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july 1850
"You can't catch me, George!"
"Oh, yes I can!" These words echoed around the tall hallway, the sound of frantic children's footsteps accompanying the racket. The lanky, dark-eyed seven-year-old boy, named George as we have learnt, was desperate to catch up to the older, auburn-haired boy who was sprinting away from him in bare feet, the two slipping and sliding on the flawless, shiny wooden floorboards, bumping into long walls with flowered wallpaper, just missing sleek side-tables adorned with vases which withheld top-quality roses and tulips.
"O-Oh-! I say, watch where you are going, boys! Mr. Lennon, is that a tablecloth??" A tall, dark-haired boy, barely sixteen, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits, was almost knocked off his feet when the two boys weaved past him, calling after them with an outraged yell, but not without a hint of amusement. John was, indeed, draped in an expensive, pure white lace tablecloth, giggling boyishly and grinning all the while as the nine-year-old was chased by George.
"Apologies, Mr. Epstein!" George had managed to call out to the servant before they whipped around a corner, disappearing further into the depths of the manor.
"Come on, slow poke! You can catch up!" The young prince called, bursting into the lounge area, which was luckily empty. The large room was adorned with dark oak bookshelves stacked with hundreds of books, a large velvet sofa in the middle with a dark oak coffee table placed in front , a lace tablecloth on top with a large bowl of various fruits, and another sofa of the same type opposite the other. A large window faced the back gardens, which went on for miles and miles, lace curtains draped in front, creating honeyed patterns which were cast onto the waxed floor, then velvet curtains tied back with golden string next to it. Soft patterned carpet tickled their bare feet as George passed John and flopped onto the sofa, sinking into it.
"That's it! You win, sir captain! I'm defeated!" The dark-haired boy puffed out, pulling off the top hat he stole from his father and dumping it on the floor. "I can chase after you no more."
"Ha! See that? I win! I am the best pirate in all of the land, and you're the worst!" He made a face at his friend, who wasn't really paying attention to the prince, gazing in wonder and amazement at the room he had only seen twice now.
"This room is so big! How on earth do you get around, John? Your whole house is enormous!"
"I don't know, really. It is really boring here." John spoke after a few moments' thought. "I get to see my cousins sometimes, but they are either too young or too old for me anyway. It isn't fair! I don't like it. There aren't any people to play with! And Mimi does not want me to play with you or Stuart." He crossed his arms defiantly, a frustrated look on the prince's face. "She says you and Stuart are "working class children" and I shouldn't play with people who are "of lower class that work for me". I don't understand why not!"
"Oh." Was all that George uttered, gazing embarrassed at his feet, toying with the loose ends of his tattered shirt. His mood had soured considerably, and John could notice. "Right."
"I am dearly sorry, Georgie! Please do not hate me, I don't agree with a word she says anyhow." John blinked, perching on the carpet next to the sofa, gazing pleadingly up at his friend he has known for about a month.
"It's alright, I don't hate you, John!" George grinned down at him, clearly relieved that John didn't agree with his auntie. "Oh, I forgot to tell ya!- I made a new friend, his name's Paul!" His mood brightened as the young boy changed the subject, John listening with somewhat interest as he jumped up to sit on the coffee table, which he was definitely not allowed to do. But would that stop him? Nope. "He's a year older than me, but he loves music and pirates like us two! I think you'd like him. He lives a few houses away from me!"
"Humph." John huffed slightly, picking up his pure golden wristwatch and toying with it. Jealousy seeped into his chest as his eyebrows furrowed, eyes darkening slightly as shadows fell on the almond orbs. Seeing the young prince like that, George felt intimidated, the expression on the boy's face almost making him look ten years his senior. George can get friends so easily, whenever he pleases. It isn't fair. No one wants to play with me, they all think I'm snobby and mean because I'm a prince. I can't help being able to eat chocolates, fruits, wear nice things (even if they are too tight) and do whatever I please! Oh well. At least I have George and Stu and Pete.
"Yes, maybe. Where is Stu?" John shrugged off whatever George was saying, standing up and unwrapping the large tablecloth he had been using as a pretend bandana, which was considerably larger than what an actual bandana was, of course.
"How should I know? He's your friend." The coffee-bean eyed boy shrugged, before reaching and snatching an apple from the bowl on the coffee table, digging his unusually sharp canines into it.
"Probably watching the painters again." John decided. "I am going to go find him. I'll see you later, Georgie."
"See ya later." George flicked John's ear with a smirk, John reacting by snickering and shoving him away, then starting to trot excitedly away, the prospect of seeing Stu changing his mood completely. Still dragging the tablecloth along with him tightly in his hands, the ends collecting dust on the sleek floor.
Reaching up to the familiar chocolate-coloured door, the chestnut-eyed boy twisted the glinting golden doorknob and peeking inside the towering room. The artists that resided here were perched on their stools, painting at easels, some cleaning brushes in the corner and chattering softly, and there Stu was, right in the middle of it all. Swinging his short knobbly legs on a rickety stool, eyes shining with interest and excitement as his father Mr. Sutcliffe next to him was whispering to him, pointing out things on the painting and teaching him tricks with art.
In front of them was John's cousin, the little girl stuck on a small velvet seat while having her portrait painted, struggling to keep still for the artist, queen Mimi behind her with her hands placed firmly on the girl's shoulders, trying to calm and placate the young girl in an overly decorated puffy dress. John never understood that, he could never sit for paintings and he hated it when Mimi would make him. He could not sit still!
"Stuart! You're here!" John exclaimed in the almost silent room, his voice echoing loudly in the room and catching the attention of everyone in the room, his cousin being especially relieved as the child slipped off the seat and started to slink away before John scrambled excitedly up to his friend.
"Hi Johnny!" The older boy grinned at John happily. "Father is showing me some painting stuff!" Stu pointed at the half-done painting in front of them, which Mr. Sutcliffe had stopped working on as the subject of it had disappeared.
"Oh. That sounds boring." John shrugged slightly, before grinning again. "Come play with me and George! We are playing pirates."
Stu grew upset, looking down at his knees, legs halting as he hunched his shoulders dejectedly.
"But I want to watch... please John? I'll play with you and George tomorrow, I promise."
Silence for a moment, before John huffed. "Alright then." He crossed his arms over his chest, still clutching the cloth as he turned away, still feeling Stu's eyes searching him. Suddenly a familiar, but feared voice cut in between them.
"John, be nice." Mimi hurried over, placing a firm hand onto the young prince's shoulder and guiding him somewhat roughly out of the room, her footsteps fast and determined. "Now, give that tablecloth to Mr. Epstein, and go to your room. Dinner is about to be served." They were out in the front room now, John slipping slightly on the shiny, intricately designed marble floor.
"But George!-"
"Sh! No buts." The queen silenced him sternly, towering over him with her silky blue tight dress, a green overcoat draped over her elbows and trailing after her. "George is going to go home now. Besides, you do not want to play with those types of children, John." She leaned down slightly to gaze at him with a severe expression, expensive diamond jewellery glinting in the evening light. "They are of uneducated lower class, they work for us. They are not worthy of your time."
The young boy stared at her for a few seconds before souring, face scrunching up slightly as he turned his head away with a 'hmph!'. Sighing, Mimi patted his back and straightened up, adjusting her tightly done hair, looking into the distance.
"Go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready." She muttered, before strutting off, her high-heeled shoes making a click-clack noise on the smooth flooring as her figure disappeared into another room in the side of John's vision.
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author's note.
hey guys !!!!!! omfg jddhfkdjfh
i hope u enjoy this prologue, its just a little insight
before the main part, hope u guys enjoy it !!! i
ts gonna b wild so get strapped in folks.
ok, see yall later bye !! <3333