Lams, Royal Legacies

Chapter 5

John
I wake up late and Maria is there on the other side of my bed, lightly whacking my feet.

"Hey, you need to get up and eat breakfast cuz you have studies today." She says it as if I only have studies today, and not like, every single day(except Sunday. God bless Sundays am I right?).

I groan. I really don't wanna get up and do fricken chicken studies. I don't even get to go outside for any of it! I start to hobble out of my room to eat but Maria stops me and shoves some clean clothes in my face. Oh. Right.

"Does Mr. Douchbag want his clothes back?" I mumble. I'm still really tired don't judge.

"Ok first, he's not Mr. Douchbag and second, yes. You've had them for a couple weeks already. So that means you can't go out tonight. Sorry..."

"Eh it's ok. I'll find my own clothes."

She sighs. "You could probably ask the tailor for a simpler design. I don't know."

I just hum a yes and Maria goes out of my room so I can change.

...

After breakfast I go to studies with this one cranky guy, Mr. Adams, who teaches math. I think he hates teaching but does it for the money. Alex would probably hate him.

After Adams, today is a history day so I get to go through history... yay... with Mr. Laurens. My dad. I learn about stuff like our ancestors and how we're rich and how we love Britain. I kind of see why Alex gets so mad at South Carolina. We suck. Mr. Laurens(I'm not used to calling him dad) doesn't even talk about our people!

I'm starting to get a bit skeptical. I've been subconsciously paying attention on that subject ever since Alex brought it up on the first day, and I'm intrigued about the whole revolution thing.

After a long history section I go to lunch with the family, which is just me, Mr. Laurens, and my mom.

The mail boy arrives in the middle of lunch.

"Can't you see we're eating!" My dad yells.

"Hon calm down." My mom puts her hand on his. He's upset because earlier I asked him why South Carolina always sided with Britain and slavery(which I personally don't like at all). So he's been fuming ever since. He thinks I'm stupid. Which... I guess isn't wrong. I sniffle a bit from the memories of today. I'm a bit sensitive. I don't know. It's stupid.

The mail boy quietly hands me a letter and practically runs out the door. It's from London. It's from Francis. I shiver.

I look up. "Could I please be excused sir?"

My father looks like he wants to say something but simply jerks his head up and down and waved his arms at me, signaling me to go away.

I run out of there, letter in hand, before he can say anything else or get more mad at me. I don't wanna get any more bruises today. I jump on my bed and open it and start reading.

My dear Prince John Laurens,
I know I haven't written you in a while, and I know as well you must forgive such actions of mine, as I have been busy correcting many wrongdoings of things I myself I am not partaking in. If you have not heard, in which I pray you haven't, a revolt against our King George here in Great Britain, has broken out. Those pitiful creatures up in New York have decided that dangerous freedom is a better choice than to be ruled simply. Revolting. We're sending some troops to put them in their place.
My Prince, have you heard of the events of Boston? I sincerely hope you never go out, for it is a dangerous place outside your walls and no disgusting filth shall try to get you to join their disgusting revolution. Anyone part of that scheme cannot be trusted.
Anyways, I hope you are fairing well and all that. If you shall fall ill, do not pass it on.
Sincerely and forever yours, Francis.

I scowl. Why does everything Francis talks about have to do with politics now? We would always talk about how we wished to see each other again but after what happened with him and me, turns out I don't want to see him ever again and he doesn't want to associate with the 'discusting' rebels. Psh.

I miss everything about who we were, or who I thought he was back then. But he'd gotten so cold-hearted. And he still is. I'm mad. So I pick up my pen and start to write back.

Dear Francis,
I don't believe I know what you could be talking about. Rebellion? Yes. Disgusting?... no. I don't find many things wrong with that. You can't always oppress a crowd of oppressed people. They are doing what's right, and hopefully we can free more people while we're at it. I don't understand why you stand to the side when people have nothing. I've seen the streets. It's sad. Because he's taking their money.
I wish you well, as always.
John Laurens

I sigh. I was never good at writing but he's got to understand.

I think now I'm having mixed feelings about him. I think I still love him, but I'm not sure anymore. Because I don't think he likes me anymore either. And yes, we were(/are?) a 'thing.' Funny, isn't it, how I never want to see him again.

Hmm. What would Alex do? He's good at writing and arguing. Thinking about him makes me want to be with him... I miss him...

I fold the letter gently and set it to the side with a sigh. I will send it later.

I take a walk in the garden and play with my turtles and pick a flower. I end up putting it in my room and drawing it. It's a really pretty rose. I think I made it look like a chicken in my drawing.

In no time at all, it's dinner. I shovel food into my mouth as politely as I can, excuse myself, and look for my city clothes.

Until I realize I can't find them. And then I realize they're not mine. And then I realize I don't have them. And then the sinking feeling hits me when I realize I can't go out today because I forgot to go to the tailors.

But I told them I'd be there! I groan. The tailor Hercules already went out so no city clothes for me. Eh. I'm tired anyway. So I walk to the garden to watch the sunset, kind of wishing I had someone to share it with. If Francis we're here... no. Probably not. He would complain. I don't know about what, but he would find something.

I plop down onto a small stone wall and breath in the fresh air. It's a really nice view down here in South Carolina when the day turns to night.

I think about if Alex was here with me... it would be so nice. I would hold his hand, he would hold mine. We would exist together. That's all that counts for me.

I sigh. Goodnight New York. Goodnight friends. I smile. Goodnight Alex.