Long ago, there was a land. A land so prosperous, even its poorest, it seemed, didn't go without. At the head of this nation, however, ruled a man so corrupt and evil, it's people feared him. Even as beautiful as he was, bronzed skin, dark hair and eyes, and inherited hair curls on his head. All except two feared him, his grandsons. The king adored his grandsons, the boys were spoiled, naïve, and innocent, spitting images of their stunning grandfather. They knew nothing of wars, of famine, of pain; he knew nothing of the brutal war between his grandfather's nation, and another, one that seemed far off and distant. All the boy knew is that the rivaling nation was inhabited by fair skinned, blonde haired, blue eyed people; who the youngest idolized for their beauty. They had never experienced hardship, for fortune and wealth flowed as strong and as quickly as a raging river. But not all was at peace within the mansion walls.
The eldest grandson had fallen deeply in love with a man from across the sea, a man who was beautiful and foreign, from a land rich with culture. Lovino had been taken away to live a life filled with happiness with his lover. The youngest grandson, Feliciano, envied his brother; Lovino had everything Feliciano ever wanted. Alas, the poor boy was lonely. His childhood had not been a happy one, left alone, taught to be silent, taught to be obedient, he had not fully developed into his own person, he had not developed a sense of individuality. Orphaned at a young age, the boy had not known his parents, the only ones who showed him parental guidance were the maids in the mansion. His grandfather had always been negligent, always spending his free time with women and wine, leaving the boy to wander the large halls of the mansion alone. The mansion was breathtakingly large, the walls adorned with gold, titanic marble pillars holding the painted ceilings above their heads. The rooms were no less than stunning: silk sheets adorning each and every bed, wooden bedframes decorated with intricate designs, vanities with highest end perfumes and lotions. Each member of the royal family lived with nothing less than the best, even as its citizens starved.
The only attention, if given any, the king gave his grandson was violent and forceful. The king would have his way with the boy, who was well into his teenage years, old enough to understand what love-making was. He knew that what the king was doing wasn't love. It was nothing of the sort. It hurt, deep down, to be used and abused like that. It hurt to the point his self worth was in question. In reality, however, the abuse dealt upon his frail body made his craving for men even stronger. But of course he wanted a man that could love him unconditionally, he wanted a man that would give him everything, that would love him until his dying day, when the last 'Ti amo' passed his lips. That's all he ever wanted.
The king knew the boy needed a suitor, he knew the boy would need a husband or partner of sorts, if he were to lead the nation successfully. He was reluctant, however, to give up his precious grandson to another man. The king hated the thought of sharing his grandson, of having someone else making his grandson feel amazing. He absolutely hated it, it left a horrible taste in his mouth.