heart. And what is the heart then, but life? Torchwood is life. That must be the proverb!”

“Not a very good proverb, I'm afraid.”

“My dear King, Torchwood is life means that honesty gives life, much like an honest flame is only extinguished by an honest hand.”

The king's face turned away just briefly and returned slightly more red. “Take him away.” His teeth were bared, whether in anger or humiliation, none would ever know.

“Oh stop, my King. Please, he does amuse me so. Allow me to take him to see these sights. He is not against you, he bears the visage of the strong Welsh peasant. Do this thing for me and find mercy, I beg you.”

“It is not in a King's nature to have mercy.” But the King saw the anger in the young man's eyes as he watched Lisa's words and the jester struggling with four thickly armed guards. Bemusement played across his features. Ianto not begging or pleading resolved the King, what he could not see was Ianto flinging the guards away to reach Lisa as well as he could have. “Such a brave fool should not be sacrificed just yet.” He sighed. “Fine, take him with you on a tour. If that is your wish, this jester you may keep.”