[UNDECIDED]

Chapter 1- Fashionably Late

First thing you should know about me; I'm a bastard. Second thing you should know about me; I'm a bastard with power.

Being the crown prince doesn't help anything either.

Alright, perhaps I should elaborate a bit more.

Hello, my name is Prince Siberius Windsor, heir to the throne of the British Empire. I know, the name is lovely, really. And believe it or not, I have about twenty others all of which are equally fabulous, but nevermind that. My mother always said that a name means nothing without deeds behind it. And mine.....

Well, it meant little. At least, at first.
Being a prince is a little bit like being a celebrity. You smile, you wave, say a word or two to satisfy the press, and you're off. Again, at first that's really all there is to it. But...It wasn't until I got a bit older that I realized two things:

One, everyone despises me like nothing else.

And two, I was going to have to run the damn country.

But all hell didn't break loose until I was about seventeen. And I.....I was....
A bastard with too much power.

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I always hated my appearance. My mother said I looked like my father, though I knew she only said that to make me feel better. But if anything, it made me feel worse. Ever since I was a child I'd wished that I looked more like my mother; redheaded, with eyes the color of the sea. Tall and strong and...well, regal.

I usually looked like a ghost that had been turned inside out and shoved in the bin a few times.

But apparently to the horde of ladies who were each so bent on marrying me, I was handsome. Disgusting.

Anyway, in my opinion, I was anything but. I was short, for one thing. Blonde, blue-eyed and so pale, I make Snow White look tan. The most remarkable thing about my appearance was my lack of color. But other than that I didn't consider myself striking. I just acted like I did.

I ran a hand through my cornsilk hair as I filled with the furry lapel of my coat. Doing my best to ignore the slight metallic stench that still clung to the fabric that reminded me constantly of who I was. What I was. To most it wasn't all that noticeable, but to me....It still sent chills down my spine, making me want to vomit my guts out all over the floor. Making me want nothing more than to plunge a blade through my own chest.

It didn't always bother me. At first, it didn't, all the death. But as the bodies began to stack up, the amount of blood coating my hands...

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes snagged on my reflection. Fully taking it in for the first time in months. God, these sleepless nights are starting to take their toll....I sighed, frowning at the dark smudges under my eyes before turning away. Even if I was able to sleep, I wouldn't want to. No way in hell....

I shook myself, trying to keep the nightmares out of my mind. It was no good to think of things that I had no control of. And I knew that it only mean a lot more trouble if my mother found out. Even the woman who birthed me only ever saw the cruel mask I portrayed to the world. In fact, I wasn't sure if she believed there was any small inkling of good beneath it. That there was something other than a monster.

Not that it matters.....I've just about destroyed who I used to be....and whatever is left is nothing but despair...

Doing my best to squash my depressing thoughts, I busied myself strapping my sword to my hip. Making sure that I was as late to breakfast as possible. Honestly, it's petty, but for me, every small act of rebellion against my mother counted. And being late to breakfast was one of them. I only wished I could punish her more for everything she did to me. Was still doing to me. But for now, being an absolute prick was the best form of punishment I possessed.