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Ever since William had been born into this world, he knew that he was at the bottom of the food chain.
A dirty orphan child of no name, no class, no rank. A useless burden to society.
William, however, did not agree. It wasn't particularly difficult to start to work his way up - good social standing required a good education, and William was hungry to learn.
The orphanage was lacking in books and reading material, however. William had little choice on where to learn so he chose a program that was being run by a monastery. The monastery would send four to five monks down two times a week to the heart of East London, where classes would be held on basic reading and writing.
William attended all the classes that were offered, often having to sneak out early in the morning and late in the evening to go to them. He was the youngest there by far at eight years old, providing the other children - and the monks - a convenient target to expel their anger on.
William never flinched, never stopped coming, even when the other students grabbed his hair and shoved him over. His desire to learn, desire to achieve, outstripped the pain when the monks caned his hands for not completing the work to a high enough standard.
The work was to an adequate standard, if not surpassing it. The monks just didn't believe that William had been the one to do it.
None of that mattered though. William was hungry for more, and he was willing to suffer for it.
When he returned from his lessons, he'd repeat all the material covered and more with Louis, making sure that he was learning at the exact same pace as him. They'd go over what William had learned - whether it be religion, mathematics, or literary studies - and then build on that with books that William had borrowed (or 'borrowed').
Soon, the two had a decent understanding of literature, science, and theology. There were some subjects that both of them disliked, and some that they both loved, but liking and loving didn't matter when it came to their learning.
They had to know what the world was about if they ever hoped to move up in it.
William's rigorous instruction of his brother was steady, Louis progressing in tandem with William. It would do William no good to outstrip his brother in terms of his education, regardless of what Louis said.
William suspected that his brother's urging of him to go off and learn by himself had to do with Louis' heart. It didn't work correctly, something which had plagued the boy since his birth.
They both knew that unless Louis was attended to through surgery, the boy was living on borrowed time.
Despite that, slowly but surely, the pair started to rise up in the great chain of being, William refusing to simply elevate himself alone. It was just in the orphanage at first. The caretakers - supposedly nuns, but even the dumbest of children knew that was not the case - found the boys perusing novels meant for the staff.
William found himself being caned on more than one occasion as a result. Louis was as well, but much less so - the staff tended to take pity on the 'sickly one'.
And besides, William ensured that if they did lay a finger on Louis, they wouldn't be able to lay a finger, or frankly do much of anything ever again.
William became beloved by the majority of the children in the orphanage. They knew just as well as he did that being able to read and write, even just the basics, could guarantee one a good position in a house as perhaps head cook, or even in some rare cases a butler or lady's maid.
William was happy for the children that wanted that. He really, truly was.
But he knew that he could achieve far greater than that.
Eventually, at the ripe age of nine, William landed a job at a printing press. It was hard, thankless work that he endured for upwards of twelve hours a day, every day. He was called a printer's devil - set to doing work such as mixing the toxic ink, cleaning the heavy lead type, and sweeping the shop over and over, which despite his best efforts always seemed to have a thick layer of grime on every exposed surface.
It was a foot in the door for better work though. William wouldn't say that he was grateful for the job - no one in their right minds would be grateful for getting to inhale tons of soot every day, and being screamed at whenever he 'got in the way', but it was a foot in the door to bigger and better things.
A week after his tenth birthday (shared with Louis over a thick slice of buttered bread that William had pilfered from a nearby bakery), William experienced the door that he'd had his foot in for the better part of a year finally open.
A position opened quite quickly at the press as one of the senior proofreaders fell ill and died - commonplace amongst the filth of the streets. William quickly capitalised onto the opportunity, walking into the director's office the same day and proofreading a highly scientific print, pointing out no less than eighteen spelling errors, twelve grammatical errors, and how the citations had been done incorrectly.
So William moved up in the world.
He didn't keep his talents to just himself though. He did his best to help the people around him, educating other children in the orphanage if they wanted it. There were more and more children working now, in jobs where they were paid and the work was relatively safe, as errand runners and assistant gardeners. The work was still hard and thankless, but the children were happy for the chance to have their own money, and they were more than happy to listen to what William advised.
He had his own little group of loyal followers, in a way.
Him and Louis even had a legal battle against a noble who said that he was going to repay them the money that William had lent him when the noble was short on payments to make for the orphanage, and they won!
The two brothers were doing a little better now than before, both in their work and in their lives at the orphanage. The orphanage had, by some miracle, managed to acquire the seal of the royal family, which meant that they received more funding than they had previously, and more visitors.
One of whom was Prince Albert, older of the two princes and the heir to the throne. William had kept a close eye on the man ever since he had started to frequent the orphanage. Most of the nobles that came tended to only come for a week or two, do their 'community service', look good for the papers and then leave.
William hated most of the nobles, especially since they tended to target Louis for the chats they would have with the orphans. The tenderhearted noble and the ill little boy. A perfect picture.
To his surprise though, Prince Albert tended to stay out of the way where the press was concerned. William would often walk past the pantry to see him stocking the shelves without complaint, talking politely with the caretakers.
William found it difficult to sneak out of the orphanage to his job at the printing press when the Prince was there. The royal guards tended to prowl around the insides and outsides of the place for however long the Prince was there.
William tended to bring the sheets to proofread back to the orphanage when he knew that Prince Albert was going to be there.
Despite the attention that having the royal seal brought to the orphanage, it still wasn't enough to ensure that it was properly maintained.
Water still dripped in through the windows, even when they'd been properly closed. Food was still given out in meagre, miserly portions, with many children getting sick from a lack of nutrients. A never ending chill swept through the house, constantly cold.
A steadily growing anti-monarchal sentiment swept through the orphanage as winter approached and conditions grew worse. Food supplies dwindled, donations drying up as the nation hunkered down for the winter.
Not all the children at that orphanage survived the winter.
It was in the spring after that Prince Albert had come to William and Louis with a request.
He'd seen how the boys fought to survive - through the long, cold, hard winter, through the general squalor of their living environment, through the lack of care that had been provided for them.
He wanted them to help him with something.
To kill the King and Queen.
William still remembered how Albert had looked at him with wide, wide eyes as he'd asked them to help him. He hadn't been entirely convinced though.
"What will we get if we help you?" he had asked, folding his arms across his chest. "It seems to me that all we're doing is providing you with two very convenient scapegoats to do all your dirty work for you."
Albert had smiled down at him. "I don't think that you quite understand the extent of what I'm offering. You two would be nobility. Princes! You'd get out of poverty, you would have power, influence. You would be able to properly live."
At William and Louis's unimpressed looks, the brunet had sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You two don't trust easily, do you?" the man had joked weakly. Louis had simply raised an eyebrow at him. "You're asking us to help commit regicide," the boy had responded flatly. "And offering us no guarantee that you'll follow through on what you're promising."
Albert had tilted his head to the side, considering Louis' words. "Fair," he said. "Perhaps this will place a little more of your trust in me then." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded up sheet of paper, handing it to the brothers.
Louis had snatched it from him, eyeing the brunet warily as he'd unfolded the paper. He had managed to tear his eyes away from Albert long enough to scan over the paper, a gasp leaving him.
William looked over his shoulder, scanning the paper, eyes widening, shock enveloping him. The paper was a signed confession by Albert, taking full blame for the murder of the King and Queen. It had his signature and seal and everything.
William and Louis had looked at each other for a long moment, silently communicating, before turning back to Albert with a nod.
"Alright," William said. "Let's work out a timeline of what needs to happen, shall we?"
— — —
At William's behest, all the children from his orphanage had been adopted by good, loving homes that weren't particularly involved in political endeavours - no need for the children to go from one place of turmoil to another.
Albert had gotten them measured a few weeks beforehand at a tailor, letting them pick out what fabrics their clothes were to be made out of. As serious as the plan they'd concocted was, it was still fun to get to do something like that.
The last time William had even been close to a tailor was when he was stealing scraps of fabric from one of the piles near to the door to try and fix a hole in Louis' pants.
Eventually the day had arrived for them to come to the castle, which was located in the center of the city. The stage was set for them to arrive and perform. William rested his head on the soft velvet cushion, closing his eyes briefly, relishing this last lingering moment of calm before the storm.
When he'd opened them, he'd seen Louis staring at him. "Ready?" Louis asked softly, reaching across to squeeze his brother's hand. William squeezed back. "As ready as I'll ever be."
— — —
Life in the palace was hell, to say the very least. The Queen and younger Prince relished beating the two brothers at every opportunity.
The day that they'd arrived, it had seemed like paradise. The sun was shining, the sky was blue with nary a cloud to be seen, and the fanfare that filled the air felt like a warm embrace.
They'd been greeted with laughter and open arms by the other members of the royal family, but the second the reporters were gone and Albert left the room, the younger prince spat on Louis, the Queen laughing mockingly as the royal guard escorted the two to the attic, where they would be sleeping.
William had no idea how Albert had convinced them to take them both in - the older man had simply told the two brothers to leave him to it. His best guess was that Albert had said that it would improve the reputation of the royal family - it had been on the decline for some time.
Each day was a struggle. Louis was often belittled and teased for his condition, as well as his tendency to not dress overtly masculine. William put a stop to that as much as he could with a well placed comment (that often earned him a slap, but that was beside the point). William found himself being tossed around like a rag doll by some of the guards. Their worst tormentors though were the Queen and Prince William.
The younger brat was especially agonising.
The plan was progressing nicely though. Both William and Louis had no problem nosying around in the back of the palace, despite the fact that the servants despised them, and made them do the chores that they themselves didn't want to do.
William was starting to make his impact on the public though, so much so they thought he was the actual crown prince.
William became a guiding light of sorts to the civilians. A prince, who was kind and helpful, and who seemed genuinely sympathetic to the plight of the people?
Perfect. Simply perfect for William and Louis.
They were both hungry now. And they were close to the feast.
— — —
William and Louis had looked up at the burning palace, William holding onto the letter tight in his pocket.
The taste of victory was so, so sweet.
Even as delicious as it was though, the paper wrinkled a little at the edges as the adrenaline pumped through William's system.
Trust was something hard earned. And first and foremost, William would protect the people that he cared about.
"What now?" Louis had asked softly, wide eyes flicking over to look at his brother.
William had simply smiled. "Now we can finally get to work."
— — —
William was finding it very difficult to do any work as his advisor wrapped himself around his back, nibbling lightly at his ear.
"Liammm," Sherlock whined, mouthing at his neck. "You've been working for far too long. You need to take a break."
The blond lightly huffed. Having an advisor was useful, especially when you were trying to spearhead education reforms in disadvantaged areas within the nation, but it could get irritating when you were also trying to eradicate corruption within the upper echelons of your society.
It was also a bit of an inconvenience when the two of you were sleeping together and having to hide it from both of your brothers.
The advisor had come to the castle originally as a member of the royal guard. He'd originally been studying in one of the best ranked universities in the region, but once graduated had joined to get away from his brother.
It wasn't that the two of them hated each other or anything, Sherlock had explained to William one night over glasses of wine. It was just that if he had stayed and worked where his brother was, he would have found himself trapped in a constant cycle of attempted one-upment.
William had changed Sherlock's position from simple watchdog to advisor as the man started to show off his intellectual prowess. This, of course, required late night meetings in which the two would discuss strategic movements for the next year, whether it be economic, political, or social.
The three Moriarty brothers had steered the path of the kingdom to that of a more accepting one, much more so than it had been under the previous king.
Women were now permitted to work in more industries than previously, such as training to be physicians and lawyers, and children were no longer allowed to work until the age of twelve, and then conditions were heavily monitored to ensure that conditions were adequate and that there was no exploitation occurring. There was little racial discrimination occurring, but even so legislation was introduced to severely punish people who did discriminate.
The only group where progress was slow to happen was that surrounding same sex couples and, as it was described, 'gender non conforming individuals' (William had heard on numerous occasions Louis complaining about the length of the label, saying that it was much too long and he was sure he could find a better label to describe himself with). Society still had a ways to go in that regard. And Sherlock and William's situation was made all the more difficult by their positions.
It would be one thing if William were to marry a king or prince of another land - there would be some tutting and grumbling amongst the populace, but they would accept it and move on.
But a prince and an advisor? There would be outcry of corruption, of manipulation, or scandal. Through reputation alone they, along with Albert and Louis, would be run into the ground, regardless of all the good that they had done for the country.
William had been unable to find a solution as of yet to that dilemma. The other dilemma he faced, and perhaps the more pressing one, was the fact that William was having to hide his being the 'Lord of Crime' from Sherlock. It was already difficult enough to hide it as is - the group working to eradicate nobles who took advantage of others was small, but there was still a considerable number of high ranking individuals.
And to make matters worse, with Sherlock's experience in the royal guard as someone who had helped solve numerous crimes that had happened, he was hot on the case. As an advisor he wasn't technically meant to do so - a conflict of interest, he had been told many a time - but did so anyway.
William groaned as Sherlock started to pepper kisses down his neck. "Alright, alright," he said with a laugh. "I'll stop my work for now."
Sherlock wrapped his hand around William's wrist, tugging him towards the bed. The blond set down his pen and tapped his papers into a neat stack before making his way to the lavish bed.
The pair slipped under the covers together, William cuddling up close to rest his head on Sherlock's chest. "I can hear your heart beat," he said softly, wrapping an arm around Sherlock's waist. The dark haired man snorted. "I'd hope so. I'd be a bit worried if you couldn't."
A comfortable silence fell between the two. William was on the edge of slumber when Sherlock spoke. "The Lord of Crime claimed another yesterday. You've had him in your court, Lord Asberton. Absolute bastard, but found dead with a warm poker through his chest." He clutched William a little tighter. "You have the guards on a strict rotation, right? And you've confirmed their loyalty?"
William nodded against Sherlock's chest, looking up at him with a soft smile. "Yes, and Albert ensures that all their weaponry is as up to date as possible." Sherlock let out a somewhat relieved sigh. "I know. I'm thankful that His Majesty keeps all that up to date. Hell, I remember receiving the latest swords with the finest steel that the kingdom had."
William hummed. He was glad that that investment was paying off. When the old king had been in power, both him and Louis had to listen over and over again to Albert rant about how the man was leaving them entirely exposed to foreign enemies.
"The palace doctor was on the scene after we found the body," Sherlock said. "There was no one else available to officially pronounce him dead. I know the man was happy to have been there and helped, but I also know that he was fritting and fretting like a cat in a bag about there being repercussions for performing activities that technically fell outside his purview."
William laughed slightly, shaking his head. "Poor man has nothing to worry about. I'll have a talk with him tomorrow. What was he doing out there anyway?" Sherlock started to stroke his back as he spoke. "He's got his eye on the head maid there. They get along swimmingly, and I think that they might even be in the early stages of courtship."
The blond properly smiled against Sherlock. "That's lovely to hear." Against his will, he let out a yawn, snuggling into Sherlock's chest. His partner dropped a kiss onto his forehead. "Goodnight, Liam."
"Goodnight, Sherly."
Even as the blond's eyes closed, his mind remained active for a while longer. Sherlock would be gone by morning - he always was, they couldn't risk an attendant finding them together - but William suspected that he would be out of the palace soon after daybreak when another body was discovered.
Asberton and the new victim of the Lord of Crime had been in cahoots in a money laundering ring - siphoning off money from organisations that had been established to help ensure that families in disadvantaged areas had enough to eat.
They had been useful in court, but they were disposable. As William slipped off into slumber, all he could think about was how he felt sorry for creating work for Sherlock.
In order to keep the food chain in order, one had to weed out the lesser competitors, he supposed. And it was so cute seeing his lovely advisor be so intelligent.