[USxUK] Theme: Games [Summer Camp Event]
Jul. 12th, 2011 10:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_wingedTitle: My Lord and Master, Chapter 2 of 7
Genre: AU/General/Romance
Word Count: 1619
Rating/Warnings: U, none.
Summary: Alfred Jones is the new manservant to the son of the late Lord Kirkland, a mysterious and secretive young man who seems out of place in his opulent surroundings. The previous manservant, Alfred's own father, said nothing of a youngest son and no one else appears to know of him, and Alfred wonders... what did the man do to warrant such secrecy? If he keeps his job for long enough, he may be able to find out.
-- Alfred and his young master find common ground over a game of chess --
By the end of that first day, Alfred had retired to bed feeling entirely overwhelmed. He had come into this job knowing most of what would be expected of him, certainly, and he knew he had been lucky to get the position without having had any prior training. His father, he had been told, had spoken very highly of him and appealed to the previous master of the house, to whom he had been rather close, to take him on when he could no longer work, and it seemed that this new young lord had seen fit to keep the old staff rather than go through the trouble of hiring new ones. It suited Alfred just fine. Finding a steady job was almost impossible and to have one just fall into his lap like this… well, he wasn’t going to complain about it, and as he stretched out in bed gazing up at the slightly dusty wooden ceiling, he had to admit that he’d really fallen on his feet.
It was well beyond a week before he found out that his master’s first name was Arthur. He hadn’t used it yet and he wasn’t sure that he was supposed to know, having only overheard it from one of the young man’s rare visitors and it didn’t seem that the rest of the servants knew it either, with one exception. Mary, the household’s cook, had been there far longer than the others, long enough to remember Arthur’s father as a young man, and it had taken a little coaxing but she had eventually told him several interesting things.
Arthur did indeed have three older brothers – David, Phineas and William – and all of them had left the house the day they turned eighteen. The young master himself was twenty-three, and had only gained ownership of the house through lucky circumstance and nothing to do with any particular fondness his father might have held for him. It seemed that his elder brothers rather resented him for the fact, but they had given up their rights to the property upon leaving it. When Alfred had asked about the cane that Lord Kirkland used, he was told that Arthur had suffered a severe accident when he was young, but she wouldn’t tell him any more than that. It wasn’t her place, she said, and would give him no more information on the subject.
However, Alfred was curious by nature and over the following days and weeks learned more and more about his reclusive young master. He found that he was rather particular about his food, almost to the point of being fussy, and that he demanded his tea in a very specific way. Alfred received a rare word of praise the first time he got it right and had made a considered effort to do the same every time, and although he had never again gained that compliment he was never told to remake it again, so he could only assume that he was doing it correctly.
Each morning was the same as the last. At six twenty-five, Alfred would make his way up from the servant’s quarters to his master’s bedroom, and open the curtains and six thirty sharp. Arthur would, more often than not, wake at that very moment and if he was a little more stubbornly into sleep it would only take the lightest touch to his shoulder to rouse him. He would take the same breakfast every day, except for Sundays when he would have a cooked breakfast rather than his usual two pieces of toast, and Alfred would usually be gone from the room by the time he rose to dress. In fact, he found himself called upon very little, making his job very easy, if not a little lonely.
It came as something of a surprise, then, when the bell in his quarters rang to summon him to the drawing room. Such a thing happened rarely but when it did it was always important. He pulled his watch from his pocket and checked it, finding it to be rather late, and hurried on his way thinking that there must have been something rather urgent that he needed to attend to. What he found, however, was his master sitting quite calmly in a chair before the fire, his hands folded over his lap and a chess board set out on a table in front of him.
“Ah, Alfred,” he said as Alfred walked in, beckoning to him when the younger man hesitated by the door. An uncertain feeling that he had become rather used to was curling in Alfred’s stomach as he crossed the room and stopped a little way from the other man’s chair. Arthur gestured towards the board. “Do you play?”
“Yes, my lord,” Alfred answered honestly. “Though it has been some time since I-”
“That matters not. Please, take a seat.”
“… My lord?” The older male looked up at him, and he moved quickly, sitting down across from him and gripping his knees lightly. He could play chess, though he didn’t believe that he was terribly good at it, and would likely disappoint his master if he was hoping for any kind of challenge. Arthur didn’t seem to be looking for anything like that, however, his first move a rather open one that Alfred easily countered. They played in silence, the only noise in the room the quiet popping of the fire beside them, and slowly, Alfred felt himself relaxing. His master, too, appeared to be letting his guard down, tiny smiles flicking across his face each time the younger man made a move that got in the way of one of his own. Eventually, Alfred felt secure enough to speak. He hadn’t attempted to make any kind of conversation with Arthur in the weeks since his employment had begun, finding the other to be rather unapproachable by his standards but he had asked for the company, so perhaps he wouldn’t mind a little discussion.
He moved one of his pawns to block the movement of Arthur’s bishop and glanced up, studying the other man’s face. It occurred to him that he didn’t look very much like his father, from the few brief times that Alfred had seen him – the late Lord Kirkland had been a dark haired man, and Arthur’s hair was a sandy blonde. His eyes, though… he had his father’s eyes. Alfred remembered those eyes very well.
Arthur slid his queen across the board, taking one of Alfred’s knights and setting it down on the table. “Check,” he murmured, and Alfred looked down.
“Ah,” he said quietly, moving a rook in to protect his king and leaning forwards, propping his head up on one hand. “My lord, I have a question, if I may.”
“You may,” Arthur replied, toying with a pawn before shifting it forwards. “Though I do not guarantee my answer.”
Taking the pawn, noting the barely-there look of surprise on the other’s face, Alfred kept his voice measured as he posed his query. He had so many questions, but one of them was pressing more heavily on his mind than the others. “How is it that my father never mentioned you to me?”
“That is quite simple.” Composing himself quickly, Arthur rather boldly moved one bishop across the board and took one of Alfred’s pawns. “Your father never saw me.”
“Oh.”
“I suppose that your question is, in fact, how is it that your father never saw me?” His voice was calm, soft, his eyes watching Alfred’s movements as he tapped at several pieces before shifting his remaining knight to another position. Alfred nodded once, and Arthur sat back, slanting his eyes towards the fire. One hand rested on his thigh, gripping lightly on the muscle as he moved, looking almost uncomfortable for a moment before he settled into the new position. “That is rather easily answered, also. Your father never saw me, because I was not allowed to be seen. You might say that I am something of a black sheep in this family.” At those words, his tone soured, and Alfred was suddenly rather reluctant to carry on the conversation. Instead, he turned his eyes down to the board and flicked his gaze over the pieces, reaching one hand out and pausing for just a moment before he picked up his queen, and moved her.
“Checkmate.”
Arthur looked at the board, clearly startled, his eyes faintly widened. Rising to his feet, Alfred looked down at the other and offered his hand out of habit, though he almost jerked back when it was immediately taken in a grip that was surprisingly firm.
“I apologise for keeping you up,” Arthur said, letting go of Alfred’s hand and getting to his feet, using his cane for support as he moved across the room to fetch the box for the chess set. “You may go.”
“My lor-”
“You may go, Alfred. And thank you… for the game.”
“It was my pleasure, my lord.” He bowed, and, as had become his custom, took three paces back before he turned away and headed for the door. Behind him, he heard Arthur softly hiss as he lowered himself back into the chair to put away the chess set, the quiet noise of wood on wood as he set the carved pieces back into their box. Alfred returned to his room feeling somehow lighter, as if he understood his strange master a little better from that short game.
Although, he thought as he checked his watch once more before turning out the paraffin lamp and setting his head down, he had no idea how he was going to wake up on time in the morning.
---------
<| Chapter One | Chapter Three |>
Genre: AU/General/Romance
Word Count: 1619
Rating/Warnings: U, none.
Summary: Alfred Jones is the new manservant to the son of the late Lord Kirkland, a mysterious and secretive young man who seems out of place in his opulent surroundings. The previous manservant, Alfred's own father, said nothing of a youngest son and no one else appears to know of him, and Alfred wonders... what did the man do to warrant such secrecy? If he keeps his job for long enough, he may be able to find out.
-- Alfred and his young master find common ground over a game of chess --
*****
By the end of that first day, Alfred had retired to bed feeling entirely overwhelmed. He had come into this job knowing most of what would be expected of him, certainly, and he knew he had been lucky to get the position without having had any prior training. His father, he had been told, had spoken very highly of him and appealed to the previous master of the house, to whom he had been rather close, to take him on when he could no longer work, and it seemed that this new young lord had seen fit to keep the old staff rather than go through the trouble of hiring new ones. It suited Alfred just fine. Finding a steady job was almost impossible and to have one just fall into his lap like this… well, he wasn’t going to complain about it, and as he stretched out in bed gazing up at the slightly dusty wooden ceiling, he had to admit that he’d really fallen on his feet.
It was well beyond a week before he found out that his master’s first name was Arthur. He hadn’t used it yet and he wasn’t sure that he was supposed to know, having only overheard it from one of the young man’s rare visitors and it didn’t seem that the rest of the servants knew it either, with one exception. Mary, the household’s cook, had been there far longer than the others, long enough to remember Arthur’s father as a young man, and it had taken a little coaxing but she had eventually told him several interesting things.
Arthur did indeed have three older brothers – David, Phineas and William – and all of them had left the house the day they turned eighteen. The young master himself was twenty-three, and had only gained ownership of the house through lucky circumstance and nothing to do with any particular fondness his father might have held for him. It seemed that his elder brothers rather resented him for the fact, but they had given up their rights to the property upon leaving it. When Alfred had asked about the cane that Lord Kirkland used, he was told that Arthur had suffered a severe accident when he was young, but she wouldn’t tell him any more than that. It wasn’t her place, she said, and would give him no more information on the subject.
However, Alfred was curious by nature and over the following days and weeks learned more and more about his reclusive young master. He found that he was rather particular about his food, almost to the point of being fussy, and that he demanded his tea in a very specific way. Alfred received a rare word of praise the first time he got it right and had made a considered effort to do the same every time, and although he had never again gained that compliment he was never told to remake it again, so he could only assume that he was doing it correctly.
Each morning was the same as the last. At six twenty-five, Alfred would make his way up from the servant’s quarters to his master’s bedroom, and open the curtains and six thirty sharp. Arthur would, more often than not, wake at that very moment and if he was a little more stubbornly into sleep it would only take the lightest touch to his shoulder to rouse him. He would take the same breakfast every day, except for Sundays when he would have a cooked breakfast rather than his usual two pieces of toast, and Alfred would usually be gone from the room by the time he rose to dress. In fact, he found himself called upon very little, making his job very easy, if not a little lonely.
It came as something of a surprise, then, when the bell in his quarters rang to summon him to the drawing room. Such a thing happened rarely but when it did it was always important. He pulled his watch from his pocket and checked it, finding it to be rather late, and hurried on his way thinking that there must have been something rather urgent that he needed to attend to. What he found, however, was his master sitting quite calmly in a chair before the fire, his hands folded over his lap and a chess board set out on a table in front of him.
“Ah, Alfred,” he said as Alfred walked in, beckoning to him when the younger man hesitated by the door. An uncertain feeling that he had become rather used to was curling in Alfred’s stomach as he crossed the room and stopped a little way from the other man’s chair. Arthur gestured towards the board. “Do you play?”
“Yes, my lord,” Alfred answered honestly. “Though it has been some time since I-”
“That matters not. Please, take a seat.”
“… My lord?” The older male looked up at him, and he moved quickly, sitting down across from him and gripping his knees lightly. He could play chess, though he didn’t believe that he was terribly good at it, and would likely disappoint his master if he was hoping for any kind of challenge. Arthur didn’t seem to be looking for anything like that, however, his first move a rather open one that Alfred easily countered. They played in silence, the only noise in the room the quiet popping of the fire beside them, and slowly, Alfred felt himself relaxing. His master, too, appeared to be letting his guard down, tiny smiles flicking across his face each time the younger man made a move that got in the way of one of his own. Eventually, Alfred felt secure enough to speak. He hadn’t attempted to make any kind of conversation with Arthur in the weeks since his employment had begun, finding the other to be rather unapproachable by his standards but he had asked for the company, so perhaps he wouldn’t mind a little discussion.
He moved one of his pawns to block the movement of Arthur’s bishop and glanced up, studying the other man’s face. It occurred to him that he didn’t look very much like his father, from the few brief times that Alfred had seen him – the late Lord Kirkland had been a dark haired man, and Arthur’s hair was a sandy blonde. His eyes, though… he had his father’s eyes. Alfred remembered those eyes very well.
Arthur slid his queen across the board, taking one of Alfred’s knights and setting it down on the table. “Check,” he murmured, and Alfred looked down.
“Ah,” he said quietly, moving a rook in to protect his king and leaning forwards, propping his head up on one hand. “My lord, I have a question, if I may.”
“You may,” Arthur replied, toying with a pawn before shifting it forwards. “Though I do not guarantee my answer.”
Taking the pawn, noting the barely-there look of surprise on the other’s face, Alfred kept his voice measured as he posed his query. He had so many questions, but one of them was pressing more heavily on his mind than the others. “How is it that my father never mentioned you to me?”
“That is quite simple.” Composing himself quickly, Arthur rather boldly moved one bishop across the board and took one of Alfred’s pawns. “Your father never saw me.”
“Oh.”
“I suppose that your question is, in fact, how is it that your father never saw me?” His voice was calm, soft, his eyes watching Alfred’s movements as he tapped at several pieces before shifting his remaining knight to another position. Alfred nodded once, and Arthur sat back, slanting his eyes towards the fire. One hand rested on his thigh, gripping lightly on the muscle as he moved, looking almost uncomfortable for a moment before he settled into the new position. “That is rather easily answered, also. Your father never saw me, because I was not allowed to be seen. You might say that I am something of a black sheep in this family.” At those words, his tone soured, and Alfred was suddenly rather reluctant to carry on the conversation. Instead, he turned his eyes down to the board and flicked his gaze over the pieces, reaching one hand out and pausing for just a moment before he picked up his queen, and moved her.
“Checkmate.”
Arthur looked at the board, clearly startled, his eyes faintly widened. Rising to his feet, Alfred looked down at the other and offered his hand out of habit, though he almost jerked back when it was immediately taken in a grip that was surprisingly firm.
“I apologise for keeping you up,” Arthur said, letting go of Alfred’s hand and getting to his feet, using his cane for support as he moved across the room to fetch the box for the chess set. “You may go.”
“My lor-”
“You may go, Alfred. And thank you… for the game.”
“It was my pleasure, my lord.” He bowed, and, as had become his custom, took three paces back before he turned away and headed for the door. Behind him, he heard Arthur softly hiss as he lowered himself back into the chair to put away the chess set, the quiet noise of wood on wood as he set the carved pieces back into their box. Alfred returned to his room feeling somehow lighter, as if he understood his strange master a little better from that short game.
Although, he thought as he checked his watch once more before turning out the paraffin lamp and setting his head down, he had no idea how he was going to wake up on time in the morning.
---------
<| Chapter One | Chapter Three |>
