Spoiled | Falsettos AU

Chapter Five

Whizzer

Once Cordelia is finished feeding me, she teaches me the ropes of my new job.

She tells me the layout of the palace, when to wake each member of the royal family on a morning and how to do so, when to clean certain rooms, and how to act around the different people I'll meet in the palace.

"How will I know what time it is, though?" I ask.
"There's a grandfather clock in the main hall."
"So I'll need to go back and forth to check?" I ask.
"For the first few weeks, yes." She says, her expression showing that she knows it will be difficult. "You'll soon pick up a rhythm and not need to check the time, though." I'm not convinced, but I drop it, seeing no other solution.

After that, she moves on to explaining my most imminent job: serving dinner.
"The King, Queen and Prince eat at six. They have two courses, a starter and a main dish. Sometimes Prince Jason has dessert, but he comes in here for that and takes it off to his room." She turns back to cutting up the last of the food. "If he does that, being the dish back down when you clean his room in the morning. It'll be... Somewhere. Maybe check under the bed."
"Okay?"

"Between the two courses, don't leave the room. Just stand off to the side- don't look bored or lean against the wall- until King Marvin puts his cutlery down. That's when you know to collect the next course or to clean up." She concludes with a smile.

"And then what?"
"Charlotte, Mendel, you and I eat once they're done and everything is cleaned up. Mendel tends to eat in his room while Charlotte and I eat here in the kitchen. You're free to join us or go to your own room." I don't want to intrude, so I simply smile and nod awkwardly, planning to eat in my room.

"After dinner, your duties are over for the day, but you don't have to go to your room until ten." She finishes chopping and sweeps the cut vegetables into a bowl.
"Alright." I plan to explore, in that case. Maybe I can even find a way out...

"Though I assume somebody will keep an eye on you, since you're a criminal. You woke be allowed in the garden, that's for sure, and probably not in the west corner on the bottom floor, either."
"The west corner of the bottom floor is the..."
"The throne room and storage rooms for royal documents, such as royal birth certificates, law books, money statements, and census drafts."
"Okay." I don't care about any of they, anyway. If I'm allowed access to a human-sized window on the first or second floor, I'm happy.

~~~

Dinner is a quiet event. The King, Queen and Prince eat in silence, the only noise being the blinking of crockery against cutlery. I have vague memories of my childhood dinners being a little louder than this, with my parents conversing with each other about matters that went over my head.

They're onto their second course by the time the Queen breaks the silence.
"Jason, honey, tell your father what you think about boarding school."

The King raises his head and glares at her. I can only see the bald of her head, but she seems unaffected by his strong gaze, while I myself shrink slightly in response.
"Trina, we are not doing this here."
"Well when else are you two going to be in the same room?" She retorts.
"I think it's stupid."
"Jason!" The King gasps.
"I don't want to go."
"It's tradition!"
"Exactly!" He throws his hands up exasperatedly. "The itchy clothes, the stupid ball, and now a boarding school filled with stuck-up princes and noblemen who think they're better than because their kingdoms are bigger... Tradition is just inconvenient!"
"It's sacred!"

The argument continued, remaining as melodramatic as it was to begin with, the Queen adding her own opinion to the fray. After almost ten minutes of shouting, the prince storms off. The King slams his cutlery down, his food no doubt cold my now, and starts muttering angrily at the Queen, who has fallen silent.

After a few minutes, he glance around and his eyes land on me.
"Hey, you." He snaps his fingers at me. "Didn't Cordelia teach you any etiquette? Clean this up."

"Oh, right. Yeah." I rush forward and start stacking the still-full plates, struggling not to drop them.
"You should be apologising." He growls, just as I drop a fork. I scowl at the fork instead of him and mumble out an apology. His eyes focus on my ass as I bend down to pick up the dropped utensil, and I'm almost overcome with an urge to punch him. Closet-case creep.

I leave quickly.