Madianna- Thanks for your long review! ;-D I love hearing your thoughts on my stories!

Guest- Oh, believe me, Frankenstein's Monster is hardly pale at all. He's over 8ft tall and is terrifying! Loki, Sigyn, Lennie and all the other characters are all unique in their own ways. None of them are drab.

I am soooooooooooooooo sorry for not updating in over a month, but I've been cursed with the terrible condition known as WRITER'S BLOCK. Arghhhh, it's so frustrating when you can't find your inner muse!

I hope this 14-page chapter will make up for it! ;-D

August 17th 2013

"Nice one, guys!" Hal cheered as their current song faded out. "We're doing really well! We're gonna knock this competition out of the park!"

Ned sighed and placed his guitar on the floor. "Yeah, I just hope that I get back in time before Bess gives birth. I do not want to miss that."

"Well, who wouldn't?" Hal replied. "I'm sure that everything will be just fi-"

"Ned! Ned!" Warwick came running in. "Your wife's gone into labour!"

"Oh, come on!" Ned complained. "Really?!"

"Yes!" Warwick was practically jumping up and down in panic. "How the hell are we going to get you there and back again?"

"We can't!" Clarence shouted. "There's now way we can!"

"Um, excuse me," Loki spoke up, "but perhaps I can be of some assistance?"

"Now is that clear?" Loki repeated to the pilot in the plane. "You fly my friend here to the nearest airport to Middleham, then you wait there until he comes back. Then, you fly him back here again."

"But, Mr Odinson, that's not possible. Not with all the costs and time it will waste, I can't afford-"

Loki placed his hands on the man's head and stared deeply into the pilot's eyes. "You WILL do as I say. Do you hear me?"

The pilot's pupils seemed to dilate and he stared back at Loki, seemingly transfixed.

"Yes, Sir," he mumbled.

"Good man," Loki replied, patting the pilot and then climbing down the airplane steps. "You take care!"

Ned rushed down the hospital corridor, a bouquet of flowers in a hand. A private car had been waiting for him at Leeds Bradford Airport when he'd arrived, and now he was dashing up the corridor to where his wife would be. He turned round a corner and saw a nurse taking notes at a reception desk. He hurried up to her.

"Excuse me," he panted, "but do you know where Elizabeth Plantagenet is? I'm her husband- Edward Plantagenet."

The nurse raised an eyebrow. "She's in Theatre and has been in labour for 5 hours."

She went into a room and came out with some clothes. "Here, put these on. Quickly."

Ned did as he was told.

Bursting into the room, Ned- dressed in medical gowns with a mask over his mouth and looking like any regular doctor- hurried over to his wife's side.

"What took you so long?" she snapped against the pain. "This baby's taking ages to come out."

"I know, sweetheart," Ned replied, stroking her sweaty forehead comfortingly. "It won't be long now, hopefully. The Doctors say that you're eight centimetres dilated. Only two left to go."

"That's no use to me when I'm stuck here in agony! This is your fault, you know, you and your high libido!"

"I love you, too."

"Come on, another push!" the doctor encouraged.

Two hours later, and Bess had finally reached ten centimetres dilated. Gripping her husband's hand so tightly that both of their hands went white, Bess screamed as she urged her body to push her unborn child out. Ned continued to stroke her head and murmur soothing words as his wife yelled profanities at him repeatedly, ignoring her pain filled curses.

"That's it, I can see the head!" the doctor announced. "Another push!"

Bess screamed again.

"Another!"

Push. Scream.

"Another! Here come the shoulders!"

Push. Scream.

"That's great! Another push!"

Push. Scream.

"That's it! One more push should do it!"

Push. Scream.

A slippery, wet, squirming, screaming baby slid into the doctor's waiting arms. Bess rested her head against Ned's shoulder as the umbilical cord was cut, and the newborn was taken over to the scales to be weighed.

"You've done so well, sweetheart," Ned smiled, kissing his wife's sweat-drenched face. "I'm so proud of you."

"Wh- wh- what is it?" Bess panted, looking up to see her husband's face. "Is it okay? Is it okay?"

The rest of the Gang sat in the crèche area. In the middle of the room, the group had pulled up nearby chairs and sat in a circle. They all looked worried, serious and no one said anything.

Then, the sound of a ringing phone broke the silence. Almost immediately, everyone's faces swirled round to look at the phone, but no one would get up to answer it.

Richard stood up and went over to the phone after a few seconds more of unbearable silence. He picked up the phone.

"Yes? Hello? Ned, is that you?"

The Gang stared, wide eyed, as they waited for the news.

"It's arrived? Is it healthy?"

More silence.

"I see… Congratulations, brother! Yes, yes that's brilliant! See you soon!"

He slammed the phone down, swirled round, and grinned at his band mates.

"It's a boy! We have another York Prince!"

The Gang all stood up. Clarence and Edmund went to embrace their youngest brother, while the others started chatting excitedly.

"What's its name?" Hal asked excitedly.

Everyone looked to Richard again.

"Everyone," Richard announced slowly, "we are happy to announce that the baby has been named Richard Plantagenet- after me and my father and Warwick."

Everyone cheered.

Ned held his small son in his arms. He marvelled at the small fingers, tiny, adorable button nose, tiny eyelashes on his super tiny eyes, and everything about his clean, talcum powder, new baby smell. He was perfect. Everything about this baby was perfect. His little Dickon would make him very proud, he knew it. Everyone would know it…

He smiled up at his wife. "Isn't he the most adorable baby ever?" he grinned, stroking the baby's tiny fingers with his own, large, smooth ones. "Isn't he simply marvellous?"

Bess smiled weakly from where she lay in her bed. "Of course he is," she said, "he's our son."

Ned smiled down at the baby, whose bright blue eyes stared curiously, yet tiredly, back up at him. "Aren't you the most precious baby ever?" he asked the baby. "Yes, you are. Yes, you are!"

The baby sneezed.

"Bless you!" Ned grinned. He inhaled the talcum powder smell. "You are gorgeous, my boy. Daddy loves you very much. Yes, he does! Yes, he does! And Mummy loves you very much, too."

He placed the baby back into the nearby nurse's arms, who smiled and placed the newborn back into his cot next to his mother's bed.

Ned smiled at the baby for a moment for going over to embrace his wife. "I love you…" he murmured, kissing her head gently. "I'm so lucky to have you, Bess."

"And I you, Edward. Always and forever."

Three days later, on the 20th August, Ned arrived back in France, where he was greeted- more like bombarded- by the Gang, who demanded pictures of the newest York edition.

Ned laughed their demands off and showed them pictures, to which the girls and boys awed at.

"Look at him!" cooed Richard. "So cute!"

"Isn't he just the most precious baby ever?" Anne marvelled.

"Not as cute as our boy, though," Richard grinned at her.

"Of course not," Anne replied, grinning as well. "No baby is or ever will be."

"Well, mine might be- when I have them, of course," Hal bragged.

"No, they won't!" Clarence interrupted. "Mine will be!"

"More like mine!" Mercutio sniggered.

"Guys, this is ridiculous," Loki cut in. "This is stupid and pointless. Everyone knows that all babies look like Winston Churchill."

The Gang looked ashamed.

"And besides," he grinned, flashing a sly grin, "we all know that if anyone's kids around here will be the cutest, they'll be mine."

"Oh come on!" Tudor exclaimed. "Even Edouard's will be cuter than yours!"

"More like cuter than yours," Richard added. "When was the last time that a half human-sheep baby was reported to be alive, let alone cute?"

"You take that back!"

"Make me!"

"GAAHHHH!" Tudor leapt at the Yorkist, and the two landed on the floor, kicking and punching at each other.

"Sheep-shagger!"

"Hunchback!"

"Mummy's boy!"

"Wet wuss!"

"Illegimate nobody!"

"Unintended accident!"

"Cheap miser!"

"Sexual pervert!"

"Hardass!"

"Oblivious dumbass!"

"Fatherless freak!"

"Spoilt daddy's boy!"

"Virgin!"

"Deadbeat lowlife with three illegitimate kids!"

"At least I have a kid!"

"Who wants to have a kid at eighteen?!"

"Well, at least I-"

"GUYS!" the Gang members yelled. "Stop fighting!"

The two young adults looked up at the shouting, then at each other. Tudor pulled himself off of Richard and dusted himself down.

"Well," he coughed, "it's not like that was a surprise. He's been asking for it, insulting my home country like that!"

"Me?!" Richard spat. "You keep making jokes about my scoliosis!"

"That's only because you picked on me as a child!"

"Well, it was your fault in the first place! You weirdo!"

"RICHARD!" Ned yelled, storming over to his younger brother and grabbing him by the ear. "You know full well that you picked on Tudor as a child because you chose to. Actually, if I remember rightly, YOU pushed him over one day at school because he took the last blackcurrant juice box at break. Some gentleman you are, you bully!"

"OOOOOWWWWWWW!" Richard whined. "Ned, you're hurting me! Let go!"

"Not until you apologise to Henry and end this stupid feud!"

"That will never happen…" Tudor snorted quietly under his breath. Ned looked up.

"What was that, Tudor?"

"Oh, nothing!"

"Stupid welsh prick!" Richard shouted, making Ned tighten his grip on his younger brother's ear. "OWWWWWWW!"

"Richard York, apologise now!"

"Make meeee! OWWWWWW!"

"NOW!"

Tudor giggled. Edmund grabbed his ear and pulled it as well. "OWWWWW! You stupid Yorkist prat!" he cursed. "Get your hands off me!"

"Not until you apologise too, Tudor," Edmund commanded. "You're not out of this, yet."

"OWW! FINE! I'll apologise!"

"See?" Ned smiled, twisting his brother's ear again. "You should learn from his example, brother."

"HELL NO! AHHHH!"

"I won't stop until you agree to apologise!"

"NO! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! OKAY! OKAY! I'LL APOLOGISE! HAPPY?!"

Ned sighed, smiled and released his iron grip on his brother's now red ear.

Edmund let go of Tudor's, who's ear was less red, and pushed the welsh teen forward.

Ned pushed his brother forward.

Richard scowled and held out his hand. "I'm sorry for bullying you as a child, Tudor. And I'm sorry for making fun of welsh people, and for calling you a sheep shagger. Sorry," he mumbled, even though he hardly looked it.

Tudor slowly took his hand, looking at it as if it were contaminated with the world's deadliest disease. "I accept your apology, Gloucester, and I apologise for making fun of your scoliosis as well. Sorry."

The two shook hands.

Ned smirked. "There! Now don't you both feel much better?"

"Hardly…" Richard murmured.

"What was that, brother?" Ned frowned.

"Oh!" Richard gave a great big grin. "Nothing!"

"Good. Now, let's go eat! I'm starving!" he chirped, clapping his hands. "The flight food was crap! Talk about tasteless and bland! And don't get me started on the toilets!..." he droned as he walked out the room, the other Gang members following closely behind.

Tudor and Richard were left alone.

As Tudor started to follow the others, Richard grabbed the younger boy and threw him onto the floor, towering dangerously over him.

"Just so you know…" he hissed menacingly. "You and I will NEVER be friends. Never. I'd rather be stuck with Edouard than you for a friend ANY day."

Tudor gave him the finger from where he lay on the floor, his back throbbing in pain. "Fuck you…" he coughed. "You are no gentleman at all. The only gentleman you be is to your whore of a mistress!"

Richard growled and kicked him hard in the chest, causing Tudor to cry out agony.

He spat at him, and then grinned. "And I wasn't talking about Anne, either."

Gloucester's eyes went cat like.

"Yes, I know about what you do in your free time."

"I don't do that anymore," Richard hissed. "That was years ago!"

"Why don't you tell, Anne, Richard? Hmmm? Tell her about your other whore and the bastards you've sired!"

Richard punched him in the jaw, causing blood to fly out of the teen's mouth. "Oh, beating me won't silence what you've done! Soon everyone will know! And there won't be anything you can do about it!"

Richard raised his fist again, but was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist. He turned to see Loki standing next to him with a great big grin on his face.

"Hit him again and I'll make a vase out of your mouth."

Richard turned to see Ned and the others standing there, shock written all over their faces.

Ned pulled Tudor away from his brother's angry fist and held an arm protectively over him.

"What the hell, Dickon?!" Ned yelled. "What the hell were you doing that for?!"

Tudor coughed and held a hand to his mouth. When he pulled it away, there was blood on his fingers.

"You bastard…" he coughed, spraying blood onto the floor. "You've busted my chest."

"You could have killed him!" Anne cried, tears streaming down her face. "Richard, why?! He's our friend!"

Loki pushed Richard away towards Clarence, who grabbed him by the arm.

The Norse god then went over to Tudor and tried to help him up. "Come on," he said softly. "Thor and I will help you get better. Help me pull him up, brother."

Thor helped Loki pull Tudor up and took him into another room down the corridor.

Richard glared at Clarence, who scowled back. Ned grabbed the teen by an arm and pulled him up to his full height. "Now, why on EARTH did you do that?!" he demanded. "You just apologised to him and then you go and beat him up?! WHY?! I expect better of you, Richard! You're not like that monster, Edouard, so why did you attack him?!"

"Because I hate him," Richard responded. "He is nothing but a thorn in our side, and he needs to be dealt with, before it's too late. He's a Lancastrian, Ned! All Lancastrians need to be dealt with! They're a threat to us! To York! To your sons and mine!"

Ned stared, dumbfounded, at what his little brother had just said. "I don't believe this…" he muttered. "You sound just like Edouard, you act just like Edouard, you ARE Edouard!"

He pushed Richard away and placed an a hand on Anne's shoulder. "Until you snap out of this "Lancastrian Paranoia"," he said. "You are out of the Gang."

"But the competition's in three days!"

"I know. So you better get your act straightened up. Otherwise, we can kiss that trophy, and your friendships, goodbye."

And with that, he walked out, Anne next to him, Clarence, Edmund and the others quickly trailing behind him.

Richard had never felt so alone and ashamed in his life.

"This may feel odd," Loki said to Tudor as he and Thor laid him down on the couch in the staff room of the building they were practising for the competition in, "but it'll make you feel better."

Tudor coughed up blood. "Okay," he gasped, as he lay there on the furniture, his brown eyes wide and pain-filled.

Loki placed his hands gently on the teen's chest. "Close your eyes," he said gently. "Try to relax."

Tudor closed his eyes.

Loki closed his own green ones, and concentrated deeply on the wound inside the Lancastrian's chest. From the damage given to the area, Loki realised that Tudor had a rib fracture- and it was quite serious. VERY serious. Loki could feel a lump on the chest, and noticed that a broken bone had cut through his skin.

Tudor was coughing more and more and his breaths became shorter, and more laboured. He needed help soon…

Or he was going to die.

Loki's eyes widened. "Tudor, do you feel lightheaded?"

"Yeah…"

"Abdominal pain?"

"Yeah. It's getting really cold, but really warm. Where am I?"

Loki placed a hand on his head. He was freezing!

There was no way he was going to survive by going to a normal hospital- it was too far away.

There was only one other place he could go.

"Sigyn!" Loki called urgently, his eyes never leaving Tudor's chest. "Sigyn! Come here!"

"Is everything okay?" Tudor asked, opening his eyes and trying to sit up. "I'm okay, right? "

"Yes, you're fine," Thor said, lowering him down again. "You're going to be fine."

Sigyn came running in. "Loki, what is it?"

Loki handed her an ice pack that he conjured out of thin air with his magic. "Place this here," he said, pointing to his hand on Tudor's chest, "Keep it there. Thor, come with me now."

Thor followed Loki out of the room.

"What is it, brother?" Thor asked, once they were out of earshot and somewhere quiet. Loki leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, frowning at his brother.

"He's going to die," was all he said.

Thor was dumbstruck. "You can heal him though, right?"

"He's been damaged quite badly. He has a very serious rib fracture; a lump on his chest and a broken bone has cut through the skin. He's coughing badly, spitting up blood, his breaths are getting shorter and more laboured, and he's feeling lightheaded, has abdominal pain and has a bad fever. He's going to die if he doesn't get to hospital soon."

"Then get him there!" Thor cried.

"It's not as easy as it sounds," Loki waved a hand in dismissal. "If we take him to a normal hospital, the Midgardians will panic over him and keep him in for longer than he needs to be."

"So what do we do?"

"We have to take him to a proper healer in Asgard."

"But we are banished from there!"

"Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious, Thor. I know that we are banished from there, but when they see us wanting to help a Midgardian, they will let us in."

"Why?"

"Because they want us to help the Midgardians, Thor! Remember? That is why we are here; to accept the Midgardian people as a race and respect them, inferior they may be."

"Why can't you just heal him?"

"Though I was able to heal the others to a degree in the prison fire, I am still not skilled enough yet to heal damages in this degree. Mother taught me magic, she is of a higher skill than I am in healing, she should be able to heal his wounds. I will learn how to heal mostly all damages when I become a master healer."

"But-"

"I am a master sorcerer, Thor, not a master healer. Sigyn is more of a healer than I-"

His eyes widened and he stopped talking. Thor's eyes widened as well and he and Loki ran back towards the staff room.

Sigyn held the ice pack that Loki had given her over Tudor's damaged chest. He was coughing more and more, each time with more and more blood. She gave him a small smile.

"Please, Tudor, try not to cough," she said

"I- cough- need to ask- cough- a favour of- cough- you," the Lancastrian wheezed.

"Try not to talk," Sigyn replied.

"Tell my mother that I- cough, cough- I'm sorry for not being good enough for her, that I'm sorry that I don't want- cough, cough- to be a king. Tell my uncle that I love him more than- cough, cough- anyone in the world, and that I thank him for being the father that I never had. Tell Stanley- cough, cough- to take care of my mother, and to be a good husband to her. Please. If anything- cough, cough- happens to me, please tell my family this. PLEASE."

He grasped Sigyn's hand so tightly that it went white.

Sigyn nodded. "If anything happens," she said, "I promise I will tell your family what you told me."

"And tell Richard- cough, cough- that if he had asked me all those years ago for that last juice box- cough, cough- I would have given him it. Tell him that his feud with me is- cough, cough- pointless, and that he will hurt all those- cough- that he loves if he carries on with this- cough, cough- Lancastrian paranoia and hate. By hating us, he will hurt all he loves in order to- cough, cough- get rid of us. He will drive… everyone…away from… himself. Look after Lizzie. She needs…love and affection from her mother. She… doesn't deserve to…be…ignored."

His hand went limp in hers.

"Tudor?" Sigyn asked, squeezing his hand. "Henry?"

She felt around for a pulse, but couldn't find one.

Loki and Thor came running in. Sigyn turned around and her eyes watered at the sight of them.

"He, he's-"

Loki strolled forward immediately, and placed a hand on the younger boy's neck. Closing his eyes, he concentrated deep inside Tudor's life energy to find at least one beat- though extremely weak- left inside him.

His eyes widened. "Sigyn, I need you to keep your hand on his chest. How good are you at healing now?"

"My teacher says that I have the makings of a healing prodigy-"

"You need to search inside him. Find the threads of life inside your own mind and use their power to heal him."

"He is still alive, then?" Sigyn asked

"Yes," Loki replied, "but just barely. We have to hurry, Sigyn."

"But, I don't know if I can-"

"Sigyn," Loki calmly interrupted, his face serious yet calm and reassuring, "you are a master healer. You are a prodigy at healing, whereas I am not. If there's anyone who can save him now, it has to be you. You can do it, Sigyn. I will help you all I can, but it has to be you."

He placed his hand on top of hers. "Just concentrate and it will work." He looked into her eyes. "I believe in you, Sigyn. Just trust me, and try."

Sigyn nodded, her eyes not leaving his. "Okay," she said, "I can do it."

She turned to face Tudor and Loki moved his hand away so that she could put both of her hands on the boy's chest, before putting has hand back on hers. "I will lend you my power as we work," Loki said. "The rest is up to you now, Sigyn."

Closing her eyes, Sigyn urged her magic inside her to move forward through her and Loki's hands, and into Tudor's chest. As the magic surged through her, a bluey green glow started to appear in the Lancastrian's chest. Sigyn could feel the injuries inside his chest beginning to merge together, and she urged herself to continue. The amount of energy she was using was draining her: she'd never used this much mental energy before. She could feel herself slipping away, but felt a burst inside her as Loki urged the magic that he had inside himself to go through into Tudor's chest as well.

Sigyn could feel the threads of skin and tissue coming together. She could feel the injuries fading away. The lump was fading, the broken bone was merging back into its original place and the cut skin was healing. The fracture was starting to calm down and was also beginning to heal.

Sigyn wobbled under the mental strain this was having on her mind, but caught her balance and urged herself to continue even more.

The skin and tissue merged together, the bones went back into place and the internal bleeding that could be felt around his lungs was fading as well.

The last bit of skin healed, the last bit of bone, the fever fading, and then Sigyn released her hands and collapsed onto the floor as the strain overtook her.

Sigyn woke up to find herself in her bed in her hotel room. She sat up and winced as she felt a throbbing pain pulsating through her head.

She looked around to find Loki fast asleep on the chair beside her bed. She reached over as far as she could and grasped his hand.

Loki opened an eye and then opened both as he caught sight of his beloved awake at last. He knelt beside her bed and grasped both of her hands.

"Sigyn," he breathed in relief. "I was so worried about you, I thought that you were going to die due to the pressure it had placed on your mind."

"Is Tudor alright?" Sigyn asked frantically.

"He's perfectly fit and healthy," Loki grinned at her, "thanks to you. Without you, he would have been dead for sure."

"Without your magic to help me, I wouldn't have been able to save him," Sigyn said, looking at him in the eyes, gratitude written all over her face. "You saved me with your magic. Your magic gave me the strength to carry on."

Loki's eyes softened, and he removed one of his hands to place on her cheek. She used her free hand to hold his against her face.

"I'm so glad that you're okay, Sigyn," he sighed. "I would have died if you had, I would have killed myself to join you in Valhalla."

"You wouldn't need to do that," Sigyn replied. "I am always with you, Loki. Forever."

Loki smiled at her and leant forward to hold her in a tight hug. "And I am always with you," he replied. "Let's go see how Tudor's doing."

At the sight of Sigyn coming into the crèche room, Tudor stood up and went to greet her.

"I believe you saved my life," he smiled. "I am eternally grateful to you, Sigyn. Thank you so much for saving me- you and Loki here. If there's anything that you want from me, don't hesitate at all to ask."

He hugged her warmly and grasped her hands. "I am indebted to you. Thank you so much for saving me."

Sigyn smiled. "You don't need to thank me, Henry. You are my friend and friends help each other. You let me know if you still feel bad at all, okay?"

Tudor nodded, smiled, and went to sit back down next to Ned on the sofa, who was showing Hal pictures of baby Dickon.

"Where's Richard?" Sigyn asked. "What's happened to him?"

"He's been arrested. He's in jail at the moment. I shall go and pay him a visit in a moment."

Sigyn's eyes widened. "Loki…What are you planning on doing to him?"

"Nothing too serious," Loki grinned. He kissed her briefly and then pulled away. "Take care, my love! I shall see you very soon!"

Richard sat up at the sounds of footsteps approaching his cell. His tired eyes looked up as Loki came to stand in front of him.

"What do you want, Loki?" he asked.

"I came to see if you are ready to say sorry for what you have done. You attacked him without any justification. You aren't the man that people perceive you to be, are you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"People think of you as a chivalric, good, kind person, don't they?"

"Well, that's because I am!"

"Wrong. You are chivalric to your family, but you are paranoid and prejudice to anyone who isn't- like Tudor for instance."

"He deserved it!"

"No, he didn't." Loki knelt down so that he was level with him. "You attacked him because you were frustrated with your brothers because they rightfully made you apologise to him, but your pride and ignorance got in your way. You were blinded by childish anger, and you attacked him."

"What the hell?"

"You have to get over this paranoia and hate for Lancastrians, Richard. If you don't, then you will hurt everyone that you love in your blinded attempts to get rid of them. And you won't get rid of them. You can no sooner get rid of good and evil than you can get rid of them. They are a part of this place and will remain so. Don't play God."

"What makes you think that I'll listen to you?" Richard sneered.

"Because you know I'm right and you don't want to hurt your family."

Loki stood up.

"But you know that it isn't me you should be talking to-"

"Then why are you here?"

"To help you clear your mind and to help you realise what is right and what is wrong. You are a good man, Richard, but you mustn't let some stupid, foolish, childish anger get in your way of being that good man. Think of your son. He will have friends who will be Lancastrians when Hal has his children. You don't want him to grow up with the same feelings of hate that you do. Let the next generation grow up in peace with them, and accept them for whom they are. Hal is your distant cousin. You share grandparents and great grandparents. Your father is a great nephew to Hal's father, making him a great-great nephew to Hal. Hal is your great-great cousin. And Tudor is related to Hal through his one of his grandmothers. That grandmother is also related to you, meaning that Tudor is family. You cannot kill him. Edouard is family, you didn't kill him, and he's ten times as worse than Tudor! Don't let you fear of Lancastrians split your family apart, for they will retaliate with no mercy- family or not."

He stood up. "And it isn't me you should be apologising to," he said simply. He opened the door to the corridor that he just came down through, and more footsteps were heard.

Tudor entered the room.

"I'm listening," he said. "I believe I am owed an apology, hmmm? Well," he went over to the cell and sat down in front of it, "I'm all ears, Richard. Let's begin, shall we?"

Mercutio sat in his room on Hal's bed that he shared with him. Benvolio sat beside him and placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder. It was so unlike Mercutio to be quiet, but it wasn't unlike him to have a very quick temper. Mercutio often lost his temper when it came to loyalty and friendship issues, and it scared Benvolio because he didn't know how his friend would react. His moods changed quite quickly and most people would see sense and stay away from him until he calmed down.

"You know that I hate being touched when I'm in a bad mood, Benvolio."

"I know, I just choose to ignore that danger."

Mercutio scoffed. "That's so unlike you, Ben. Normally it's me that ignores the danger, or Romeo when he's on one of his 'love affairs'."

"You shouldn't be left alone when you're like this, Mercutio."

"Why? Because I'll hurt someone?" he sneered.

"No, because you'll hurt yourself, and I'm not going to let that happen."

"Why isn't Romeo here?"

"He's making sure that everyone else is okay."

"Where's Hal? Or better not, don't answer that question."

"Why? Has something happened?"

Mercutio pouted. "He's being an ass. He's got this idea that now he's a king, he can no longer be my friend. He says that I'm a bad influence on him."

"Well you are, Mercutio."

"I told him that his father was a prick, and he told me that I never-" He stopped as his eyes started to well up with tears. Benvolio tightened his grip on his shoulder. "He told me that I never would understand what it means to be a king because my uncle is the Prince of Verona, and that it was my fault for making him wild and reckless-"

"That's not true," Benvolio stated firmly. "Hal has always been wild and reckless since childhood, Mercutio, it wasn't your fault that he continued to be so into adulthood."

"But I influenced him. I know I did," Mercutio protested, his silver like eyes gleaming with hot, anger filled tears.

"If Hal was so concerned with being a good king, and no longer being reckless and wild, then he would have stopped his wild ways a long time ago. Mercutio, understand that Hal has always cared for you, you two are as thick as you and I are, but his father wasn't a good one, and he grew up knowing that he had to behave, but was never able to act in the way that he wanted to."

And is that why he hung around with me, then?" Mercutio sniffed. "To simply act in the way that he wanted?"

"No, he went to the Boar's Head Tavern to do that. He hung around with you, because you were his friend. You still are."

"His father abused him."

"That would be one of the reasons why he grew up keeping his own desires hidden. He tried to behave to please his father because he didn't want to be beaten by him, and he went to the Boar's Head Tavern to act on his urges and be wild. He hung around you because he loved you. You have always been his dearest friend, Mercutio, and you always will be."

Mercutio was quiet for a moment before saying: "He also said that I can't insult his father because I don't have one of my own."

"That's true, Mercutio. Even if the man was a prick, Hal is very sensitive about his father, so you can't say things like that to him. How would you like it if Tybalt insulted your mother and Valentine?"

Mercutio's eyes gleamed with anger. "I'd put chilli down the front of his trousers and throw stink bombs through his window."

"That's right. You wouldn't want Hal to do that to you, would you?"

"No."

"So it's best that you don't say anything like that to him, okay?"

"Okay, Ben."

Benvolio patted the curly haired youth on the back. "Come on, Merc," he smiled, "cheer up. I hate to see you sad."

Mercutio sniffed, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, Ben. It's just, what Hal said about me not having a father really hurt, and-"

The tears poured down his face. "I'm sorry! I have to go!"

He leapt up off the bed and ran out of the room before Benvolio could stop him. Benvolio quickly followed him.

He chased him down the stairs and ran past the crèche room just as Romeo was coming out.

"Hey, guys, what's wrong? Mercutio, where are you going? Mercutio! Come back!"

Romeo turned to Benvolio. "What the hell happened?" he yelled, his eyes blazing with anger and worry. "What did you do?!"

"Me?! Romeo, it wasn't me! Mercutio-"

"You were with him!" Romeo shouted. "What happened?!"

"Well, if you'll listen to me, I'll tell you!"

Romeo went silent, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and clenched his hands into fists by his sides.

"Mercutio was upset because Hal yelled at him. He called Hal's father a prick and Hal retaliated by blaming him for his past recklessness and wildness."

Romeo's face softened slightly.

"Hal told Mercutio that he couldn't insult his father, because he'd never grown up with one himself."

Romeo breathed out a sharp intake of anger and his eyes narrowed. "That was uncalled for! That was low! It's not Mercutio's fault that he doesn't have a father. I'm surprised that Mercutio doesn't remember when his father was-"

"Romeo!" Benvolio hissed. "Do not mention that! No one talks about it at all! Especially not to Mercutio!"

"Sorry," Romeo apologised. "What are we going to do? Mercutio could be anywhere by now!"

"We have to find him, before he hurts himself."

"We have to tell Warwick-"

"No. Tell Anne that we're going for a walk. Or that we're going to the shops. Just make sure that Warwick doesn't know where we're actually going."

"Right."

"Come on, cousin. We've got to find Mercutio. And fast."