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The ghost of Christmas Future : King Charles


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Somewhere in Buckingham Palace


He stood in the hallway, just across from the Throne Room. Despite royal mourning not having passed yet, he had ordered modest Christmas ornamentations to be hung and they sparkled in the candlelight, the electric lights discretely lowered to allow their warmer glow . His mother had always loved Christmas. He threw a look at the door to the Throneroom, but shook his head, returning his attention to the painting before him. Just a moment for himself, before the media like vultures would throw themselves upon him demanding he give himself body and soul, speaking to the nation into the camera. He couldn't imagine a time when a newly crowned King was so owned by his subjects.


Yet the man in the painting smiled wryly at him. Might he have thought differently? Sitting on a rather familiar throne, leaning back slightly and holding the regalia of his newly conquered kingdom. The dark periwig on what must at the very least must have been shortly cropped hair looked silly. The bows and ties over his legs, and on his red soled high heels the sign of utter femininity. Yet there was nothing soft about the forefather that looked down upon him. His brown eyes were sharp, the moustache twirly yet oddly suitable. While he pretended to be lax, the large man was anything but, a shrewdness on his face as he looked confident out to his audience. Here was a King who had pretended all his life to be of the people, yet they had never owned him.


How oddly appropriate to be descended from him, and through an actress no less, an illustrious forefather through his mother's line who had been more royal than oft given credit for. The irony of lineage was not lost upon the young King. For all their bluster about class differences and the impossibility of diluting the peerage with common blood, nearly all aristocracy of England descended from illegitimate issue of the Merry King. A soft hand suddenly rested on his arm, his commoner wife. He hadn't heard her approach. "William, it is time," she reminded him. He patted her hand and with a firm nod they both went to the Throne Room to tape the yearly Christmas Speech. His first.

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