The Eldest Prince Arthur Pendragon the IV, age 20, sat on the left side of the royal dining table eating his dinner in annoyed silence. The reason for his annoyance was sitting beside him. The triplets, Prince Albert, Prince Ronald, and Prince Herald, All age 8, were having a private food fight, that occasionally resulted in a missed shot or two. Making The Eldest Prince an unfortunate casualty in their war.

Normally his father or mother would break things up, but his mother was out on the town with the girl that he had rescued the other day, and his father found himself stuck in a meeting. What about? Prince Arthur didn't know.

Adding to his annoyance his other two younger siblings sat across from him. Prince Philip age 19, had been smiling his signature condescending grin since the meal began. His only sister Princess Margaret age 18, was not helping the eldest's mood, purposefully looking away from him. From his point of view, it was as if she was ignoring him.

In truth, if she did look his way, she would see the bandages wrapped around his head. After this, an image of a young woman striking him, with a broken chair leg, would play in her head again, and again, and again. Causing her to laugh. 

Prince Arthur had gone to the infirmary the other night to have his head treated. His mother had beaten him to it, sending word that he was not to be treated but to be reminded, of why it was important to think before you act. 

It wasn't fair! That girl would be a slave if it wasn't for him. Sure, what happened to her brother was unfortunate, but he didn't know who he was.  To Prince Arthur, that man was just another slave trader at the time. As far as he was concerned he did nothing wrong. Especially nothing to warrant being hit on the head. He was the eldest son of the Royal Family! In any other country, people would be executed for doing what she did. People in the Alliance had no respect for superior authority.  

Just thinking of that ungrateful bitch, really made Prince Arthur's blood boil. "Head for a head." She had said. Please like he could control where the debris landed. It was a random gust of wind or something, or she and her brother were just born under a unlucky star. Nope, not his fault at all.

"You're making some nasty faces over there," Philip commented on the scowl that intensified more and more as Arthur contemplated current events.

"Oh, am..." I bit of mashed potato attacked his cheek. Arthur blinked then started over, "... You would be too if everything went wrong on one of your missions."

Philip found himself amused by both his brother's lack of self-awareness and the fact he seemed to be pretending that there wasn't a bit of mashed potato sliding down his face. "Really brother? I was under the impression that you were mostly wrong with that mission."

Arthur's scowl became harder. "I am more than aware of some, of the small flaws that were in my plan."

"After the fact." The Princess Commented, before stuffing a cheesy piece of meat in her mouth. 

Philip nodded in agreement. "In other words, too late."

The bit of mashed potato fell off Arthur's cheek, "Not everything in a battle can be foreseen, my younger brother." Arthur's strong emphasis on the word, younger, didn't go unnoticed by Philip, who bit his tongue, as to not start an unnecessary fight. Arthur took his silence as a victory.

Until... "The Loxley girl did." For the first time, Margaret looked at her older brother. To outsiders, her gaze was stoic. but the brothers could see otherwise. Her eyes held much disapproval for her eldest brother's inability to not make excuses when things didn't go his way. "She told you it was a bad idea. Didn't she?"

"Tck, if you want my opinion the Loxley twins are getting too big-headed."

"Oh?"

"Yes, every time we go out on a mission they think they can tell me how to do this or that, my other commanders don't do that! Then they let that ungrateful girl hit me over the head. Childhood friends or no, I would like a little respect from them."

"You handpicked them."

"And caused a lot of trouble for them in the process," Philip added. 

"Trouble? What are talking about?" Arthur did have a clue what his brother was on about. Although he did enough awareness to dodge a whole plate, that shattered into a dozen pieces after hitting the floor. The triplets could no longer be ignored. "Will you three go do that someplace else!" All three stuck their tongues out at their brother, then left the room like three little tornados. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"You cut them in line." Margaret pointed out.

"Exactly! Do you know how many good men, veterans even, who would have given their left foot to be a commander in your battalion?"

Arthur scoffed. "Why should I care they weren't Loxleys."

"So our friends, they're just a name to you?" Asked Margaret.

"And old friends."

"You don't deny it." Margaret's stoic face showed hints of disappointment. 

"Those two made a lot of enemies without even trying, because of you, and don't even care." Philip was also disappointed, but not surprised. "How are you the older brother again?"

"Excuse me?" Arthur didn't understand the question. 

"Its a conspiracy." Said Margaret, her stoic face vanished, to be replaced by a mischievous grin that would make their mother the Fox Queen proud. 

"You might be onto something, Margaret." Philip pated his sister on the back.

"Right, you're only a year apart. Switched in the cradle?"

"Hmm, yes, and in doing so the conspirators have ensured the downfall of our beloved Kingdom." Philip dramatically places both hands over his heart.

"Tragic." Margaret agreed.

Arthur looked back and forth between his younger siblings, confused. "Are you picking on me?"

"Of course not!" Philip answered sarcastically. 

"Yes." Margaret was blunter on the matter. 

"Well, which is it?" Arthur asked.

Philip and Margaret looked at each other, then back at Arthur. "Both." They said in unison. 

This confused Arthur further. "Uh?"

Satisfied the two younger of the eldest siblings finished their meals and retired to their rooms for the night. Arthur was left on his own. Thinking, he had to do something more. Something else had to be done about the slavers that kept coming across the border. He to eventually retired to his room, still thinking.