Capes and Crowns. (TomTord Royalty AU)

Chapter 1; The Party.

Nothing in life is for certain, except for what you feel now. And as of right now, there's only one thing Tord is certain of.

He fucking hates being a prince.

The stuffy outfits, the heavy crown, the peasants, the politics, the parties, the pressure. It's just so much that it suffocates Tord. Not for any noble reason, of course, Tord just hates responsibility.

And tonight was every one of things combined. A coronation celebration- hosted in his castle's ballroom. Not for him, but for his childhood friend Edd. His father passed away last week and now Edd was suddenly King Edward Galdinniar. His carefree sweets-loving bud was turned into this high-strung loser who didn't even have time for their weekly apple-picking or hunting.

Well. Maybe Tord should be more lenient, the boy's father did just pass away after all.

Those few things were on his mind as he stood on a stool, his arms outstretched for his royal dresser to fit him into his wear for the party. His tutor of 10 years, Pat, was standing in front of him, holding a paper. Pat's long brown hair was in the way of his reading, so he tucked it behind his ear, something Tord noticed he did a lot.

"Alright Tord, pop quiz."

"Hit me with it, Patty." Tord replied, tone dry but soaked with boredom.

Pat clicked his tongue at the pet name, straightening the paper with an annoyed flick. The dresser slid a red silk button-up onto Tord's arms.

"Who's the party for tonight?"

"Edd."

Pat raised a brow. Tord rolled his eyes with a sigh before correcting himself.

"King Edward. Edward Galdinniar."

"Good. He lives in?"

"Galdinnia? Pat, come on, I know all of this stuff!" Tord whined, his dresser fixing up his shirt before giving him fine black pants to wear. Tord shuffled them on as Pat kept going.

"Okay, let's talk about the special guest Edd's inviting, the Rocksonians. Where do they live?"

"Rocksonia. That little island across the sea."

Pat glared this time, just as Tord was pulling on his gold-embedded boots.

"Sorry. Not little. Just an island." Tord grumbled.

"Hm. Better..." Pat's eyes scrolled down the paper, his fingertip following down the written words. He lit up when he found a good question, smirking at Tord.

"How many daughters and what are their names?"

Tord rolled his eyes again. Pat was always pressing him about girls, trying to get any reaction out of the prince. It was futile, and, maybe for an obvious reason.

"There are no daughters, Pat. Just two sons, Timothy and Thomas."

"That's right, but keep a lookout for the ladies!"

Tord stood up, his dresser adjusting two gold clasps onto his shoulders, connecting the glorious cape strung behind his back to his body.

"Pat, it's not like I have to get married tomorrow. Can't I just enjoy a party?"

Pat sighed and rolled up the paper, gently placing it on a table beside him. He stepped up to Tord, dusting off his red collar.

"You're 19, Tord. You're going to have to start a family soon, after all, you're the last of your bloodline-"

Tord swatted Pat's hand away, his silver eyes sharp with offense. Pat swallowed, knowing he'd gone too far. Clearly, it was too early to talk about it. Pat stepped back into his place away from Tord, his hands folded in his lap.