How about some angsty zeroyalchaos?
Rating: ehhh, not T but not really M either.
Notes: I hope this is sad enough for you, anon.
Anthony remembers the first time he met Steven. He’d recently been moved from stable-duty to bring the Royal Family food. In all his years as a servant, he’d never once had the opportunity to actually meet the rulers of the kingdom.
He also remembers his face smacking against the floor and the sound of plates shattering. It was his first time serving that night and he fucked up.
But the small laughter coming from the prince was worth the whipping he received.
Dishing food out soon became a breeze for him after a bit of training from John, the Head Cook. Rather than wobbling with one plate in each hand, Anthony could carry several stacks balanced on both arms. He would constantly crack jokes to the family when he handed them their food, but the prince seemed to be the only one to enjoy them. So Anthony kept going only for him.
The two grew closer as the months passed, to the point of them giving each other nicknames.
"Here is your meal, my lovely prince." Anthony had placed the bowl in front of the prince.
"Thank you very much, my loyal servant."
"Anything for you, my Liege."
They both tried their best to hide the smiles that would spread across their faces, and it was a game to them to see who would break character first. Anthony would always seem to lose, cackling moments later. The prince would join in soon after.
For a long time Anthony was content with the way things were.
It wasn’t until the prince’s eighteenth birthday, when he was given a personal servant to help him organize and ready himself for life of a king did Anthony’s little world begin to crumble.
"I want Anthony from kitchen service, father." The prince announced within less than a day.
Anthony found himself enraptured by the sight of the prince’s room when he arrived to move his small bundle of items in. Telescopes and books were scattered across the floor, beakers and glass filled the shelves along with an even larger assortment of reading material.
"I’m sorry it’s a mess. I was planning on cleaning up at least a little before you came here." Anthony turned to see the prince standing by the doorway.
"I mean, that’s why I’m here, right?"
"About that," The prince fidgeted in his spot a bit. "Are you okay with this? I really don’t know the staff too well and I thought you’d be up for doing this, but if you’re not I ca-"
"Whoa there, buddy. It’s fine. I didn’t really expect you to pick me though." Anthony chuckled. "If I were in your shoes, I’d totally get a pretty girl to help me."
"Well, besides the girl part, I did exactly what you would’ve done."
"I-" Anthony was honestly shocked. Did the prince just call him pretty? Was that even possible? Could boys be pretty?
He mentally slapped himself. “I’d say I’m more handsome than pretty,” He walked toward the prince, leaning awfully close to the other. “wouldn’t you agree?” And wow did the prince have such gorgeous eyes.
The prince laughed uncomfortably. “I guess, I don’t know.”
"We’re gonna have a good time, Princey, I can feel it." Anthony patted the prince on the shoulder.
"You can just call me Steven when it’s just us."
"Anything you say, Steven."
Anthony remembers the first kiss they shared together.
It was a cloudy afternoon in early Autumn. Steven had suggested viewing flowers the new gardener, Tom, had planted.
"My father said that Tom is amazing with plant life." Steven had said.
"Well, we’ll see." Anthony was thoroughly skeptical. No one was good with the royal garden as the old gardener, Max, who retired a year prior.
When the two had reached the garden, Tom had just finished planting a patch of Abelias. He hadn’t seemed to notice them arriving, because as soon as he heard Anthony yell his name, the blonde jumped.
"Jesus Christ, Anthony, you scared the shit out of-" Then he noticed Steven. "Oh my God," He knelt before the Royal. "I apologize my lord, for using such language in your presence."
"It’s-" Steven started, but was interrupted by Anthony.
"Nah, he’s cool with it. I can say shit like ‘cock balls pussy slapper’ and he’d be totally cool with it."
Steven glared up at his servant. “That is not true, and if you don’t keep quiet I’m going to have to punish you.” He warned.
Anthony gave kissy faces at the other. “Is that a promise, my Liege?”
"This is getting a little awkward." Tom interjected. "It’s cool if you guys are gonna," He glanced at Steven for a moment. " ‘have relations’or whatever, but I’d really like to know if you are so I can leave."
"We’re not!” Steven screeched as Anthony laughed.
"You better get of here then, Tom." Anthony warned the other.
And Tom did leave, bidding the two men a farewell before jogging the hell out.
The duo sat on a nearby bench with an amazing view of the garden in front of them.
"Why would you say that to Tom?" Steven hissed.
"C’mon, Steven, it was pretty funny." Anthony countered.
"What if he tells other people about this? Do you think it’ll be funny then?"
Anthony waved his hand in dismissal. “Tom’s good at keeping a secret. Besides, so what if he does?” He stuck his hand out to Steven. “You’re the fucking prince! No one in their right mind would want to mess with a Royal.”
The prince swept a hand through his hair and sighed. “You don’t get it, do you?” Anthony shook his head. “I’m gonna have to get married eventually. And since I’m the oldest, I have to take the crown. My father isn’t as dumb as he lets on. You think he’s gonna let you stay? No…”
"Why not just hand the crown down t-"
"It doesn’t work like that. Not here. I have to get married, have kids and rule this place. If my father finds out about what Tom thought he saw, you’ll be dead." Steven warned.
Anthony blew a raspberry at the other. “But when you are King, you can change those rules.”
Steven scoffed. “Maybe when my father dies I might be able to.”
Anthony clapped his hands. “Great! It’s settled then.”
"We’ll keep us a secret until your old man kicks the bucket, and after you’re king, I’ll be your amazing second king." Anthony boasted.
"We aren’t a thing." Steven glared.
"I thought we were. Are you saying you’re breaking up with me?" Anthony asked.
"We can’t break up if we’re not a thing!"
"So we’re not breaking up?" The servant looked down to the prince.
"I-" Steven sighed, defeated. "No, we’re not."
Anthony chuckled. “That’s good to hear.” He leaned over to pluck a flower from a nearby bush. “For you, my Liege.” He handed said flower to the other.
"You’re such a loser." Steven said, gently caressing the petals as he wore that beautiful smile Anthony adored so much,
"Not as much of a loser as you." Anthony leaned in to give Steven a kiss on the cheek.
They stayed in the garden until lunch was served, fingers linked together as the two walked back inside.
One of Anthony’s favorite memories of Steven were the times they made love. Between the two, there was no dominant contributor, it was mostly shared.
Anthony cherished the feeling of needy hands scratching his scalp, sloppy kisses that left more saliva on their chins than their tongues, and the gentle touches and soft groans that would fill the room.
Those green eyes that Anthony could swear held the universe in them, the marks on his face and body from Steven’s scruffy beard, and just Steven’s overall smell in general felt exhilarating to him.
He lived for Steven’s breathy pleads to touch him there, to lick here, but also when he was more commanding. When Steven would get so fed up with Anthony fucking around that he would clutch and pull on the other’s hair to move that amazing tongue to where he wanted it. Anthony didn’t mind in the slightest when Steven did that.
And afterward when the two had calmed and relaxed, they shared a bath. Although a lot of times Steven would kick Anthony out for splashing too much, it was still a nice gesture.
At night when the stars blinked and Steven would have a particularly bad day, Anthony would just listen to Steven talk about anything, really; what the day’s meal tasted like, what foolish thing his younger brothers did, or how much of an asshole his father was.
Through these tranquil nights, Anthony learned that Steven was planning on escaping with Anthony. During those nights Steven would pack a bag, yelling and shouting how he hated his life and how Anthony was the one to help him realize that. Steven would throw books, candles, pillows, anything at the walls to make as much noise as he could.
"If I can’t fucking sleep, then they shouldn’t either!"
Anthony had also learned about these bouts of anger and spitefulness. There wasn’t anything he could really do except allow the other to let out his frustrations. Steven had every right to be mad, but the prince also knew he could never abandon his duties.
And that, to Anthony, was what made him and Steven so different.
If Anthony had been in Steven’s shoes, he would’ve been gone ages ago. He did his own thing whenever he felt like it. He spoke his mind every chance he got (along with the scars to prove it).
He was reserved. He spoke mostly when spoken to. He did what he was told because that’s what he was expected to do. He hated it with all his heart, but no one else could do it except Steven.
Anthony Truly admired that about him.
He remembers when they got caught.
How Steven had begged and pleaded to his father to let Anthony live. The expression of shear terror on Steven’s face etched forever in Anthony’s mind.
He remembers hearing Steven’s crying. And God, how Anthony wanted to be there for him. To give him a hug and tell him everything was going to be okay.
They both knew it wasn’t.
But hey, Anthony enjoyed pretending.
He remembers how the executioner was kind enough to tell him what dying would feel like.
"It’s just like ripping a bandage off. It hurts like hell for a minute and then there’s nothing."
And honestly, it didn’t really do much to calm his fiery nerves.
He remembers a million eyes staring down at him as he’s being prepped. Some familiar faces are among the crowd, but they aren’t who he’s looking for.
Then he sees the king’s smug expression and Steven’s bloodshot eyes from crying for so long. The only thing Anthony can do is just smile at him.
He’s asked if he has any last words, and he does.
"I will always serve my Liege, even in death."
The rope is released and he shuts his eyes tight. He hopes Steven doesn’t look, but his shrilled screams prove that his father made him watch.
Tears leak from Anthony’s eyes and he sobs quietly when he hears the guillotine drop.
Steven’s wonderful smile is the last thought he has.
Fun Fact: Pretty sure this is my longest fic yet.
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