Privileges Chapter Two
Aug. 25th, 2009 05:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesHarry stared down at the sleeping man in his bed. He was almost too beautiful to be mortal, with his blond hair spread out over the pillow and the shaft of moonlight dancing over his perfect features. His eyelashes were long and silvery, matching his delicate brows. Harry’s eyes traced the curves of his lips; they were a perfect bow shape, nearly feminine, but not quite. The chiselled features that framed his lips were all male, even though pale and almost fey.
Prince Draco was gorgeous by anyone’s standards. Harry sighed. It was almost a shame to wake him. The thought made him pause for only a moment before he upended the bucket of icy water over the head of the sleeping angel.
The prince sat up with a gasp of shock, sputtering water and flailing at the air.
“I’m an early riser,” Harry commented. “I expect my squire to be awake before me and have a fire prepared in the hearth. You will also attend to my horse before seeking your breakfast.”
He tossed the bucket aside and watched as the wet blond’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “Wha—? What? What is the meaning of this?” he demanded finally.
“I just told you,” Harry said. “You will dress and see to my horse. Normally, you will assist me with my morning routine, but seeing that you chose to lie abed this morning I will find other duties for you.”
Draco turned toward the shaft of light appearing through the window aperture. “But… it’s still dark!”
“As I said, I am an early riser. It will be dawn in a couple of hours. By then I should have my daily schedule in order and I will be ready to attend to my usual business. Your clothing is on the bed. Your other things have been put away and will be returned to you upon the conclusion of our working relationship. You may break fast in the kitchen. I expect to see you downstairs within the next few minutes. Do not make me return for you.” He forced an edge of steel into his voice that was not entirely feigned. He knew he would have to use a very strong hand or the prince would refuse to listen to a word he said.
Without waiting for a response, Harry turned and went out. He sat down at the long table in the Great Hall with a lantern and a stack of ledger books. The former Castellan had done a fair job of keeping the tallies and maintaining inventory, but Harry felt it necessary to go over everything and achieve an understanding of everything under his command. He was very good at pretending to be a knight, but he had never before had to run a household—or a demesne.
Every so often his eyes would stray to the wooden steps that led to the second level. He was not quite certain what he would do if his new squire chose to disobey.
~~ O ~~
Draco glared at the closed door that prevented him from hurling invectives. He was angry enough to throw things, but the sheer number of shocks had prevented him from focusing on one of them long enough to prepare an appropriate tirade. Attend to his horse? Break fast in the kitchen with the servants? Be downstairs?
Draco would have dragged the blankets back over his head and returned to slumber if both he and the bedding were not sodden. What sort of bastard awakened someone by dumping frigid water upon their head? The cretin had not even started a fire and the cold was already seeping into Draco’s skin. He shivered as he put his feet on the ice-cold floor and hobbled quickly to the lambskin rug in the centre of the room.
At least his new master had left a burning lamp to light his way. Draco sneered as he went to his trunk, only to gape at it in astonishment. It had been fitted with a bright new lock. His second trunk had received the same treatment. Draco’s anger nearly warmed him enough to storm downstairs and demand answers. What right did Lord Tensbury have to keep Draco from his own belongings?
He ignored the small voice in his head that reminded him of his new status as squire and counted Lord Tensbury lucky that Draco’s sense of propriety kept him from stalking out clad only in a nightshirt. He rubbed his icy arms and then tore off the wet garment before turning his attention to the items on the bed.
His nose wrinkled when he held up the ugly brown hosen, the ugly tan braies, and the ugly brown tunic that had apparently been left for him. Did his status as a squire require that he wear the most hideous clothing in all of
Draco dragged on the rough linen braies and then tugged the scratchy woollen hosen over the top. The tunic was nearly as horrible as the hosen, made only slightly more bearable when Draco discovered the linen undertunic that had fallen to the floor.
A pair of heavy leather shoes completed his outfit, along with a thick belt whose buckle was so stiff Draco needed nearly all his strength to fasten it. He glared at his image in the silvered glass as he dragged a comb through his damp hair. He looked like a bloody peasant.
He glanced at the door, suddenly anxious. Had he taken too long? Sir Blackfell had sounded quite serious. After the trick with the water, Draco was not certain he wanted to discover what else Lord Tensbury was capable of. He quickly yanked open the door and stalked downstairs.
~~ O ~~
Harry disguised his relief when the angry prince made his appearance. In truth, it had been quite a long time and Harry had been debating what to do when the door had opened upstairs.
His new squire looked less than pleased. In fact, he looked downright livid.
“What is the meaning of this, Sir Blackfell? Why have you locked up my possessions? Am I not allowed even to have decent clothing?” He tugged at the collar of his tunic and shifted uncomfortably. “This thing is going to give me a rash!”
“Draco,” Harry said mildly. He watched as the pale brows nearly disappeared into the platinum hair. Apparently His Highness had never been addressed by his given name by an underling before. “Draco, you will address me as Master, or if you prefer, as Harry. You are dressed as befits a squire of this household. I will not have your status put under question, especially when I am under orders from King Lucius himself. You will conduct yourself appropriately and if you have issue with my commands you may take them up with your father.”
“Wha—? Harry? I thought your name was James.”
Harry shrugged and dropped his quill next to the inkwell. “I prefer Harry. Do you wish to eat, or do you prefer to see to my horse?”
Silver eyes flashed, but the irritated prince controlled himself with visible effort. “I will eat,” he said simply.
Harry nodded and got to his feet. “I will show you around and introduce you to your duties.” He led the way to the kitchen, secretly relieved that Prince Draco seemed willing to accept his situation for the moment. The moment was short lived.
“Porridge?” Draco asked in a horrified tone. “You expect me to eat porridge?” The wooden spoon scraped at the mushlike grain with a disdainful motion. The cook frowned and Harry shook his head slightly to quell her defensive ire. “Do I look like a bloody commoner?”
Harry snatched the bowl from Draco’s hand and gave it back to the cook. “Sorry, Molly, my new squire doesn’t seem to be hungry. I’m certain Ron will eat it when he rises. Come along, Draco. Let me show you to the stables.”
Draco’s pale cheeks flushed, but he seemed unwilling to engage in another tirade before the smirking servant. Before he changed his mind, Harry marched out the door and headed for the nearby wooden structure that housed the stable.
He didn’t bother looking behind him to see if his new squire followed.
~~ O ~~
Draco was in a fine snit. He mentally composed a letter to his father as he stalked after his new master, Harry, and what kind of name was that for a nobleman? It sounded more like a moniker a hirsute peasant would wear.
Dear Father. I renounce my decision to become a squire in order to become a knight. If I must serve this uncouth barbarian you have chosen, then I prefer to join the priesthood as mother insists. I demand that you strip this horrible imbecile of his title immediately and toss him into the dungeon. Perhaps have him tortured. Draco’s empty stomach rumbled and the porridge suddenly seemed more appetizing, although he would rather have died than request a second chance at it from the black-haired demon he followed. Yes. Definitely have him tortured. Your cruelly tormented son, Draco.
He entertained himself with thoughts of Lord Tensbury, or Sir Blackfell, or Harry, chained to a dungeon wall while Draco heated hot irons in a fire. Those brilliant green eyes would have a different intensity then, would they not? Oh yes, they would be intense with fear!
Draco snapped out of his vengeful reverie when he realized the green eyes of his fantasy watched him, although with none of the terror his dreams had conjured. Instead they seemed watchful.
“This is my horse, Dobby. You will feed him twice daily, curry and brush him after each outing, maintain his hooves and, of course, clean his stall.” Draco nearly cringed with horror at the thought of cleaning up horse dung and he glared at the horse. It was quite the ugliest mount Draco had ever seen, with too-large, almost droopy ears. It looked more like an ass than a knight’s charger. His master prattled on. “You may saddle him now, as I will be making a tour of the village this morning. I have chosen a mount for you, over there. His name is Kreacher. You will accompany me, so be sure to saddle Kreacher, as well. I will return shortly.”
With that, Harry spun on a heel and walked from the stable, leaving Draco to gape after him. A noise caught his attention and he turned to see a redheaded boy leaning against a pitchfork. “Oi, ye the new squire?”
Draco nodded, unable to speak for fear he would start screaming in frustrated rage.
“Fred, we gots a new squire. Whaddya say we ‘elp ‘im out a bit?”
Another redhead sauntered from the shadows at the back of the barn and grinned at Draco, who blinked.
“Excellent idea, George,” said the other.