Hello again, readers! Thank you for returning for more of my nonsense! So I guess evidently these chapters will keep getting longer and longer...it appears I have little control over this. Oh well...more to enjoy hopefully? Bah.

Squeeee~ Thank you so much everyone for the reviews~! I feel so honored everytime I get any kind of commentary and I'm really glad people seem to be liking the story so far. I'll do my best to keep you all entertained!

Now to address some specific reviews:

Unknown Variable: No, for the purposes of this story, Gilbert and Ludwig are not related. Sadly, I could not find a way to make that work. Maybe I'll give them a bromance or something later in the story. In regards to Feli, you're about to find out!

FlappyTurtle: Spamano/Aladdin crossover comic? COULD YOU PERHAPS MEAN THIS zero chan . net/607844 (remove the spaces of course)? BECAUSE THAT WAS TOTALLY MY INSPIRATION FOR THIS FIC.

That's all for now. Any more questions you may have will be answered to the best of my abilities! Until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

-Chapter Three-

The interior of the royal palace was every bit as extravagant and colorful as it was rumored to be. Once up the steep front staircase and through the tall, heavy, mahogany doors, the small group of foreigners found themselves standing in the middle of an impressively spacious throne room. The ceiling was high and the walls were decorated with gorgeous tapestries and paintings, exotic and breathtaking pieces of artwork. Bright, vibrant plants dotted the room and adjacent hallways. The richly-colored drapery swayed slightly with the constant breeze that came from the balcony which made up one side of the room, and must have overlooked a pleasant view of the city outside those tall palace walls. All in all, it was a pretty sight with a rather serene feel to it.

On the other side of the room, at the end of a long, ruby-red carpet, stood an elaborate throne, whose occupant sat straight and proud in silence. He was a young man, looking somewhat out of place in the broad-shouldered robes and the round, feathered turban that were customary for the Sultan to wear. A neutral expression was plastered on his face, golden eyes fixed on the newly arrived procession and a single wayward curl bouncing slightly as he tilted his head up to look at them curiously. Off to the side, one of the palace guards that had let them in announced the group.

"Presenting his majesty, Prince Sadiq Adnan of Turkey!" The band of musicians who had followed the prince inside (along with the rest of his royal entourage) gave out one last note on their horns before obediantly quieting themselves. Sadiq, meanwhile, flashed a charming smile as he strode halfway up the carpet with a confident air, his white cape fluttering behind him dramatically. When he came to a stop, he moved down on one knee, lowering his head in a gesture of respect for the ruler. As was standard procedure, of course.

"Great Sultan! It is an honor to visit your glorious lands. I come bearing gifts from my own home as a humble gesture of good will between our kingdoms. And perhaps future unity." He made a subtle gesture and right away several of the Turkish prince's men moved forward, setting before the young Sultan bags of glittering gold and jewels, boxes of spices and exotic fruits, and small chests containing ornate tapestries and beautifully decorated clothing. The enticing sparkle of the offered riches, however, barely seemed to phase the seated man. Instead, he leaned forward a little, staring at the prince with interest - and maybe a bit of scrutiny.

"Ve~ Prince Sadiq of Turkey, right. Welcome. So you're here to seek my brother's hand in marriage, huh?" Sadiq was admittedly a little startled by the Sultan's directness, but looked up with a small chuckle and nodded.

"Well, I didn't expect to discuss it right away, but yes, your majesty." He carefully pushed himself up to his feet again, standing tall and straight. He had a naturally commanding presence and a strong stature, qualities he knew that officials admired and thus he flaunted frequently. "I have traveled through the desert, from the safety of my own nation, to this great city of yours all in the hopes of winning the favor of your illustrious Prince Lovino. I'm positive that if you'll give me the chance I can conv-"

"Ve~ That won't be necessary. The prince is no longer looking for suitors."

"Wh-Wha.." Sadiq faltered for a moment, thoroughly thrown off by the sudden declaration. "I'm...sorry, what? What do you mean, did he already choose someone? Why was I not informed before I came all the way here?"

"Ve~ No, he didn't. But he's not going to get married so he doesn't need anymore stupid suitors coming over and trying to buy his affections~!" The prince would be flat-out lying if he said he didn't feel rather affronted by this accusation. Granted, it was kind of completely true. Actual romance and affection was never his main goal here, but political marriages rarely catered to such lofty emotions.

"Sultan, with all due respect-"

"I SAID HE'S NOT INTERESTED. SO TAKE YOUR STUPID TREASURE AND YOUR ANNOYING GROUPIES AND LEAVE, MASKED BASTARD, VE!"

"E-EXCUSE ME?"

"Lovino! There you are!" A new, distinctly female, voice broke through the mounting tension in the room and drew all eyes towards one of the doorways that led to an adjoining hall. A woman with long, flowing, ash-brown hair and olive eyes stormed into the throne room, twisting back momentarily to shout into the hallway. "Feli! Feli, he's in here, I found him!" The Sultan jerked, looking terrified in the split second before the woman had come over and pinched his ear, pulling him down off his seat and eliciting several short yelps of pain.

"OwowowOW! Shit! Elizaveta, come on!" The Sultan's voice had abruptly dropped a couple octaves lower and he flailed helplessly in the iron grip, instantly losing all traces of that powerful, official demeanor from before. And then, another presence entered.

"Fratello! Ve~ There you are! We were so worried you'd run off. I'm glad you're okay!" As if the current scene weren't bizarre enough for the visiting Turks, in waltzed the Sultan's clone. Actually, clone wasn't the right word. Because a moment or two of careful observation revealed that this new young man's hair was a bright auburn in comparison to the other's darker locks, and his curl was at a slightly different but noticable angle. His eyes, when he opened them, were also a sparkling shade of amber instead of gold. Not to mention, he flitted across the room with the carefree air of a too-tall-for-his-age child. He was, however, dressed in the traditional Sultan garb (minus one poofy hat), creating an even more surreal picture when the two were standing right next to eachother.

Needless to say, Sadiq had no idea what exactly he was looking at here.

"Sh-Shut up! Go away, dumbass, I'll handle this myself!" Lovino was wriggling defiantly in the woman's grasp, but to no avail.

"Oh, fratello! You found my hat, thank you!" Feliciano ignored his brother's clear annoyance and reached up to grab the hat from his head, pulling it securely back over his own with a relieved smile. "Ve~ Now Ludwig won't yell at me for losing it again. Thank goodness."

"Would you stop worrying about that stupid potato-bastard and help me out for once?" But again, Lovino's frustrated cries fell upon deaf ears as his younger brother's attention turned to their guests, who he must have just realized were there.

"Oh! Hey, you're Prince Sadiq, right? They said you'd be coming today." Feliciano smiled politely, dropping his immaturity and aloofness for the time being to greet the man properly. He stepped closer, coming to a halt a good foot or two in front of Sadiq and outstretched his hand. "It's so nice to have you in the palace! I'm Feliciano, the Sultan of Agrabah!"

"Ah...of...of course.." Still reeling from the sheer ridiculousness of what had just happened, the prince did his best to return an appropriate smile and take the real Sultan's hand in a firm but friendly shake. "The pleasure is all mine, Sultan." As hard as he tried to fight the urge, Sadiq found his eyes wandering over to the imposter with an expression that clearly wondered, But then who is he..?

"Ve~ I see you already met my big brother, Lovino." The wide smile that spread across Feliciano's face as he looked back at his still struggling, cursing, near-mirror image was laced with a curious mixture of pride and sheepish apology. "Sorry, he can be kind of silly sometimes. He's really just shy about meeting so many new people lately! I'm sure once you get to know eachother better, you two will get along great!"

Ah, of course. Prince Lovino. Sadiq had heard that the two looked eerily similar. He had also heard about his reputation of being a spoiled, fussy, antisocial, perpetually aggravated little nuisance.

Well, he was certainly making good on those rumors so far.

"Fratello, why don't you go with Miss Elizaveta and get ready for dinner?" Feliciano suggested cheerfully. "The chefs are making special pasta tonight! Oh, Prince Sadiq you like pasta right? Well you'll definitely love ours, ve~!"

"Pasta? Shouldn't the food here be a little more...Middle Eastern?"

"Ve~ You think so?"

In spite of all of Lovino's kicking and screaming, he was no match for the disturbingly masculine woman that led him out of the throne room and down the hall towards his own chambers. As his foolish brother's voice faded into the distance, the prince finally ceased and reluctantly let himself be dragged away. Elizaveta was somewhat relieved, but looked to him with both sympathy and scorn.

"Lovi, what were you thinking? You can't pull crazy stunts like that when the suitors are visiting. You could get in serious trouble that way." Lovino snorted and turned his chin up in an expression of stubborn defiance.

"Tch. Like that dumbass Feliciano would ever have the guts to confront me. He can barely even frown let alone think up any kind of punishment to try and keep me in line." And this was true, because the young Sultan was reknowned for being a soft, friendly, carefree ruler who really had no business being in any sort of position of power. How the kingdom was still standing at all with his passive aggressive (sometimes cowardly) style of running things was a complete and utter mystery to all those involved in the government.

"True enough." Elizaveta chuckled in spite of herself. Seeing that the boy had calmed down and probably wasn't going to make a run for it, she finally released him. The prince grumbled to himself as he rubbed his sore, reddened ear, casting a heated glare down the hallway. The woman's lips curved into a small, worried frown as she watched him.

"But in all seriousness, Lovi...you need to try and behave yourself a bit more. I know you're not very happy about it, but if you just opened your mind a little-"

"Open my mind my ass! That's just another fucking way of saying shut up and do what we tell you! How many times do I have to say it before anybody actually fucking listens to me? I DON'T WANT TO GET MARRIED." Elizaveta cringed ever so slightly at the young man's harsh tone, though really more from the volume than anything else. She sighed softly, reaching up to adjust the flower that was slipping out of her hair.

"I know you don't, Lovi. We all know." She spoke more quietly this time, her voice gentle and soothing, almost motherly. A sound that usually cooled Lovino's hot temper and forced him to calm. Consequently, it was also something he quietly detested. "But the rules are the rules. You need to at least be engaged by your next birthday. It really doesn't help that you've put it off until the last minute like this, either - only having another two weeks left."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it already. What I want clearly doesn't matter." Lovino puffed out his cheeks like an irate child, coming to a stop in front of the tall wooden doors leading to his bed chambers. Automatically, Elizaveta pushed them open for him, gesturing for him to move inside and following after him when he did.

The young man stood in the middle of his large though sparcely decorated room, folding his arms and glaring down at his feet in thought while his maidservant scurried over to the closet to rifle through his best clothes. His room, Lovino mused, was a pretty accurate represention of his life. Soft and cushy, full of mirrors and useless trinkets that were only there to look nice. Curtains just translucent enough to give him an obscured vision of the outside world.

Luxurious, frivilous, safe.

Devoid of personality or life or excitement. Devoid of purpose.

"Ooooh~! What about this one?"

"Fuck no." Without even looking, Lovino spat out his refusal. The enthusiasm in Elizaveta's voice was always directly proportionate to the level of humiliation he would suffer from any given outfit she chose for him. A disappointed whine was the only objection she returned before continuing her search. While silence engulfed the room once more, Lovino meandered out onto the unnecessarily large balcony, pushing aside the curtains and sucking in a lung full of fresh, warm, desert air.

The sky was blue, giving way to darker, pinker shades of color as the sun began to sink into evening. No matter how hard men tried, no glittering gem, dyed cloth, or painted canvas could ever capture the beauty of a natural sunset. Resting his upper body against the balcony railing, Lovino thought how nice it would be to watch this scene from the window of one of those small buildings that crowded the surrounding city. To see the soft light of the fading day play off the earth-tone walls and listen to the busy chatter of random citizens passing by on their way home. To maybe spend these hours in a quaint little tavern, listening to folky music and riotous laughter, drinking just for the sake of getting drunk, and sharing dirty, uncouth jokes with friends.

Real friends. Friends who wouldn't treat him like a delicate palace flower. Who would let him curse and complain and run around in less-than-perfect clothes and get covered in mud and dirt. Let him be everything and anything that he wanted to be and still like him in spite of it. Or perhaps even because of it.

Shit, he was starting to sound like an angsty teenage girl. He felt compelled to punch a kitten or something just to regain some of his man-points.

A soft chirping sound reached his ears, bringing his attention to a snow white bird perched on the rail just a few feet away. It sat there twitching it's wings and tail, tiny head twisting this way and that in little jerky motions. Lovino found himself momentarily entranced by the creature. Hesitantly, without really thinking about it, he reached out to try and touch it. He had barely even extended his hand when the bird jumped up and took off into the sky, leaving behind a few small bits of fluff and the sound of fluttering wings. He watched after quietly as the avian creature soared through the air, past the high palace walls, and disappeared into the brightness of the sun.

Lucky bastard.

"Oh oh oh! Lovi I found it! This is perfect, come inside and try this on!"

"Shit."

He was going to need to punch so many kittens after this.

Sadiq wasn't sure exactly how long he had been sitting at the banquet table, listening to the Sultan's incessant yammering while they waited for the prince to return from his quarters. It certainly felt like hours, though.

"So then I asked Kiku about it, but Kiku said that no that wasn't really what normally happened as far as he knew, but he couldn't be sure it was that way for everyone, so I asked Ludwig and he just got mad and yelled at me for interrupting him when he was trying to sleep, but I was really curious and sometimes he'll let me sleep in his room anyway, so I didn't think it was a big deal and-"

The Turk had long ago tried to drown out that high-pitched, rambling voice and all the nonsense that accompanied it. It was difficult, however, when Feliciano sat right next to him, looking at him, and expected at least an occational nod of acknowledgement. It took every ounce of self-control Sadiq possessed to keep that plastic smile on his face, and he was suddenly infinitely glad for the mask that hid his annoyed stare.

Just when he was seriously about to go mad, the doors were flung open and the Sultan finally stopped talking just long enough to redirect his attention to the man who entered the room. A wave of relief (and to an extent, dread) washed over Sadiq and he looked up to meet a sight that left the smallest traces of pink on his face.

Lovino stalked into the room, looking all kinds of uncomfortable in his current attire. A powder blue top that barely covered his chest, leaving his midsection painfully exposed, with long sleeves made out of an airy, almost see-through fabric. A sash was loosely wrapped around his waist, covering up the hem of poofy pants of a matching color that led down to a pair of curly-toed shoes. The young man was also decked out in all manner of shimmering gold jewelry - necklaces, bracelets, rings, even earrings, and some of it sporting brightly colored stones. The embarassed flush that colored his cheeks and the way he avoided direct eye contact added a hint of innocence to the previously rude and firey young man.

The picture of refinement, wealth, and royalty.

"Ve~ Fratello, you look so pretty! Come sit down! Prince Sadiq and I were just talking about that time when-"

"I don't give a shit!" Lovino snapped testily, taking his seat on Feliciano's other side - and regrettably directly across from their guest. "Just shut up and let's get this over with, okay?"

Well, that pleasantness was short-lived. If nothing else, Sadiq reasoned silently to himself, the boy was at least handsome. He could put up with his foul mood for the time being, and hopefully persuade him to be a bit more obedient and well-mannered after the marriage. Heaving a sigh, he forced the smile back onto his face and prepared for the inevitably rocky conversation ahead. It would all be worth it, he assured himself, when he held partial control of Agrabah.

Ludwig heaved a tired sigh as he made his way through the palace's main hall, towards the dining area usually reserved for special occations and company. It had been a particularily long day, especially when he had spent a good two hours scouring the streets for a certain pair of street urchins. In the end, he had to accept temporary defeat and return to policing the rest of the general population. Now, thankfully, night was settling in and the city had fallen into a relative peace. He had really been looking forward to getting some dinner, maybe doing a bit of inventory on the treasury and weapons storage, then some sword maintenance and a little tidying up before finally retiring to bed.

Had been, until he received an urgent message upon his arrival that he was needed in the Grand Dining Hall. Getting no actual specifics, but suspecting it was just another one of Feliciano's attempts to coax him into eating together, he had sent Kiku and Roderich off to tend to their own business while he investigated solo. As he turned another corner, he could make out the faint echoes of a rucus somewhere nearby, and then a cry of relief.

"LUDWIG! Ve! I'm so glad you're finally here!" The guard had all of about three seconds to brace himself before he was nearly tackled by a frantic brunette. He immediately burst into an unintelligible explanation of what was going on, and from what the blonde could make out it had something to do with Lovino, dinner, some guest, and a candelabra. Adding to the feeling that something very unpleasant had happened, Feliciano was smeared from head to toe in red. His face, his clothes, even the turban he clutched in one hand, and for a moment Ludwig felt alarm prickle at his chest - Blood? His hand instinctively flew to the handle of his sword.

Wait. No. Not blood.

Tomato sauce?

What on-

Suddenly, the doors of the dining hall were violently thrown open, and a disheveled man with a broken mask in his hand and a rainbow of stains on his once prim and proper clothes stumbled out. He shoved past the pair with an outraged snarl, glaring back as he dashed down the hall.

"THIS IS ABSURD! I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO INSULTED IN MY LIFE! YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT ANY ALLIGIANCE WITH MY KINGDOM, THAT'S FOR SURE!"

Before either man could react, Sadiq's entourage clamoured out after him, still being pelted with various types of fruit, pasta, and whatever eating utensils were within arm's reach. And everything made a horrible kind of sense when a flurry of furious Italian streamed from the open doorway.

"BASTARDO! CAZZO! LASCIARE PRIMA HO BATTUTO LA MERDA DA VOI!"

"I-Is that Prince Lovino? What in the name of Allah happened this time?" Ludwig groaned, not at all excited about the inevitable confrontation. He wondered bitterly why he was the one always left to deal with the damage of the young prince's episodes. Feliciano had slipped behind his most trusted guard at some point, clinging to his bare arm as he listened to the ranting.

"Ve, I told you! Fratello got into a fight with our guest and then they started yelling and throwing plates at eachother! It would have been more fun if they weren't so scary and didn't waste so much good pasta!" Feliciano cowering behind him was a good indicator that it was going to be up to him to defuse the situation. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the blonde man sighed deeply, exasperated, then gently pushed his superior (what cruel irony that was) back and proceeded forward.

"Alright, just wait out here. I'll get him under control. Prince! Prince you need to stop this nonsense at once-" No sooner had Ludwig positioned himself in front of the doorway - attempting to look authoritarian and intimidating with his straight posture, hard muscles, and disapproving scowl - than some warm gooey mass collided hard with his face. The plate dropped to the floor with a clatter, leaving the man standing there in utter disgust at the thick sauce and wet, stringy noodles that clung to his face, neck, and shoulders. He nearly gagged at the overwhelming smell of tomato and exotic spices, making a mental note to scrub every inch of his upper body raw in the bath tonight.

Lovino, thankfully, ceased all movement upon recognizing the tall figure in the doorway. He stood there with an eggplant in hand, looking about ready to toss that too, but instead just stared blankly. He blinked once. Twice.

Then broke out into raucous laughter, dropping the fruit to clutch at his stomach with one hand and point with the other.

"HAHAHAHA! LOOK AT YOURSELF, POTATO-BASTARD! YOU REALLY CAN'T EAT, CAN YOU? YOU'RE A MESS!" It took every ounce of Ludwig's self-restraint to keep himself from snapping. As satisfying as it would be to just smack him around a little, this was one of his rulers. And he quite liked having his head attached to his neck.

"Prince, I must ask you to stop-"

"Ha ha, you look so stupid!"

"I realize you're under a lot of stress right now-"

"You look like you just jumped into a bowl of pasta like Feliciano or something!"

"Need I remind you that it is most unprofessional to-!"

"Do you eat like a DOG, potato-bastard? You clearly have no table manners!"

The next thing Feliciano heard as he lingered in the hall outside, nervously wringing his hands, was a feral cry and a slew of very harsh and offensive-sounding words in a language he vaguely recognized as the one Ludwig muttered when he was particularily irritated with his antics. This was immediately followed by the sounds of crashing and a startled yelp. He could practically see Ludwig chasing his frightened brother around the dining table.

"FELICIANO! FELICIANO CALL THIS POTATO-BASTARD OFF RIGHT NOW, HE'S GONE BERSERK!"

The Sultan frowned, eyes drifting from the door to the mess that had accumulated all over the floor of the hallway. Such a waste. And he was still so hungry, too. The young man sighed, shoulders slumping a little as he tip-toed through the carnage, past the dining hall (where he could see Lovino scrambling over the table just in time to dodge an airborne goblet), and towards the kitchen. It might be best just to make dinner himself tonight, he suspected. Maybe if he gave those two long enough to vent, they would settle down enough so that they could all enjoy a meal together for once.

At this thought, a bright smile found it's way back onto Feliciano's face. There was an extra skip in his step as he made his way down the hall, humming softly to himself and wondering what kinds of side dishes he'd make this time.

EVEN MORE GRATUITOUS ITALIAN. My attempts at including a little bit of various languages into the dialogue would probably be a lot more effective if I had more to rely on than Google Translate. I apologize to all those I offend and/or disgust with my inevitable butchering of foreign tongues.

That being said, I hope that this chapter was alright. I wanted to focus on the palace gang and their routine versus Antonio's and Gilbert's. Oh yes, and Elizaveta/Hungary will be taking the place of Raja. I'll definitely have to work on showing more of her character as the story progresses, because right now she feels very...bleh. Really hoping I didn't mess up Feli, Lovi, or Ludwig's personalities too much either. Overall, I'm just not a confident writer it seems... ._.;

Well thanks again! Stay tuned for the continuation and the return of Arthur!

Commentary is appreciated!