Once upon a time, there was a kingdom. This kingdom did not span as wide as many others, but still held it's own in the world. In it, not far from the town that held the castle, was a decent sized estate and at this estate, there lived a young boy.

Matthew was full of wonder and energy. Just a small boy, he loved his two fathers to death. Although not originally apart of the family, he was showered with their love. They and their servants lived happily in the countryside.

"Papa!" Matthew hurried over to the kind-faced man with golden, shoulder-length hair.

His eyes softened as he looked at the child from where he sat, planting lilacs in the garden.

"Matthieu, mon lapin, de quoi avez-vous besoin?"

Matthew giggled at the French. He stopped in front of his father figure and smiled sweetly.

"Un câlin," Matthew exclaimed as he held his arms out, ready to be embraced with a mischievous look in his eyes.

His father, of course, took the bait. With an exasperated sigh, he put down his trowel and dusted off his hands. His arms wrapped tightly around the small body in front of him.

"Je t'aime, mon lapin."

"Je t'aime, Papa."

"Matthew! Francis! Lunch is ready!"

The two pulled apart and giggled at each other. Matthew ran ahead as Francis stood up to yell back an "on our way".

The plants around the circle rock platform were kept to perfection. Most of them were purple, but others spruced their way in. Matthew's favorites were his father's favorites: the roses at the ends of the driveway. They stood out to anyone who dared a glance.

The edges of the property were boarded with old brick and their animals roamed freely inside them. There were many servants who all enjoyed working for those who owned the house.

The breadwinner of the house was not usually seen out of his office, but when those times came, he was usually chipper. He was in an awfully good mood today as well.

Matthew stopped just short of the step where his other father figure stood. He bowed slightly, giggling softly.

"Sir Arthur," he poshly greeted. "I do believe you called."

"Oh, come now, if I ever live a day where the two of you don't make jabs at my accent, then I do believe something will have gone wrong."

Matthew laughed. When Francis' voice started up behind him, he ran inside.

Arthur just barely stifled his laugh.

"I do believe you have been decorated." Arthur pointed to his own shaggy hair to indicate the object in Francis'.

When Francis pulled back his hand to reveal a stem with lavender buds gracing the top of it, he smiled as simply placed it back.

"Am I beautiful," he questioned Arthur with a wink.

Arthur simply laughed and answered, "the most beautiful."

A giggle from the door frame and then padded steps seemed to fade down the hall.

Francis kissed him and they both walked inside after their adopted baby boy.

"Must you go so soon," Francis murmured into his husband's ear.

Matthew had been reading quietly in the sitting room as Arthur did the same. Francis had just entered and leaned over the couch enough to hug his husband and whisper the question.

"You're leaving," Matthew cried out, a distraught look on his face.

Arthur glared half-heartedly at his beloved. Francis just shrugged in return.

"I'm afraid so."

Arthur was a merchant. Leaving for long trips was a regular event and Matthew knew it was necessary but did not want it anymore.

"When will you come back this time?" Matthew all but whined.

"I should be back before the winter sets in."

Arthur winced knowing the chaos that would ensue after.

Both Francis and Matthew just about exasperated that it "was two months from now" and "why on God's green earth would it take so long". In all honesty, it was only a little longer than some of his shorter trips.

One of Arthur's hands went to massage his temples as the other reached for his husband's hand.

"You both know it is my job."

Matthew pouted, but nodded anyway and went to join his father on the couch. A hand tangled itself in his hair as he sat and waited for his sadness to pass.

The next few days were busy preparing. Matthew did everything possible to make sure that his father had a safe journey.

When the day came to see Arthur off, the family stood on the front porch, hugging each other goodbye. The aforementioned was trying very hard to keep himself together in front of his traveling crew.

"Father," Matthew managed through tears.

"Yes?"

Tiny hands held in them a dried rose as the small arms offered them to the man who had taken a knee in order to talk better with the child. "For luck. Papa helped me make it."

Arthur's face softened and tears were just nearly over the edge of his eyelid. He carefully took the rose and hugged his son. Pulling back, he kissed Matthew's forehead and stood up to do the same to Francis who caught him again on his lips.

The boys behind him whooped and hollered as Arthur's face grew red.

"Bug off," he yelled. Everyone laughed for a while before the goodbyes were finally said.

Some years of this continued. Matthew playing with the animals and talking animatedly with the servants in the yard. Many times the servants brought their own children and Matthew noted he would enjoy playing with them almost as much as he loved talking to and riding his horse. He had named it Kumajiro, although would fondly call it Kuma.

Francis had taught him. Soon, it became one of his favorite activities as did reading and playing the violin while watching his fathers dance around the parlor.

One day, happiness wavered. Francis had become bedridden. It was not sudden, but they had hidden it from Matthew. Matthew, however, had already gained the notion from the realization that Arthur had stopped leaving as often and, every once in a while, Matthew would spot the two lovers whispering to each other in low tones with worried looks.

He would offer to help make meals and carry trays to the room. He would often wonder how the vibrant blues of the walls could change to look so gray. When he saw Francis in the center of the room, he knew how. Arthur was often in the chair by the bed, dabbing at the sweat that had beaded there or praying while holding the hand of a sleeping lover.

Matthew would often brew Arthur pots of tea, as it was the only thing that seemed to slide down his throat.

When the time came close for Francis, he beckoned to Matthew.

"Mon lapin," he cooed. "Look at you. What a handsome young man you have become. So strong and kind." He took a shuddering breath, trying to hide the tears that were evident in the corners of his eyes. "You will do so much for this world." He thought for a moment. "I need you to make me three very important promises."

"Yes, Papa." Matthew's answer was quick and desperate.

"The first is to take care of this house and the people who are in it and who work for it. It is a very important house, passed down through generations. I'd hate to see it lose its life." Everyone looked at the room once more. Like magic, the beautiful blues had become as vibrant as before.

Tears filled Matthew's eyes as he nodded. "Of course, Papa."

"The second is to take care of your stubborn father. Him and his silly accent." The room was filled with saddened laughter as Matthew nodded once again.

"The third is to show your kindness to whomever you meet. I know it will get you so far just by itself. I also know you have the strength to get through anything and carry those around you as well."

Matthew was just barely holding himself together as he nodded again.

Francis hugged him and whispered, "I am so proud of you and what you will become."

Matthew sobbed into his father's nightgown. Arthur joined in their hug.

Later, Matthew would see the light filtering through the door as hushed voices talked through the night. Matthew sat outside their door, listening.

As the twilight grew into the dark and Matthew's eyes grew tired, he could hear one voice become less and less prevalent in the conversation. Just as his eyes bid him goodnight, sobs erupted behind the door. An hour later, he could feel someone carry him to bed and lay with him until they were both asleep.

Meanwhile, at a castle not far from the estate where young Matthew grew, there was a pair of young boys being watched over by their grandfather, the reigning king.

The youngest, Ludwig, was stoic and generally not good at socializing, although his brother seemed to be the one person who he had grown close to. Icy blue eyes and blond hair that was usually slicked back, even at such a young age, showed his seriousness.

The eldest, Gilbert, was a rambunctious and loud boy, but when the time came, he could be a flattering, princely young man. His white hair and pales skin contrasted greatly with his ruby red eyes. Many believe he would grow into a handsome young man.

Hi!

Oh gosh, this is my first story. I really hope you guys enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

I am not sure I have to say this but I do not own anything!