Servienne (LGBT)

3-The Help [revised]

   Many weeks passed from then, and for just another winter's day in the palace, it was especially warm. It had been a peculiarly warm winter, after all, but Aaron tried to enjoy it as much as he could. He watched as the servants ran to and fro: housemaids with their cleaning supplies; butlers with their papers; laundry maids carrying heaps of fine clothing, contrasting sharply against their rags; kitchen maids rushed back to their stove stations. Approaching the kitchen, following the maids, Aaron could hear the Head Cook shouting loudly, and he opened the door to be met by a chaos like he had never seen before.

   People of all kinds--but, it must be noted, all still relatively poor--bustled about the cramped space. The air smelled vividly or rare, exotic spices and flour, the same flour that covered counters and floor and walls. Chopping, stirring, pouring, dicing, and more made up the actions of the servitude who worked dutifully, and it brought a content smirk to Aaron's face to see such clean, neat compliance.

   His gaze shifted to the right where he found a frenzy of curly strawberry blonde hair, the heavy-set woman in her fifties shouting orders boisterously. She appeared more to be a young sprite in the way she moved than the aging woman she was. Catching him out of the corner of her eye, she froze before calling, her voice rising above all the noise of the masses. "Aaron!" A smile lit up her face. The entire kitchen staff froze as still as sidewalk concrete, all looking at him. In return, he gave a cold glare. "Oi, ya lazy lumps! Who the hell said ya could stop working? Yer making me look like a fool, the lot of ya!"She called, and once the workers flinched and rushed back to work, she laughed heartily. Aaron cracked a smile.

   "Sorry to bother you, Gertrude. As Head Cook, you must be awfully busy," He apologized, frowning deeply. Gertrude waved her hand through the air. "Nonsense. What can I help you with, my dearest little nephew? I hate to see you pout. So quit it." Yes, nephew as in his mother's bastard cousin, but it was easier to say nephew and she was more of an aunt anyway. Aaron loved her dearly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she placed a hand on her hip, tilting her head. "Wait, I forgot" She lowered her voice, "It has to do with yer father's whole proclamation, right?" Freezing, Aaron stared at her in shock. "Erwin told me, ya dimwit. Ya don't think he'd keep his cousin-in-law in the dark about this? After Katty, yer mum, passed away, I was who he'd turn to. That ain't changing anytime soon, kid. I'm more a therapist than the Head Cook for him at this point!" She scoffed, slicing a piece of meat clean in half with her butcher's knife. "So you know, then," He muttered, his heart aching. "You know why I despise people like that. But he wants me to understand these people, like somehow that matters. It's absolutely ridiculous. And where the fuck am I even supposed to start?"

   "Kid, ya don't understand anything unless it's spelled out for ya, do ya?" Gertrude jabbed, rolling her eyes as she looked up from her chopping board to Aaron. "He just wants ya to understand that while ya eat caviar and drink high class wines, some people toil day in and day out just to scrape up enough food to keep themselves alive. Yer not the only person who matters all the time, ya selfish brat." Had it been anyone else saying that, Aaron would have considered having them hanged. But, since it was Gertrude, he laughed brightly--a rare sound that may in the kitchen flinched when they heard, shocked. Prince Aaron was seen as a cruel, malicious young boy. To hear anything like laughter was a miracle if he was anything like those rumors. "I'll cut out your tongue with that butcher's knife if you keep that talk up," He quipped in return.

   After having chatted for a while, Aaron decided he wanted to take a look around the kitchens and dismissed himself, plunging deeper into the masses of workers who parted for him, not daring to touch him. Towards the back, Aaron could see the sinks lining the walls, and a scullion stood at one, boredly, absentmindedly, and slowly scrubbing at pots and pans. Scowling, Aaron stormed closer, opening his mouth to scold the worker before Gertrude's vice rose above the crowd. "Shift change!"

   The mass of people moved about him; the scullion slipped off his apron, setting down the dishes, and rushing into the crowd, but that wasn't before the man bumped roughly into Aaron, smearing grease and grime across the expensive golden hems. Rage coursed through Aaron, but even as he went to grab him, Aaron was left swiping at air, the man having already melted into the frenzy, slipping through to the other side and exiting the kitchen with ease. Gut bubbling with fury, Aaron slammed his fist down on the nearest table, many glancing over timidly before returning to work to avoid being yelled at.

   Disrespected in public by a scullion, there was no worse shame. Sure, perhaps it hadn't actually been seen by anyone in particular, but Aaron still felt personally insulted. How are some common scullion pull that with him! Who was that man that he thought he could do something so bold to royalty? Had the stranger even recognized him? How had he not recognized his future king? Aaron was baffled and, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he flushed in embarrassment, shielding his face a little as he pushed through the crowd and left the kitchen in a hurry, feeling completely humiliated.

  When he was king, Aaron would make sure measly little people like that recognized him; he never wanted to feel that humiliated ever again. Yes, when he was king he would do so--because no matter what, Aaron would be king.