Capes and Crowns. (TomTord Royalty AU)

Chapter 2; Little Secrets.

"You complete, absolute, wholehearted, and utter idiot!" Pat spat, making the prince sigh agitatedly.

It was the morning after the coronation party, and already the skin was split on Tord's knuckles. Pat was the one whacking them with a small handheld paddle, but at this point, it was just a numb sting the boy was used to.

"Pat, I only said one thing- "

"Incorrect."

"-Plus it's not my fault they are sensitive- "

"To insults."

"-To observations- "

"To impolite, ignorant, idiotic 'observations'."

Tord groaned at his tutor's persistence, rolling his eyes and laying his chin in his palm, silver eyes glaring at Pat. "What do you want me to say."

"I want you to formally apologize to the family, king Galdinniar, your father, and then me." He huffed out, still insistent on standing in front of the table Tord sat in, having his arm crossed and his posture almost unbearably perfect.

"What if I choose not to?"

Smack! The swift snap of the wooden paddle and Tord's knuckles sounded again, the younger male hissing.

"Jeez- I get it." Tord pulled his hand off the table, raising it in the air to show surrender. "I'll send Edd caramels and that carbonated what-not he's obsessed with, I'll go have a painfully long dinner with my father and the family, and then you and I can go painting at that meadow." He spoke dismissively, knowing he'd spark Pat's interest with painting, and at a place as peaceful as the meadow.

The prince was actually quite talented in his artistic realms, enough to combat Edd's skill. But much more did it spark the tutor; he was a long-time fan of his works.

"Oh- well, that sounds lovely-" he let out sheepishly, Tord nodding with a simple charming smile, "- But I can't allow it. An ingenuine apology to the Rocksonians would give an improper image of our kingdom. That wouldn't work in your favor as a future king, now would it?"

The words of being a future king- while old and always heard, as if it was a phrase played by a broken record- gave Tord a bitterly cold chill. It was like a scar he wore, no matter where he went people would recognize it, even if he himself forgot it for a moment. A fleeting moment.

The boy let out a heavy huff, nodding and standing up. "Yes, yes. I'll make it as genuine as I can, Pat. Now, heh, If you'll excuse me~ It's 11 AM, I must be off to see the boys~," Tord's tone shifted into a pleasant purr as he fixed up his shirt collar and dusted his hair, Pat rolling his eyes at the boy's clear eagerness.

"Come here before you do." The man muttered, Tord nodding with a smile and approaching him, holding out his bloody hands. Pat took them gently in his own, dipping a soft white cloth into an icy, water-filled pail that smelled of shoeshine. He drained the excess water before dabbing Tord's split knuckles with the damp cloth, the happy boy not even flinching anymore.

"There you are."

"Thanks, Pat!" Tord chirped, giving his tutor a fond nudge and smile before heading out the door, Pat sighing with a defeated smirk. "Of course, Tord."

~

Tom was being similarly lectured, but in a much different fashion. Eliza grabbed Tom's ear, dragging him to the center of the room. When he stood up again, she slapped him across the face.

"Imbecile!!"

Tom fell mute to the burn on his cheek, his expression neutral. Timothy approached his furious mom, holding her shoulders. "Mother, please."