Re: Pride goeth before destruction [6/?]
anonymous
May 9 2009, 02:07:50 UTC
“W - Who’s a flower here?” Arthur snorted and then, to Alfred, demanded; “Get me some clothes!”
“You know, I am the master here,” Alfred sighed, rubbing the side of his head in exasperation.
Francis shook his head sadly. “You are two lenient mon ami, if you really want to train a slave give him to me. I’ll have him bowing and licking your feet - ”
“Right, we’re going downstairs now,” Alfred cut through him before he could make any more lewd suggestions. “Arthur, you be a good boy and stay put,” Alfred ordered as he left the room with Francis in tow.
Arthur glared at them. “Don’t patronise me you - ”
The door closed before he could finish his sentence. Voices on the other side continued to argue as they grew more distant.
“Great, now I have to deal with this!”
“Ah, if you like I could - ”
“Gah! Don’t put your hand there!”
Arthur waited for the better part of three seconds before wrapping the sheet around his waist and heading straight for the door. He tried the handle. It would not budge.
“He locked the door. Git,” he cursed, giving it a slight kick for good measure.
Looking around, he thought it would be better to assess his situation. The window was still open, he could climb out of that except for the fact that they were on the third floor. He glanced at his waist and wondered if the sheets would be long enough to form a makeshift rope. However, before he could escape he had to be decently clothed.
Throwing open the doors of the armoire, he found various shirts and coats hanging in order of colour. There were a number of trousers folded at the bottom and, upon opening he drawers, he discovered socks and underwear too.
Arthur did not spare a moment’s thought before raiding the armoire. He pulled on the first shirt he could get his hands on; it dropped to his thighs, the sleeves falling halfway over his hands. It was rather sloppy but he supposed that it would have to do. He shrugged on a jacket, also too large, and grabbed a pair of trousers.
“If you wanted to play dress-up you could have just asked.”
Arthur almost shrieked, dropping the clothes at his feet. “Y - You!”
Alfred leaned against the door post, a suspiciously wrapped package lay tucked under his arm and an equally, if not even more, suspicious grin plastered across his face.
“But I think these clothes would suit you much better,” he tore the brown paper off of the package. “I had Francis order this for me. He knows all about fashion.”
Draping the clothes over one arm, Alfred made his way towards him to pull his own clothes off of Arthur. As soon as he had been effectively stripped, Alfred draped the smaller shirt over his shoulders, guiding arms through sleeves and doing up the buttons with gentle care.
“I - I can dress myself,” Arthur protested. Or tried to at least.
“Oh? I thought nobles had servants to wait on them hand and foot,” Alfred chuckled, eyes determinedly fixed on the tiny rose shaped buttons along the shirt.
“Even I can do something like put on a shirt.”
“It’s okay. Let me,” he insisted.
Arthur tried to look at the lightly billowing curtains, anything to keep his mind off of what was happening. A small pout graced his lips. Honestly, how did he wind up in a situation like this of all things? However, when he really thought about it there was not much he could do anymore. He had no money, no title, no house to go back to or a family that would welcome him.
“I...can’t really go home can I?” he murmured.
Alfred’s pause was barely noticeable before he continued working on the buttons. How long did one button take? “It’s okay. You can stay with me. This was designed to be your room,” he replied, showing a gentleness that seemed to totally contrast his earlier brashness.
Arthur made no reply as Alfred crouched down to do up the last of the buttons. The shirt was slightly longer than expected. However, when he felt Alfred’s hand brush against his crotch, he immediately stiffened, suppressing a shiver and an angry shout.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [7/?]
anonymous
May 9 2009, 02:12:02 UTC
Arthur obediently lifted his legs so that he could slip them on, though he held himself as stiff as a statue during the ‘dress up’. He glanced down at Alfred and immediately regretted it, watching him at that angle, his face almost pressed to his crotch brought back memories of what they had been doing just moments ago.
His beet red face burned. Alfred, noticing Arthur’s sudden discomfort chuckled and made a point of letting his hand ‘accidently’ slide along his crotch as he pulled up the underwear.
Arthur tried to think about something else, anything else, but nothing could replace the heat steadily pooling below. He really hoped that Alfred would not say anything about his now prominent erection. He really, really hoped that -
“How lewd.”
Oh how he wanted to curse that damn man with everything under the sun! However, instead Arthur snapped; “You did that on purpose!”
“I was just trying to help you get dressed. I suppose we should take care of this problem first,” Alfred’s hands pulled the underwear back down.
“I can deal with it!” Arthur stepped back sharply.
Alfred rose to his feet, his eyes alive with unbidden laughter that threatened to bubble from his throat. “Oh, so you’ll take care of it!”
“Y - Yes! I’ll take care of myself!” he blushed, turning the other way in order to hide his shame.
Alfred’s hands on his shoulders made him jump. The man guided him to the bed, pushing him down so that he was seated over the edge. “Okay then,” he said and stepped back. “Go ahead. Take care of it.”
Arthur’s momentary confusion quickly gave way to indignation. Was there no end to this man’s disgracefulness? “...Leave then!” he snapped.
This time Alfred laughed unabashedly. “Why? This is my house. I can come and go wherever I please.” A wicked smile graced his face. Arthur shuddered. He really wanted to deal with this - the mortifying problem but his hands would not move when he felt that gaze sliding over him.
Alfred licked his lips with impatience.“If you don’t hurry, I’ll assume you don’t really know what to do and - ”
The hands reaching for his crotch told Arthur all he needed to know.
“Don’t touch me!” he snapped, scooting all the way down to the other end of the bed.
“Well then go ahead,” Alfred obediently stepped back, still goading him. “Take care of that problem yourself. Go on. Don’t turn around, just do it. If you turn around, I’m going to assume that you don’t really know what you’re doing and take matters into my own hands.”
“Y - You...”
“Yes? You want me to help you after all?”
“I hate you!”
“I’m not going to do anything suspicious. See? I’m retreating all the way back here,” he indeed did step back, pressing his back against the far wall he crossed his arms against his chest and watched in comfort.
“Wanker,” Arthur mumbled under his breath.
“No, I believe that would be you.”
Anon should stop taking detours and get on with hitting the production kink targets y/y?
Goshhh Anon you've been making me happier and happier by chapter!! I really love the way in which you've taken over this request XD so go crazy anon, I know you'll not disappoint us in the end, and we'll get what we've been deliciously waiting for :)
Anon! I love your writing, love your input on the original idea, love your characterization, lovely Arthur, amazing Alfred, actually I love everything really!!! (Adding Francis into the mix was a nice touch!) Keep going Anon!!! you've been doing an excellent job with the story!!! Love you forever and ever... OP
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [7/?]
anonymous
May 9 2009, 05:18:20 UTC
GOD WOMAN.
fkdlgkdl why do i get. like turned on every time I read something. ;AAA; oh god anon. -F5 spasm-
S-SMUT PLS ORZ. I'd love to see how Arthur copes with it all since he's so unwilling to do all this.
Anon here is also wondering, do you plan to make this a long fill? Cause if so. I is curious if it's all humor or other stuff like angst or drama or something?
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [7/?]
anonymous
May 9 2009, 08:53:10 UTC
Author!anon is happy to please! It will probably be fairly long-ish. It'll also probably be light-hearted over all but there will be drama (maybe the angst will come with that? Maybe?)
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [7/?]
anonymous
May 10 2009, 06:13:35 UTC
Ohh! If so, not requesting, but recommending the idea of maybe Arthur's brothers trying to/successfully buying Arthur back from Alfred, orz? Then. then drama. IDK LMAO;;. The idea popped into my head and it seemed too good to toss, so I figured I'd show it to you and rofl yeah. -shot- ;A;'' ... or somewhat non!con when Alfie is angry. thus. painful and unwilling sex because orz Alfie is mad and bah bah bdshfksj, I feel horribly awkward for saying all this. LOL.
Also, could this anon possibly draw Arthur in the new clothes Alfred gave him? <3 suddenly got an idea, orz;;. Assuming that'll be the clothes Arthur keeps, orz;.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [7/?]
anonymous
May 10 2009, 08:03:28 UTC
Ohh, yay~ Thank you so much, orz;;!
O-oh, no, I wasn't trying to make your work pile bigger, OTL;;;. I was asking if I could try it, LOL. I have a habit of referring to myself in third person when on the Kink Meme ROFL;;. Sorry for the confusion!
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [8/?]
anonymous
May 11 2009, 12:07:23 UTC
Arthur glared at him sullenly, but the darker his scowl the brighter Alfred would smile. He swallowed around the hard lump that had formed in his throat, his body flushed with embarrassment as his hands trembled and touched his own erection.
At first he could not bring himself to move. His eyes nervously flickered up at Alfred and then back to his lap and each time that smile would cause him to freeze. However, he desperately needed release and waiting around was helping no one. Reluctantly, trying to be as subtle as possible - which was a feat in itself - he licked his lips and began to move his hand.
A shiver of pleasure raced up his spine. He spread his legs for more freedom, forgetting his audience for a moment, caught in the chase of those trills of ecstasy that would run through his entire body. His breathing became laboured as he pumped his cock. His other hand snaked up his shirt to touch his nipple, slowly running a nail in circles around it.
He leaned back, grunting as he felt his cock swell. His hand was already a little wet with precum but that simply made it easier to run his fingers up and down his length.
It did not take long for him to cum, staining his hand white. Arthur fell back into the deliciously cool sheets, his legs still obscenely outspread and his flushed cheeks hot as he caught his breath.
“Satisfied?” he panted, staring at Alfred from the corner of his eyes.
“For now,” Alfred leaned over him, planting a light kiss on Arthur’s forehead.
“W - What was that for?” he blushed, too tired to put any energy into his protests.
Alfred simply smiled, pulling the covers over him. It was not until he softly bid him good night did Arthur realise just how tired he was. Somewhere in the mists between consciousness and sleep, he was vaguely aware of those deft hands undressing him, stripping him of the shirt that had taken so long to put on. However, once it was removed the warmth hovering above him abated. He heard footsteps retreating and the creak of a door before he finally gave in and let his dreams carry him away.
XX
When Arthur woke, bright light was streaming through the window, catching steams of dancing dust in its beams. He pulled his body up into a sitting position, noticing the smell of fresh bread and jam notoriously close.
Glancing at the bedside table, there was a tray laden with sweet breads and pots of honey and jam. A piece of paper had been wedged between the marmalade and the teapot; Arthur picked it up curiously and turned it over.
‘Please eat and dress before eight o’clock
- Emily’
Who was Emily? He wondered while stuffing sweet bread into his mouth. Forgetting the table manners he had been raised on, he ate with gusto, spreading crumbs over the white sheets, which he later hastily wiped off with a hand.
He finished a third cup of tea before he finally decided to get up. Judging by the amount of light, it was not yet eight but he dressed anyway, putting on the clothes Alfred had left draped over the chair last night.
It was a little fancy for a servant, if that was what he was going to be from now on. He wondered if it was out of consideration for his previous station that he was giving the sort of clothes he was comfortable in - a plain cotton shirt and starch breeches would have irritated his skin - or if this was Alfred’s own way of making fun of him. Scowling to himself, he was sure that it was probably the latter.
The manor itself was not as impressive as some of the summer homes his family had previously owned, Arthur noted with a touch of satisfaction, but it was by no means unimpressive. The white walls gave the halls an airy, spacious feel, the grey floors were sparkling marble like that of a palace. As Arthur made his way down the stairs he duly took in the decor; mahogany furniture was a nice touch - Victorian he believed - but the watercolour paintings of high mountains and flowered fields were far too whimsical; they belonged in a woman’s parlour.
An old woman in a grey maid’s uniform waited at the bottom of the stairs. Her grey hair was peeking out of her maid’s cap and she stood with a considerable hunch but when she smiled it reached her eyes with genuine warmth.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [9/?]
anonymous
May 11 2009, 12:10:20 UTC
She introduced herself as Emily; the only maid currently working on the manor, as she shook Arthur’s hand. It was nice to meet him, she said. It was good to finally have a strong arm to help around the house and was he aware of what would be required of him.
They toured around the house, Emily showing him the ins and outs of the manor, where the bread was kept and the newspapers ironed, where the key to the wine cabinet was hidden and what to do when the grocer’s boy came round with eggs and butter.
Arthur, though feeling a little lost, found that he could not utter a word of protest. He could not refuse to work; not in front of this kind old lady and, at the back of his mind, he reckoned that this was all part of Alfred’s man. Perhaps he was not as dumb as he looked.
As if to speak of the devil, Alfred poked his head out of the study as Emily was showing him one of the many store cupboards. His eyes brightened with a smile when he saw them and quickly began to approach.
“Oh, you’re up! That’s good,” he beamed. Emily curtsied but Arthur, standing behind her, simply scowled.
The look on his face was not beyond Alfred’s recognition. Rather than being offended however, he grinned. “What? Giving me the silent treatment now? That’s cruel, Arthur.”
“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my name!” Arthur snapped, forgetting Emily’s worried look.
Alfred’s laughter rang cross the hall. “Then what should I call you? You don’t expect me to say ‘Mr Kirkland’ to a servant?”
“Git,” Arthur mumbled but could not deny that that would be very awkward if he did.
“I see you’re going to be a troublesome one. Come with me to the study,” he ordered. Arthur did not move. “What’s wrong? Even a dog knows how to follow orders,” he turned back when he realised that his servant was remaining resolutely still.
A trill of indignation ran up his spine. The man was still as crude and ill-mannered as ever. “Don’t compare me to a dog!” he spat but followed Alfred anyway.
XX
He was surprised to see that what Alfred had called a study was more like a small library. Bookshelves reached the ceiling, crammed full of books of varying thickness. More lay in piles at the feet of the bookcases, paper strewn across the floor and, in the middle of the room a desk with a small lump was buried under an avalanche of documents.
“You can read right? Clean this up then. The books go back in alphabetical order,” Alfred waved a hand over the mess.
“You’re a slob,” Arthur muttered, running a critical eye over the mess. He refused to be impressed by the selection. They were probably just for show anyway.
“I’m simply busy.”
“So you do work after all.”
He picked up a thick tome at random, running his eyes over the gold leaf lettering. Alfred pushed the paper off of his desk and settled down with a quill, scratching something rather noisily on a piece of parchment. Arthur continued to return the books on the floor back to their rightful places.
The work was surprisingly boring. With exception for lunch and bathroom breaks, the mess had been left of accumulate for so long that stacking the books took the entire day. Though it briefly crossed Arthur’s mind to insist that he was not meant to be used for such menial work, he never found the time to actually raise his protests. Alfred finished whatever he was doing as soon as lunch was sounded and for the rest of the day he was out gallivanting somewhere, or so Emily told him.
The thought made him scowl. How dare that man go out and have a good time when here he was, tidying that man’s mess. He had not stepped outside since coming to the manor and was craving a little fresh air.
Finally, as darkness descended, the study was mostly clean - he wondered how long that would last - and a chime at the door announced Alfred’s return to the manor.
Arthur had no idea why he rushed out to meet him. Maybe he just wanted to give him a piece of his mind that was all, but when he finally reached the door he found that he had nothing to say after all.
Emily was taking his coat and hat from him. Alfred smiled and thanked her until his eyes landed on Arthur and his smile widened.
“You know, I am the master here,” Alfred sighed, rubbing the side of his head in exasperation.
Francis shook his head sadly. “You are two lenient mon ami, if you really want to train a slave give him to me. I’ll have him bowing and licking your feet - ”
“Right, we’re going downstairs now,” Alfred cut through him before he could make any more lewd suggestions. “Arthur, you be a good boy and stay put,” Alfred ordered as he left the room with Francis in tow.
Arthur glared at them. “Don’t patronise me you - ”
The door closed before he could finish his sentence. Voices on the other side continued to argue as they grew more distant.
“Great, now I have to deal with this!”
“Ah, if you like I could - ”
“Gah! Don’t put your hand there!”
Arthur waited for the better part of three seconds before wrapping the sheet around his waist and heading straight for the door. He tried the handle. It would not budge.
“He locked the door. Git,” he cursed, giving it a slight kick for good measure.
Looking around, he thought it would be better to assess his situation. The window was still open, he could climb out of that except for the fact that they were on the third floor. He glanced at his waist and wondered if the sheets would be long enough to form a makeshift rope. However, before he could escape he had to be decently clothed.
Throwing open the doors of the armoire, he found various shirts and coats hanging in order of colour. There were a number of trousers folded at the bottom and, upon opening he drawers, he discovered socks and underwear too.
Arthur did not spare a moment’s thought before raiding the armoire. He pulled on the first shirt he could get his hands on; it dropped to his thighs, the sleeves falling halfway over his hands. It was rather sloppy but he supposed that it would have to do. He shrugged on a jacket, also too large, and grabbed a pair of trousers.
“If you wanted to play dress-up you could have just asked.”
Arthur almost shrieked, dropping the clothes at his feet. “Y - You!”
Alfred leaned against the door post, a suspiciously wrapped package lay tucked under his arm and an equally, if not even more, suspicious grin plastered across his face.
“But I think these clothes would suit you much better,” he tore the brown paper off of the package. “I had Francis order this for me. He knows all about fashion.”
Draping the clothes over one arm, Alfred made his way towards him to pull his own clothes off of Arthur. As soon as he had been effectively stripped, Alfred draped the smaller shirt over his shoulders, guiding arms through sleeves and doing up the buttons with gentle care.
“I - I can dress myself,” Arthur protested. Or tried to at least.
“Oh? I thought nobles had servants to wait on them hand and foot,” Alfred chuckled, eyes determinedly fixed on the tiny rose shaped buttons along the shirt.
“Even I can do something like put on a shirt.”
“It’s okay. Let me,” he insisted.
Arthur tried to look at the lightly billowing curtains, anything to keep his mind off of what was happening. A small pout graced his lips. Honestly, how did he wind up in a situation like this of all things? However, when he really thought about it there was not much he could do anymore. He had no money, no title, no house to go back to or a family that would welcome him.
“I...can’t really go home can I?” he murmured.
Alfred’s pause was barely noticeable before he continued working on the buttons. How long did one button take? “It’s okay. You can stay with me. This was designed to be your room,” he replied, showing a gentleness that seemed to totally contrast his earlier brashness.
Arthur made no reply as Alfred crouched down to do up the last of the buttons. The shirt was slightly longer than expected. However, when he felt Alfred’s hand brush against his crotch, he immediately stiffened, suppressing a shiver and an angry shout.
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His beet red face burned. Alfred, noticing Arthur’s sudden discomfort chuckled and made a point of letting his hand ‘accidently’ slide along his crotch as he pulled up the underwear.
Arthur tried to think about something else, anything else, but nothing could replace the heat steadily pooling below. He really hoped that Alfred would not say anything about his now prominent erection. He really, really hoped that -
“How lewd.”
Oh how he wanted to curse that damn man with everything under the sun! However, instead Arthur snapped; “You did that on purpose!”
“I was just trying to help you get dressed. I suppose we should take care of this problem first,” Alfred’s hands pulled the underwear back down.
“I can deal with it!” Arthur stepped back sharply.
Alfred rose to his feet, his eyes alive with unbidden laughter that threatened to bubble from his throat. “Oh, so you’ll take care of it!”
“Y - Yes! I’ll take care of myself!” he blushed, turning the other way in order to hide his shame.
Alfred’s hands on his shoulders made him jump. The man guided him to the bed, pushing him down so that he was seated over the edge. “Okay then,” he said and stepped back. “Go ahead. Take care of it.”
Arthur’s momentary confusion quickly gave way to indignation. Was there no end to this man’s disgracefulness? “...Leave then!” he snapped.
This time Alfred laughed unabashedly. “Why? This is my house. I can come and go wherever I please.” A wicked smile graced his face. Arthur shuddered. He really wanted to deal with this - the mortifying problem but his hands would not move when he felt that gaze sliding over him.
Alfred licked his lips with impatience.“If you don’t hurry, I’ll assume you don’t really know what to do and - ”
The hands reaching for his crotch told Arthur all he needed to know.
“Don’t touch me!” he snapped, scooting all the way down to the other end of the bed.
“Well then go ahead,” Alfred obediently stepped back, still goading him. “Take care of that problem yourself. Go on. Don’t turn around, just do it. If you turn around, I’m going to assume that you don’t really know what you’re doing and take matters into my own hands.”
“Y - You...”
“Yes? You want me to help you after all?”
“I hate you!”
“I’m not going to do anything suspicious. See? I’m retreating all the way back here,” he indeed did step back, pressing his back against the far wall he crossed his arms against his chest and watched in comfort.
“Wanker,” Arthur mumbled under his breath.
“No, I believe that would be you.”
Anon should stop taking detours and get on with hitting the production kink targets y/y?
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I'm so totally in love with the way you write Alfred. :D Such a tease~♥
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Anon! I love your writing, love your input on the original idea, love your characterization, lovely Arthur, amazing Alfred, actually I love everything really!!! (Adding Francis into the mix was a nice touch!)
Keep going Anon!!! you've been doing an excellent job with the story!!!
Love you forever and ever...
OP
Reply
fkdlgkdl why do i get. like turned on every time I read something. ;AAA; oh god anon. -F5 spasm-
S-SMUT PLS ORZ. I'd love to see how Arthur copes with it all since he's so unwilling to do all this.
Anon here is also wondering, do you plan to make this a long fill? Cause if so. I is curious if it's all humor or other stuff like angst or drama or something?
-... digs Angst!Alfred cause she fails-
... i feel bad about asking this ROFLMAO;;;.
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Also, could this anon possibly draw Arthur in the new clothes Alfred gave him? <3 suddenly got an idea, orz;;. Assuming that'll be the clothes Arthur keeps, orz;.
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Author!Anon can't really draw but will give it a shot!
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O-oh, no, I wasn't trying to make your work pile bigger, OTL;;;. I was asking if I could try it, LOL. I have a habit of referring to myself in third person when on the Kink Meme ROFL;;. Sorry for the confusion!
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Make this fic as long as you want; I'll be there to read all of the parts even if it kills me.
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At first he could not bring himself to move. His eyes nervously flickered up at Alfred and then back to his lap and each time that smile would cause him to freeze. However, he desperately needed release and waiting around was helping no one. Reluctantly, trying to be as subtle as possible - which was a feat in itself - he licked his lips and began to move his hand.
A shiver of pleasure raced up his spine. He spread his legs for more freedom, forgetting his audience for a moment, caught in the chase of those trills of ecstasy that would run through his entire body. His breathing became laboured as he pumped his cock. His other hand snaked up his shirt to touch his nipple, slowly running a nail in circles around it.
He leaned back, grunting as he felt his cock swell. His hand was already a little wet with precum but that simply made it easier to run his fingers up and down his length.
It did not take long for him to cum, staining his hand white. Arthur fell back into the deliciously cool sheets, his legs still obscenely outspread and his flushed cheeks hot as he caught his breath.
“Satisfied?” he panted, staring at Alfred from the corner of his eyes.
“For now,” Alfred leaned over him, planting a light kiss on Arthur’s forehead.
“W - What was that for?” he blushed, too tired to put any energy into his protests.
Alfred simply smiled, pulling the covers over him. It was not until he softly bid him good night did Arthur realise just how tired he was. Somewhere in the mists between consciousness and sleep, he was vaguely aware of those deft hands undressing him, stripping him of the shirt that had taken so long to put on. However, once it was removed the warmth hovering above him abated. He heard footsteps retreating and the creak of a door before he finally gave in and let his dreams carry him away.
XX
When Arthur woke, bright light was streaming through the window, catching steams of dancing dust in its beams. He pulled his body up into a sitting position, noticing the smell of fresh bread and jam notoriously close.
Glancing at the bedside table, there was a tray laden with sweet breads and pots of honey and jam. A piece of paper had been wedged between the marmalade and the teapot; Arthur picked it up curiously and turned it over.
‘Please eat and dress before eight o’clock
- Emily’
Who was Emily? He wondered while stuffing sweet bread into his mouth. Forgetting the table manners he had been raised on, he ate with gusto, spreading crumbs over the white sheets, which he later hastily wiped off with a hand.
He finished a third cup of tea before he finally decided to get up. Judging by the amount of light, it was not yet eight but he dressed anyway, putting on the clothes Alfred had left draped over the chair last night.
It was a little fancy for a servant, if that was what he was going to be from now on. He wondered if it was out of consideration for his previous station that he was giving the sort of clothes he was comfortable in - a plain cotton shirt and starch breeches would have irritated his skin - or if this was Alfred’s own way of making fun of him. Scowling to himself, he was sure that it was probably the latter.
The manor itself was not as impressive as some of the summer homes his family had previously owned, Arthur noted with a touch of satisfaction, but it was by no means unimpressive. The white walls gave the halls an airy, spacious feel, the grey floors were sparkling marble like that of a palace. As Arthur made his way down the stairs he duly took in the decor; mahogany furniture was a nice touch - Victorian he believed - but the watercolour paintings of high mountains and flowered fields were far too whimsical; they belonged in a woman’s parlour.
An old woman in a grey maid’s uniform waited at the bottom of the stairs. Her grey hair was peeking out of her maid’s cap and she stood with a considerable hunch but when she smiled it reached her eyes with genuine warmth.
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They toured around the house, Emily showing him the ins and outs of the manor, where the bread was kept and the newspapers ironed, where the key to the wine cabinet was hidden and what to do when the grocer’s boy came round with eggs and butter.
Arthur, though feeling a little lost, found that he could not utter a word of protest. He could not refuse to work; not in front of this kind old lady and, at the back of his mind, he reckoned that this was all part of Alfred’s man. Perhaps he was not as dumb as he looked.
As if to speak of the devil, Alfred poked his head out of the study as Emily was showing him one of the many store cupboards. His eyes brightened with a smile when he saw them and quickly began to approach.
“Oh, you’re up! That’s good,” he beamed. Emily curtsied but Arthur, standing behind her, simply scowled.
The look on his face was not beyond Alfred’s recognition. Rather than being offended however, he grinned. “What? Giving me the silent treatment now? That’s cruel, Arthur.”
“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my name!” Arthur snapped, forgetting Emily’s worried look.
Alfred’s laughter rang cross the hall. “Then what should I call you? You don’t expect me to say ‘Mr Kirkland’ to a servant?”
“Git,” Arthur mumbled but could not deny that that would be very awkward if he did.
“I see you’re going to be a troublesome one. Come with me to the study,” he ordered. Arthur did not move. “What’s wrong? Even a dog knows how to follow orders,” he turned back when he realised that his servant was remaining resolutely still.
A trill of indignation ran up his spine. The man was still as crude and ill-mannered as ever. “Don’t compare me to a dog!” he spat but followed Alfred anyway.
XX
He was surprised to see that what Alfred had called a study was more like a small library. Bookshelves reached the ceiling, crammed full of books of varying thickness. More lay in piles at the feet of the bookcases, paper strewn across the floor and, in the middle of the room a desk with a small lump was buried under an avalanche of documents.
“You can read right? Clean this up then. The books go back in alphabetical order,” Alfred waved a hand over the mess.
“You’re a slob,” Arthur muttered, running a critical eye over the mess. He refused to be impressed by the selection. They were probably just for show anyway.
“I’m simply busy.”
“So you do work after all.”
He picked up a thick tome at random, running his eyes over the gold leaf lettering. Alfred pushed the paper off of his desk and settled down with a quill, scratching something rather noisily on a piece of parchment. Arthur continued to return the books on the floor back to their rightful places.
The work was surprisingly boring. With exception for lunch and bathroom breaks, the mess had been left of accumulate for so long that stacking the books took the entire day. Though it briefly crossed Arthur’s mind to insist that he was not meant to be used for such menial work, he never found the time to actually raise his protests. Alfred finished whatever he was doing as soon as lunch was sounded and for the rest of the day he was out gallivanting somewhere, or so Emily told him.
The thought made him scowl. How dare that man go out and have a good time when here he was, tidying that man’s mess. He had not stepped outside since coming to the manor and was craving a little fresh air.
Finally, as darkness descended, the study was mostly clean - he wondered how long that would last - and a chime at the door announced Alfred’s return to the manor.
Arthur had no idea why he rushed out to meet him. Maybe he just wanted to give him a piece of his mind that was all, but when he finally reached the door he found that he had nothing to say after all.
Emily was taking his coat and hat from him. Alfred smiled and thanked her until his eyes landed on Arthur and his smile widened.
XX
anon is working on the art!
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Now why do I have an image of Arthur eventually advising Alfred how to act like a proper gentleman? XD
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I totally laughed at him being his usual sloppy self though
Gaah, waiting for the continutation is getting harder and harder each time-
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