(A/N-For those of you playing at home, this entire fanfic is based on the
line-"Cousin of mine. Never liked him. I liked your mother, though." So
read and review.)
Prince Simon, Duke of Bumblefuck, lurked in the shadows. He was no stranger to lurking. It was one of his favorite things to do besides, well never mind. Anyway, Prince Simon regarded his cousin, Prince Charmonte of Kyrria from the shadows. A trace of deep loathing crossed his face.
It wasn't only that Simon hated Char; he just wanted to murder him. Char was the crowned Prince of Kyrria although Simon had been born before him (three weeks). He and Simon were nearly identical. Their father was the King Jerrold. Jerrold was engaged to Daria, the Duchess of Bumblefuck. But, two months before the union, Jerrold had a tousle with Daria's younger sister, Arabella, who looked at great deal like Daria. The outcome of that affair was Simon. The affair was quietly hushed, because future kings should not be having risqué affairs with their sister in laws.
Anyway, Daria, being the bubble-headed blonde she was, chose to turn the other cheek and forgive her husband. She bore Jerrold two children, a son, Char and one more child, a daughter, Cecilia. Simon lived with his mother in Bumblefuck till he was 7. She died a mysterious and tragic death in eating contest.
Simon moved in with his father, aunt and half brother, Char and one true cousin, Cecilia. Because the whole affair was hush, hush, Simon thought that Char was his cousin. Of course, they were always curious about they're startling similar. The only difference was Simon had a freckle in the shape of a sheep on his stomach. They realized this when they were. "Swimming" together. Not that they did things together often. Simon thought Char was annoying and Char thought Simon pompous and creepy.
As they grew up, to the dismay of their subjects, Char and Simon were identical in every visible way; with their tawny curls and swarthy skin. There was a deep rivalry between Char and Simon because of their close age.
Char always seemed to win everything. Including the key to the throne. Everyone one liked Char better because he was charming, ingelletent, outgoing and handsome. They grew up as thinking they were cousin. Imagine the disgust that would be created if they ever found out they were half brothers.
It was Char's 13th birthday, the day Jerrold officially named him heir for when he turned 16. Simon watched the ceremony sadly. He was no prince. Just a Duke of some small state, he watched the ceremony bitterly, watching his cousin be named heir to everything he ever dreamed of. Simon could not watch so he slipped out of the hall.
That's where Jerrold found him after the ceremony. He sat down and explained everything.. That Char was really his half brother. But he told Simon that he must never tell Char the truth.
A fiery rage built within Simon. He knew that he was supposed to get the throne. He was older and by rule it was only fair. But he could only nod to the poor King Jerrold and tell him he would keep his secret. He was already forming a plan.
Now, Simon sat in the darkness. He drew a pistol from his pocket. Everything was perfect. He smiled down at his stomach. He had burned off the little sheep freckle with an iron that morning. It was in his pocket.
Simon grinned. It late at night, after Char's 16th birthday, as tradition in Krryia it was also his coming of age. If something should happen to the king Char would be the legitimate heir. Anger burned through Simon, as had that the iron that had branded his flesh. He had watched his half brother take what could be his. would be his.
Simon had been awaiting this night forever. Soon, the throne, the wealth and the power, all of it would be his. All it would take was one bullet. Simon would take Char's place. Looking like Char was now a blessing it disguise.
Simon could almost not stand it any longer; he shuffled quietly then emerged from the shadows.
Char had his back to Simon. Simon coughed deeply and smiled as Char jumped a foot in the air.
"Good god Simon, you startled me!" said Char, catching his breath.
Simon's teeth glimmered in the moonlight, "So sorry, dear cousin."
"It's alright," said Char, "I just didn't see you. You see you are rather frightening and very, very sneaky."
'And you need to work on your tact,' thought Simon but he only smiled.
"Why are you smiling at me?" asked Char, "it's rather disturbing."
"No reason dear cousin. And let me wish you a very happy birthday," grinned Simon.
Char's eyes narrowed down to slits, ". Thank you, I suppose,"
Simon touched the gun in his pocket one more time; just to make sure it was there. He felt it. It was nearly time. He looked around the silent chapel one more time; just to be sure that no was there. Pale moonlight streamed through the window.
"Dear cousin," said Simon, "I have a one more birthday gift for you,"
"Please Simon," said Char, visually uncomfortable, "Please, it's late. I've had a long day, I want to go to bed."
"Just let me give you the gift," said Simon, clutching the gun.
". All right Simon," said Char.
"Close your eyes," instructed Simon. Char hesitantly shut his eyes.
"1.. 2. 3." whispered Simon and pulled the trigger.
1 year later:
Simon aimless fingered a dagger. He was bored. He was really bored. It had been
exactly two years since Char's birthday murder. It was his "birthday." Two months ago he had celebrated his birthday in private while his family mourned his "death."
He sharpened the dagger and grinned, thinking back to the night. It gave him such a rush.
He pulled the trigger, of course. The bullet pierced his heart. A moment after the bullet hit Char's eyes shot open. He stared wordlessly at Simon who was glowing with pride. Simon watched Char feel his blood on his hands. He did nothing as Char fell to the floor.
"Simon," Char whispered sadly before dying in a puddle of his own blood on the chapel floor.
Simon didn't have much time to bask in his pride.
He got to work quickly. Shedding his coat to reveal a suit, exactly the same as the one Char wore. He draped the coat over Char's life less body and thrush the pistol into his cold hands.
He quickly removed the horn-rimmed glasses from his face, that he had started wearing a week after Char's 13th birthday. He did not need them. It was all part of the plot. He took out a pair of chicken shears from his pocket and carefully cut Char's hair into the exact style as his own, making sure it was all-perfect.
After collecting the hair, he looked down and knew it would work. It looked like a suicide. Simon had to admit; it was eerie looking down at a replication of him, dead on the floor.
He had no time to think about it. He rushed out of the chapel, screaming. Of course, no one would doubt he was Char. He looked exactly like him. His family mourned the death of Simon. But Simon looked on as a third person. It was very difficult to get use to it. His family took his unusual behavior the first weeks for the disturbance of the death of his cousin.
Simon learned to give up his old habits and take up the small ones he noticed from Char. It was more difficult then he imagined. He found it extremely uncomfortable when he heard his family talk about him. It was most unbearable around Cecilia who hated Simon but had a great relationship with Char.
He learned to slowly blend into the castle setting, as the over worked young prince who didn't laugh enough. He had no trouble convincing his "parents" and the rest of the court.
He worried that Cecilia would be the hardest person to convince. Cecilia always came in to talk to Char before they went to sleep. These chats were difficult because Simon lacked the secrets that Char and Cecilia shared. But he caught on fast, yet he was almost surprised that Cecilia didn't suspect anything.
There was a knock on the door, it was soft and timid, "Come in," said Simon in a bored voice.
"Hello?" said a blonde head poking around the doorway.
"'Ello Mum" said Simon.
"Happy Birthday dear," said Queen Daria bending down to kiss her handsome son.
"Thanks mum," said Simon, putting the knife into its leather pouch and back into the desk, "The party was fabulous,"
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, tomorrow night, the court is having a banquet in your honor."
"Delightful," said Simon smiling, "What time?"
"Oh.. Seven or so," chatted away his aunt, "I'm thinking. blue, lots of blue for this banquet. Does that blue suit still fit you?"
"No," said Char shaking his head. In truth the suit fit him but he did not want to be seen in it.
"Okay, I'll have Nan get started on a blue doublet tonight sweetie, kisses!"
"Good night mum," said Char shaking his head. (a/n-That's the end of the prologue. Isn't it so deep and insightful? Jysthea and I laughed.we cried.it moved us. We hope it moved you too.)
Prince Simon, Duke of Bumblefuck, lurked in the shadows. He was no stranger to lurking. It was one of his favorite things to do besides, well never mind. Anyway, Prince Simon regarded his cousin, Prince Charmonte of Kyrria from the shadows. A trace of deep loathing crossed his face.
It wasn't only that Simon hated Char; he just wanted to murder him. Char was the crowned Prince of Kyrria although Simon had been born before him (three weeks). He and Simon were nearly identical. Their father was the King Jerrold. Jerrold was engaged to Daria, the Duchess of Bumblefuck. But, two months before the union, Jerrold had a tousle with Daria's younger sister, Arabella, who looked at great deal like Daria. The outcome of that affair was Simon. The affair was quietly hushed, because future kings should not be having risqué affairs with their sister in laws.
Anyway, Daria, being the bubble-headed blonde she was, chose to turn the other cheek and forgive her husband. She bore Jerrold two children, a son, Char and one more child, a daughter, Cecilia. Simon lived with his mother in Bumblefuck till he was 7. She died a mysterious and tragic death in eating contest.
Simon moved in with his father, aunt and half brother, Char and one true cousin, Cecilia. Because the whole affair was hush, hush, Simon thought that Char was his cousin. Of course, they were always curious about they're startling similar. The only difference was Simon had a freckle in the shape of a sheep on his stomach. They realized this when they were. "Swimming" together. Not that they did things together often. Simon thought Char was annoying and Char thought Simon pompous and creepy.
As they grew up, to the dismay of their subjects, Char and Simon were identical in every visible way; with their tawny curls and swarthy skin. There was a deep rivalry between Char and Simon because of their close age.
Char always seemed to win everything. Including the key to the throne. Everyone one liked Char better because he was charming, ingelletent, outgoing and handsome. They grew up as thinking they were cousin. Imagine the disgust that would be created if they ever found out they were half brothers.
It was Char's 13th birthday, the day Jerrold officially named him heir for when he turned 16. Simon watched the ceremony sadly. He was no prince. Just a Duke of some small state, he watched the ceremony bitterly, watching his cousin be named heir to everything he ever dreamed of. Simon could not watch so he slipped out of the hall.
That's where Jerrold found him after the ceremony. He sat down and explained everything.. That Char was really his half brother. But he told Simon that he must never tell Char the truth.
A fiery rage built within Simon. He knew that he was supposed to get the throne. He was older and by rule it was only fair. But he could only nod to the poor King Jerrold and tell him he would keep his secret. He was already forming a plan.
Now, Simon sat in the darkness. He drew a pistol from his pocket. Everything was perfect. He smiled down at his stomach. He had burned off the little sheep freckle with an iron that morning. It was in his pocket.
Simon grinned. It late at night, after Char's 16th birthday, as tradition in Krryia it was also his coming of age. If something should happen to the king Char would be the legitimate heir. Anger burned through Simon, as had that the iron that had branded his flesh. He had watched his half brother take what could be his. would be his.
Simon had been awaiting this night forever. Soon, the throne, the wealth and the power, all of it would be his. All it would take was one bullet. Simon would take Char's place. Looking like Char was now a blessing it disguise.
Simon could almost not stand it any longer; he shuffled quietly then emerged from the shadows.
Char had his back to Simon. Simon coughed deeply and smiled as Char jumped a foot in the air.
"Good god Simon, you startled me!" said Char, catching his breath.
Simon's teeth glimmered in the moonlight, "So sorry, dear cousin."
"It's alright," said Char, "I just didn't see you. You see you are rather frightening and very, very sneaky."
'And you need to work on your tact,' thought Simon but he only smiled.
"Why are you smiling at me?" asked Char, "it's rather disturbing."
"No reason dear cousin. And let me wish you a very happy birthday," grinned Simon.
Char's eyes narrowed down to slits, ". Thank you, I suppose,"
Simon touched the gun in his pocket one more time; just to make sure it was there. He felt it. It was nearly time. He looked around the silent chapel one more time; just to be sure that no was there. Pale moonlight streamed through the window.
"Dear cousin," said Simon, "I have a one more birthday gift for you,"
"Please Simon," said Char, visually uncomfortable, "Please, it's late. I've had a long day, I want to go to bed."
"Just let me give you the gift," said Simon, clutching the gun.
". All right Simon," said Char.
"Close your eyes," instructed Simon. Char hesitantly shut his eyes.
"1.. 2. 3." whispered Simon and pulled the trigger.
1 year later:
Simon aimless fingered a dagger. He was bored. He was really bored. It had been
exactly two years since Char's birthday murder. It was his "birthday." Two months ago he had celebrated his birthday in private while his family mourned his "death."
He sharpened the dagger and grinned, thinking back to the night. It gave him such a rush.
He pulled the trigger, of course. The bullet pierced his heart. A moment after the bullet hit Char's eyes shot open. He stared wordlessly at Simon who was glowing with pride. Simon watched Char feel his blood on his hands. He did nothing as Char fell to the floor.
"Simon," Char whispered sadly before dying in a puddle of his own blood on the chapel floor.
Simon didn't have much time to bask in his pride.
He got to work quickly. Shedding his coat to reveal a suit, exactly the same as the one Char wore. He draped the coat over Char's life less body and thrush the pistol into his cold hands.
He quickly removed the horn-rimmed glasses from his face, that he had started wearing a week after Char's 13th birthday. He did not need them. It was all part of the plot. He took out a pair of chicken shears from his pocket and carefully cut Char's hair into the exact style as his own, making sure it was all-perfect.
After collecting the hair, he looked down and knew it would work. It looked like a suicide. Simon had to admit; it was eerie looking down at a replication of him, dead on the floor.
He had no time to think about it. He rushed out of the chapel, screaming. Of course, no one would doubt he was Char. He looked exactly like him. His family mourned the death of Simon. But Simon looked on as a third person. It was very difficult to get use to it. His family took his unusual behavior the first weeks for the disturbance of the death of his cousin.
Simon learned to give up his old habits and take up the small ones he noticed from Char. It was more difficult then he imagined. He found it extremely uncomfortable when he heard his family talk about him. It was most unbearable around Cecilia who hated Simon but had a great relationship with Char.
He learned to slowly blend into the castle setting, as the over worked young prince who didn't laugh enough. He had no trouble convincing his "parents" and the rest of the court.
He worried that Cecilia would be the hardest person to convince. Cecilia always came in to talk to Char before they went to sleep. These chats were difficult because Simon lacked the secrets that Char and Cecilia shared. But he caught on fast, yet he was almost surprised that Cecilia didn't suspect anything.
There was a knock on the door, it was soft and timid, "Come in," said Simon in a bored voice.
"Hello?" said a blonde head poking around the doorway.
"'Ello Mum" said Simon.
"Happy Birthday dear," said Queen Daria bending down to kiss her handsome son.
"Thanks mum," said Simon, putting the knife into its leather pouch and back into the desk, "The party was fabulous,"
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, tomorrow night, the court is having a banquet in your honor."
"Delightful," said Simon smiling, "What time?"
"Oh.. Seven or so," chatted away his aunt, "I'm thinking. blue, lots of blue for this banquet. Does that blue suit still fit you?"
"No," said Char shaking his head. In truth the suit fit him but he did not want to be seen in it.
"Okay, I'll have Nan get started on a blue doublet tonight sweetie, kisses!"
"Good night mum," said Char shaking his head. (a/n-That's the end of the prologue. Isn't it so deep and insightful? Jysthea and I laughed.we cried.it moved us. We hope it moved you too.)
