Servienne (LGBT)

4-Send the Scullion [revised]

Scullion: menial  (unskilled) kitchen worker, typically in charge of the work that others of the kitchen are too busy for, like dish cleaning and floor scrubbing

_____________________

   Four days after his trip to the kitchen, Prince Aaron had been sent on a diplomatic trip to the southern kingdom of Alksber, Yoheim's most valuable ally currently assisting with some political and economic issues arising from a stirring group of rebels in Yoheim's countryside. They had been allied nations for centuries, and Alksber's rich culture and social progressiveness was a highly advantageous point for Yoheim's slightly lagging social stigma. But, since ties to Alksber had slowly been weakening in the last few generations, King Erwin of Yoheim and King Leonardo of Alksber had decided to arrange a strengthening of relations in the only way royalty knew how: marriage.

   Betrothed to the dear, sweet, bubbly Princess Eugenia, Aaron had been tied to her since birth. She was the poster child of her country, beloved by all. Well, except for him. She was too bright; she radiated too much happiness. He always felt like he was suffocating around her, and it wasn't just because of her heavy perfume. He detested the idea of being wed to her in his future, and the prospect of spending the rest of his life with her made Aaron nauseous. There was nothing wrong with her necessarily, but Eugenia had no concept of hardship. She had never worked a day in her life and had never been told the honest truth if it could shatter her fragile little feelings. In all honesty, she wasn't captivatingly attractive either. She was relatively plain in looks, only exemplified by her fresh young face. She was nothing extraordinary, yet she just happened to be born royalty.

   Smiling around her and pretending to be as happy as pie was exhausting. By the time Aaron got home, his cheeks ached and his shoulders stiff. Being back home was a breath of fresh air, and he wanted nothing more than to just lock himself away for a few days. For a week, Aaron did nothing but roam the halls of the castle. He tried to remember why he had even been looking to escape the castle for so long, but it slipped his mind. He tried his best to think of nothing to do with his father or Alksber or anything political in those seven days, simply enjoying his short vacation.

   After that week passed, it was back to putting on fine clothing and having his hair done up tidily, shifting through paperwork and sipping at black tea. It was a weekend afternoon, the sun mid-way in the sky, so when the knock came at his bedroom door, Aaron knew whoever it was couldn't have been just a servant there for meals. He looked up from his papers, cocking an eyebrow up as he shifted in his seat. "Come in," He called skeptically. When the door opened, he threw his paperwork on his desk, rising to his feet fast, eyes hardening. It was the man from the kitchen who had ignored him. Though it had been a month, Aaron remembered his face clearly. Mused black hair, bold green eyes, light mocha skin, and an indifferent look to tie it all together. But in his hand... a wine bottle bottle? And a glass? "What is the meaning of this?" He asked, looking from the bottle to the man and back again.

   "Gertrude sent me saying you might need this. Something to do with the princess, I guess?" Oh. Aaron nodded. Yes, Gertrude knew well how Aaron thought of Eugenia. A glass of wine was definitely in order. Thank you, Gertrude, He thought inwardly. "But... Why send the scullion of all people?" He scoffed. "Honestly, Gertrude, of all the kitchen staff? Alright, whatever. Set the glass down wherever and leave. Try not to touch anything, your hands are probably filthy," He said, looking back to his papers. Aaron couldn't care less about what he said to this man. He already disliked this stranger's flippancy and rudeness enough.

   After a moment's hesitation, the scullion walked over, setting down the bottle and the glass, standing there. Aaron took both items, pouring himself a glass of wine, bringing it to his lips before he paused. The man wasn't leaving. "What? I've already dismissed you. You may leave, scullion."

   "Sir," The man said, visibly disgusted with having to say it. Aaron smirked. His status had forced this person to show him some respect. He felt a little more powerful. "I would appreciate it if you did not insult the jobs of the staff." Instantly, Aaron's blood ran cold. He froze, eyes hardening like steel as he glared up at the man. "Excuse me?" He growled, teeth gritting together. "Are you asking me to repeat myself, sir?" The man asked bitterly. Aaron set down his glass, getting to his feet, blood now boiling with fury. "I should have you flogged. I should have you whipped and your left arm branded with the royal insignia so deep that the iron touches your bone. Not for this alone, but for not knowing your future king's face as well. Last month, in the kitchen, you walked by and blatantly ignored me when I addressed you. For that alone, I have had men beaten." He took a step towards the man, but instead of fear in the scullion's face, he simply found more defiance. It was the sort of expression he'd found to be in the faces of countless idiotic rebels right before they were hanged, holding foolishly close their pride, pride being the only thing they had left to offer in strength.

   "My apologies that my entire existence doesn't revolve around memorizing my social superiors' faces and names, sir," The man said flatly, clearly trying to keep the malice from his voice--failing nonetheless. Aaron reached up, grabbing the man's collar and forcing him down, bringing his lip's to the scullion's ear. "Get on your knees before I consider sending you to be beheaded for this. Show me some respect, kitchen hand." Aaron was a god. He was untouchable. This person in front of him was a bug. He was squashable. And Aaron wanted the man to recognize that. He released the man's collar, crossing his arms and staring up the few inch difference between them to the servant's narrowed emerald eyes.

   "Well?"

  Silence. The man said nothing, and just as Aaron opened his mouth to demand him to speak, he flinched as the man took a step forward. Aaron took a step back away from him, but that was merely met with another scullion's step forward and the prince's step back. Aaron stumbled, continuing to move back as the scullion towering over him suddenly. "What are you doing? Stop it! I'll call the guards, you fucking--" He sucked in a breath as his back pressed to the wall on the opposite side of the room, staring up at the stranger. The man leaned down, grabbing Aaron in an iron hold by his shoulders, hissing into his ear. "Don't you ever talk to me or any of the staff like that again. Or do you want me to repeat myself again, my prince? I hate people like you the most. Just shut the fuck up about your superiority complex. None of us care about your last name or that you're our future king. If you're to be king of Yoheim, this kingdom is already doomed. You may as well bow to me, Prince Aaron. Maybe I'll spare you when rebels are raiding your walls and you become less than dirt as you've made of us."

   What? Aaron's legs trembled beneath him, tears welling up in his eyes as his whole body was overcome by fear. What was this? Why was he so terrified? One order from him and this man could be dead by morning. But something about this, it terrified him to his core. Even his lips trembled, staring up at the man in front of him like a scared puppy, holding back a sob. The man scoffed, slamming Aaron hard into the wall. "If you tell anyone about this? From the look in your eye, you probably already know, but if you need more? I wonder how much the noblesse would laugh in your face if they learn that you'd almost pissed yourself because of a scullion, huh? You'd have to give a reason to kill me, after all. Have fun telling them this story." He smirked darkly, letting go of Aaron who collapsed to the ground, gasping and shaking. The scullion turned, heading for the door. "Oh, enjoy the wine," He called before opening the door and shutting it with a slam behind himself.

   Aaron sat there, stunned. What was there to say? To do? Another sob came to his lips. He had been so scared. There was so much demand in that man's voice; the fear of death loomed over Aaron so horrifyingly he felt sick to his stomach with it. Never in Aaron's life had he ever feared death. It suddenly became apparent to him how utterly mortal a god like him was, and Aaron hugged himself tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks as he sat silently slumped on the dirty ground where he belonged.