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wolfanficsTitle: Master and Servant
Author: Sashataakheru
Fandom: AusComedy/AU
Characters: Adam Hills as the servant/bodyguard, Hamish Blake as the young Prince
Prompt: #26 Serving
Word Count: 1,718
Warnings: none
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Table: http://wolfanfics.livejournal.com/10809.html
Progress: 5/50
Author's Notes/Summary: Um, I’m not entirely sure where this idea came from, but I *think* there may be more of this fic to come. Consider this part one. For the moment. Until I get inspired enough to write more.
“Go check the corridors for spies. I don’t want Father thinking I’m irresponsible,” the young Prince Hamish says to his personal servant.
The servant bows, drawing his sword from its sheath. “Yes, Majesty,” he says before leaving the Prince alone in his chambers to check the halls for spies. “Not that I’m going to find any,” he mutters, wearily checking every possible hiding spot for spies.
He quickly finishes his search, finding no one as he’d suspected and returns to the Prince’s chambers. “No one present, Majesty,” the servant says, sheathing his sword again before bowing to his Prince.
“Good, good. We can’t have me assassinated on my 21st birthday, now can we? Father wouldn’t like it,” Prince Hamish says. “Now, help me dress. I’ll be wearing my blue today, I think. Or possibly the red. What do you think – oh, I’ve forgotten your name, Alan, is it?”
“It’s Adam, Majesty, and if I may be so bold to suggest the bottle green, sir?” the servant says, cringing at his Prince’s inability to remember his name after so many years of service.
“The green?” Prince Hamish says, turning to eye his servant.
“It matches your eyes, Majesty,” the servant says quickly, averting his gaze, unaware of how quiet his voice is.
“Do you think so?”
The Prince walks over to his wardrobe and pulls out the bottle green tunic, holding it against him as he gazes into the mirror. Adam the servant approaches his Master as much as he dares, gazing at the Prince’s reflection in the mirror. The Prince carries himself with an arrogance that naturally comes with royalty, sneering down at his servants with disdain. Adam can see it in the reflection, how his eyes convey how proud he is of his status. The rich green velvet tunic is made of the finest materials in the country. Rich, soft and exquisitely made. Adam wishes for nothing more than to reach out and touch the beautiful fabric, to touch his Master as delicately as that soft fabric soon would. But to do so would bring trouble. To touch the young Prince is strictly forbidden. Adam must content himself with this reflected image of his Prince, his blue-green eyes and dark shimmering hair perfectly complementing the outfit.
“Beautiful,” Adam whispers without realising he’s spoken.
“Really? Think any of those foreign ladies would go for me in this? Father has insisted I look for a bride tonight,” Prince Hamish says.
“Any woman who refuses you doesn’t deserve you,” Adam says, ashamed that his comment had been heard.
“I’m pleased you think so,” the Prince says. He takes a few more moments gazing at his reflection before coming to a decision about his attire for the evening. “Yes, I think we’ll go for the green. Excellent choice, Adam. Now, prepare a bath for me. Make it deep and hot, just how I like it. And don’t forget some of that salve Mother gave me for my skin,” he says.
“Yes, Majesty,” Adam says, bowing to his Master and attending to his commands.
The bathroom overlooks the great garden out the back of the palace. The windows, while high up, are still fixed with frosted glass, though if one knows the proper incantations to override the palace’s protections, it’s possible to make them clear and gaze out at the world. Hamish had learnt those spells remarkably quickly. He’s quite the adept magician, a skill working in his favour in his search for a Princess. His family line is rich in magic, probably the reason their dynasty has ruled these lands for so long.
Adam sets to work quickly, filling the huge bath with steaming hot water, adding a pinch of two white powders to complete the spells. They ensure the water retains its heat as long as necessary. Otherwise the water would quickly cool. The palace was not designed for keeping the heat in. Once he’s satisfied that everything is prepared, Adam returns to his Master again.
“Your bath is prepared, Majesty,” he says simply.
“Perfect. I hope you remembered the powder this time,” the Prince says as he brushes past his servant to enter the bathroom, shooting him a patronising glance.
“Yes, Majesty. I remembered this time,” Adam says, bowing his head.
“Good,” the Prince says.
The servant undresses his Master in silence, carefully folding the clothes and placing them in the chest against the far wall to keep them safe and dry. The Prince keeps his servant busy as he bathes, though by now, he hardly needs to tell Adam how to wash him. Adam has served the Prince for nearly 13 years now. He knows what he’s doing. It’s the only time Adam’s ever allowed to touch his Master so intimately. He knows how much the Prince loves it when Adam washes him. Adam pays great attention to detail.
Adam had been taught well. It was at a foreign King’s palace that he’d learnt his trade, mostly from his long-dead mother, who’d been the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting. Adam had often wondered how he’d come into the world, and who his father had been. But by the age of seven, the rumours and taunts from the King’s children were enough to clue him in to his parentage. He was no threat to the throne, being only half-blooded. The King may have fathered him, but he would never be royalty. There were others who had a much more secure claim, and besides, Adam had never wanted to be King. He’d seen how much work it was. He’d seen exactly how Kings behave. Besides, he’d promised his mother to serve, so that’s what he does.
I often wonder what would’ve happened if I’d been seen as a Prince instead of some poor bastard child. I’d be the one lying in that hot bath, my servant washing me, daydreaming of the Princess I’d one day marry. This would be my life, dressed in the most beautiful clothes, entertaining the most beautiful people, free to do whatever I wanted to. I wouldn’t be here serving a man who can’t even remember my name.
Arrogant bastard. Why do I love him so much? I want to smack him across the face and tell him what a bastard he is. That if he just remembered my name, if he actually acknowledged my service with true thanks as opposed to his false adoration, then perhaps I wouldn’t hate him so much. But, what can I do? A servant has no mind, no thoughts to himself. I exist to serve, to please my Master.
I do this for you, Mother. I hope I am living up to your expectations.
“Adam, what do you think my bride will be like? Do you think she’ll be pretty? I do hope she doesn’t talk all the time. I’d get no peace and quiet!” the Prince says, breaking Adam from his reverie.
“I’m sure she’ll be beautiful, Majesty. What Princess wouldn’t want you, sir?” Adam says.
“Well, I am a rather handsome specimen, am I not?” the Prince says.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are, my Prince,” is what Adam wants to say. But realising that would get him into trouble, he bites his tongue and replies, “A prize worthy of even the loveliest of Princesses, Majesty.”
There’s a grunt of approval from the Prince at his servant’s response. The Prince lays back in the bath, basking in his own ego, that proud arrogance seeping from every pore in his body.
He’s like a lion, lying there while I massage his ego. Basking. Arrogant. Sure of his place in the world. Yet, at the same time, oh so insecure about everything. Needs reassurance about everything. I wonder how he’d face the world without me?
Don’t be so stupid, Adam. Like you mean that much to him. You’re just as replaceable as a piece of broken china. If you died today, he’d find another servant. It’s not as if there’s a shortage of servants in the country anyway.
Adam’s musings once more get him into trouble as a strike from the Prince breaks his servant out of his thoughts again.
“Do I pay you to daydream, servant?” the Prince says, appalled at his concentration today.
“I-I’m sorry, Majesty. I-I have been careless today. I-”
“Enough of your excuses. Now leave me. I’ll finish this off myself. Get my clothes ready. See if you can do that without losing your mind,” the Prince says harshly.
“Yes, Majesty,” Adam says, blushing with embarrassment. He quickly leaves the Prince alone to finish, entering the main chambers again to get the bottle green outfit ready for his Master.
Making sure to take great care with his work, the servant heats the clothes over the fire pit. Adam polishes the Prince’s shoes until they shine like glass. The outfit is brushed down, the Prince’s elegant gilded sword and belt cleaned and laid out on the bed. The belt of herbs and potions the Prince always wears is carefully taken from the bathroom and taken over to the bed. Adam carefully fills up the small pouches with the correct ingredients from the Prince’s personal store, making sure not to spill any. By the time the Prince emerges from the bathroom, a thick robe wrapped around him, Adam’s finished, waiting for his Master to emerge.
“I see you managed that alright. Now, let’s get me all dressed up, hey?” the Prince says.
Adam bows his head slightly and fetches the warmed clothes from the rack by the fire, helping dress his Prince in the green velvet. Twenty minutes of preening and the Prince is finally ready to face his waiting guests. He struts before the mirror, taking in his appearance.
“Do I look beautiful, Adam?” the Prince says.
“Like no one else in existence,” Adam says, unable to take his eyes off his Master.
“Then, let’s not keep the ladies waiting, shall we?” the Prince says, gesturing towards the door.
Adam can’t help but smile as he shows his Prince down to the dining hall, watching how he walks with such confidence and charm, seeing everyone smile at him and greet him as he passes by. Just for a moment, he wishes he was paid the same attention from his Prince that the Prince grants to his guests.
Author: Sashataakheru
Fandom: AusComedy/AU
Characters: Adam Hills as the servant/bodyguard, Hamish Blake as the young Prince
Prompt: #26 Serving
Word Count: 1,718
Warnings: none
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Table: http://wolfanfics.livejournal.com/10809.html
Progress: 5/50
Author's Notes/Summary: Um, I’m not entirely sure where this idea came from, but I *think* there may be more of this fic to come. Consider this part one. For the moment. Until I get inspired enough to write more.
“Go check the corridors for spies. I don’t want Father thinking I’m irresponsible,” the young Prince Hamish says to his personal servant.
The servant bows, drawing his sword from its sheath. “Yes, Majesty,” he says before leaving the Prince alone in his chambers to check the halls for spies. “Not that I’m going to find any,” he mutters, wearily checking every possible hiding spot for spies.
He quickly finishes his search, finding no one as he’d suspected and returns to the Prince’s chambers. “No one present, Majesty,” the servant says, sheathing his sword again before bowing to his Prince.
“Good, good. We can’t have me assassinated on my 21st birthday, now can we? Father wouldn’t like it,” Prince Hamish says. “Now, help me dress. I’ll be wearing my blue today, I think. Or possibly the red. What do you think – oh, I’ve forgotten your name, Alan, is it?”
“It’s Adam, Majesty, and if I may be so bold to suggest the bottle green, sir?” the servant says, cringing at his Prince’s inability to remember his name after so many years of service.
“The green?” Prince Hamish says, turning to eye his servant.
“It matches your eyes, Majesty,” the servant says quickly, averting his gaze, unaware of how quiet his voice is.
“Do you think so?”
The Prince walks over to his wardrobe and pulls out the bottle green tunic, holding it against him as he gazes into the mirror. Adam the servant approaches his Master as much as he dares, gazing at the Prince’s reflection in the mirror. The Prince carries himself with an arrogance that naturally comes with royalty, sneering down at his servants with disdain. Adam can see it in the reflection, how his eyes convey how proud he is of his status. The rich green velvet tunic is made of the finest materials in the country. Rich, soft and exquisitely made. Adam wishes for nothing more than to reach out and touch the beautiful fabric, to touch his Master as delicately as that soft fabric soon would. But to do so would bring trouble. To touch the young Prince is strictly forbidden. Adam must content himself with this reflected image of his Prince, his blue-green eyes and dark shimmering hair perfectly complementing the outfit.
“Beautiful,” Adam whispers without realising he’s spoken.
“Really? Think any of those foreign ladies would go for me in this? Father has insisted I look for a bride tonight,” Prince Hamish says.
“Any woman who refuses you doesn’t deserve you,” Adam says, ashamed that his comment had been heard.
“I’m pleased you think so,” the Prince says. He takes a few more moments gazing at his reflection before coming to a decision about his attire for the evening. “Yes, I think we’ll go for the green. Excellent choice, Adam. Now, prepare a bath for me. Make it deep and hot, just how I like it. And don’t forget some of that salve Mother gave me for my skin,” he says.
“Yes, Majesty,” Adam says, bowing to his Master and attending to his commands.
The bathroom overlooks the great garden out the back of the palace. The windows, while high up, are still fixed with frosted glass, though if one knows the proper incantations to override the palace’s protections, it’s possible to make them clear and gaze out at the world. Hamish had learnt those spells remarkably quickly. He’s quite the adept magician, a skill working in his favour in his search for a Princess. His family line is rich in magic, probably the reason their dynasty has ruled these lands for so long.
Adam sets to work quickly, filling the huge bath with steaming hot water, adding a pinch of two white powders to complete the spells. They ensure the water retains its heat as long as necessary. Otherwise the water would quickly cool. The palace was not designed for keeping the heat in. Once he’s satisfied that everything is prepared, Adam returns to his Master again.
“Your bath is prepared, Majesty,” he says simply.
“Perfect. I hope you remembered the powder this time,” the Prince says as he brushes past his servant to enter the bathroom, shooting him a patronising glance.
“Yes, Majesty. I remembered this time,” Adam says, bowing his head.
“Good,” the Prince says.
The servant undresses his Master in silence, carefully folding the clothes and placing them in the chest against the far wall to keep them safe and dry. The Prince keeps his servant busy as he bathes, though by now, he hardly needs to tell Adam how to wash him. Adam has served the Prince for nearly 13 years now. He knows what he’s doing. It’s the only time Adam’s ever allowed to touch his Master so intimately. He knows how much the Prince loves it when Adam washes him. Adam pays great attention to detail.
Adam had been taught well. It was at a foreign King’s palace that he’d learnt his trade, mostly from his long-dead mother, who’d been the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting. Adam had often wondered how he’d come into the world, and who his father had been. But by the age of seven, the rumours and taunts from the King’s children were enough to clue him in to his parentage. He was no threat to the throne, being only half-blooded. The King may have fathered him, but he would never be royalty. There were others who had a much more secure claim, and besides, Adam had never wanted to be King. He’d seen how much work it was. He’d seen exactly how Kings behave. Besides, he’d promised his mother to serve, so that’s what he does.
I often wonder what would’ve happened if I’d been seen as a Prince instead of some poor bastard child. I’d be the one lying in that hot bath, my servant washing me, daydreaming of the Princess I’d one day marry. This would be my life, dressed in the most beautiful clothes, entertaining the most beautiful people, free to do whatever I wanted to. I wouldn’t be here serving a man who can’t even remember my name.
Arrogant bastard. Why do I love him so much? I want to smack him across the face and tell him what a bastard he is. That if he just remembered my name, if he actually acknowledged my service with true thanks as opposed to his false adoration, then perhaps I wouldn’t hate him so much. But, what can I do? A servant has no mind, no thoughts to himself. I exist to serve, to please my Master.
I do this for you, Mother. I hope I am living up to your expectations.
“Adam, what do you think my bride will be like? Do you think she’ll be pretty? I do hope she doesn’t talk all the time. I’d get no peace and quiet!” the Prince says, breaking Adam from his reverie.
“I’m sure she’ll be beautiful, Majesty. What Princess wouldn’t want you, sir?” Adam says.
“Well, I am a rather handsome specimen, am I not?” the Prince says.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are, my Prince,” is what Adam wants to say. But realising that would get him into trouble, he bites his tongue and replies, “A prize worthy of even the loveliest of Princesses, Majesty.”
There’s a grunt of approval from the Prince at his servant’s response. The Prince lays back in the bath, basking in his own ego, that proud arrogance seeping from every pore in his body.
He’s like a lion, lying there while I massage his ego. Basking. Arrogant. Sure of his place in the world. Yet, at the same time, oh so insecure about everything. Needs reassurance about everything. I wonder how he’d face the world without me?
Don’t be so stupid, Adam. Like you mean that much to him. You’re just as replaceable as a piece of broken china. If you died today, he’d find another servant. It’s not as if there’s a shortage of servants in the country anyway.
Adam’s musings once more get him into trouble as a strike from the Prince breaks his servant out of his thoughts again.
“Do I pay you to daydream, servant?” the Prince says, appalled at his concentration today.
“I-I’m sorry, Majesty. I-I have been careless today. I-”
“Enough of your excuses. Now leave me. I’ll finish this off myself. Get my clothes ready. See if you can do that without losing your mind,” the Prince says harshly.
“Yes, Majesty,” Adam says, blushing with embarrassment. He quickly leaves the Prince alone to finish, entering the main chambers again to get the bottle green outfit ready for his Master.
Making sure to take great care with his work, the servant heats the clothes over the fire pit. Adam polishes the Prince’s shoes until they shine like glass. The outfit is brushed down, the Prince’s elegant gilded sword and belt cleaned and laid out on the bed. The belt of herbs and potions the Prince always wears is carefully taken from the bathroom and taken over to the bed. Adam carefully fills up the small pouches with the correct ingredients from the Prince’s personal store, making sure not to spill any. By the time the Prince emerges from the bathroom, a thick robe wrapped around him, Adam’s finished, waiting for his Master to emerge.
“I see you managed that alright. Now, let’s get me all dressed up, hey?” the Prince says.
Adam bows his head slightly and fetches the warmed clothes from the rack by the fire, helping dress his Prince in the green velvet. Twenty minutes of preening and the Prince is finally ready to face his waiting guests. He struts before the mirror, taking in his appearance.
“Do I look beautiful, Adam?” the Prince says.
“Like no one else in existence,” Adam says, unable to take his eyes off his Master.
“Then, let’s not keep the ladies waiting, shall we?” the Prince says, gesturing towards the door.
Adam can’t help but smile as he shows his Prince down to the dining hall, watching how he walks with such confidence and charm, seeing everyone smile at him and greet him as he passes by. Just for a moment, he wishes he was paid the same attention from his Prince that the Prince grants to his guests.
