Who the Ever-Loving F*** Made Me A Prince?

Gaslight the sick away

Theseus was not very famous among the dwellers of the palace, This was one thing that William noticed. Theseus is fourteen years old, and all of those fourteen years were spent being raised in the palace.

Yet Theseus seemed as much of a stranger to the inhabitants of the palace as himself, and William feels heartache for the boy he knows is his little brother. And it aches even more with the knowledge that the young boy doesn't know yet either.

Because word of the Second Prince's return is still unspoken, and not even the Imperial Prince had a clue. William would know. He goes by Wilbur for that reason alone. Theseus looks at Wilbur with glittering sapphire eyes, and William stares back with his own matching pair--except his eyes are hidden beneath a veil.

"Theseus,"

"Yes?"

William doesn't fail to notice how attentive he was. As if he had been waiting for the conversation to start.

"Would you like some sweets?" William asks, endeared by the young prince.

And the young prince had seemed enthralled by the proposition, yet brought down by something that hindered his glee. "I'm afraid I must refuse, Sir William." Theseus says solemnly. "I am on a strict diet." The boy subtly eyes the surrounding courtiers who send side-eyed glances at the young, unloved prince.

William frowns, despite the subtle way that the boy glanced at them. The young boy is thin, why would he have a strict diet, unless it was to raise his weight gain--except the refusal of the chocolate would have been counterintuitive.

"I'm sure that one wouldn't hurt, Your Highness." William says with respect.

He did not fail to notice how only a select few courtiers had done the same. He will change that when he reveals his identity. Theseus will be treated as a prince as soon as Wilbur claims his title. His rightful place between the three brothers of the Empire.

Theseus, however, smiles at the thought, as if briefly amusing the idea in his head. "I'm afraid that I will have to stick to my meals, Sir William." Theseus laughs, and they sound like jingles in William's ears.

Love, he thinks. He loves his little brother.

"I understand." William nods in faux compliance. "I suppose I shall simply keep these--oh dear, it appears that my pockets are rather full." He blatantly lies.

Tommy catches that lie, and he grins back. "Would you like me to hold it for you?" He says out loud for the courtiers, and they bristle under the gaze of the duke's ward.

William bitterly lets the anger simmer underneath his skin. He is not known to be of royal blood, known through the palace as a visitor with commoner blood running through his veins, yet he is garnering more respect than the loving yet unloved prince.

But he smiles, because Theseus is playing along. There is a rare happiness in Theseus' glittering blue eyes, and Wilbur thinks of how much more satisfying it would be to see those when Theseus finds out that they are siblings.

(It wouldn't dawn until later on that Theseus would appear to him next with a sore throat. One he had to bear alone until Wilbur visited next.)

~+~

While it is true that Tommy can simply say no to death and survive, he cannot really control the functions of his body. He bitterly stares up at the ceiling of his room, feeling chills run down his spine as he tries to overcome his illness. He had caught a cold, and everyone knows that a four year old catching a cold is considered to be deathly.