Unholy - Andley (AU)

4.5

(Continued from last chapter because it got too long. This one contains the good stuff, especially gay stuff.)

After nine hours of very tiring work, the huge crystalline clock in the grand ballroom struck twelve, and the servants all hurried out of whatever room they were in to make themselves present in the dining hall.

Three other servants of a slightly higher rank than others quickly followed, holding large stainless steel plates with big domed covers over the food to keep it warm. They, along with two other normal ranking servants, then set about setting the table very neatly, putting great effort into the rather ridiculous amount of cutlery, and pouring the count a glass of his special reserve.

A thick crimson liquid, almost like red treacle, poured slowly into the large beautifully decorated goblet, and the bottle was set to the side. It was a mystery what the count drank, as no one ever was allowed to taste it. It smelt like tar.

Ashley stood along one of the sides of the great dining hall inline with the guards, hardly unable to contain his victorious smirk.

He wanted to prove to Andrew how good he was, and was not to be made fun of. He didn't quite understand why this was the most important thing on his mind right now. It seemed the count had never actually been off his mind this past week, even appearing in his dreams several times. But dreams which were far too vulgar to discuss, so he pushed it aside.

Finally, at half past twelve, the count strode in, his shoulders held back, his back straight and his chin high. He carried himself proudly, with more of an air of one of royalty than a mere count. But Ashley couldn't help but take note of the slight limp to his left leg.

He sat himself down in his blackwood throne, sinking into the black velvet cushions to ease the supposed back pain that seemed to have suddenly struck him. The servants either side of him waited until the count was fully seated, before meekly pulling away the large steel food covers and uncovering an incredible selection of beautiful foods, and then backing quickly off to their positions alongside the guards.

Ashley couldn't wait. All concerns regarding the count's wellbeing vanished. This was what all that work was for. That irritating arrogant grin was going to leave and never come back, he was sure of it.

Andrew glanced over the food in one careless sweep, and gave a low sigh, indicating he was clearly in a very irritable mood, and food was not going to help. He wrinkled his nose slightly and raised an eyebrow, dragging his fingers through his long black hair in an annoyed way.

The servants all held their breath. They knew far too well if even one little thing was wrong their lord would get very angry, very quickly.

After roughy about five minutes of Andrew sorting out his nails and repetitively biting the ring of metal locked around his plump lower lip, which created a rather annoying clicking sound, he pushed his chair out as if to leave.

Ashley watched him, a sense of desperation washing over him. The count hadn't even touched it, and now he was just going to get up and leave?

After a whole week of biting his tongue and trying very hard not to give lip or unpleasant glares at people, Ashley finally couldn't contain it any longer. He didn't care if the count was in a bad mood or not, he needed to prove his worth.

In a sudden rush of adrenaline and blind desperation, knowing this would be his one and only chance to prove to that miserable count that he wasn't someone to tread all over, the Redoran boy stepped forward.