George

Elisa was 3 when the King of High Country decided to remarry. He had said that it was for the sake of his children who had been motherless for too long, but George was probably the only one of them who believed that. The only child their father seemed to really care about was Elisa, but George knew better. He knew all about why the King gave little Elisa everything she wanted, why his mother had cried night after night homesick and tired and constantly pregnant. He also knew that their father tasked him silently to watch over the others and give them everything the older man couldn't. Of all his siblings, he was the one who had seen the visage of that powerful man kneeling helplessly at the foot of a grave – the grave of a woman who had never loved him, and had never tried. So, when the young woman, not much older than himself, walked into the palace with the dark eyes and rounder features characteristic of the people of his mother's old village, he told his brothers to welcome her with a smile, and his sister to be on her absolute best behavior.

The problem was that the minute she laid eyes on them, George knew she hated every single one of her new stepchildren. Every one but Elisa. And then she opened her mouth to speak and he knew why. "So you're Elena's children! I knew your mother when I was a little girl."

"It's nice to meet you, Queen Morrigan." He said, dutifully, shifting slightly so that she wouldn't see their third youngest, Jack, making a face at her.

"Oh please," He didn't trust her saccharine voice for a second, "I'm not queen yet, and I would like it if you'd all feel comfortable enough to call me mom." The woman could not have been more than 10 years older than him, he could not possibly imagine calling her mom.

"Certainly." Was all he said, but then she shot him an absolutely venomous look, as if he had personally offended her, and he found himself wishing that he hadn't said anything at all.

She leaned down in front of Elisa, who was wearing a little red bow in her hair and was holding his hand, "Hi." She said, sweetly. "What's your name?"

Elisa scooted slightly behind his leg, but answered in a giggly little whisper. "Elisa. I'm free." She held up the first two fingers of her free hand, then tugged on George's hand to let him know she was letting go, before adding the index finger of her right hand to the mix.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Elisa. You're already three, huh? Such a big girl. I'm Morrigan. I'm going to be your new mommy, now, so I hope we get along."

Elisa blinked her wide, dark eyes at the other lady and then did a clumsy little curtsey. "It's nice to meet you, Queen Morrigan." She said. But though she had practically mimicked him verbatim, the words seemed to charm the lady this time, and she flushed and curtsied back. Their new mother spared not a glance towards the rest of them.

It was with this sort of calm resignation that George spent the rest of their first meal together as a family, and the next, corralling his brothers and quietly trying not to let the woman spoil Elisa. It wasn't much different from what he had to do normally, anyways. The real disaster, however, came right before the wedding ceremony began, when they were all gathered together preparing to greet their father's new bride in front of the whole country for the first time. Of course, Jack started it.

"I hate her!" He spontaneously shouted, in the quiet of the waiting room.

"Jack." George said, with a sigh.

"You hate her, too, don't try and pretend you don't." The 6-year-old said, sticking his tongue out at George.

George rolled his eyes, "I don't hate her, Jack, and even if I did, it's not a nice thing to say."

"Well, she does hate us." Liam said, glumly.

George shook his head and adjusted Benjamin's collar, "I'm sure she's just adjusting to having 12 new children, Liam."

"Stop lying!" Liam burst out, surprising him. The younger boy pointed at George furiously. "You always thought you were more grown up than us, but we're not stupid, you know. The only one of us that hag cares about is Elisa, just like father, and you know it."

Benjamin started to cry and needed to be picked up. Christopher rolled his eyes, curled up in the corner, and covered his ears. Stephen was staring intently at a flower he'd picked for a girl he said was coming to the festivities today. James, David, and William stared out the window refusing to listen. Harry and Luke exchanged glances that told George they secretly agreed with Liam, and that troublemaker Jack just looked delighted that people were fighting on his account. Nothing as exciting as fights ever really happened in their family.

George looked at Harry and Luke and Liam, the three eldest under him. All he did was look, with the light brown, almost amber-colored eyes he'd inherited from their father, so cold despite their warm color. He liked to think he wasn't going to end up like their father, but some small part of him died just a little, as he watched all three grow silent and wary in the face of his stern expression. Very, very quietly he told them, "It doesn't matter if she hates us, and it doesn't matter if we hate her. We are the princes of High Country." And then he surprised himself by finding the bitter words falling from his mouth, "No one cares what we think."

That was when Elisa, who had been perfectly quiet before then, tugged on his pant leg. "I care what you think, Georgey." She said, looking at him very seriously.

She then passed out 11 of the ugliest rocks George had ever seen to each of her brothers, and by the time he had swallowed the lump in his throat, George realized Liam had started to cry. That, of course, set Benjamin off crying again, and the wedding was, by far, the worst day of George's life. It wasn't just because the wedding was a pain and his siblings were distraught, however. It was the worst day of his life, because through the haze of painful pleasantries and dreary celebrations, he found himself for just a moment beside his new stepmother.

The two of them were strangely alone at the edge of the ballroom, both taking a rest while others danced, and George resolved to say nothing and move away as soon as he could find a reasonable explanation for having done so. He was not prepared at all to hear the new queen speak, and even less so for what she said, "You boys really do look like your father, not at all like Elena. But you most of all, Prince George." He had by this time turned his head to look at her, and so could not have missed her staring at him full in the face, open disgust and contempt curling her lip. "You have the same look in your eyes. I'm sure your father would be very proud if you inherited his kingdom one day. More's the pity." And without explaining that last sentiment at all, she plastered on one of her sickly sweet smiles and returned to the festivities.