His Master's Wishes

Part Two

Tonight was the night he was going to get that bastard of a Spaniard back for everything that had been going on the past couple of weeks. Making way to the Royal bedroom, he passed some other servants with the smuggest of looks on his face. The bell rang for two weeks, and he never answered. Antonio was getting frustrated, and Lovino was on cloud nine. He wallowed in it and relished it, smiling every time he passed his room and he didn't have to worry about walking in there and being taken advantage of.

"Your Highness," he knocked on the wood door, as the kingdom's finest tailor opened it. He was a nice man from Poland, and always willing to lend a hand. For years he was requested at the King and Queens side for elegant dresses and suits for any occasion. They were currently trying to convince him to open up a store in Spain. 

"Yes? Oh, Lovino! You know Felix, sí? Well, he's here to show you the suits he picked out for you. I have a surprise too, but that's for later," she winked. For an older woman she knew how to have fun and be interesting. She wasn't just about drinking tea and making the ladies happy. Lovino knew her long enough to realize this. 

"Wait, really? Didn't he take my measurements about a week ago?"

"Yes! Now," there was about 5 suits layed out on the bed, finely tailored and beautifully dyed. There were so many options. He had never worn a fine suit before; none the less one tailored for him personally. "Take your pick. When you want, get changed in the bathroom. The king will be waiting for you in his study."

"Alright," he finally picked out one, and carried it gently to the bathroom. He was afraid it would get ruined in some way, so he used the upmost care in putting it on. With a peek out of the bathroom door, he looked at Isabel, who was putting some makeup on and getting final adjustments on her dress done.

"Come out here now, don't be shy," she beckoned. "I want to see my prodigal prince for a fort night." With some amount of confidence, he walked out of the cracked door. The Polish man gasped and clapped his hands together.

You could see the gay come right off of him in waves of rainbow colors.

"Like, honey yes! Work it boy, work it! Give us a little turn," he spun his finger in unison with Lovino's body. "You look amazing! Now here's like, the crown you deserve for the night." The different crown design was presented to him. In the colors of the Italian flag, three gems for each band were spread equally around the middle. On the very tips were crosses, which only a small part of the cross even stuck out of the top. You could tell they were crosses only by the etching in the gold. This looked more official than the one he previously wore. Eyes wide open, he took the crown and placed it on his head. Every ounce of light hit it and accented his complexion and unique eyes, which were a mix between a green olive and a mossy green.

"I can't thank you enough, Your Highness. For everything you've done for me, even when I was a little bambino. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," she replied as she rushed him out of the door, "Ferdinand is waiting for you. Besides, people are flowing in steadily. The orchestra should be playing soon anyways." With a forced shove, doors closed behind him as he made way to the large study.
.
.
.
"Sire? Mr. Vargas is here to see you."

"Ah," he heard him say from outside the door, "let him in. I've been expecting him."

"Thank you," he murmured to the man who opened the door, leading to the leader of the country. The King shared the looks with his two sons, with much darker hair which was tied back loosely in a ribbon. Afonso looked like a mini version of him; even more so than when he was a child. Medals of many things decorated his sash, and a sword was at his hip. He looked like a pirate, and he more or less was. He served in the Navy as a young prince, also like Afonso. Like father like son applied here perfectly. Grey hairs in his beard and roots give him a wise look, and wrinkles made him look almost youthful in a way.