Shadow: Well…this plot bunny has been bugging me for a while now…and it's actually finished, unlike my WAWOTW one… (sighs)
Uh…this is English history peeps. I've taken what I know, and had a good ol' time screwing it all up into an AU. (grins) So much fun.
Knock yourselves out…
The Tudor Rose
Chapter 1: The Princes
London, 1588. A time of change, of new ideas, of the future. But for some, a time of anxiety, and worry. King Edward, the King of all England, was sick, and doctors said he did not have long left to live. Even if he recovered from his most recent bout of illness, he would be dead within three years – at the most. Of course, there was an heir – only one, mind you, so he was to be taken care of. People were always fussing over him, and, as a consequence, the lad was always trying to sneak away. The teen prince had never been one for being coddled, and he was sick of all the bother in the palace. It was known he was to be the next King of England, so what was all the hassle about? It wasn't as if he couldn't take care of himself…
Two cloaked figures dashed into the alley, one chasing after the other. The second let out a hissed cry, a young male. "Bakura, for God's sake-!"
The other figure stopped, casting a chiding grin at his partner. "Thou shouldst not take the Lord's name in vain."
"Hypocrite." One figure pulled the cloak away from his face, revealing a handsome eighteen year old, his eyes sapphire blue and his hair deepest mahogany. "Bakura, why can't you just stay in the palace for a change? The amount of trouble we'll be in when we get back-"
"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black…" The first figure pulled away his own covering, letting snowy locks fall free around his face. Amber eyes glittered teasingly at their elder, for this boy was but sixteen.
"Cover your face!"
"Not on you life." Bakura crossed his arms over his chest, his face stubborn. "Seto, why should I?"
Seto moved from foot to foot, anxious. "What if someone sees you? You're the Crown Prince! Definitely a worthwhile hostage…"
The albino shrugged, letting the words bounce off him. "What if someone sees you? Remove the boulder from your own eye first cousin, before attempting to help me remove the pebble from my own."
Sapphire eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I followed you! To stop you from getting into trouble!"
"I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, right. Everywhere you go, trouble soon follows!"
"So? I can get out of my own scrapes. I can handle myself out on the streets… better than you anyway."
"Maybe, maybe not. We'd still best head back to the palace. What happens if your father asks for you while we are gone? He could-"
"He won't." Bakura's voice was hard. "Even on his deathbed he does not wish to see his son. When he dies, it will make little difference to me. When my mother died, I lost my father as well. My father? The King? Pah! I have no father!"
Seto's voice was hushed. "Bakura, that's-"
"Treason?" An odd smile flickered across the albino's face. "So what if it is? Are you going to say anything?"
The brunette swallowed his words, and a long silence descended over the two. Eventually the elder broke it. "Bakura… please come back to the palace."
A pale hand was run through snow white spikes, and amber eyes gazed off into the distance, where the mist was slowly seeping up from the river Thames. "The mist's coming in…"
"So let's not get caught out in it. Come on."
"Fine…" Bakura sighed. "I'll go back to the cursed palace."
Seto smiled in relief, and the two ran off quickly, back the way they had come.
"Prince Bakura! Prince Seto!" A harried servant ran up to the two teens, her face flushed from the running. "Your majesties, where have you been?"
"Simply for a wander around the palace grounds, Eliza." Seto's reply was smooth, his voice bright as he looked on his and Bakura's old governess. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no, your grace… it's just we couldn't find you. I was most worried. What would have happened if you had been kidnapped?" The harried woman flapped a hand in front of her face, truly horrified by the thought. "Oh, what would I have said to the King? My hair's going white just thinking about it…"
Bakura smiled pleasantly. "Your hair's already white, Eliza."
The governess frowned at the Crown prince, her expression half laughing, and half scolding. "Oh, begone you! Always teasing me. What will become of my poor nerves? They're already in shards because of your disappearance today…"
"Poor Eliza…perhaps you should go rest?" The albino's face was sympathetic. "I think a lie down would be most beneficial to your poor, frazzled nerves, and perhaps some tea?"
"Tea? Oh… that does sound nice but I-"
"No, Eliza, no excuses. I insist you go rest. It's my entire fault your nerves are shot, 'twas I that suggested Seto should walk with me." The Crown Prince gave Eliza a gentle push. "Please, go rest; it will make me feel better about alarming you so."
"I insist." Bakura smiled again. "Eliza, relax… I'll still be here when you wake up. Go have a nice, long, relaxing sleep."
The governess relented. "Oh…you're a good boy, Bakura. Always thinking of others before yourself…" The woman gave a small bob. "Well then, your majesties, I'd best go have that tea then…" She wandered back off down the corridor, heading for some sleep, and undoubtedly a nice cup of tea.
Bakura's smile faded into a sneer. "Stupid woman…"
Seto shot him a sharp glance. "I don't believe you. How can you manipulate her so?"
"Cousin, you are a hypocrite."
"At least if I dislike someone I tell them to their face! Bakura, every other word you speak is a lie."
Amber eyes narrowed. "Do I lie to you?"
"I wouldn't know. You probably mock me behind my back as well…"
"I do not! Seto, I have never lied to you! If I have a disagreement with you I will say so! Do you really think so little of me!"
Bakura relaxed. "There you are then. Anyway," he flicked a snowy bang over his shoulder, "come walk with me. I am bored now, and, since you spoiled my earlier fun, it is only fair you accompany me to alleviate my boredom."
Seto nodded, falling into step with his cousin. The two idly walked down the corridor, silent.
The elder shot a glance at the Crown Prince. In truth, when he had answered his cousin before, he had been lying. He didn't trust the albino – not completely. The boy was bright, smart and fun, interesting to be around, but he…he could be… frightening, at times. Bakura had a mean streak; cold and icy as his snow white hair, and when he got mad…he got nasty. Yes, the Crown Prince was intelligent, but he was cunning as well. Seto had seen many tutors that the young prince disliked disappear all too quickly… But still, Bakura had never been like that to him, and was never likely to either. Though they were but cousins, they were as close as – maybe more than – brothers. Bakura would never betray him – would he?
A sudden commotion in the corridors ahead – near the King's chambers - ripped the Prince out of his thoughts. Startled, sapphire eyes blinked, recollecting themselves. "What the…?"
"Come on!" Bakura was already racing down the hallway to the disruption's source, and, hastily, Seto followed.
The two happened upon chaos.
"I demand to see the King!"
"That's impossible, his majesty is unwell. Maybe you should-"
"It is vitally important I see his majesty, King Edward! Now! Let me through!"
"His majesty is sleeping! You cannot enter!"
"You must let me see the King!"
The corridor leading to the King's private chambers was packed with people - guards, servants and nobles alike -, all of whom were goggling wide-eyed at the scene before them.
A middle-aged man bedecked in the clothes of nobility stood before the entrance to the King's chambers, his voice brash and loud as he demanded to be let past. Seto recognised the man as the Duke of Northumberland, a friend of the King's. He'd recently been abroad – sailing -, so he might have some valuable information…
However, the King's personal servants and guard were having none of it. Still they couldn't do much, being unable to shift the determined noble. So, for both sides, it was a furious stalemate.
All vestiges of courtesy had long since vanished.
"Let me through!"
"I demand. That. You. Let. Me. Through!"
"You're not getting-"
Stunned, the requested silence fell, and all eyes turned to see an irate Crown prince, his amber eyes narrowed in anger. "What is the meaning of this!"
When there was no reply, the teen's expression darkened further. "Answer me!"
Gulping, one of the King's guards stepped forwards. He gave a shaky bow. "Y-your maj-jesty… I – that is – we – this man was trying to enter your father's chambers!" He pointed accusingly at the Duke, who glowered back at him. "We refused to let him pass, your grace, but he insisted… and uh… here we are…" The man trailed off under the albino's glare, giving another quick bow, then disappeared sharply from the Crown Prince's terrifying gaze.
Bakura's voice was silky soft. "So, what you're telling me, is that all this noise is because of you Duke?"
The Duke scowled faintly. "Your majesty, I have an important message for the King!"
"I heard." The albino's reply was pointed, and the other winced slightly. "So, Duke, what is so important about this message that you chose to cause such chaos in my father's palace? What message is so important that you will disrupt everything just to deliver it?"
The Duke's face remained blank. "Your majesty, I cannot speak of it to anyone less than your father."
"I am the Crown Prince! What cannot be said to me that can be said to my father! I will inherit the throne after him!"
"That may be so, your majesty, but I must speak with your father."
Bakura's eyes narrowed slightly – a warning sign to those that knew him. "As you can see, Duke," he cast a hand to the royal chambers' doors, "my father is resting. Would you have us disturb him when he has been so recently ill? The King requires his rest, and to disrupt that might set his recovery back a while. Your information may wait."
The Duke looked up. "Your majesty-!"
"It may wait." Bakura's voice was cold. "You have made it clear, Duke that you will speak to no-one but my father - and to that request I stand. You will speak with the King, and he will be alerted to your appeal in due cause, when the physicians say he is well enough to be bothered by your prattle."
"This cannot wait."
There were a few gasps from the gathered crowd at the Duke's audacity. Nobody – just nobody – openly defied royalty, and to dare to contradict a direct command by the Crown Prince…!
Bakura was momentarily stunned, then anger set in. "What did you say!" He strode forwards, till he was inches from the Duke. "How dare you contradict me! I have said my father is not to be disturbed-"
"It's a little late for that, my son."
Bakura stopped mid-rant, amber eyes widening. "I-I…father…!" He bowed slightly, ducking his head. Hastily, the crowd assembled dropped into curtsies and bows of their own; their eyes respectfully averted from those of the King's, who emerged slowly from his rooms.
King Edward VI wasn't a very old man, but time had taken its toll on him – and it showed. The loss of his wife – the late Queen Susan – had hit him hard, and the grief had never quite left his eyes, though it had happened over thirteen years previously. Still, King Edward was most definetely a King. He had inherited much from his father: his pride, his looks – the latter only slightly withering with age -, and the same stamina King Henry had possessed flowed strongly through Edward's veins.
One thing King Edward did not possess however, was his father's ruthlessness, nor the bloodlust and rage that had driven the previous King to send so many to their deaths – including two of his unfortunate Queens.
Then again, Edward had never had the problem his father had had. He had a son, and his had been born very shortly after his marriage to Susan. He also had a nephew, Seto, born of his half-sister Mary, and the lad would make a fine heir if Fate deemed Bakura unfit for the English Crown.
King Edward turned to the Duke of Northumberland, his tone polite. "Good Duke, I believe it is you I have to thank for my early rising?"
The Duke of Northumberland flushed slightly, but nodded. "I apologise, your majesty, for your rude awakening. I would not have had it so, but I come bearing information of a most important kind, affecting your royal personage directly. I beg forgiveness, my King, for the disruption, and especially while your Grace is still affected by ill-health, but the information I bear cannot be delivered to any but your esteemed self, for it is delicate in nature."
"Delicate…?" Troubled eyes scanned the noble, searching for any hint that the man had to offer.
"Yes, your majesty."
"And it is vitally important…?"
"Yes, your majesty."
King Edward nodded. "Very well. I will meet with you in my private audience chambers in an hour. Are you content to wait until then?"
The Duke of Northumberland bowed again. "Quite content, sire, and thankful of your benevolence."
"We shall see…" The King moved away from the man, stepping lightly over to Bakura. "How now, my son?"
"I am well, father." The teen's voice was quiet.
"I am glad to hear that. How are your lessons?"
"The same, father. They vary little day to day."
"Your tutors tell me you are oft to disappear for long periods of time." The King's voice was disapproving. "Where do you go?"
"Simply for wanders around the gardens." Bakura's head was still bowed, his eyes refusing to look at his father's.
"Hm… See to it that they wander in your schoolroom, child, and not errant elsewhere. I have much to suspect that your 'wanderings' – as you so eloquently call them – go much astray from the walks you claim they tread."
"As the King commands."
Frowning lightly at his son, Edward moved onto his nephew. "Seto! I have not spoken with you in a while, child. What have you been doing?"
The brunette inclined his head respectfully, in acknowledgment of his uncle's words. "I have simply been around the palace, your majesty. My lessons occupy my time, and I spend much of the remainder with Bakura."
"Good, good…" The King smiled absent-mindedly. "I will speak with you soon, I hope."
"If your majesty wishes it so…"
The Crown Prince.
He was brilliant – nobody doubted that. Bakura was extremely intelligent, sharp and calculating, and the young Prince was renowned for his amazing gifts with games of logic and strength. He was active too, taking part in swordplay, riding and archery, rivalled only by Seto. The two teens were fierce opponents, and often they could be found jousting and fighting in the palace grounds. Both were highly skilled – but they were both extremely sore losers. It was not uncommon to find one or the other sulking at some point of the day, but generally they were friends again before the following morning. The two were oddities, lost little children that had been put together from a young age, simply because there was nowhere else to put them. Since Bakura had turned five, the two had been together, and they'd hit it off from the start – quite literally. Bakura had punched his older cousin and the two had had to forcibly separated by eight servants.
But that had been a long while ago, and the two had matured since then.
The blade crashed down, the sound of iron ringing loudly in the courtyard as it clashed against its brother, then it was up, around and back again, and other clanging peal let loose.
Bakura laughed. "You'll have to do better than that, Seto!" His cousin merely raised an eyebrow, slicing neatly through the air at a point perilously close to the albino's torso. With another grin the Crown Prince side-stepped, taking the opportunity to twist and elbow the elder in the side.
"Hey!" Seto let out an indignant yell, bringing his sword down with a vengeance at his cousin's head-
-to be met by Bakura's own blade, swinging up.
Bakura smirked. "Did I catch you, cousin dearest?"
"You know fine well you bloody caught me, you imp." Blue eyes were scolding. "When did we agree on anything apart from swords?"
"Well, we didn't disagree…"
Amusement sparked in orbs of the brightest lapis lazuli. "If you put it that way…" With a grin, he promptly wrenched his blade off his cousin's, twisted the weapon around and aimed directly for Bakura's waist. With a surprised yell, the albino quickly dropped his own sword to meet the blow, and Seto coolly directed a swift kick to the back of the Crown Prince's legs, sending Bakura sprawling on his back.
The albino suddenly found himself with a very pretty view of fluffy clouds.
Seto smirked at the astonished look on the younger prince's face. "Comfortable?"
"Go to Hell."
"Already there, cousin, already there…" With a laugh, the blue-eyed Prince pulled away – only to be met by a flustered servant scampering towards him.
"Your Majesty! Prince Seto!"
"Oh-" The underling took a deep breath. "It's the King, your Grace, he wants to speak to you. Now. In the rose garden."
"Now?" Seto shot a glance at his cousin, who sat up, and shrugged back at him.
Bakura got to his feet. "Did he say why he wants to talk to Seto?" His tone was curious.
The albino frowned, his forehead wrinkling in thought. "You'd better go…" His comment was directed at his cousin. "It would not do to keep His Majesty waiting…"
An almost identical frown on his own face, Seto nodded, sheathed his sword, and turned and jogged for the rose garden.
The rose garden.
Seto wrinkled his nose. He'd forgotten just how strong the flowers here smelt… It was an apt name for the place of course, because practically the only plants that grew here were roses.
Red and white ones of course. Henry VII's practicalities for peace were still observed, even now…
The Prince sighed, casting his eyes about for King Edward. Where was the man?
The King stepped out suddenly in front of him, and Seto screeched to a halt, barely avoiding walking directly into his uncle.
"Your majesty!" The brunette swept a deep bow, blushing faintly. "How do you fare?"
"Seto." A warm smile spread across the King's face. "I fare well, thank you. I left my bed wishing to speak with you…"
"Speak with me, your grace?"
"Walk with me, lad…"
Hesitantly, Seto nodded, falling into step with his uncle as he walked along the path. "What troubles you, your majesty?"
The King laughed quietly. "Always so formal, Seto. You are my nephew, child, not a mere courtier."
The brunette's voice was quiet. "You are King, sire, and I would not offend you. Your majesty has been most gracious to me."
"You forgive me, then?" Edward spoke softly. "For your mother?"
Seto's reply was noncommittal. "I understand why you did it, sire."
King Edward sighed quietly. "I was sorry to do it, and I was even sorrier at her passing. For all the difference in our upbringings, she was always kind to me. Mary was a testament to her faith." The monarch paused, eyes glancing at his nephew. "Catholic she may have been, but I admired her, and admire her I still do."
"She was an admirable woman."
"Indeed she was…" A quiet smile touched the King's lips. "The Spanish blood in her showed."
"In what way?" Seto's voice was still polite.
"Her fire, her stamina… she breathed charisma. I believe that is what attracted your father to her…"
"Perhaps, sire." Blue eyes were blank, indifferent. "Though the crude rumours say her looks did not hinder her either."
"As they do not hinder you."
"Seto…" The King's voice was tentative, unsure.
Edward seemed to find his confidence again. "You remember I spoke of the French King a while back, and the stormy relationships between our countries?"
Seto nodded. "I do."
"To ease the strife, a suggestion has been made – by the French King. He wishes to help build bonds between our two countries, and he believes that a union between us would be the best way."
"A marriage. The French King has six daughters… but one of them is approaching marriageable age, a pretty lass by all accounts. He proposed that Bakura and she should be wed, but I was loath to agree. The French lass… I do not think they would agree very well with each other. You, on the other hand, would make an ideal match…" The King paused. "So what do you say, Seto? Will you marry the French Princess Kisara?"
"What did he want?"
Seto glanced up as he entered his room, blue eyes travelling across to where Bakura sat, sprawled, over a long seat, amber eyes almost bored as they looked up at their cousin.
"The French have proposed a… treaty…"
"A treaty? The French?" Bakura's voice was suspicious. "What on earth about?"
Amber eyes widened slightly. "Father wants you to get married? To one of King Louis' daughters? Which one?"
"The Princess Kisara."
"Yes." Seto nodded. He was still surprised himself. Kisara? She was the youngest of Louis' six daughters, but rumour had it she was supposed to best catch. But… why her? Why now?
There was a knock on the room's door.
It was the same servant as before.
"The King wishes to speak with his royal highness, the Crown Prince Bakura…"
The door to Seto's chamber slammed open again, and Bakura stalked inside.
Cobalt eyes looked up at the Prince. "What vexes you?"
"The King?" Seto was mildly curious. What had his majesty done to offend his son now?
Bakura merely scowled at the title, throwing himself into a nearby chair. "Did you know father married once before he met my mother?"
"No, I can't say I did…" Seto was definetely curious now. "Did he really?"
"Yes!" The cry burst out of the albino, and he was up and out of his chair, his fair face furious. "That stupid-!"
Seto hurried out of his chair too, clapping a hand firmly over his cousin's mouth. "Wait." He turned to the usual guards standing in the chamber, his voice stern. "Leave us." When the guards had all left, the teen removed his hand from the prince's mouth. "Forgive me, your majesty, but I believe privacy is required for a discussion such as this. Even the Crown Prince falls under English law."
"That's just it! I'm not the bloody Crown Prince! Some damn Egyptian brat is!"
"W-what?" The brunette fell back, his eyes wide.
"You heard me!"
Bakura drew in a ragged breath and spoke, his voice bitter. "My father married another before he met my mother. It was in Egypt, seventeen years ago. Apparently she was very beautiful – as if I care! He left – my father – and returned to England – after all, he did have a country to rule. He promised to return for the lady, and she, like a fool believed him, not telling him she was pregnant – she wanted it to be a surprise for him when he back." Amber eyes gleamed with something closely akin to malice. "He never returned – in fact, my father completely and conveniently forgot about her! If you can recall, he was very ill the year previous to his marriage to my mother – his old illness? He woke a few weeks after his ill bout, with little memory of the past few months of his life – at least, that is what was said. The Egyptian woman seems to have made very little impact on him, if she can be forgotten that easily… 'Sources' say my father met and wooed her within a week, marrying her in the second. She was only ever intended as a pretty ornament, not a mother to his children. No, there was another in England who he wanted for that role."
Seto let out a soft murmur. "The late Queen Susan…"
Bakura was nearly spitting his words out. "No other. He married her and it was said she fell pregnant the night of their wedding. All England rejoiced when I was born. A Crown Prince! How wonderful."
"But… if the King married the Egyptian… that means…"
"I'm illegitimate and cannot rule? That was my original thought too. No, I'm legitimate - barelythough." Amber eyes were burning, dark pools of hate. "Honestly though, what difference does it make? I'm still having the throne wrest away from me! That foolish Egyptian lady bore a son, and he was born but two months – two months! – before me. She died in childbirth, and her darling child was brought up in Egypt. I suppose it was a lucky thing my mother convinced my father to get his vows renewed – she probably thought it would be romantic. By some strange loophole of law, that made their marriage legal – something that neither had realised wasn't so previously because of my father's first marriage – as the Egyptian woman was dead, and father, as a widower, was free to remarry. About a month later, I was born. So you see," a queer smile formed on Bakura's face, "I'm quite, quite legitimate."
"But what about the Egyptian boy?"
"Please, he's only half Egyptian. He's partly English due to my father's idiocy." The scowl returned to Bakura's lips. "Well, it seems the brat is still alive, else he wouldn't be challenging my rule – would he? Some stupid officer heard rumours while he was out in Egypt, and reported it to the Duke of Northumberland. He went out snooping, and discovered the truth. So of course, he simply had to come tell the King. What do you think that whole mess a few days ago was about?"
Seto bit his lip. "What does my uncle think of all this?"
"Oh, he is deeply regretful for any hurt he may have caused, and is delighted to hear he has another son. He welcomes the boy with open arms, and of course, the boy must come to England."
The albino continued, ignoring the question. "After all, my father is his father, and it the King's duty to look after his son. Besides, Atemu is Crown Prince, England will be his to rule after my father dies. As the King commands, Atemu has to come to England, where his family is."
Bakura responded, almost carelessly, "The new Crown Prince's name. Father thought it best to inform me of the boy and his life – after all, he is due to arrive in a week."
Seto sank into his chair again, blue eyes troubled. Lord help us. The King's really screwed up this time…
The sun set over the royal palace, but the rumours didn't die with the light's waning. Everywhere was a hotbed of gossip, and fervent whispers still filled the halls. Somehow or other, information had leaked out, as information tends to do, and all that could be heard were the soft murmurings of the people…
Things were not right. There was an unmistakable impression of….otherness in the air, mixing subtly with a low level of unease that had been plaguing Seto for many, many days.
He now knew its cause, the feelings he felt were emitted from the King himself, and the prince's disquiet was steadily growing.
What was happening…it was sure the wheels had been set in motion a long, long time ago, but by whom? The recent events in the palace…these were not accidents, there were the reaping of long-sown seeds by Fate herself – for surely Fate must have a hand in the mess! No mortal could possiblycause such dilemma, such strife; and what sane mortal would ever wish to?
Fate is indeed a cruel mistress...
Oh, she led many man a merry dance; touching and teasing, a little turn here, a subtle change there, the soft insinuation of an idea whispered gently against a person's ear… oh yes, Lady Fate certainly knew how to bend things to her own unfathomable ends. She could make a man or ruin him within but a day…
And now she has set her sights on England…
Seto sighed quietly, his blue eyes cloudy with the emotions that flickered through them. The day had been a long one, a strange one, and his mind was weary from the surge of information it had met. Had he offended God so much that he was to be granted no peace in his life?
Bakura. The King. Egypt. The Queens. Princesses. His aunt. His cousin. His second aunt. His mother. His cousins. His father. England. Egypt. France. Atemu…
There were simply too many thoughts in his mind. And everywhere… everywhere he could sense the winds of change rising, stirring, blowing their breath that could both topple Empires and rise up Kings…
The boy sighed bleakly as he looked at the grey-blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Even the seas in this cursed north were dark!
Another wave of homesickness rose within the teen, and he gulped, tears threatening to fall from crimson eyes. Oh, but it would not do to cry! He mustn't, not here, not in front of all the people on deck with him. What would the good English navy think of him if he cried?
Somehow, by some miracle, Atemu managed to swallow his tears. Sadly, he stroked the gold puzzle that hung around his neck – a gift left to him by the mother he had never knew…
Oh, how he longed for Egypt already! He missed the scorching heat of the day, and the balmy cool of the night. He missed the exotic sights, smells and tastes of Egyptian food. The English food was too heavy, too sickening; it sat like a lump in his stomach and cloyed on his tongue. And, oh, how he hated the English clothes!
Already they had bedecked him in their attire, with all its frills and flounces, quilts and pads, silks and satins and ridiculous mounds of fabric that near swamped his petite frame. Where were all the simple robes that he was accustomed to? And the colours! So many colours they hurt the eyes! What was with the English and their obsession for colour?
In Egypt, Atemu had been used to soft whites, blues and reds, and sparkling stones of varying shades, all in moderation. But here – here – moderation had clearly never been spared a thought.
Riots of red, green, yellow, blue, black, orange and white clashed against seas of purple, magenta, pale pink, gold, and silver. Oceans of fabric flowed, brimming and bustling with frills and ribbons and trims, feathers and lace, all mixing and mingling in every style, shade and hue in every fabric created under the face of the sun.
It was ridiculous.
It was English.
And, Ra help him, Atemu was to be Crown Prince of it all.
Shadow: And chapter 2 should be up in a while… (shugs) Feed the author?