The Prince and his Servant
“I believe I have warned you about your tongue, Steward.” But then there was this amused smirk on his face, “But then must say, with that effortless, venomous lashing of yours, you and I will get along just fine.” He needed this, not the constant forcible ways to squeeze out a proper leader out of him. “Most noble?” Ha laughed, crinkles fanning at the side of his green eyes, he had to let out a stifling sigh. “Well, that kindness would be necessary when the rest of Moldavia is watching.” He knew who he is, and what he was capable of. Hadrian abhorred that urge to strut around in false pretense. Given a chance, he would shove that weight upon his shoulders, and pass it on to someone who deserved it. For a while, the spot belonged to Ivan alone. But now that he passed away, the free-spirited young prince forced himself to fill his shoes, despite the constant curling of his feet to fit in.
“I have no doubts.” Hadrian remained half-naked from waist up, arms still spread wide. And to those words, creases etched the prince’s face, and a slow frown fighting to form until Christian finished, and Hadrian could have sworn he has never felt so humored in a while after being housed for incessant studying and training towards his progress for the crown. He laughed very loudly, echoing in the cold walls of his chambers.
And then he stopped, retrieving the clothes from the bed, and without a word began dressing himself up. “You humor me, Steward.” He tightened the gold-embellished belt that held his tunic in place, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t change.”
Christian grimaced. Yes he had been warned, that did not mean he would heed the warning, he held very little control over his tongue and words, he could not help the vile things he said and, most of the time, he did not regret them. He frowned at the Prince's words. “You would not have be thrown into a cell, My Lord?” He asked, confusion seeping into his tone. “I do not understand, you have not punished me for my behaviour...” This was highly irregular. Christian did not understand why he was question his lack of punishment but it was what he had grown accustomed to and he did not know why he was still standing with his head on his shoulders and his tongue in his mouth. “You wish for me to show you unkindness?” His confusion only grew, this was completely different to every other encounter he had had with members of the Royal family and those closest to them. Even the nights had been cruel to him, of course he believed them to be following orders so he could not blame them for what they put him through, but he still remained bitter. He wondered, vaguely, if the Prince had recently sustained injury to his head causing him to say such odd things.
A hand slapped against Christian's mouth as he watched the Prince, still standing there with his arms wide and, for a short moment, the servant vaguely wondered if Hadrian wished for him to dress him still. Perhaps so he could whip him in public, to punish his words. He probably should learn how to control his tongue. The Moroi jumped slightly as a sound echoed around the room and he realised it was the Prince and he was laughing. The sound seemed odd and once again he wondered if the Prince had his his head.
He was about to speak up when Prince Hadrian because to dress himself, making Christian blink with further confusion. His eyes raised to the Prince, head tilting slightly. “I would not wish to change my Lord, this is who I am and always will be. Of course, I would try to keep any further, similar remarks to myself if My Lord prefers.” His brow was still knotted in confusion but Christian was slowly relaxing, realising that maybe he was not to be punished after all.
