Gurguvungunit
22-03-2008, 22:29
Balmoral
Prince Edward had aged well, no longer the gawky boy who had been the butt of so much ridicule in the tabloids. Tall and handsome in the royal way that was not, in fact, so handsome, Edward seemed well placed to one day rule the British Empire as its King. He was reserved and quiet, very much of the Edwardian mold of kingship. His sharp wit was well known but rarely used, and its targets were only those who had incurred his special disfavour. The only son of the King of Great Britain, there was no question that when Godfrey III died, he would leave his kingdom to a popular and able monarch.
In the meantime, Prince Edward occupied himself largely with his own family. His wife was a Quinntonian emigré by the name of Sara Walmington (neé Bates), herself attractive in an unconventional way that had become characteristic of the royals and their chosen consorts. They had two daughters, Victoria and Elizabeth, the first of whom had just turned eighteen and the second, fourteen. Victoria was in her first year at Oxford, a history major, but was home now at Balmoral. She would be off somewhere with a book or six, reading by the dimming sunlight and generally not getting enough fresh air. Edward worried about his eldest daughter, an undeniably brilliant but somewhat unfocussed--indeed, lazy-- student who preferred her own eclectic course of study to a formalised education. These thoughts occupied the Prince's mind as he drove across Balmoral Estate's beautifully stark countryside, returning from a solitary afternoon's walk amongst the high rock ridges of his northern residence.
Elizabeth was Victoria's polar opposite, a talkative and outgoing girl who delighted in sports, group activities and competitions. But she lacked Victoria's keen understanding of the world and certitude of beliefs. If it came down to it, better Victoria as queen than her sister, quiet and intellectual though she could seem. Behind that, though, she was an opinionated thinker and a good--if inconsistent--orator, well suited to the monarchy's role as a representative of the British nation, that which transcends the various elected governments and provides a sense of continuity. Prime ministers could change, but the King would be king until he died.
It was on that thought that His Royal Highness, Prince of Wales, lost control of his Land Rover. Barrelling along at forty kph over not entirely flat countryside, the right wheel had fallen squarely into a surprisingly deep rut that spun the car around itself like a pivot, leaving deep furrows in the turf. Prince Edward had driven this path many times before, and so he'd felt little concern racing between the rocks that dotted Balmoral's plains and highlands with his mind on his two daughters. In his reverie, he hadn't noticed the small outcropping of rocks to his left, which had not fallen within the initial course which he'd steered on his way back to the castle. Now in a full skid assisted by Balmoral's perpetually muddy fields, the Prince's Land Rover slid broadside, right side facing the rocks. Edward turned his head to look where he was going, trying to steer with the skid but failing to achieve much thereby, and stared openmouthed as the rock outcropping slammed into the drivers' door and buckled its armoured construction inward like paper. Instants later, Edward, Prince of Wales, By Grace of God Heir Apparent to the Throne of Great Britain, wasn't staring at anything much.
Prince Edward had aged well, no longer the gawky boy who had been the butt of so much ridicule in the tabloids. Tall and handsome in the royal way that was not, in fact, so handsome, Edward seemed well placed to one day rule the British Empire as its King. He was reserved and quiet, very much of the Edwardian mold of kingship. His sharp wit was well known but rarely used, and its targets were only those who had incurred his special disfavour. The only son of the King of Great Britain, there was no question that when Godfrey III died, he would leave his kingdom to a popular and able monarch.
In the meantime, Prince Edward occupied himself largely with his own family. His wife was a Quinntonian emigré by the name of Sara Walmington (neé Bates), herself attractive in an unconventional way that had become characteristic of the royals and their chosen consorts. They had two daughters, Victoria and Elizabeth, the first of whom had just turned eighteen and the second, fourteen. Victoria was in her first year at Oxford, a history major, but was home now at Balmoral. She would be off somewhere with a book or six, reading by the dimming sunlight and generally not getting enough fresh air. Edward worried about his eldest daughter, an undeniably brilliant but somewhat unfocussed--indeed, lazy-- student who preferred her own eclectic course of study to a formalised education. These thoughts occupied the Prince's mind as he drove across Balmoral Estate's beautifully stark countryside, returning from a solitary afternoon's walk amongst the high rock ridges of his northern residence.
Elizabeth was Victoria's polar opposite, a talkative and outgoing girl who delighted in sports, group activities and competitions. But she lacked Victoria's keen understanding of the world and certitude of beliefs. If it came down to it, better Victoria as queen than her sister, quiet and intellectual though she could seem. Behind that, though, she was an opinionated thinker and a good--if inconsistent--orator, well suited to the monarchy's role as a representative of the British nation, that which transcends the various elected governments and provides a sense of continuity. Prime ministers could change, but the King would be king until he died.
It was on that thought that His Royal Highness, Prince of Wales, lost control of his Land Rover. Barrelling along at forty kph over not entirely flat countryside, the right wheel had fallen squarely into a surprisingly deep rut that spun the car around itself like a pivot, leaving deep furrows in the turf. Prince Edward had driven this path many times before, and so he'd felt little concern racing between the rocks that dotted Balmoral's plains and highlands with his mind on his two daughters. In his reverie, he hadn't noticed the small outcropping of rocks to his left, which had not fallen within the initial course which he'd steered on his way back to the castle. Now in a full skid assisted by Balmoral's perpetually muddy fields, the Prince's Land Rover slid broadside, right side facing the rocks. Edward turned his head to look where he was going, trying to steer with the skid but failing to achieve much thereby, and stared openmouthed as the rock outcropping slammed into the drivers' door and buckled its armoured construction inward like paper. Instants later, Edward, Prince of Wales, By Grace of God Heir Apparent to the Throne of Great Britain, wasn't staring at anything much.