Forbidden Love

1

Butch~

I blink lazily as Rita, our head of servants, screeches on about proper stances for our coronation. Her voice, high and shrilly, raises as she demonstrates different bows and echoes through the large chamber. Besides me, Boomer sits straight in his chair, his navy eyes locked tightly into Rita, watching as she explains each bow and whom to bow to. Besides him, Brick sits up straight, but his eyes are slightly beyond Rita, blankly staring at the wall.

It is stupid really. One, we've learned these poses since we were able to walk. And second, it's our coronation day. Shouldn't they be bowing to us, their new kings?

I yawn stupidly, drawing Rita's attention to my slouching form. I can tell by the slight fire burning behind her eyes, that she would love to slap me. Unfortunately for her, that's an offensive punishable by death, and I'd have no problem with that. Rita is a young girl, just slightly older than us with a head full of curly black locks and sharp blue eyes. Boomer loves her, probably a small crush, which is why she sucks up to him, but I could care less and Brick is too oblivious to notice anything.

"Prince Butch, could you please pay attention. It's under your father's orders that I do this for you," Rita says, her shrill voice straining even more. The sound makes me want to flinch, but I cover it with an easy smile I like to use on the female servants. I can tell it catches her slightly off guard.

"Rita, its King Butch now," I say with a deep chuckle. Rita scowls, all surprise wiped from her face.

"Not yet you're not," she responds in a low growl. I can feel Boomer and Brick's eyes on me, but I smile and stand, striding over to Rita. She's nearly a foot smaller than me, very small and scrawny compared to me. I head up to her, silently staring her down. Almost instantly she backs up, her voice shaky. "I mean no offense, sire."

I look down at her, her head bowed pitifully. I glance at my brothers, finding Brick getting up to leave and Boomer looking about ready to come over here. Although, he never will. I let loose a silent sigh and back away. "Of course you didn't." I say evenly, turning away quickly. She still hasn't lifted her head by the time I reach the door, finding Boomer there waiting for me.

"You didn't have to do that," Boomer says. I glance at him and walk by. However, he grabs my sleeve and jerks me to a stop. Instead of being angry, I smile and give a low laugh.

"Didn't i Boomer? Besides, what are you going to do about it?" I ask, turning my head to face him. Boomer's eyes are still narrow, but he makes no move towards me. I smile and tug my arm away, walking towards the stairwell to my bedroom. I'd I'm gonna do this, I gotta look good.

Buttercup~

I shuffle down through the crowded street, breathing out sorries as politely as I can muster. I bump into a few people, secretly slipping my hands into their pockets and I stumble to my footing. A few kind folks make the mistake of trying to catch me, offering even more opportunities. By the time I make it to the far side of the market I've got five gold coins, ten silver dollars, and thirty two copper.

I stuff the money into my trouser pockets, leaving only five copper clanking in my closed Palm. In this town, you're either a boy or a girl, or in my case, a little of both. Blossom and Bubbles prefer to wear a dress when pick-pocketing because they claim girls are more precious and more unlucky blokes would be substantial to help out. While I've seen this theory proven, I prefer trousers, button up top, and a newsboy cap u can stuff my hair into. For one, it is much easier to move around when you don't have some skirt in the way, and boys are expected to fall into people. It definitely isn't uncommon to find a boy tripping his way through a crowd, and I fit right in.

I walk up to a small street booth with fresh sugar buns steaming in the viewer box. Their aroma turns the head of many passers, and draws a decent sized line in. I slouch my shoulders instinctively, stuffing my hands into the depths of my pockets and fit myself between a few people. The man I cut opens his mouth to protest when he suddenly stops, taking in the sight of me. With these clothes on, I look like nothing more than some street beggars son, probably trying to steel himself something to eat. The man snickers quietly under his breath, probably expecting a good show of a naive attempt. I just smile kindly, tipping my hat to him, and trace the outlines of the gold coins.