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[kingforboth]

It's the day after your fourteenth birthday. You're absolutely freezing, bundled up in a robe, sitting down on a fur rug by the fireplace, trying to warm up. The warmth of the robe and the fire feels lovely. You also happen to be absolutely starving, but no one will let you eat. No one being Morgan and anyone else in the castle but you know better than to ask for breakfast. You rub your hands in front of the fireplace, the room slightly chill. Being November, there's only so much one can do.

"Hmmm, this feels good," You say, rubbing your hands together in front of the fire and smoothing short bedridden hair. "What's next?"

The older blonde man, Morgan, pokes and the fire, setting it more ablaze. "First of all, your bath. They should be about ready for you. And I'll send your wardrobers in to help you dress as soon as they arrive."

You stop abruptly, hating what was about to happen, what had to happen and what it meant. You always knew you were going to be king. One day. You just didn't think it would be so soon. And to have all those people....fussing over you. It was positively distasteful. And there was absolutely no escaping it. Or was there? All the maturity you'd displayed over the last few weeks disintegrated in one last act as a prince. As just a boy. With no one elses responsibility resting on your shoulders but your own.

"Devil take it, I can dress myself!" You try hopefully. It doesn't work. Morgan laughs, taking you by the arm and pulling you to your feet.

"A king must have dressers on his coronation day. It's tradition. Besides, you aren't meant to clutter up your mind with the mechanics of putting on strange robes when you should be contemplating the responsibilities of kingship." He propels you toward the dressing room where undoubtedly a gaggle of servants and a tub full of hot water await. Not just that. The first step.

You pause, a boyish playfulness playing about, and you eye the other man. "Oh I'm meant to have dressers, eh? How many?"

"Oh, six or so I should imagine." The man raises and eyebrow, playing innocent.

"SIX!" You cry out considering the high number. " Morgan, I don't need six dressers!"

"Is this a rebellion?" The other man grins, playing along good naturedly.

You start through the door and then turn in a look of complete mock indignation and playfulness. Just the thing someone wants in a king, right? " I still think that you planned all this deliberately." You hate personal servants after all.

"I've been planning deliberately to make you a king. Now, get in there!" The other man's playfulness and patience wore a little thin. It was a special day after all and you were kind of being a pain, especially considering just how mature you'd been up until now. He made a motion as if to chase you through the door and you duck through it, but not before poking your head back out a final time.

And sticking your tongue out. All maturity completely and utterly gone. One last romp before the inevitable.