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Izzy Stradlin and the Holy Axl	By : FoxTyler Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Guns N' Roses Views: 1995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Guns N Roses. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Izzy Stradlin and the Holy Axl
- 1
(*Disclaimer* Said events exist only in my wildest imaginations. I would not hurt any of the characters herein for the world. Oh, and no offence to the “Princess of Love.”
Mostly inspired by Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Includes guest/cameo appearances by “others” besides GNR.)

“You must be joking.” The lo, fa, fair-skinned redhead glared daggers at the king.< sty “There’s no way in hell I’d wed that—that monster!”
King David rubbed his forehead, pushing back the short locks of blond hair that had fallen in his eyes. “Dear God, not another tantrum. Will you ever outgrow them?”<
“No!” The redhead stomped a foot, gray-blue eyes seeming almost to glow with rage. “I am not marrying that fucking monster. And you you see the way she walks, and the way she was looking at my knight? She’d shag him first chance she got!”
“Well,” David said dryly, “since you’re already ahead of her in that area, I don’t see that it makes much of a difference.”
“Father!” Axl shrieked. “You cannot except me to be happy marrying that pig!”
“Axl. You truly are a brat prince.” David leaned one burgundy-suited shoulder against the doorframe. “You will marry the Princess of Love. You will pretend to be happy, so that neither she nor her father have reason to call off this arrangement. You will even—” A smirk very nearly broke over his thin lips— “Give her a child.”
Prince Axl paled. His knees felt weak, and he found himself sinking down at his desk chair. “I cannot,” he whispered.
“Without a child, an heir, the Love family would have cause to annul the marriage. In any case, there is the wedding night to think of,” he added thoughtfully. “The officials shall want proof, a bloodied bed linen or some such.”
Axl swallowed. “I couldn’t do that. I just…couldn’t.”
David sighed. “Try thinking of your knight. That ought to do the trick, oughtn’t it?”
The blue eyes went smoky gray. “I hate you.”
“As well I know. But it’s your life I’m attempting to salvage.” He turned to the guard at the door. “Gilby, His Highness is not to leave this room from this moment until the moment of the marriage party, when I myself shall come to escort him. I want him to receive no visitors.” His eyes went cold. “Most especially Sir Slash. Is that understood?”
Gilby nodded. “Understood, Majesty.”
“Good.” David glanced back at his son. “It isn’t the end of the world, Axl. Try not to look as though it is. Tomorrow is your wedding day.”

< sty He never rose from the chair, never looked up his dull examination of the oaken desk. Tomorrow was his wedding day. Tomorrow he would take the hand of the Princess of Love, and they would be joined. He fought back a shudder. Oh, God, to even think about it made his stomach turn.
He was half drunk now, from the brandy bottle he kept in his desk for Slash’s visits. Half drunk and desperate. He needed help. But how to get it? He couldn’t run away now. Gilby would stop him, Gilby, ever loyal to the king, and always faintly disgusted by the prince.
Axl glanced out the window beside him and frowned. Too far to jump. The poor prince whose hair was too long to please, but not long enough to form a ladder, like that golden-haired bitch that let her prince climb up her braid. Hmm, did that make him a princess? He giggled, then scowled, annoyed with the girlish noise.
Well, if he was a princess, desperate to escape, but unable, what would happen? He’d get a shining knight to rescue him. Slash was too angry at him to help. But maybe there was another knight? But then, how to get to them.
His eyes fell on the parchment on his desk, and he grinned. A note! A note pleading for help from some passerby, who would miraculously find his note before tomorrow, and come and rescue him.
But then, who would really come to his rescue? No one was going to rescue the prissy little princess, who by all rights should have been a princess.
He sighed and let his head fall on the desk. He should have run away with Slash when the knight had asked him to. And yet he’d known, even as the shaggy, black-haired man asked him, that Slash didn’t really want it. And so he’d said no.
“Why?” Slash had demanded. “You’d sooner die than marry Courtney, so what’s to say no to? We’ll grab two horses and ride off into the sunset, like that idiotic poetry of yours says.”
“Not with you,” Axl had said, but nestled closer to him, Slash’s body warm against his, the straw rough but sweet-scented under him, while the snorts of horses came to his ears.
n stn “Oh.” Slash sighed. “That old love thing again?”
He nodded against Slash. “You’re not my true love.”
“Well, you aren’t mine either. But have you ever considered that maybe your true love doesn’t exist?”
No, he hadn’t considered it. Didn’t want to. But he believed it. Because of course, if he had a true love, they would have come to him by now.
He looked down at the parchment his fingers had involuntarily begun scribbling on. Oh, why bother? He crumpled it up and threw it across the room. Gilby glanced over at the sound.
What did any of it matter? Whether he married the princess or ran away with Slash, or was rescued b some idiot, it all came out the same. Tomorrow at sunset, he was going to die.

“Mmm.” Closing his eyes, Izzy leaned back against the tree, pressing his head into the rough bark. His hands, knotted in the whore’s hair, tightened, and he had to force himself to relax, least he tear out some of that fluffy blondness.
The wet heat left him, and he shivered, opening his eyes. The young man, “Duff”, was looking up at him, a grin on his face.
“What’s wrong?’
Duff shook his head, lips still curled up. “You’re awful sensitive.”
Izzy stared at him for a minute, before snorting. “Right then. Sensitive me.”
“Did’ya want me to get back to it then?”
“If you wouldn’t mind terribly.”
“Well, it is what y’pay me for.”
The words didn’t seem to disturb him though, as he dropped back to his task. Izzy felt a moment of pity for the man, still so young, who had been treated so harshly in the past. His fingers went back to the blond hair, carding softly through the lengths now. He wished he could give Duff the gold to keep him off the London streets, but gold wasn’t likely to be in either of their futures. At least Duff would be treated well for the next few weeks. Even if he was here to work.
Izzy wondered if hiring the man meant he was no better than those who had used him in the past, and sighed. But it was so hard to find someone to spend the night with when one had…tastes, as Izzy had. A sword in the gut—or some other vital area—was more likely to accompany any invitation.
Duff finished quickly, swallowing down Izzy’s come, licking his own lips clean, and standing. Izzy stared up at him, amazed, not for the first time, at his height. “You should have been a knight.”
“Nah, sir.” Duff grinned again. “Can’t stand blood. I’m goin’ t’feed your horse.”
After he’d disappeared into the trees, Izzy remained seated, gazing up at the thick, leafy canopy above him. He felt so good at this moment, so content. If only it could always be like this. Maybe he should try to keep Duff for a more permanent time. Other men kept mistresses. Why could he not? Perhaps because he was only a poor mercenary. All the tales of men becoming rich by acting as soldiers for hire? Hardly. Or maybe, it was because Duff was a man, as all Izzy’s lovers were men, and one simply did not let something like that become publicly known. Or maybe it was because he didn’t love the whore, and never would.
A shriek broke through the air, and Izzy sprang to his feet, hand on his sword hilt. “Duff!” he shouted, shooting through the trees.
“Bloody fucking hell!” the blond shouted, turning to look at Izzy as he burst through the trees. “Your damn horse is dead.”
“What in God’s name?” Izzy dropped down to his knees beside the sprawled out animal, finger flying to the arrow protruding from his neck. “Who in the hell would want to kill my horse?”
“Have to say, you didn’t mention any enemies when you offered my the job.”
“I haven’t got any.” He frowned, fingering the arrow shaft, and the piece of parchment rolled around it and tied with a scarlet ribbon. He quickly unfolded the parchment, rolling it out. Blurred ink was scrawled across the page, and his gut tightened. Then released. Because the sloppy writing held no threat, no anger, no hint of someone who meant him harm. “Duff. Look at this.”
The blond glanced at the paper, then at Izzy. “Just so you know, reading is not one of my required job skills.”
“It says, ‘To whomever may chance upon this letter, God willing it be in time, I plead your aid. Tomorrow even, which is the Midsummer’s Eve, it is my father’s intention to have me wed to a creature of the most despicable sort. I truly believe that if this marriage is to go through, I am better off to die, and may be forced to cause such to occur. I implore, I beg, that whatever good soul may find this entreaty shall answer my beckon, and see fit to divert this disastrous marriage. Upon such event, I swear upon my soul and the soul of my fathers before me, that I shall reward my rescuer in whatever manner he see fit, or spend the remainder of my life repaying my debt.’”
“Huh.” Duff arched a brow.
“It’s signed, ‘the eldest child and crown heir of the kingdom of Rose’.” Izzy stared down at his dead horse. “My God, a princess killed my horse.”
“You could always ask for that for your reward. Another horse. Two maybe. My feet are sore.”
Izzy glanced at the whore in surprise. “Well, I’m not rescuing her.”
“Why not?”
“It would take too much time. And besides, one mercenary and a whore who doesn’t like blood, going up against what’s likely an entire castle guard?”
Duff shrugged. “It isn’t as if you’ve got any other choice. You’re horse is dead. The Rose Castle is half a mile away. London is at least fifty. Really want to walk that?”
Izzy turned again to glare at the dead steed. “Damn it.”

Someday, man was going to invent the absolute perfect drink. Until then, Sir Slash mused, leaned against the exterior wall of the castle, there was brandy. Tipping back the bottle, he downed the last swallow of the strong liquor. Damn, that was good. Too bad it was all gone. Too bad there hadn’t been enough left in the bottle to get him more drunk. Now, this stage of drunkenness was pretty good—everything had gone warm and fuzzy—but he’d rather have knocked himself out. So long as he retained his consciousness, he could remember why he wanted to be drunk.
Fucking Axl. The dumb ass, shrieking, brat princess. Well, prince. Not that there was a difference with Axl.
Slash cared, he really did. But Axl was right, there was no love between them. Still, he cared enough that he didn’t want to see Axl get hung or stoned over his…abilities and inabilities. Although—he almost grinned—he’d give a year’s wages to see Princess Courtney’s face when Axl couldn’t…perform…on their wedding night. Or maybe he would be able to. Slash wasn’t sure how that worked exactly. But he’d never seen the prince with any of the numerous castle sluts. Not of the female sort anyway.
Something poked into his shoulder, and he turned his head quickly. Damn it, no sword…
Two men stood beside him, staring down at him, and he wondered if he was really that drunk, that he hadn’trd trd them approach.
“Who the hell are you?”
The shorter of the two, an armored man with dark brown hair, eyed him dubiously. “Good day to you, sir. I must ask you to step aside from the gate. I will not be denied entrance.” He drew a cheap but effective looking steel blade.
“Hey.” The other man, tall, with somewhat fluffy blond hair, grabbed at the first man’s shoulder. “You’re not gonna run him through are you? I mean…he’ll bleed an awful lot, and he looks pretty drunk anyway.”
Oh, well, now this man was faintly interesting. His breeches were awfully tight, and the neck of his shirt was so wide, it fell completely off one shoulder. And he stood in an odd manner for a man, with one leg poised so that his hips were tilted. If he’d been a woman, Slash would have thought him a slut. But then, he liked sluts.
Bracing a hand against the wall, Slash stood, staggering. “And what business have you had—or, got, rather—without…no…within?... the castle?”
“We are here,” the armored one announced, “to rescue the princess.”
Slash frowned. “What princess?”
“The one who is to be wed tomorrow even. Do not bar the way from me; I warn you I am well skilled with the sword.”
“Why would you want to rescue the princess?” He must be really drunk, because he just wasn’t getting this. “What, are you from Love or something?”
“We hail from London. Such is not important. What is important is that we have answered the message of the crown princess of Rose, and we are to to rescue her.”
Slash reached out and snagged the paper the man was waving. For a minute he stared. Then he gaped. Then he burst out laughing. “The brat!”
He stopped laughing when he found a sword point pressed against his chest, unamored, clothed only in a dirty white shirt. “You want to rescue the princess? Sure. Hell, I’ll lead you to her.”
“It could be a trap,” the blond man said, as the hesitated.
“Aw, not for you pretty,” Slash promised, winking at the man.
The blond arched a single brow, and the corner of his lips curved up. “How sweet.”
“All right then.” The other scowled. “Lead on, sir.”

“Axl, you silly brat prince.”
The prince groaned, slowly opening his eyes. Oh, dear Lord, his head pounded like a thousand horses were running through it. “What—?” He struggled to focus on the tall, slender woman standing beside his bed, rippling black hair falling down to the backs of her knees. “Fairy godmother Cher.” He sat up, sighing. “What do you want now?”
“What do you think?” She gave his ears a light boxing. “Tomorrow night is your twenty-second birthday, and here you are, sleeping, not doing a thing to save your life.”
“Oh, go away.” His pretty mouth scowled. “It’s your fault you know.”
“I know, I know.” She threw up her hands. “Hey, among my people, it’s a blessing, being given the chance to find true love. But you, you act like it’s a curse.”
He glared. “You told me when I was twelve years old that I had to find my true love within the next ten years, and if I didn’t, I would turn to stone, starting with my heart, and that I’d be able to see out into the world, but never move. I’d have to watch the world pass me by for centuries, until the stone I was made of finally crumbled.”
“It was supposed to be incentive! And besides,” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed beside him, “you always forget the good parts. If you find your true love in the time you’re given, if you entrust yourself to them completely, and share with them a single perfect moment, then you and your love will live happily for the rest of your lives. Love will burn between you until the day you die. Doesn’t that sound good to you?”
Axl pulled his knees into his chest and stared down at his feet. “It sounds perfect. But perfection’s not real, is it? You heard about the Love princess?”
His fairy godmother slid an arm around him. “You know, she wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I told David to help you find your soul mate.”
“He thinks her name is a sign. He says since I haven’t found my true love in all this time, he’ll have to find her for me.” He scowled again. “It’s always a ‘her’ with him. I mean, Slash is the closest I’ve come to love, and did Father ever help with that? Not a chance.”
“Honey, he used to be different. Anyway,justjust wants what’s best for you. And for the kingdom, of course.”
“But nobody cares about what I think is best for me,” he muttered.
“Axl, answer me true now: Do you want to marry Slash?” “Marry him?” He scoffed. “Since when did you turn to comedy?”
“I’m serious. Answer or I’ll turn you into a frog with so many warts even Slash won’t kiss you.”
“Fine.” He looked up, met her eyes. “I… No. I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t love him.” He looked down again. “I don’t love anyone, and no one loves me.”
Cher smiled, and squeezed her arm around his shoulders. “Just wait, honey. Oh, and in the mean time—” She whipped a white satin gown out of nowhere, complete with lace and ruffles. “Put this on.”
- 1
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Izzy Stradlin and the Holy Axl