A/N: my first actual Beyblade fanfiction and OliverxEnrique. The story's is quite confusing at first but please bear with me.
DISCLAIMER: NOTHING! I OWN NOTHING! not even the damned doll...
My Porcelain Doll Chap. 1The Giancarlo-Tornatores were one of the richest families in all of Italy. They marry only worthy spouses, coming from what they consider rich and noble families like theirs. From generation to generation, sons were taught the art of gladiating (is that what you call it? if not, have a laugh) Them and the daughters were taught French etiquette and charisma. If one thing made this family as rich and famous as it is, it was their natural charm in entertaining anyone.
"Enrique! Enrique Giancarlo Tornatore WAKE UP!" and once again their only son got thrown off his own bed. But the blonde toddler had taught himself not to cry in his mama's presence.
His 'mama' was a stern, lean, be-speckled woman. Her brown hair was always bunched in a tight bun at the back of her head. She was not an Italian, but a strict English governess. Enrique was too young to know that and had called her 'mama' all his four years of existence.
The small boy scrambled out of bed and ran to his bathroom, hurrying to wake himself up and be as alert as possible. He always took a quick shower, failing to maximize the luxury the gold room had to offer.
Enrique dressed quickly and raced to the dining hall, where he was to dine in perfect poise and deathly silence with his mama and the tutor.
He didn't like his mama nor did he like the tutor. The tutor was a long-nosed man with bucked teeth. He, too, came from England and had the most disgusting expression whenever he tried to speak French. Enrique barely ever met his father. His mama told him that he had to be away on business trips. So his only comfort was his favorite butler Gustav.
He never had any friends either. His mama insisted on a strict upbringing. The four walls of their gigantic palazzi were his whole world. Enrique wasn't stupid either. He knew very well of a beautiful sunny landscape outside the tightly shut oak doors. He never learnt to play any street games, or any game for that matter. After breakfast, he had initial tutoring. The subjects consisted of arithmetics, general sciences, followed by geometry and basic chemistry. After a prim and proper luncheon, the afternoon was devoted to History, Speech, Literature, Proper decorum and French. That had no break until supper. And after supper he would go straight to bed, depending on whether his father came home or something. When his papa did come home, he was allowed a smidgen of bonding time, in which his father would tuck him into bed before departing again. This was the mundane routine every single damn day.
Yes...Enrique Giancarlo Tornatore was one of the richest kids in all of Italy (not just Rome...but Italy) He could have had everything he wanted in the snap of a finger. But his life was a miserable one.
TBCA/N: wahoo! review!