To obsessive anon: Thank you very much for your review. Please give me another channel to answer your questions. Did Toris get Ivan's room? No. Toris moved into Arthur's quarter. It's my fault for never really describing this before, but the Harem takes up one wing of the Castle. The wing is divided to quarters, each quarter consisting of a common room and around 4-5 rooms and a shared bathroom (with big Jacuzzi) attached to the common room, sorta like a large condo unit taking up almost the whole floor by itself. Kiku, Yao and Mei live in one quarter. So do Ivan, Natalie and Katyusha (before she moved into Matthew's quarter outside the Harem). Arthur used to live by himself with Xin and Peter (he's still underage so it's okay for him to stay near his mom) until Dahlia and Toris came along. Common/lower-ranked concubines live in something like a dormitory of single-rooms, with communal bathroom. For the answer of your first question, please read at my LJ.

Here's your drama:

Chapter Two: Romance of Two Generations

Part 2.3 the Wheel of Life

Warning: Francis is a douchebag here. There is an allusion to oral sex. And Gil's pregnancy.

"No!" Prince Alfred ran around his private chamber almost stark naked, only a layer of flimsy semi-transparent undergarment covering his lightly tanned skin, as his caretakers struggled to get him into the clothing they'd prepared. "I don't want to wear black anymore!" he screamed.

Prince Matthew, who was standing at the doorway with the stuffed bear that was his last birthday present from his parents he'd always been carrying with him, ready for the Princes' daily tutoring in prim grey and black ensemble, fidgeted, while Arthur, similarly dressed next to the quiet blonde, sighed.

Prince Alfred's protest was entirely justifiable.

Three weeks after the 100-day period of mourning was over, everyone in Emperor Francis' court still wore black. There had been one day, just one day right after the 100-day period was over, where courtiers and nobles shed their mourning garments and appeared in coloured, albeit muted, robes, only to find the Emperor still decked in black and grey on the throne for his weekly assembly. Since then, the Castle dwellers had been watching their ruler every day, waiting for colours and lively chatters to return (if they ever would).

Back to the situation on hand, Prince Alfred started sneezing as he continued to triumph over his servants (who had attempted to catch him from different directions but, alas). Arthur surveyed the scene for a moment before he walked towards the Prince's closet and took out a blue waist coat. After ensuring that the shade wasn't too similar to the late Empress Consort's eyes, he offered a compromise.

Reluctantly, Prince Alfred was coaxed. "I don't like it," he pouted as his helpers dressed him. "Mommy wouldn't want us to be de..depre..depp-"

"Depressed, Your Highness?" Arthur offered quietly.

"That's the word," he huffed and held his foot up for the servant to slide the appendage to his shoe. He gave his black socks and breeches a withering glare. "I hate this."

Arthur merely held his hand out for the young Prince.

A strong scent of alcohol hit his nose once Arthur returned from his duties.

The young lord looked up and glared at the figure slumped on his sofa. Well, technically not his sofa, but the sofa in the chamber His Majesty had kindly provided him. "For goodness sake, James," Arthur sighed through gritted teeth, one hand loosening his lacy black cravat as his feet walked towards his crystal water jug. "You should at least open the window," he grumbled as he poured the water into a glass, containers clinking against one another.

"…Belt up," the redhead groaned as he sat straighter, the one layer of pajama robe covering his frame slipping down the slope of his shoulder, revealing various red and blue marks of pleasure.

As Arthur approached his brother, he could detect musky smell of sweat and sex underlining the overwhelming scent of alcohol. "Give me that," the glass of water was brashly snatched from the younger begetter's hands.

Arthur sighed and merely placed himself on the other end of the couch, hands busying themselves with taking off his shoes and socks, while James emptied the glass of water and reached out for his flask of whisky again.

The two sat in silence enduringly, the tension in the room no different from anywhere else within the walls of the castle. Arthur bid his time patiently, waiting as the Thistle emptied more and more flasks of whisky and rum.

"…The Cornflower is pregnant."

Arthur was right. James would talk, eventually, and his role was to listen, and listen well. "Not only the Cornflower. There's also this…this common concubine from the East who got pregnant. He's going to be promoted soon," the elder ranted. "Emperor Francis wears black for his late wife, but fucks anyone with two legs. Such a hi-hypocrite." The last of his words were choked. Without looking at James, Arthur knew for a fact that tears must be coursing down his cheeks.

Wordlessly, Arthur scooted closer, opened his arms and enveloped his brother's larger body in an embrace the two would never have done if they were sober. "What do you want, James?" he murmured softly, the words barely louder than a breath. "How can I help you?"

"…I…I could," he started hesitantly, the tension in his spine disintegrating as Arthur rubbed soothing circles on his skin. The young begetter supposed he wouldn't have learned how to console others if he hadn't been assigned as a tutor-cum-caretaker. "I could probably get some medicines that enhance my fertility. I can give him a child, too."

The Thistle was half a head taller and almost twice broader than the Emperor, but even as his sibling Arthur agreed that there was a rugged, naïve sort of beauty in him that steal other's breaths away. He would be gorgeous with a child, Arthur thought, but…would that solve anything? "I'm sure you can do that," he merely murmured against his better judgment.

A companionable silence fell upon them once more, with Arthur hoping that he could convey to his brother that he was there for him.

"…I just," James muttered as his breath evened out, bright green eyes drooping, "I just wish he would look at me…and keep his eyes on me…" He dozed to a peaceful slumber soon after.

Arthur stayed with him till morning.

"Happy Birthday, Your Highness!"

Arthur and Princess Maria's caretakers and nursemaids congratulated the monarch with songs, colourful ribbons and paper decors adorning her private chamber, her cake almost rivaling her in size. The little darling girl blew the three candles on the cake enthusiastically, leaning so far ahead she nearly toppled into the mix of flour, sugar and chocolate.

For once, the Carnation acted fast and scooped his daughter away from the cake, strong tanned arms pressed against the frills of her dress around her middle. "Querida," he smiled against her curls, "Happy Birthday." He presented the princess with his neatly wrapped gift.

"Happy Birthday, Maria!" Alfred shouted loudly, cheerful and energetic for once (instead of mopey and pouty) and the twin handed her a gift. "I was the one who made the bigger present!" The blue-eyed blonde puffed out his chest.

"Thank you, Your Highness," the Carnation smiled at his daughter's half-brothers as Princess Maria tore into the package and…blinked at the large canvas splashed with creatively painted colours and shapes. "Wow, Prince Alfred, this is lively." Alfred grinned at the compliment. Beneath the canvas was a small handkerchief with flowers embroidered to its corner. "And I'm assuming this is from you, Prince Matthew?"

The quiet blonde nodded meekly. "I-I've been learning from Arthur," he looked up at his tutor and smiled.

Arthur beamed at his diligent student and petted his hair briefly before presenting his gift to the monarch. "I wish you a blessed year ahead, Your Highness."

His gift was an olive green dress he'd sewn himself, complete with a set of well-crafted bracelet and necklace made of gold, jade and rubies. The Carnation laid them out and blinked in awe. "You're always very good with your hands, aren't you, Arthur?"

The tutor received the compliment with pride. "Thank you, Milord."

The birthday celebration was a private affair, with a handful of trustworthy flowers (the Edelweiss – who Arthur heard was the Carnation's betrothed [1] before the two ended up in the harem – was playing piano in the background as the monarchs chattered and ate their fill, with the Cornflower, who had a tiny bump on his tummy, making funny faces to the Princess) and caretakers involved. Nobody dared to suggest any larger form of festivities with such thick clouds of misery shrouding the Castle. The Carnation himself, who had been one of His Emperor's best friends before he was a wife, shook his head when the leader of his clan's faction had hinted an empire-wide celebration to him, and crafted his invitations by hand.

Arthur had half the mind to not attend the party in support of his brother, but his role and obligations as the tutor of the Princess and the Princes dictated his attendance. In the end, James told him to go, though he himself would not come.

The cozy group of less than twenty conversed and laughed and tried very hard to enjoy their time, but none of them, even the young, young Princess, could ignore the jarring lack of presence of the monarch's paternal figure.

"No," Vash Zwingli glared at Marquis Dubois. "Absolutely not."

The balding middle-aged man fumed. "Do you know who my cousin had married? She's-"

"Princess Claire Bonnefoy Dubois [2], His Majesty's late half-sister, yes, I know," the officer of the state sighed in pain, his fingers twitching to reach for the sword attached to his belt.

The aristocrat looked triumphant. "Then-"

"The answer is still no," Vash reached for his forehead and rubbed the vein that was popping on his temple.

Arthur watched the interaction from the sideline, a bunch of uncoordinated receipts and claim vouchers on his right, his quill poised over the pages of the Castle's ledgers. He pondered whether he should interrupt the quarrel before any heads roll.

"How can I get you to let it go?" The Marquis groaned. "You're so stubborn!"

"You're the one who is stubborn," Vash walked away from the noble, back to his desks where other budgets awaited his approval. "Smuggling children to the North and the East illegally to be sold as slaves and stealing from the treasury are serious crimes. My decision to put you on trial is just."

"I didn't smuggle! And the over-invoicing was a negligence!" the Marquis argued. "His Majesty has agreed to ratify the breaches!"

Vash raised his eyebrow. "At the state he's in? I don't believe you. Do you have an official document with his stamp and signature?"

Arthur hid behind his book when the Marquis turned purple on his face. Lord Zwingli had always been infamous for being blatant.

A moment of silence passed before the Marquis finally moved to the Minister's table and placed a big, fat pouch of coins. He opened it and let the gold slide across the table. "You can trade the incriminating evidence with this," the whisper was barely louder than a breath, yet it bounced off the walls of the small room. The noble shot Arthur a glare, and the young begetter stood straight on his seat, gulping at the malice. "You better forget everything that was said here, boy," he hissed.

The sound of a large amount of coins colliding against the floor and rolling away to every corner brought the Marquis' attention back to Lord Zwingli, who had calmly swept the pouch away from his desk. "Keep your filthy money away from me," he spoke disdainfully, his eyes narrowed in disgust.

The Marquis stood still as a statue, his face purpling in anger once more, before he spat. "You fool! No one else cares. Our fucking ruler doesn't care! Why should you!"

"Precisely since no one else cares for this Empire," Lord Zwingli's retort was cool as a cucumber. "So should I."

Arthur thought about the incident he'd accidentally witness, and his boss' reaction, for a long, long time before he came to a decision.

"I don't want to!" Prince Alfred yelled when the tutor shared his idea. "Daddy's not visited us for months! He doesn't want us anymore!" He sulked and kicked the leg of his desk. "He doesn't love us anymore!"

A sad but true fact.

"Sometimes we have to be the first to make the move," Arthur spoke patiently, his hands caressing the blue-eyed monarch's hair and back. He'd notice, in his first year of stay, that both the Princes were extremely tactile. This seemed to have been made worse by the five months of lack of parental love. Arthur utilized this to sway the hardheaded Prince's mind. "Your father is confused right now. His seeing you may get him out of this confusion."

Prince Alfred crossed his arms and stuck his bottom lip out, but he appeared to be thinking.

Arthur turned to his twin. "Prince Matthew?" he pleaded.

The shy Prince had a surprisingly determined look on his dark blue eyes when he nodded.

After checking that His Majesty had no appointments today (that part was easy. His Majesty hadn't had any appointment of importance for months), together, the trio prepared something for the Emperor – drawings, poetry to read, tea and snacks from the kitchen – before heading to his chambers. Arthur greeted the two soldiers guarding the large mahogany door before reaching for the knob and navigated through the large living room. "Your Majesty? Prince Alfred and Prince Matthew are here to see you!" he'd announced as he meandered to the study, where he'd heard some shuffling from.

What he saw there made his blood freeze.

The Emperor was lying in his chair with his robes and his legs wide open, a pale-skinned, slender, naked begetter nestled between his knees, rutting his genitals against the Emperor's calf. The all-too-familiar scent of alcohol hit Arthur's nose and he instinctively reached out to cover the Princes' eyes.

"Alfred, Mathieu," Emperor Francis groaned as his looked at his sons, his eyes unfocused and his pupils dilated. The black-haired man whose head was bobbing on the Emperor's lap stilled and his bare legs tensed, but His Majesty placed his hands on the concubine's head to keep him there. "Papa's a bit busy," he groaned when the concubine continued ministering his service.

Before Arthur could stop it, Prince Matthew had fled from his arm, sobs wracking his small body. Prince Alfred followed soon after, but not before screaming, "I HATE YOU!"

Arthur knew that he had to chase the Princes, that he was merely a youngling from a Count's family who had sizable land in the countryside, that speaking up could get him killed, but he was beyond angry at this point in time.

"Do you have any sense of decency!" he screamed at his ruler. "Drunk and screwing others in broad daylight! I…I understand that you're grieving, b-but it's been months! Leaving matters of state in a mess-" By the end of his tirade, he'd fallen to his knees, crying for the future of his Empire without a care to his audience. "And the Princes…they have been missing you…" He hiccoughed.

Arthur looked up when footsteps approached him. His Majesty pulled the young lord up and bent over him, pressing his lips against the begetter's lips so fast Arthur had no time to pull away. "So passionate," the monarch murmured, "so pretty."

Arthur was shell shocked. To be honest, since he'd entered the court three years ago, the thought of entering Emperor Francis' harem had crossed his mind several times. True, he'd been betrothed to Gabriel, but it was decided when he was merely a baby. He'd come to love his childhood friend dearly, but it wasn't as if he could refuse the Emperor if His Majesty decided he wanted him in the harem, right? For two years, they had flirted and exchanged lingering touches, Arthur had come to admire his ruler (a crush perhaps?), but there was nothing further. Absolutely nothing.

And with the events that had transpired, all he'd felt for him now was disgust.

SLAP!

Three pairs of eyes widened at the course of action Arthur had taken, but the young lord ploughed on. "What are you doing?" He hissed. "Do you care about your Empire at all?"

Arthur's heaving breaths were loud in the quiet that followed.

Seconds ticked away before the Emperor finally moved. His shoulders shook as he leaned back, and laughed. Laughed so heartily his abdominal muscles quivered with the strain.

Arthur stared in shock.

"You understand, you said?" Emperor Francis snorted as he rose to his feet languidly and approached him again. Arthur flinched when his chin was grabbed roughly and held in a tight grip. "Want to do something for this doomed Empire, huh? Young Kirkland?" The ruler snarled and bared his teeth. "Not so young anymore, eh?" He leered as his eyes took in Arthur's body. He felt like those eyes were violating him. "Fourteen years old [3]?"

Arthur felt himself giving a reflexive nod.

"Very well." The manic grin on the Emperor's face made Arthur's stomach churn in fear. "I shall make you useful for the Empire."

Gabriel,

I…I didn't mean for this to happen at all. It took me by surprise. I…

I'm sorry.

Wishing for your happiness, always,

Arthur Kirkland

Empress Consort Rose of Emperor Francis

TBC

Notes:

1. Also known as Hapsburg-Spain. AustriaxSpain became an OTP of mine after reading 'Hither Lies Our Fated Way': http:/ etcetera-desu . livejournal . com / 2773 . html

2. Claire: Monaco

3. Since the setting is medieval, age of consent could be as low as nine years old until 19th century, where age of consent 'improved' to 13 – 16. http:/ en . wikipedia . org / wiki / Age_of_consent