A/N: this chapter is almost DEFINITELY not historically accurate.get over
it.
***
I'm from England, originally. A stowaway on a cruise ship. My parents were very, very rich-well, my father was. My mother died when I was young, barely six. She left me with no siblings and a very angry father who happened to be the Duke of Buckingham. I ran away often, only to get dragged back by the bobbies-I mean, bulls-and be whipped into submission with my father's riding crop by the man himself. I lived with this until I was fourteen, almost fifteen. Then my father was suddenly nice, so nice it scared me. I didn't know it then, but my great uncle, the King, had intervened when he saw my bleeding back. He didn't believe my father when he said I had been in a riding accident, because few riding accidents cause score marks on the back, so unless I fell on a very thorny bush, it was unlikely I had been riding when I was wounded.
My life has been anything but tea and crumpets.
But when my fifteenth birthday rolled about, my father went back to much of his old self. He hit me again, on my birthday no less, for no good bloody reason. He said something about assurance I would be good at the party. Asshole, he only cared about his standings with the king, which were poor because he hit me.
My life has been anything but tea and crumpets
When the newsies met me, they only noticed my accent, refined and British, so they called me various things. Hoity toity, Toity, Snobby, Money- britches, Moneybags, Snoddy. They stuck with Snoddy at the end.
My life has been anything but tea and crumpets.
***
A/N: for those of you who read my "Snoddy Finally Gets a Fanfiction" fanfiction, this is a parallel. Shit, this kinda gives it away.better put it at the end.
***
I'm from England, originally. A stowaway on a cruise ship. My parents were very, very rich-well, my father was. My mother died when I was young, barely six. She left me with no siblings and a very angry father who happened to be the Duke of Buckingham. I ran away often, only to get dragged back by the bobbies-I mean, bulls-and be whipped into submission with my father's riding crop by the man himself. I lived with this until I was fourteen, almost fifteen. Then my father was suddenly nice, so nice it scared me. I didn't know it then, but my great uncle, the King, had intervened when he saw my bleeding back. He didn't believe my father when he said I had been in a riding accident, because few riding accidents cause score marks on the back, so unless I fell on a very thorny bush, it was unlikely I had been riding when I was wounded.
My life has been anything but tea and crumpets.
But when my fifteenth birthday rolled about, my father went back to much of his old self. He hit me again, on my birthday no less, for no good bloody reason. He said something about assurance I would be good at the party. Asshole, he only cared about his standings with the king, which were poor because he hit me.
My life has been anything but tea and crumpets
When the newsies met me, they only noticed my accent, refined and British, so they called me various things. Hoity toity, Toity, Snobby, Money- britches, Moneybags, Snoddy. They stuck with Snoddy at the end.
My life has been anything but tea and crumpets.
***
A/N: for those of you who read my "Snoddy Finally Gets a Fanfiction" fanfiction, this is a parallel. Shit, this kinda gives it away.better put it at the end.
