Prince Cleo's POV
I stared fixedly at my appearance in the towering mirror adjacent to me as the royal tailor, Patricia absentmindedly continued to fix the crisp collar of my white button up, a sewing needle placed tightly between her thin lips as pure concentration lined the wrinkles in her forehead. I heaved a slight sigh whilst gazing back into the mirror, only to have my focus drawn back to Patricia who now stopped her actions to gaze up at me, quizzically.
"Is something the matter, your highness?" She slid the needle through her lips before placing it back into the ball of thread she had set on the chair next to us. I shook my head timidly, still taking in my features without a word.
"Then why sigh? Are you not happy for your coronation?" She questioned delicately, her old knowledgable eyes filled with genuine concern. "No, it's not that... i just, I think... I-i think i really need a haircut. Don't you?" I grinned down at her whilst flashing all my pearly whites, to which she laughed gently in response, shaking her head.
"You look dashing just the way you are." Patricia was an older woman who had worked for the royals ever since Izzy and I were born. She was the official tailor, and always made sure we looked 'dashing' and 'spiffy' as she liked to put it.
"Turn," She ordered and I resisted the urge to sigh once more. I could never get used to standing in one place for too long. I spun to my right as she continued to tailor and trim my full white coronation's tuxedo. I still couldn't believe that today I would become King. I would officially rule the entire 64.1 Million population of the United Kingdom, all on my own.
Was I excited? hell yeah.
Was I ready? hell no.
"Knock, Knock." Both Pat and I turned our heads to gaze at the door, mother peaking her beautiful face through the crack as she grinned profusely. Patricia smoothed down my shoulders whilst standing on her stool before stepping down to do an old fashioned curtsey my mother's way.
"Your majesty." Mother nodded in return, smiling at me all the while.
"Patricia, do you mind if i share a word with my son?"
In a haste, she gathered all her hemming equipment into her advantageous, evening back whilst giving my mother an incredulous look.
"Of course, Of course!" And with that she scurried past the both of us, shutting the cherry wooden door behind us soundlessly. I turned to watch mother, her back faced toward me as she used a dainty finger to peep through the window, gazing down at the civilians as they all clambered into the palace. Physicians, Attorney's, Governors, Presidents, Prime Minister's, King's, Queen's, and Princess' from all over Europe, North America, South America and Asia were expected to be here for the coronation.
No pressure, Cleo.
"You don't know how proud I am of you, Son.." She moved from the curtains, slowly walking up to me as she lovingly grasped my face within her hold, sending me a warm smile. I smiled back in return, pushing all thoughts of nervousness away. "Although at times, I don't show it, or say it, I love you- and I want the best for my little Prince- I mean, King," She continued, shaking my head with each word she spoke. "I remembered when I married your father, all the commotion and expectancy that came with it, everyone depending on him and I to rule and order the entire nation of Northwestern Europe..." She sighed, while bringing her warm lips to my temple, giving me a soft kiss.
"I wish he could be here to see you now..." Her voice trembled slightly and I felt a muscle in the side of my face pulse at the mention of my father. I knew she would have mentioned him sooner or later, but I was hoping anytime after the coronation had taken place. I knew all of those guests arriving tonight would have been the exact same ones that went to my father's coronation so many years ago. Normally, in any other given situation I would have cared less of what people thought of me; but now-a-days as the tomfoolery of being titled new King were beginning to invade my very thoughts, I found it difficult not to care.
"Mom..." I started, but didn't know what to say. She smiled up at me sadly before nodding soundlessly as if saying 'It's okay, you don't have to say anything.' Without uttering another word, I gently encircled my arms around my mother bending my legs to an angle so that I could bury my face into her jet black hair. She curled her fragile arms back around me while sniffling and I swallowed thickly.
If there was one thing Isaiah and I couldn't take, it was seeing our mother shed tears. Nothing was more heart-wrenching.
"Excuse me, your highness'?" There was a loud rapping at the door, much more heavy than the one my mother had done. We both jumped slightly and she chuckled whilst patting my clean shaven cheek.
"Who is it?" She called out, her voice strong and demeaning. You could tell the person on the other side of the door hesitated before responding and I smirked, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve.
"It's Tanya Henrey... from BBC news? The crew and I are setting up the transmission equipment downstairs, but there's some paperwork and contract signatures we need to go over before the coronation starts in an hour...your highness. I was told to come up and find you- I-I apologize if it isn't a good ti-" Tanya was shortly cut off as my mother swiftly opened the wooden door with a smile, shutting her up in an instant.
"Miss. Henrey, Of course!" Tanya grinned relieved whilst nodding and the two of them took off down the hall, exchanging words at regular intervals before they disappeared around the corner.
I blew out a sigh of exhaustion before glancing down at my custom made Rolex which now read the time
'5:02PM'
58 minutes remained until I became King.
—
Syd'nee's POV
I frowned deeply whilst standing on my tip toes in effort to overlook the crowd of tourists and locals who stood in front of the iron barricaded gates in effort to get a glimpse of the celebrities who began to roll up through the private authorized entrance of the palace. I huffed in both frustration and the fact that I was still a tad bit jet-lagged from the long 6 hour flight here. Yeo was a handsome man, but that man sure knew how to chat. I stumbled slightly as the crowd- who was at this point mainly filled with females who looked to be my age shrieked in cheerfulness as a tall looking silhouette waved from one of the windows on the far end of the palace from the second floor.
"Oh my god! Was that Prince Isaiah, Ashley?!" I watched in confusion as a tall blonde female squealed to the short brunette who giggled like an idiot beside her, nodding her head like a bobblehead. I raised a brow in confusion.
"Prince Isaiah? Who the hell is that?" I found myself saying out loud and watched as most of the people around me suddenly turned to give me a disgraceful look.
"Who the hell are you?" Ashley sneered from in front of me and I shook my head in exasperation backing away slowly.
"There's another one right here! Hey! You!" I felt a tug at the back of my collar slightly choking me as the unknown individual lugged me thru the roaring crowd of sightseers, none of which noticed I was practically being kidnapped- again!
"Hey! L-let go of me! help, someone! Me bosom!" (Me Bosom - Ghanaian Twi language for My god!)
I soon found myself shoved into a back alley way, completely isolated from the rest of the british crowd. I fell to my knees, groaning as I felt my already tattered stockings rip under the impact of the fall. I slowly turned myself to meet eyes with the person who'd dragged me away from the crowd. It was a woman.
"What is it with you bloody maids and disobeying orders, hm?" The woman crouched down to sneer in my face, her pasty pale skin centimetres away from me. I grimaced, pressing my back to ivory bricked walls. What the hell was she talking about?
"I don't know what you're-" "Yeah, yeah, you don't know what i'm talking about right? Save it. Now let's go, the coronation begins in 15 minutes and all the maids need to line up for serving the entrees." She pulled me up by my curly hair and I groaned, too confused and too tired to argue at this point. My knees buckled as I attempted to stand straight, but I could feel the crimson blood trail down my scarred legs.
"Where are you taking me..." I pleaded while trying to tear her hands away from my hair, but to no avail.
"Shutup, tramp! You know where you're going!" I began to feel my blood boil at the derogatory words that were thrown my way, but for the sake of my well being and possibly life- I decided against lashing out on her...whoever this woman was.