The Winter's Servant {Stucky AU} COMPLETED

~Chapter Eight~

Eventually, Steven managed to pull himself together. Eyes still shining bright from tears and his cheeks pink and wet, he asked, "Couldn't I go with you?"

James shook his head as he heaved a soft sigh. "I'm afraid not."

"But I'm your personal servant, " Steven protested. "I should be required to go with you."

Chuckling quietly, James said, "I find it sweet that you want to accompany me so desperately."

Despite his sorrowful situation, Steven blushed involuntarily.

"However, " James continued, his voice neutral. "There have been suspicions about you and I. "

Steven didn't think he could get any more upset. He was wrong. "Who? " he asked, already knowing what the accusations were about.

"I'm not sure. But taking you with me wouldn't look good, so you will remain here. " He gently swiped his thumb along Steve's red cheeks, wiping away his teardrops. "I'm so sorry, my doll. We'll need to be careful. "

Shaking his head, Steven said, "But I'll miss you. I don't want you to go away. "

"I don't want to leave either. " He pressed a kiss to his servant's lips. "But it's for the best right now. "

Steven slid himself off of James's lap. Not looking at his Master's face, he asked, "May I leave? " He couldn't stand to be there for another moment, feeling so helpless in the situation.

Slowly, James nodded. "Yes, " his voice was quiet. "You may leave. "

Steven saw himself out of the room, as James watched as he left.

The servant made his way to his own sleeping quarters.

If there was anyone in the world that wouldn't judge him because he didn't care for women or because he was ridiculously in love with his Master, is was his mother.

After knocking softly on the door to inform her that he was entering, Steven walked in to find his mother sitting on her bed, her old, withered hands knitting a scarf with elegant, smooth movements.

Steven didn't care if he and his mother were both servants, he was convinced that his mother had the poise and gracefulness of the finest queen in the world.

She smiled hen she saw him, weathered skin crinkling around her bright blue eyes, that sparkled despite Her constant illness and weariness. Motioning to the grey, half finished scarf she currently knitted on, she said, "It's almost done, and I think its coming along beautifully. It'll match your eyes perfectly, my dear. "

Steven managed a smile despite his heart ache as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to his mother, the thin mattress dipping under his weight. His cheeks had dried on the way to their room, no longer having any lingering tear stains.

His mother hummed to herself as she knitted along, and Steven almost hated to break her out of her good mood by telling her of his sorrows. But he just couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Mama, " he whispered, his eyes beginning to brew with tears once more.

His mother's own eyes snapped up from her current work, and her soft smile that graced her lips faded as she say the pain etched into her son's face. "What is it, baby? " she asked as she sat her project down and pulling Steven into her arms.

Steven nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, immediately feeling safe, even if his mother was even weaker than he was, and certainly no bigger.