Madianna- Glad you like Clarence, Ned and Edmund. And The Devil twins! Richard and Anne are sweet. And Edouard WILL suffer!

YorkistGirl- Sorry to hear about your father. Maybe Richard in this chapter will cheer you up!

Okay, we've had Geoffrey, Richard and Anne. Now it's time to focus on our favourite Lancastrian...

Hal!

"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up, little brother! Come on! WAKE UP!"

Richard sprang up as he was hit on the side of the head with a pillow. Edward stood there, grinning, as he held the pillow.

"Good morning, Dickon! Merry Christmas!"

"Did you have to wake me up like that, Ned?"

"Yes. Edmund's waking Clarence up. Strange. You're usually up before me. Why did you sleep in?"

"I-I-uhh…" Richard flushed with embarrassment.

Ned gasped. "You weren't doing it with Anne, were you?"

"No! I stayed up late because Buckingham kept sending me pictures he'd taken of Will Hastings. Then he smashed my window, and dragged me out into town with only my pyjama bottoms on. He got drunk with Will and I had to carry them both home!"

"Wow!" Ned grinned. "Sounds like a rough night, Richard."

"You're telling me!"

"AND THE LARGE SWORD IS ABOUT TO POKE CLARENCE UP THE-"

"NOOO! FINE! I'M UP! I'M UP!"

Ned smirked again. "Sounds like George is finally awake."

"Only by the extremist of methods, as usual."

Clarence stumbled into the room. "GOD! I'm going to kill Edmund for that!"

"Well, you're not the only one. Clifford's after his blood."

"Why?"

"Because he's York's son. Like us, Clarence."

"Bastard…"

Edmund walked in, holding a wooden sword. "Great idea, Ned!" he chirped. "It got Clarence up!"

Clarence swivelled his head round to glare at Ned. "W-W-What?! You put him up to this, Ned?!"

"Of course!" Ned grinned. "Who else would come up with such a great plan?" He pointed to Edmund. "Not him! I mean, look at him! He can't tie up his shoe laces, for God's sake!"

"OI!"

Clarence turned to Richard. "How'd he wake you up, Dickon?"

"By whacking my head with a pillow."

"Lucky…"

Just then, a smell of something burning wafted into the room, and the shrill tone of the smoke alarm pierced the air.

The boys looked at one another, and the back at the door.

"OH NO!" they yelled in unison. "DAD'S COOKING AGAIN!"

They all ran to the door, pushing and shoving, they each shouted:

"Stop him!"

"He'll burn the whole flaming house down!"

"Don't say that, Edmund! The house won't burn!"

"I don't want a burnt piece of toast!"

"Merry Christmas! Come on, Lennie, wake up!"

The blanket was yanked off him, and Lennie sat up as Aunt Clara pulled back the curtains. "Look, it's snowing!"

Excited, Lennie leapt out of bed, and ran to the window. He pressed his nose up against the glass, and his eyes widened in amazement at the large layers of snow that covered the garden.

"WOW! Aunt Clara, look!"

"I know, Lennie. Come on, time for breakfast, then we'll go round to Mary's and give her and George their presents."

"Do you think I'll get a rabbit, Aunt Clara?"

Clara turned and looked at her nephew, who stood there and smiled innocently. It wasn't his fault he was dumb. He didn't understand anything that anyone said. The only thing he could talk about was rabbits. The kid was obsessed with them!

She knew that Lennie wouldn't, but smiled anyway.

"Sure. Now get downstairs. Breakfast is on the table."

She watched as Lennie headed towards the door, and as he passed her, she ruffled his hair. He was a good kid. Never did anyone harm. And he hoped he would stay good. He needed the rabbits, and he needed promises of getting them, whether they were false or not. Clara hoped that life would be fair to her nephew.

He was just a kid…

"OH BENVOLIOOOOOOO! BENNY! WAKE UP! ROMEOOOO!"

Two groans answered him in response. They'd all stayed over at Lord Capulet's Manor, much to Tybalt's dismay, and Hermia's delight. She loved her Wooshy-Wo!

They did not like being woken up at 9:30, though. They always slept in till 11. However, Mercutio, always an early bird and a stubborn boy, had woken them up by playing his Lady Gaga CDs at maximum volume. Tybalt had threatened to throw them out of the window, so Mercutio had responded by placing a bucket of mud on his door. Tybalt had opened the door to end up covered in mud. Hermia had recorded it on her phone, and had placed it up on YouTube. Even though it had only been up for half an hour, it already had over 6000 views.

Mercutio's pranks were popular on YouTube.

Mercutio barged into the room, throwing the covers off the beds of his best friends, receiving a yell of: "GET OUT, NUTTER! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!" from Romeo, and a yell of: "I'LL THROW YOUR CD PLAYER OUT OF THE WINDOW!" from Benvolio.

Mercutio had only winked, and said that he would: "Put something nasty than mud above the door," and sauntered out, laughing as he ducked from a shoe being thrown at his head.

Benvolio and Romeo looked at one another and groaned again.

It was going to be one hell of a long day…

Hal stood by the tree. His younger brothers, 16-year-old Thomas, 14-year-old John and 13-year-old Humphrey messed around with the presents that were placed under the tree. His sisters: 11-year-old Blanche and 9-year-old Philippa sat watching TV. Hal was the oldest of the six Lancastrian-Plantagenet children, and he was glad. It meant that he could do what he liked. The bad news was that his father was always pressuring him about making something of himself. As the oldest, he was heir to the majority of his father's fortune. His father: Henry Plantagenet IV held a very respected seat in law, and wanted his son to do the same. Hal didn't want that though, but his father refused to listen. So he resorted to hanging out with John Falstaff, an older fat, vain, boastful and cowardly man who led him often into trouble. But Hal didn't care. His father could stick it as far as he was concerned.

Hal.

Flastaff had nicknamed him that. "Prince Hal," they had nicknamed him at the taverns where they often hung out. They also nicknamed him "Harry Monmouth," as that was where he had been born, but because there was another Harry in the school, Hal had decided to take the first option instead. He liked it. It was unique. There were two other students he knew who were called Henry: Tudor and Harry, but none of them were called Hal. That was his. That was his name, and no one else's.

His father didn't like it, though.

"Ah, Henry," his father's smooth voice entered the room, and Hal turned to see an older man walk in, his face aging and hair grey. He had a disfiguring skin disease for the past few years, and it shocked Hal how weak he was becoming. He'd always feared his father as a small boy, and to tell you the truth, he still did. He was still intimidating when angry, and he had often slapped Hal around the face when he'd misbehaved.

But deep down, Hal did love his father. He did.

"Looking at the decorations, are we?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Father."

"Not misbehaving?"

Hal grinned. "Me? Misbehave? How unlike me, Father."

Henry stepped forward to face his son. He was now the same height as him, and still had room for growing. "He will be a tall boy," the man thought.

"Answer me properly, boy. Set an example for your brothers. My time will end soon, and you need to act like a proper adult."

"I can only be myself, Father."

Grin.

SLAP!

Hal's head was forcefully turned to the side as his father's hand collided with his check, and Hal was stunned. He was not stunned at being hit, he'd been hit so many times, but it was the impact that always shocked him. It hurt!

None of his other brothers were hit, but then, they weren't the heirs. He was. Hal was the heir.

He didn't hate his brothers for not being slapped. It was his own fault, but he could not not be himself. He couldn't be Prince Hal if he didn't mess around. He couldn't change for his father's demands.

Be he could change for his brothers.

He could change for Kate. She deserved so much better than him. Some Prince he was.

His father didn't seem to think much on Kate. She was French, and Hal's father did not like the French, but he did need an alliance with them. He'd tried to get Hal to date Kate's older sister, Isabella, but she'd refused because he'd had her husband, Richard, the Second Plantagenet, murdered.

Who'd blame her?

Henry had watched Hal with suspicious eyes. He'd let him go out with her, but only for political reasons. But Hal didn't date her for political reasons. No. He loved her. It had taken him a while to woo her, as she'd been brought up by a saintly man, and would only date him if it were her father's wish. She'd eventually fallen for the handsome lad, and Hal was very happy. Kate's father, Charles, owned many lands as well in France, and Hal would get them all when he and Kate would marry. But Hal wanted to take things slow. He didn't give a damn about what his father thought. He would take things slow.

"It's Hal, Father. My name is Hal."

The young man was pushed into the tree, and John rushed to help him up.

"Insolent boy. Your name is Henry. Henry the Fifth to be of Lancaster, and you will leave those thieves you socialize with, leave the scums of the House of York, grow up, and behave."

He turned and walked out of the room, and Hal slammed the door shut. He sank into the nearest chair, head in hands, and started to cry. He ignored his brothers' concerned voices, or the whines of his sisters. He needed everyone to shut up.

He needed to get out. He knew that he had to leave Falstaff and the others, planned to, but he couldn't now. Not at Christmas.

But he was going to leave them. He was going to leave them and grow up and mature. For the good of his family, he had to.

But not on Christmas Day.

Getting up, he grabbed his coat, and stormed out of the front door, ignoring his mother as she pulled the turkey out of the oven, and he headed down the path into town.

When he arrived at his destination, he leaned against a wall and pulled out a cigarette. No one knew that he secretly smoked. Not even Kate.

As he took the first puff, someone grabbed him from behind, pulled him through a door, and spun him round.

Falstaff and the others had decorated the Boar's Head Tavern that they hung out in, and it looked very festive. There was a glowing Santa, and everyone stood wearing hats and holding crackers. On the table in the center of the room was a massive cake. Miss Quickly, hostess of the tavern, smiled at him. Bardolph, another close friend of his, laughed at his shocked face. Falstaff came up and clapped Hal on the shoulder.

"My sweet Prince Hal," he smiled. "It's time to have Christmas. With a real family!"

And he led the boy forward, to the table, and everyone cheered.

"God save you!" they chanted. "God save the Prince Hal! The true heir to Lancaster over Edouard! God save you!"

Hal smiled and took the cake. He grinned, and slammed his whole face into it, laughing. Everyone roared with laughter and cheered, raising their glasses of beer to him.

"Hal! Hal! Hal! Henry the Fifth of Lancaster! Hal!" they all cheered.

Hal lifted up his face, cake falling off it, threw back his head, and laughed.

"Merry Christmas!" he yelled, laughing like a loon.

"Insolent boy. Your name is Henry. Henry the Fifth to be of Lancaster, and you will leave those thieves you socialize with, leave the scums of the House of York, grow up, and behave."

Those words echoed throughout his skull, and his face changed to sadness. Falstaff came up and slapped him on the back, and Hal fell forward into the crowd. Thinking it was a game, everyone pushed along the crowd like they would at a concert, and Hal landed hard on his back as the rows of people ended.

He shouldn't be here.

He climbed up and ran out, ignoring the cheers of his name, and the confused, drunk cries of Falstaff and his friends.

He ran along the path, ran back home, but didn't go in inside. He ran past his house, further down the path, and ran into the woods. He ran until he felt like stopping, and slumped against a tree.

He rested his head in his arms and cried.

He'd never cried so much before. He rarely cried at all. He always tried to stay strong at all times.

Now he didn't care.

It wasn't fair. Why'd he have to be the heir?

He was glad that Edouard would inherit the most.

Even though Hal was older than him.

Wait. Hal was older than Edouard. So why was Prince the heir?

Hal shrugged it off. At the moment, he didn't give a damn.

He hated his life.

He hated everything.

Kate deserved better than him by far.

Some Prince he was.

Some Prince Hal.

Some Christmas this was.

Some Prince Hal he was.

Some Prince Hal.

Some Hal.

Hal.

Hal.

Hal.