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.
“Arthur! Come help me undress,” he ordered as he passed him, already loosening his tie.
“Can’t you do this yourself?” Arthur nevertheless followed him up the stairs to the master bedroom.
“It’s more fun if you do it for me!” Alfred laughed, throwing open the door. They stepped inside and he turned, spreading his arms out to be undressed.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “So? What were you doing all evening?” he demanded, hands latching on to the clasps of his waistcoat.
“Enjoying myself of course. I was playing poker with some...friends,” Alfred’s smile became tenuous at the mention of ‘friends.’
Unlike Alfred, Arthur did not bother to savour the act of undressing another man. The waistcoat came off quickly, thrown over the side of a chair in an afterthought. The buttons of Alfred’s shirt were the next to come undone; his hands working quickly on unfastening them.
“You should stop that. Gambling is the path to the devil,” he grunted as the shirt came loose and slid off of Alfred’s shoulders.
He snorted. “What are you, a puritan?”
“No!” he blushed. “It’s just that gambling was the whole reason my family fell into debt in the first place. It was all over a series of poker games as well.”
A lazy smile crossed his face. Arthur looked away. He suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that he was with a half naked man...working methodically stripping him of the other half.
“Oh, are you worried about me?” Alfred looked both pleased and amused by this. “Don’t worry, I’m great at it!” he laughed.
Arthur scowled and dropped to his knees to fiddle with the belt. “I take it back! Gamble as much as you want. Go gamble and lose your fortune! Then maybe your ego will deflate with your wallet.”
“I hate to break it to you but that won’t be happening anytime soon. I am awesome at the game after all.” It was hard to take his boasting seriously when his trousers slipped to the floor, leaving him in only underwear. Alfred stepped out of it on his own accord, stooping up to fling the rest of his clothes to one side. “That will be all, you can retire for the night.”
At first Arthur was confused. It had been a whole day and Alfred had not tried to touch him, molest him, taunt him or make any other inappropriate comments.
“Is something wrong?” Alfred asked, wondering why Arthur was still in his room after he had been dismissed.
“Uh...no,” he shook his head, regaining enough sense to turn around and head for the door.
Arms snaked around him; hands planted firmly on his chest stopped him from going any further.
“Oh, I see,” Alfred’s breath tickled the lobe of his ear.
A blush rose to his cheeks “Sh - shut up!” he struggled in Alfred’s grip, though to no avail. He could just feel him grinning from ear to ear, probably thinking of a thousand lewd, inappropriate thoughts at that very minute!
“If you really wanted to sleep with me so badly you should have just said so,” Alfred tried to sound casual but his voice betrayed his delight.
Arthur froze. “What? I never said that I - Ahhh!” before he could finish his sentence, he felt himself being pulled back until he was falling. Alfred’s back hit the double bed, dragging Arthur with him into a sea of blue sheets and duck feather pillows.
“This feels nice, doesn’t it?” Alfred stretched, still refusing to let go of his prize.
“N - no it doesn’t! What will Emily think when she sees two grown men sleeping together like this?! Hey, are you listening to me?”
Arthur shook his head. He was too close. Like this, if he turned around, Alfred’s face would be right in front of him. The feel of naked skin against the back of his thin shirt spread warmth through his body. The colour in his cheeks rose to crimson.
However, he was surprised when the grip slackened, though it was not enough to free himself, it warranted a curious glance over his shoulder to Alfred’s sleeping face. The rise and fall of his chest pressed against Arthur’s back. This close, he thought he could hear the sound of a heart beat and Alfred’s steady breathing.
There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight.
Wow Every time I come here there is a new part!!! I'm so happy!!! Writer!anon is the bestest best ever to write such an amazing story!!! I love the interaction between Alfred and Arthur!!! and this part was really cute, I can't wait for the next one :) Etoo... About the direction of this story settled by the request, you're free to do whatever you want with it, but humbly ask for a happy ending if it is possible. Keep writing to your heart's content Anon, I'll be always waiting patiently for you Lots of love OP
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [11/?]
anonymous
May 16 2009, 18:07:48 UTC
Thank you, OP!Anon. This author!anon is working on filling the kinks
Francis, Arthur decided with a definite sigh, was definitely going to be the bane of his existence. Him and that sloppy, no-good, obscenely cheerful American he had the indignity of calling ‘master.’
“Ah, mon cheri, I see you have settled in well,” the Frenchman in question sidled up to him when they bumped into each other in the drawing room. Arthur had just been cleaning, but now, faced with Francis he did an about-turn and tried to march right out until Francis flung an arm over Arthur’s shoulder, halting him. Just how had he managed to get in anyway? Arthur could not recall ever hearing the bell ring.
Stiffly, he flung his arm off. “Listen, git, I have a bone to pick with you!” he glared at Francis and his ridiculous clothes with all his might.
“Avec moi?” Francis smiled, feigning innocence.
Arthur tried to keep a handle on his temper, despite the fact that he was sure that he was being ridiculed again. “These clothes!” he ran a hand over the long coat. “I’m a servant and you’re making me dress like a gentleman? Are you trying to mock me?”
“You do not like the clothes?” Francis looked surprised, as if anyone could possibly dislike his taste in fashion. “What a selfish man. If you don’t like them you don’t have to wear them. If they displease you so much then take them off.”
Arthur yelped as Francis reached for the bow around his neck, quickly loosening it. The man was faster than he could have possibly imagined; by the time he realised the bow was undone, so were half of the buttons on his shirt and his coat was slipping off of his shoulders. Arthur was sure that he would have been fully undressed if not for the loud bang to the door.
“Francis!” Alfred’s face was much like the sound he had made; thunderous.
“Ah, mon ami! Francis immediately released Arthur - he sighed with relief - and held his hands up as if he had absolutely no part in what his hands decided to undress or molest.
“Don’t speak French to me!” Alfred glowered at him. “And keep your hands off of my servants!”
“I was only trying to help - ”
“Help my arse!” Arthur scowled.
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”
“Francis!”
The Frenchman smiled, letting his arms drop to his side. As if to show his goodwill, he took a further three steps away from Arthur, he was busily readjusting his clothing with a very red face and as much dignity as he could muster.
Alfred turned a sympathetic eye towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with this. Can you please ask Emily to bring some wine into the drawing room later?”
“Whatever,” Arthur shrugged. He was proud for the fact that he did not run right out of the room but those who observed him noticed a distinct briskness about his walk.
Unfortunately for him Emily was gone by the time he made it to the kitchen. He reminded himself with a groan that today was the day she usually went out to buy meat from the butcher’s. That only meant that he would have to take it upon himself to serve the wine, meaning he would inevitably have to return to the drawing room.
His hands shook with the humiliation of the whole affair as he poured the glasses. How dare that damn, slimy frog bastard try and touch him! Alfred was bad enough. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his days surrounded by perverts after his body like - like rabid men after a maiden?
Arthur’s face went as red as the wine recalling Alfred’s first attempts with him. Damn that man! Damn all mankind who did not know how to act like a proper gentleman! He seethed with the audacity of it! The disgrace! The - the absolute, utter, undeniable arrogance that man had shown in just about everything he did!
His energy deflated with the suddenness of a popped balloon. Why was he getting so worked up about Alfred? In fact, what was he doing ranting to himself like this? He had wine to serve.
By the time he returned, it sounded as if the two had already settled down, as had Arthur, though he often thought back to his rant and a small wave of depression would wash over him.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [12/?]
anonymous
May 16 2009, 18:08:46 UTC
The door to the drawing room had been left partially closed. Arthur raised his fist to knock but suddenly halted. Now that he thought about it, what did Alfred talk about with Francis? He knew that they were ‘friends’ - in the loosest sense of the word - but they were not in any business ventures together that would be a cause for them to have such serious discussions.
“You already have what you wanted, mon ami, I think you are pushing your luck,” Francis’ thick tone trickled through the slight crack between door and door post.
“Lady Luck loves me,” Alfred’s boasting could be clearly heard even without pressing an ear to the wood. “Besides, if they choose to play then that’s a risk they take. They just don’t learn.”
Francis sighed. “You already have what you wanted. Don’t provoke them.”
Laughter boomed. Arthur had never heard Alfred laugh as loudly as he did. “Are you worried about me, Francis?”
“I think you are being a fool, that’s all.” Displeasure gave an edge to his voice. “You know how vicious nobles can be, especially when they’re playing games and trust me, mon ami, all of life is a game to them. You already have what you wanted.”
There. Again. Arthur wondered what Francis meant when he kept repeating ‘you already have what you wanted.’ He knew that Alfred gambled - boasted about his good luck in the game - but were they also involved in something shady?
Well, it was none of his business, Arthur obstinately told himself and with that rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open.
“Your wine, sirs,” he announced, curling his tongue around the word ‘sirs’ so that it dripped with sarcasm.
“Arthur?” Alfred’s shock was the first to register in his brain. “I remember asking you to send Emily,” he stood, taking the decanter of wine from him. There was slight anger in his voice, not enough to really be recognisable but just enough to shake Arthur a bit.
“Emily is currently out shopping,” Arthur replied curtly. He did not want to be in the room a moment longer if he was going to be treated with such ingratitude.
Turning on his heels, he marched back to the kitchen, scowling to himself. What was that? Just because he had come instead of Emily was no reason for Alfred to get so upset, surely he was just as good as she was at serving him.
“Git!” he growled at the far wall. He flung a damp tea cloth at it, imagining that it was Alfred’s face.
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!
Reply
Now why do I have an image of Arthur eventually advising Alfred how to act like a proper gentleman? XD
Reply
I totally laughed at him being his usual sloppy self though
Gaah, waiting for the continutation is getting harder and harder each time-
Reply
Reply
Haha I feel sorry for Arthur though..XD
Reply
AND. ... am I wrong. for thinking the next segment is gonna wind up being smut? ROFLROFL maybe I'm just looking too forward to it. ;A;''
And yes! I can't wait to see the visual~~ <3
Reply
“Arthur! Come help me undress,” he ordered as he passed him, already loosening his tie.
“Can’t you do this yourself?” Arthur nevertheless followed him up the stairs to the master bedroom.
“It’s more fun if you do it for me!” Alfred laughed, throwing open the door. They stepped inside and he turned, spreading his arms out to be undressed.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “So? What were you doing all evening?” he demanded, hands latching on to the clasps of his waistcoat.
“Enjoying myself of course. I was playing poker with some...friends,” Alfred’s smile became tenuous at the mention of ‘friends.’
Unlike Alfred, Arthur did not bother to savour the act of undressing another man. The waistcoat came off quickly, thrown over the side of a chair in an afterthought. The buttons of Alfred’s shirt were the next to come undone; his hands working quickly on unfastening them.
“You should stop that. Gambling is the path to the devil,” he grunted as the shirt came loose and slid off of Alfred’s shoulders.
He snorted. “What are you, a puritan?”
“No!” he blushed. “It’s just that gambling was the whole reason my family fell into debt in the first place. It was all over a series of poker games as well.”
A lazy smile crossed his face. Arthur looked away. He suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that he was with a half naked man...working methodically stripping him of the other half.
“Oh, are you worried about me?” Alfred looked both pleased and amused by this. “Don’t worry, I’m great at it!” he laughed.
Arthur scowled and dropped to his knees to fiddle with the belt. “I take it back! Gamble as much as you want. Go gamble and lose your fortune! Then maybe your ego will deflate with your wallet.”
“I hate to break it to you but that won’t be happening anytime soon. I am awesome at the game after all.” It was hard to take his boasting seriously when his trousers slipped to the floor, leaving him in only underwear. Alfred stepped out of it on his own accord, stooping up to fling the rest of his clothes to one side. “That will be all, you can retire for the night.”
At first Arthur was confused. It had been a whole day and Alfred had not tried to touch him, molest him, taunt him or make any other inappropriate comments.
“Is something wrong?” Alfred asked, wondering why Arthur was still in his room after he had been dismissed.
“Uh...no,” he shook his head, regaining enough sense to turn around and head for the door.
Arms snaked around him; hands planted firmly on his chest stopped him from going any further.
“Oh, I see,” Alfred’s breath tickled the lobe of his ear.
A blush rose to his cheeks “Sh - shut up!” he struggled in Alfred’s grip, though to no avail. He could just feel him grinning from ear to ear, probably thinking of a thousand lewd, inappropriate thoughts at that very minute!
“If you really wanted to sleep with me so badly you should have just said so,” Alfred tried to sound casual but his voice betrayed his delight.
Arthur froze. “What? I never said that I - Ahhh!” before he could finish his sentence, he felt himself being pulled back until he was falling. Alfred’s back hit the double bed, dragging Arthur with him into a sea of blue sheets and duck feather pillows.
“This feels nice, doesn’t it?” Alfred stretched, still refusing to let go of his prize.
“N - no it doesn’t! What will Emily think when she sees two grown men sleeping together like this?! Hey, are you listening to me?”
Arthur shook his head. He was too close. Like this, if he turned around, Alfred’s face would be right in front of him. The feel of naked skin against the back of his thin shirt spread warmth through his body. The colour in his cheeks rose to crimson.
However, he was surprised when the grip slackened, though it was not enough to free himself, it warranted a curious glance over his shoulder to Alfred’s sleeping face. The rise and fall of his chest pressed against Arthur’s back. This close, he thought he could hear the sound of a heart beat and Alfred’s steady breathing.
There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight.
Reply
Oh this is just too cute! ♥ Oh Arthur.
Reply
And your drawing is really good!! ^^
Reply
Etoo... About the direction of this story settled by the request, you're free to do whatever you want with it, but humbly ask for a happy ending if it is possible.
Keep writing to your heart's content Anon, I'll be always waiting patiently for you
Lots of love
OP
Reply
Reply
Reply
Francis, Arthur decided with a definite sigh, was definitely going to be the bane of his existence. Him and that sloppy, no-good, obscenely cheerful American he had the indignity of calling ‘master.’
“Ah, mon cheri, I see you have settled in well,” the Frenchman in question sidled up to him when they bumped into each other in the drawing room. Arthur had just been cleaning, but now, faced with Francis he did an about-turn and tried to march right out until Francis flung an arm over Arthur’s shoulder, halting him. Just how had he managed to get in anyway? Arthur could not recall ever hearing the bell ring.
Stiffly, he flung his arm off. “Listen, git, I have a bone to pick with you!” he glared at Francis and his ridiculous clothes with all his might.
“Avec moi?” Francis smiled, feigning innocence.
Arthur tried to keep a handle on his temper, despite the fact that he was sure that he was being ridiculed again. “These clothes!” he ran a hand over the long coat. “I’m a servant and you’re making me dress like a gentleman? Are you trying to mock me?”
“You do not like the clothes?” Francis looked surprised, as if anyone could possibly dislike his taste in fashion. “What a selfish man. If you don’t like them you don’t have to wear them. If they displease you so much then take them off.”
Arthur yelped as Francis reached for the bow around his neck, quickly loosening it. The man was faster than he could have possibly imagined; by the time he realised the bow was undone, so were half of the buttons on his shirt and his coat was slipping off of his shoulders. Arthur was sure that he would have been fully undressed if not for the loud bang to the door.
“Francis!” Alfred’s face was much like the sound he had made; thunderous.
“Ah, mon ami! Francis immediately released Arthur - he sighed with relief - and held his hands up as if he had absolutely no part in what his hands decided to undress or molest.
“Don’t speak French to me!” Alfred glowered at him. “And keep your hands off of my servants!”
“I was only trying to help - ”
“Help my arse!” Arthur scowled.
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”
“Francis!”
The Frenchman smiled, letting his arms drop to his side. As if to show his goodwill, he took a further three steps away from Arthur, he was busily readjusting his clothing with a very red face and as much dignity as he could muster.
Alfred turned a sympathetic eye towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with this. Can you please ask Emily to bring some wine into the drawing room later?”
“Whatever,” Arthur shrugged. He was proud for the fact that he did not run right out of the room but those who observed him noticed a distinct briskness about his walk.
Unfortunately for him Emily was gone by the time he made it to the kitchen. He reminded himself with a groan that today was the day she usually went out to buy meat from the butcher’s. That only meant that he would have to take it upon himself to serve the wine, meaning he would inevitably have to return to the drawing room.
His hands shook with the humiliation of the whole affair as he poured the glasses. How dare that damn, slimy frog bastard try and touch him! Alfred was bad enough. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his days surrounded by perverts after his body like - like rabid men after a maiden?
Arthur’s face went as red as the wine recalling Alfred’s first attempts with him. Damn that man! Damn all mankind who did not know how to act like a proper gentleman! He seethed with the audacity of it! The disgrace! The - the absolute, utter, undeniable arrogance that man had shown in just about everything he did!
His energy deflated with the suddenness of a popped balloon. Why was he getting so worked up about Alfred? In fact, what was he doing ranting to himself like this? He had wine to serve.
By the time he returned, it sounded as if the two had already settled down, as had Arthur, though he often thought back to his rant and a small wave of depression would wash over him.
Reply
The door to the drawing room had been left partially closed. Arthur raised his fist to knock but suddenly halted. Now that he thought about it, what did Alfred talk about with Francis? He knew that they were ‘friends’ - in the loosest sense of the word - but they were not in any business ventures together that would be a cause for them to have such serious discussions.
“You already have what you wanted, mon ami, I think you are pushing your luck,” Francis’ thick tone trickled through the slight crack between door and door post.
“Lady Luck loves me,” Alfred’s boasting could be clearly heard even without pressing an ear to the wood. “Besides, if they choose to play then that’s a risk they take. They just don’t learn.”
Francis sighed. “You already have what you wanted. Don’t provoke them.”
Laughter boomed. Arthur had never heard Alfred laugh as loudly as he did. “Are you worried about me, Francis?”
“I think you are being a fool, that’s all.” Displeasure gave an edge to his voice. “You know how vicious nobles can be, especially when they’re playing games and trust me, mon ami, all of life is a game to them. You already have what you wanted.”
There. Again. Arthur wondered what Francis meant when he kept repeating ‘you already have what you wanted.’ He knew that Alfred gambled - boasted about his good luck in the game - but were they also involved in something shady?
Well, it was none of his business, Arthur obstinately told himself and with that rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open.
“Your wine, sirs,” he announced, curling his tongue around the word ‘sirs’ so that it dripped with sarcasm.
“Arthur?” Alfred’s shock was the first to register in his brain. “I remember asking you to send Emily,” he stood, taking the decanter of wine from him. There was slight anger in his voice, not enough to really be recognisable but just enough to shake Arthur a bit.
“Emily is currently out shopping,” Arthur replied curtly. He did not want to be in the room a moment longer if he was going to be treated with such ingratitude.
Turning on his heels, he marched back to the kitchen, scowling to himself. What was that? Just because he had come instead of Emily was no reason for Alfred to get so upset, surely he was just as good as she was at serving him.
“Git!” he growled at the far wall. He flung a damp tea cloth at it, imagining that it was Alfred’s face.
Reply
ILU author anon!
Reply
F5F5F5F5F5
Reply
Leave a comment