I was inspired by a story of two over in the Batman section, in which people were using medieval and/or fairy tale themes.

Disclaimers: the usual.

Bruce, king of Gotham, was being dressed by his grooms when one of his chamber knights, Sir Oliver, entered.

"Your grace, there is a page here with a message from Sir Alfred."

"Sir Alfred?" the king asked in surprise. Sir Alfred was the master in charge of his young son, Prince Richard. As the prince's master, Sir Alfred was responsible for Richard's schedule, his education, and generally the child's entire life. Richard didn't do anything without Alfred knowing, and no one was allowed to see the prince without going through Alfred first. Alfred had been Bruce's master when he was a boy; he trusted the man with his life, and, more importantly, his son's life. It was, however, a bit unusual to hear from Sir Alfred so early in the day.

"Send him in," Bruce added when everyone in the room respectfully declined to answer his rhetorical question.

Sir Oliver bowed, exited, and returned moments later with a young page. The page seemed almost frightened to be in the presence of his king.

"Yes, what is it," Bruce barked impatiently as his grooms began putting on his doublet.

"Y-yyy your grace, Sir Alfred requests you come to the prince's chambers as soon as possible. The prince has received an inappropriate gift from Paris and your assistance is required."

Bruce sighed. Paris. That had to mean the gift was from Clark, duke of Kent, his cousin – no, second cousin. Bruce found Clark entirely too cheerful, but the man was a high-ranking noble and a kinsman, so he had to put up with him. Unfortunately for the king, Queen Selina thought Clark was delightful and Richard fairly adored the man, so he had to put up with him more than he would have liked. Thankfully, Clark was an excellent diplomat, but Bruce hadn't counted on him being able to cause trouble from overseas.

"Tell Sir Alfred I will be there momentarily," Bruce told the quaking page. When the child didn't immediately exit Bruce added, "You may go now."

With a lightning-fast bow, the page was out the door; Sir Oliver chuckled to himself about the monarch's sometimes woefully-inadequate people skills.

Finally, the king was dressed. With his silken hose, hip-length doublet, and knee-length gown over top, he was ready for action. Sweeping out of his apartments, his dashed through several corridors before ending up outside the prince's chamber door.

Since he was the king, Bruce felt no need to knock; he simply swung open the door. Richard was proudly showing off his clothes to an exceedingly patient (but none-too-pleased) Alfred. On hearing the door open, Richard turned to look and his face lit up with joy.

"Daddy!" he cried, running up to Bruce and flinging his little arms around his father's waist. Dick did his best to give his father a bear hug, but his arms weren't long enough. He squeezed as hard as he could, though, practically vibrating with excitement. Even though they lived in the same palace, he didn't interact with his father every day, and almost never before mid-day dinner. Something wonderful must be happening!

"Good morning," Bruce replied, scooping his son up so that they could properly hug one another. That accomplished, he set the child down, and held him out at arms' length so he could see this abominable new outfit.

And it was atrocious. Bruce looked over at Sir Alfred, and the two exchanged a "What-was-Clark-thinking?" glance. The whole outfit, from top to bottom was bad. For starters, the hose were two different colors: one leg was red, the other was yellow. And the doublet was ridiculously short – it only came down to Dick's waist, leaving his entire backside and front exposed. Well, technically Dick's bottom was covered by his hose, but Bruce hardly considered that adequate covering for anyone, let alone a rambunctious child. The absolute worst part, though, was the glaring green codpiece, which just invited attention at a place no one should be looking at (especially not on his son! Bruce thought). Bruce had heard rumors of these newfangled codpieces, but he had hoped and prayed they would remain a European phenomenon. And he'd be damned if his son was going to be the first person in the entire kingdom of Gotham with one. It was downright unseemly.

"What do you think?" Richard asked happily. Clearly he was in love with it. But why wouldn't he be? He adored Clark and he had the innocent mind of a child. Bruce realized he would need to let his son down gently.

Before Bruce could answer, though, Dick was racing over to the box and pulling out a letter. Triumphantly brandishing it, he announced, "Cousin Clark wrote that this is the new fashion in Paris. And he knows that red and green and yellow are my favorite colors so he hopes I like it!" Dick pranced around the room as he spoke, confirming Bruce in his opinion that this outfit was completely unacceptable.

"Where's your gown, Dicky?" he asked gently.

Dick stopped his gymnastics and peered at the letter. "Cousin Clark said there isn't any gown. That's the new fashion in Paris. Just hose and doublet and… this thing," Dick waved his hand in confusion at his codpiece-enclosed nether regions. "Cousin Clark didn't mention this funny thing."

"He didn't?" Bruce held out his hand for the letter. After Richard handed it over, he gave it a quick scan. No, Clark certainly had not mentioned the codpiece. That was one mark in Clark's favor.

Before Bruce could think of how to convince Dick to get out of his new outfit, the chamber door opened and a semi-distraught Queen Selina entered.

"Mommy!" Dick shouted. He couldn't believe it – both parents in one morning! Today must be a special day.

"Oh baby, baby," Selina murmured to Dick in Catalan, the language of her native Catalonia. "I was so worried about you. I went by the schoolroom and you weren't there. I thought maybe you were ill."

Dick wiggled out of his mother's hug and proudly stood before her. "I'm fine! Look at the new outfit Cousin Clark sent me. It's all the way from Paris!"

Selina bathed Dick with her best faux smile. "It's very colorful, sweetie." Turning to Bruce, her horrified eyes said, "We cannot allow our son to wear that monstrosity." Bruce just nodded and sighed.

Thankfully, Sir Alfred came to the rescue. Apparently the few minutes in which he had not been the center of his young charge's attention had given him time to think. "My lord, while it is a fine outfit, I do not think it fits you properly."

Dick looked heartbroken. "You don't?" he asked meekly.

"I do not, sir. The proportions are somewhat … off, shall we say. We must have the royal tailor in here at once."

Selina and Bruce voiced their vigorous agreement.

"But won't I be late for my lessons?' Dick asked quietly. He had his academic lessons in the morning, taught to him by only the finest scholars, hand-picked by Alfred.

"Quite all right," Bruce soothed. "I shall send a page to let your tutor know you'll be late."

"Okay!" Dick said brightly. He'd much rather spend time with his parents than those silly old tutors anyway. Besides, today was Latin and he didn't much like Latin.

"I shall be back momentarily," Alfred said as he sailed out the door.

Alfred returned with the tailor in what seemed like mere moments. Although Alfred had tried to prepare him, a look of horror still crossed the tailor's face when he saw the prince's outfit. Nevertheless, he smoothed his countenance and got to work.

"My lord," he said bowing to Richard. "That outfit simply does not do you justice."

"It doesn't?" Dick wasn't exactly sure how clothing did justice to anything.

"But I know what the problem is, my lord," the tailor said smoothly. "You have grown so much since Duke Clark has been gone that he has gotten your dimensions all wrong!"

"Really?" Dick asked, rather pleased to think he had grown so much.

"Oh indeed! This doublet is much too short. My, my, how you have grown." Dick fairly beamed as the tailor fussed about him, taking measurements and then furiously writing them down on a scrap of parchment.

The measurements taken, the tailor confiscated the entire outfit. "Would my lord also like a matching gown?" he asked, giving Richard a smile and a wink. Over Dick's head, Bruce and Selina nodded vigorously.

Dick grinned back. "Welllll, Cousin Clark said that's not the fashion." But one could tell by Dick's tone that he really wanted a new gown. After all, if a new doublet and hose was exciting, just think how much more fun it would be to have a new gown, too!

The tailor well knew how to get people to buy more clothing. "That might be the fashion in Paris, but Paris is much warmer than Gotham. You wouldn't want to be cold, would you, my lord?"

Although it wasn't strictly true that Gotham was colder than the French kingdom, Richard was not yet well-versed on European climates. He bought the story hook, line, and sinker.

"No, I wouldn't want to be cold. But could you make my new gown red?" He gave the tailor a winning smile.

"Of course!" the tailor announced with a dramatic flair. "It will be the finest red gown at court."

With Richard satisfied by the tailor's promises, the man bowed to his monarchs and exited.

Since they were already in the room, Selina and Bruce helped Richard to pick out a proper outfit. Selina then tenderly helped her little boy into his clothing, which obviously pleased Dick immensely. He was overjoyed to be receiving so much attention from his parents.

Despite his parents putting on a brave face, Dick could tell they had been a bit disgruntled with his gift. Once he was dressed, Dick went up to Bruce, who was sitting rather dourly in a chair, and hopped into his lap. Dick reached up and put his arm around Bruce's neck and leaned in close.

"You aren't mad, are you, Daddy?" he asked sweetly.

Bruce half-smiled. "Not at you, Dicky."

"You aren't mad at Cousin Clark, are you?"

In his peripheral vision, Bruce could see Selina giving him a sign that he should lie.

"No, of course not. It was just a silly misunderstanding."

Dick grinned, his trusting nature easily accepting the lie. "Good."

"I believe it is time for your Latin lesson now, young sir," Alfred offered.

Dick frowned. "Daddy, can I go with you to the Council meeting?"

Bruce laughed. Imagine – a child at a Council session! "No, Dicky, Council meetings are for grown-ups."

"But I'm big! I grew so much Cousin Clark's present didn't fit!"

Despite the supposed logic in that statement, Bruce wasn't going to be moved. "Do adults sit on their fathers' laps?"

Dick looked forlorn. "No, I guess not." Knowing that his cause was lost, he decided to make the best of it. Brightening, he added, "But they should!"

He then flung his arms around Bruce's neck, gave his father a kiss on the cheek, and slid off his lap in a matter of seconds. He gave Selina a hug and a kiss, too, as he flew out the door, Alfred hot on his heels.

As the king and queen sedately strolled together out of the prince's chamber, Selina commented, "Please don't be too hard on Clark. I'm sure he had good intentions."

"Good intentions!" Bruce exploded. "Is that how you'd react if I tried to dress our son up like a male prostitute?"

Selina's eyes narrowed. "If you tried something that stupid, you wouldn't need a codpiece."

Bruce internally shuddered at the thought. "Then why isn't Clark going to be -," Bruce paused. This was awkward. "… missing a little something when he returns!"

"Oh Bruce, Clark is so clueless. And he and Duchess Lois don't have any children yet. He just doesn't understand."

"Just doesn't understand," Bruce grumbled. "Why I'd like to –"

"And he's your cousin," Selina added.

"Second cousin," Bruce interrupted.

Selina sighed. "Then be nice for Dicky's sake. He does love Clark so."

Bruce scowled. He didn't have to like it, but he would play nice for his son's sake. "Fine. But I'm still giving him a piece of my mind when he comes back from France."

"Just be reasonable, darling. It's all I ask." And after giving Bruce a quick kiss, Selina glided away, off to her queenly duties.

Bruce grumpily headed to the Council chamber. On the way, he was met by Chancellor Lucius Fox, who kept the kingdom running smoothly.

"Tell me, Lucius: when does our delegation to France return?"

"I suspect in about one week, your grace."

Bruce smiled. Beautiful. He had an entire week to plot his revenge on Clark. Suddenly, the day was looking brighter.

I actually didn't make up the basics of Dick's outfit. In the late middle ages and early modern period, some men wore really short doublets and conspicuous codpieces. It was a special time.