- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Nonbinary
- Transgender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy (High, Low, Modern, Any), Romance, Supernatural Creatures, Fairytale Retellings, Mythological, Heroes' Journeys, Fandom (Bioware Games). Open to Trying Different Genres.
A blush budded beneath his mask as Erica said her farewells. "Good evening…my lady," he mumbled when she walked away. Silly, he supposed, to even bother regretting what he could never hope to have. Erica believed only her engagement stood in the way of such an evening. If only she knew the lies he'd told her tonight. He tore his eyes away from her elegant form when she rejoined her father and the king. A pleasant dream at least, to lessen some of the pain of separation.
He drifted deeper into the crowd, eager to escape her father's gaze. His mind reeled from her accusation and the very idea their king might be involved in something so underhanded. Everyone knew the nobility were the best among them, free of corruption since the end of the old king's reign. And yet…
"Worthless! If you can't carry out a menial task, you're worth less than my horse! Do you want to be stupider than a beast?"
And yet…
Thin arms shaking as he carried the Duke's chainmail to the ring. Can't drop it again. He sounds so awful when he yells.
The sharp tolling of the bell woke him from his musing. No, he had to remember his place. Another pair of rings followed. His eyes grew wide as he glanced around the crowd. People began to break away into pairs, some of the older couples returning to the dance floor. The three bells; the end of the festivities had come.
Ash began to weave his way through the crowd, controlling his speed to avoid drawing unwanted attention. The final festivities, including the unmasking, would occur as soon as the dance ended. A wave of sympathy passed through him as he glanced back toward the place he knew Erica stood. As the betrothed party, she and the king would have to take part in the final dance and exchange some romantic gesture to finalize the arrangement. He arrived at the door and slipped out into the hall. Perhaps it would be quick and painless. The king was not a young man, after all, and the night had grown late.
Once down the hall, Ash pulled off his mask and the white gloves to protect them from the dirty conditions in the servants' quarters. A few of the younger servants had gone to their beds but most of the beds remained empty allowing him to sneak back into the corner where his clothes remained tucked against the wall. He pulled the buddle out, staring at the humble cloth marked with the badge of House Richelieu.
Back to reality then.
Sometime later, Armand slipped into the darkened room and headed back toward the bed he shared with Ash for the night. He found the young man bent over a basin rinsing his long, white locks in the grimy coffee they'd saved from the morning meal, turning it a muddy brown color. The older man dropped a thin towel by the young man before sitting on the straw mat nearby. "Did ye enjoy yerself tonight, lad?"
Ash glanced up, a smile coming to mask his troubled mind. "Aye. It was ev'rything ye promised. Almost like a dream. Thank ye both so much."
"Good, good," Armand replied as he watched Ash towel off his now soiled hair, "Dance with any pretty ladies then?"
His smile turned genuine as he thought back to the silver haired young woman. "Aye, the prettiest of them all," he replied as he pulled his shirt over his head. So much work remained to be done before the night would end for him, much of his time at the ball had been a "rest break," but the lost sleep was worth meeting such a fascinating woman if only to know her for one night. Someday he hoped to fulfill that promise to her.
Armand chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "That's a good lad. Best get back to work then."
Someday. If ever a servant could hope for such greatness.
He drifted deeper into the crowd, eager to escape her father's gaze. His mind reeled from her accusation and the very idea their king might be involved in something so underhanded. Everyone knew the nobility were the best among them, free of corruption since the end of the old king's reign. And yet…
"Worthless! If you can't carry out a menial task, you're worth less than my horse! Do you want to be stupider than a beast?"
And yet…
Thin arms shaking as he carried the Duke's chainmail to the ring. Can't drop it again. He sounds so awful when he yells.
The sharp tolling of the bell woke him from his musing. No, he had to remember his place. Another pair of rings followed. His eyes grew wide as he glanced around the crowd. People began to break away into pairs, some of the older couples returning to the dance floor. The three bells; the end of the festivities had come.
Ash began to weave his way through the crowd, controlling his speed to avoid drawing unwanted attention. The final festivities, including the unmasking, would occur as soon as the dance ended. A wave of sympathy passed through him as he glanced back toward the place he knew Erica stood. As the betrothed party, she and the king would have to take part in the final dance and exchange some romantic gesture to finalize the arrangement. He arrived at the door and slipped out into the hall. Perhaps it would be quick and painless. The king was not a young man, after all, and the night had grown late.
Once down the hall, Ash pulled off his mask and the white gloves to protect them from the dirty conditions in the servants' quarters. A few of the younger servants had gone to their beds but most of the beds remained empty allowing him to sneak back into the corner where his clothes remained tucked against the wall. He pulled the buddle out, staring at the humble cloth marked with the badge of House Richelieu.
Back to reality then.
Sometime later, Armand slipped into the darkened room and headed back toward the bed he shared with Ash for the night. He found the young man bent over a basin rinsing his long, white locks in the grimy coffee they'd saved from the morning meal, turning it a muddy brown color. The older man dropped a thin towel by the young man before sitting on the straw mat nearby. "Did ye enjoy yerself tonight, lad?"
Ash glanced up, a smile coming to mask his troubled mind. "Aye. It was ev'rything ye promised. Almost like a dream. Thank ye both so much."
"Good, good," Armand replied as he watched Ash towel off his now soiled hair, "Dance with any pretty ladies then?"
His smile turned genuine as he thought back to the silver haired young woman. "Aye, the prettiest of them all," he replied as he pulled his shirt over his head. So much work remained to be done before the night would end for him, much of his time at the ball had been a "rest break," but the lost sleep was worth meeting such a fascinating woman if only to know her for one night. Someday he hoped to fulfill that promise to her.
Armand chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "That's a good lad. Best get back to work then."
Someday. If ever a servant could hope for such greatness.