again i try to write a multi-chapter fic.. here goes nothing

Arthur hated the royals. He despised them with everything he had. If one was to ask him, he would ramble on for a long time about how they mistreated those of the town, how they kept servants and slaves. However, although he did resent them for that, the initial reason he had grown to hate them was quite different.

As a part of his family's predicament, they had been practically sold to the royals. It was sickening. They worked for next to nothing in their little shop just outside of the castle. Arthur's mother had been a noble. Olivia, her name was. She had been a beautiful woman, with long strawberry-blonde hair, and lovely blue eyes. Even when she had been alive, Arthur had barely known her. She had been somewhere in line to the throne, rich, and just perfect in so many ways. She had been married to a foul and petty nobleman, who mistreated her and often tried to take her money. His father, on the other hand, was an American, one who had fled his own country in search of better work in Britain. He had told Arthur that the prospect of adventure had originally drew him to the isle. His skin was tanned, and he bore a messy mop of dark red hair. Al. He swore on and on about being the best tailor in the world, too. A passionate and vocal man, he became quite successful, and opened a tailory.

His mother had met his father on a trip to his shop, the tailory, and had instantly become smitten. Their love, although illicit, was true, and they had ended up having quite a family. Arthur did have three older brothers and a sister, after all. Her husband had called her out after all of the years that he had tolerated her infidelity. Only a scant few days after Arthur had been born, April twenty-third, had she been dragged back to the castle by guards to be questioned. She had left Arthur only one thing; the amulet he wore tight around his neck at all times.

She had been punished by the cruel nobleman, to the point where she would plead for death to come. It did not though, and for many years, she bore a false smile and tried to carry on. She was no longer allowed out of the castle without guards escorting her. Arthur's father, of course, knew that she had been taken away, but not much else other than that. As punishment for being part of his wife's infidelity, the nobleman ordered that their tailory become part of the castle, and that they were no longer to be free people.

It had been a dark evening when Arthur's mother decided to sneak out. Arthur was perhaps ten at the time. He had no memory of his mother then, only knowing about her from the stories that his father would tell; of her beauty, of the way she would bake fresh bread, of her singing to his brothers and sister when they had troubles getting to sleep. Arthur was jealous of his siblings, who had gotten to know for at least a while what having a mother was like.

The back door was hastily rapped upon, and answered even more hastily by Arthur's father. The woman was allowed inside, and embraced tightly. Whispers from the next room, things Arthur didn't understand. He was awake, unable to sleep this evening. On short legs, he wandered over to the door of the room he shared with his siblings, and pressed his ear against it to try and listen better.

His efforts were interrupted as the door was pushed open, and he stumbled back, landing on his behind. Even though he had only seen her face once, he knew the woman as his mother. He tried to say something, but in awe and surprise, no words escaped him. As he had been behind the door, she didn't even notice him.

She flurried about the room, kissing the foreheads of each of his siblings and whispering various things. After counting them, she flinched, and seemed to panic. Arthur stepped out, and she turned in an instant.

She said his name. Her voice was melodious, British, and as beautiful as his father had described. Unable to speak, Arthur toddled closer, and quickly pressed himself against her in his attempt at a hug. She uttered things quietly, showered him in kisses, and apologized for not being there for him. His mother had only a few words left to say now, and she insisted that the amulet Arthur wore, it was for him to sell if he ever needed money for something important. Then, she told him she loved him. And left.

Arthur watched in confusion as she walked out of the room, and went to his father, who had tears rolling down his cheeks. He stumbled into the living room, but his father told him to go back to sleep. He couldn't though. He was restless, and excited to be seeing his mother. His father pleaded, and his mother just stared at him with painfully upset eyes.

There were loud footsteps, and their front door was knocked down to the ground. Arthur was terrified, to say the least. A party of guards stood in the doorway now, seeming to look smug. Arthur's mother took a step away from his father, to which the man protested. Everything seemed to go wrong in seconds.

Arthur had seen the sword pierce right through her. As it was pulled out, warm blood gushed from the wound, and his mother dropped to her knees, and then to the floor entirely. He didn't understand what 'treason' meant at the time, and he definitely didn't have a clue what was going on. His father screamed in protest, but a blade was aimed to the man's throat, and he quickly shut up. The royal guards picked up his mother's body and left, leaving them with their door broken down, and bloodstains on the floor. He began to cry. His father shakily made his way over, and embraced him, telling him that he was sorry. It had only been five years since.

Arthur felt a little prick on his finger, and glanced down. Lost in his reverie of bad memories, he had messed up his needlework, and ruined a part of his stitching. He had even managed to poke himself with the needle. Brilliant. Sighing, he put his work down for now, and retired to the backroom. He had been working all morning, anyway, and decided it was time to eat.

After washing his finger, Arthur went about to pick out some food. No-one in the family was brilliant at cooking, so most of the food they bought was pretty basic. Unable to find anything better, Arthur took some bread and cheese, and sat down at their table. Today, they were due to be visited by the royals, and have orders placed for most probably exquisite clothes. As much as Arthur detested the nobles, they paid well sometimes.

As their family had practically been sold to the castle, their wares were expected free to the royals who lived there. His father had argued about this as of late, and had managed to get the royals to start paying again, even if it was just a little. Snobby and arrogant, Arthur hated the lot of them. It disgusted him ever so much that he had royal blood in his veins, too.

He finished the dry meal, and washed it down with fresh-squeezed orange juice that his brother had made. Arthur found it amusing how they kept coming by fresh fruit and even vegetables sometimes. He knew, of course, that his brothers were becoming skilled thieves, and wasn't sure whether to worry for them, or be thankful. Well, he was a bit of both. Being in such close proximity to the castle meant that his brothers could quickly sneak in, take whatever they needed, and sneak out without too much hassle. And so, they ate rather well if the stealing was good.

Arthur returned to his needlework in the storefront, grumbling as he fixed up his stitches. The material he worked with now would be uncomfortable to wear, and wouldn't last too long, but it was cheap. That was probably why the commissioner had chosen such linens. He was used to customers coming in without much coin, and used to using iffy materials that he would rather not. But that was being fussy.

As much as he told himself that he hated working for the royals, he could use much softer and more vibrant fabrics for them, as they had the materials delivered, and then he could work with those. Perhaps he was a touch lame for getting excited at the thought, but he was eager to make wares that were more fanciful that that he made for common folk.

After an hour or so of work, the bell at the door sounded. Customers. Arthur looked up with eager eyes, but frowned at the sight of royals. The king himself was not here, nor was he ever, but today, his sons and nephew had dropped in. Arthur had never seen them before, and he didn't quite know what to think. They had only had lower-ranked nobles in, previously.

"Bonjour, we 'ave arrived!" The King's nephew sang, stepping into the store in an overly showy motion. Arthur narrowed his eyes. He never had liked the French.

"Welcome, welcome! We've been waiting!" His father laughed softly, one hand on his hip. "Arthur," he froze at the sound of his name. "Come and say hello, stop hiding in the corner over there."

He was hesitant, especially so as he didn't wish to create a bad impression towards these royals, doubly so because any slip-ups may sully his father's reputation. Slowly, he rose to his feet, and ambled over to his place beside his father.

"Arthur, meet Viscount Francis, and the princes, Alfred, and Matthew." His father said with a smile – toothy but also not so, as some of his teeth were missing – and waited for Arthur to say something.

"Mm.. It's a pleasure." He lied with gritted teeth, giving each of them a look over. The Viscount, the French one, he looked like he was quite the arrogant prick. He held himself high, and seemed to stick his nose up as he glimpsed around the tailory. The princes, well, he knew their faces. It would be strange if he didn't. They were the king's pride and joy, after all.

Alfred was the boisterous and obnoxious one, although he was next in line for the throne. From what Arthur heard on the streets, he was annoying, and his manners were atrocious. The king was still trying to straighten his behaviour out, apparently. And then, there was Matthew. The quiet one. He knew that this boy wasn't heard speaking too much, and that he was much more sophisticated and polite than his brother. Also, Matthew looked a little like a lady.

With nothing else to say, Arthur returned to his work as his father sorted business. During the day, his brothers would either be out doing various chores, or back working at the store. Today, they were doing the former, and Arthur was thankful for the lack of severe noise. At night, they did their thievery, so most of the evening was quiet, also. Except for when they came back home and celebrated their spoils, of course.

It seemed that his father had allowed the customers to look around, as Arthur looked up to see one of them standing to his side, appearing as if he had just said something. He almost jumped, having not seen the boy approach.

"I said, nice amulet." The prince uttered quietly with a smile. "What is it, a sapphire?" It was the quieter one, Matthew.

"It's not for sale," Arthur muttered grimly, tucking the pendant down the collar of his shirt. "Get your eyes off of it."

"Oh, I don't wish to buy. I was simply admiring it, that's all." This boy, judging by his face and voice, was just a year or so younger than Arthur. Great. "I didn't expect a tailor's son to have such a thing." Angered, Arthur grunted and put down his needlework for a moment.

"Just go away, princess. Leave me be." He muttered, practically shooting daggers.

"Princess? I don't believe I look that feminine," the boy continued, glancing down at his figure and looking from side to side. "Although, I think I would look quite funny in a ball gown."

"Unless you order one, you don't get a ball gown. Go and talk to my father. He's the one who sorts business. I'm of no interest to you." He spat, frustrated.

"I think you're quite interesting, Arthur, was it?"

Arthur was quite unamused. It was rare for him to talk to customers for this long, as his father took charge and ran through getting orders and the like. Perhaps, if he ignored this prince, he would go away. And so, that was the plan.

"Are you sure I can't look at that amulet again? It seemed quite beautiful." He didn't answer. He didn't want to, either. That amulet was sacred to him, and he definitely wasn't going to let just anyone inspect it. Especially a noble.

"Oh, alright, uhm.. Are you enjoying this spot of sunny weather?" How desperate was this prince, anyway? Was he going to get the message and leave?

"Not into the weather? Well.. Oh, I know! Your father says you're quite the tailor in the making. Do you have a favourite type of garment to make?" Dresses. Arthur loved to make dresses. Each one would end up beautiful, and unique, and they looked brilliant if made correctly. Doing his best not to show any response, he picked up the bit of cloth that he had been working on, and continued. If this boy was going to insist on being so friendly, Arthur just inwardly laughed and thought that he was better off being amiable with someone else.

"Maybe I'll just go.." the prince murmured, starting to fiddle with his hands. Arthur almost cheered in his head. "Right, well, perhaps I'll see you around," he uttered, before quaintly turning and wandering over to where his cousin and brother were.

Arthur almost wondered if he had been a little too sour towards prince Matthew, but shrugged it off and concentrated on his work. He had to get it finished quickly, because soon his father would relay to him the royals' order. Really, he was itching to get creating with soft fabrics, and even velvet if he was lucky. Finally, the nobles left the shop, and Arthur could relax a little.

At the sound of footsteps, he glanced up, only to see his father trudging over towards him.

"Did ya' have to be so cold, kid? That softy prince who came and talked to you looked like he was gonna cry when he joined us again." His father mused, a little disappointed in Arthur's behaviour.

"Probably not used to not being the center of attention for once," Arthur sneered, unfazed by the situation. "Dammed snob."

"I think you're judgin' a book by its cover, Art'." His father scolded quietly. "The only snob out of those three was the smelly Viscount. Other two seemed kinda modest."

"Don't you have some orders to process? I want to know what I get to be making this month," Arthur puffed. He didn't care to speak about the nobles anymore, anyway. He was sure that if he did, he would just start to feel sick.

i hope you liked the first chapter uwu