[My best friend brought up the idea of Servantstuck, and my imagination took it and ran with it. I'm officially deigning Servantstuck a group project and an AU that is going to get extensive. This is only my second attempt at serious work in recent years, so I hope you all enjoy it!]
Gauzy curtains parted severely, sloping to lie against the base of the stepped dais the bed rested on. Lavender wafted from incense burning on mahogany nightstands at each side of the bed. The walls beyond the bed were fitted with shelves, interrupted by various black-framed paintings of Eldritch princesses: young ladies in the finest dresses, with tentacles in the place of limbs. Crystal knitting needles left at the foot of the dais, along with abandoned knitting projects scattered about the room. The lady herself sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed but not quite touching the floor with shoulders hunched, head of white-blond hair tipped over so as to obscure her face as she slips from the last tendrils of sleep. She'd taken it upon herself to awaken the girl early for a fitting of her newest garment: A gem-fitted lilac corset set with a lacy fringe of black roses and a gently flowing, silken skirt with the same trim. It was entirely bare of shoulder, but she could be trusted to choose a sensible shawl or enticing jewelry. Clearing age-blackened petals from the bed to lay down the tender bundle of fabric, the servant's lips curled into an amused smile.
"Good Morning, Lady Lalonde," she slips a diamond-speckled slipped from her sleepy charge's foot, laying a reverent kiss against the hollow of her ankle before her eyes roamed upward. Fingers spread against her calves, curling firmly against the tender flesh at the back of her leg momentarily before she moved to stand. Her ascent leaves a path of jade lipstick up to the knee, but she receives no complaint. "On Today's Agenda… Chess With Sir Strider, Penmanship, Sewing, And Then You Are Free For The Day." The first directive receives a low whine in the pale girl's throat, but not much more. Her head lifted from where it lay lulled against her shoulder, violet eyes half lidded but alert. Always alert, lucid from the time they opened to the time they were laid to sleep with a kiss to each eyelid. The young woman before her had hawk-sharp eyes and a skillfully perceptive sense of pitch. It was obvious from the way those eyes searched her face that she had caught the hesitant lilt in her voice. "Notary Has Arrived From Lolar. The Peace Proceedings Are Going Swimmingly." She offered a cloying smile and a curt bow, anything to ease her lady's discomfort.
"And, the bearer of such bittersweet news, Kanaya? Tell me."
"Sir Jaspers Again And Once Again He Tells Me He Believes It Is 'Purrfectly Pawful' That He Cannot Directly Commune With You, But As Soon As Hostilities Are Quashed Between The Kingdoms…" Her lady raises a hand to stop her with a weary sigh.
"What am I wearing today?"
"Checkmate."
Her posture gave away the fact that she wasn't even remotely involved in the game, if not her distracted playing. Fingers intertwined under the bridge of her nose, head angled away from the playing board entirely while she stared out the window directly beside the playing table and watched clouds drift by against the too-blue dint of the sky.
"You're letting me win again. Let me guess: Jaspers came by and left cat puns and some spiel about 'purrfectly' peaceful allegiances between the kingdoms. I don't want to be the one to cough up this hairball, but here I am choking on it. I'm turning blue over here, Lalonde. Better perform a verbal Heimlich or – hah, nope, I'm letting this roll of fuzz rest right on the carpet. Catdaddy is dead wrong, and we're going to sit here on the sidelines until we're old enough to swing our own sword." He rants as usual. She is almost sure she's heard the same mixed metaphor before, word for word. It isn't as if Dave hadn't been known to repeat himself, she mulled silently before giving him her attention.
"Ever the perceptive one, aren't you Dave? Drawing so much from my profile in admiring the sky. I was thinking nothing of the sort." She bluffed. "I'd imagine the one of the contents of this hairball is yarn or, dare I say, string cut from the puppeteer's stock? And as always, the young prospective Knight brings his sword into the mixed metaphor. Tied to phallic imagery, and no doubt your hankering fo—"He cut her off with his protests.
"What? Jesus, no, what is it with you and dicks? I know I'm a fine specimen of masculinity, but don't project your yearning for shiny metal dick and plush puppet proboscis on me. Save that for tea with Heir Egbutt. What do you guys even do? Watch birds and kiss on the cheek?" Reached out and sweeping her arm across the chessboard while he spoke. The chess pieces fell under the expanse of her arm, some spilling over the edge of the board and clattering to the floor. Neither the motion nor sound seemed to draw a real reaction from him. The black queen lay toppled in the midst of the board, and Rose plucked it up to roll betwixt her fingers before flicking it out of the window on a whim.
"Smooth transitioning, Dave. I'm sure you're actually quite looking forward to a prosaic description of the time John and I spend siphoning sugar into our respective cups of tea and shuffling around in the gardens peacefully. I'm afraid I'm sworn to secrecy on the tender details, but the crows look wonderful this time of year." She dictates languidly, with a momentary amused curl of her lips. Her companion stands, flipping his hair out of his eyes with a gentle toss of his head. The knight slips his arms back into his scarlet overcoat and inspects the scuffed face of his pocket-watch before rolling his shoulders and rounding on his heel. It is a strict, military motion that belies nothing.
"I need a shot of insulin, stat, before I fall into a sugar coma. Only the tender touch of my wizardly lover's lips could rouse me from my eternal nap. No more apple juice for me." He teases before striding swiftly through the doorway without looking back. Rose stands, pushes her chair in, and turns to the window. Outside, the ground is so far away from the peak of the impossibly high tower. From here she can see the expanse of Skaia as far as it reaches before the land ends. This is Skaia, the ruined battlefield, shorn to pieces by some ancient war. It is an entire world orbiting their home planet in shattered bits of free-floating land. A thousand checkered moons, some tenuously linked by bridges over the ages. This world's checkerboard floor, its idyllic sky, the grounds of a mazelike garden and lush hunting grounds beneath her, and for a moment it's all alien. Or more accurately, she is alien to the peaceful realm. If she closes her eyes when a breeze rolls by it is almost easy to imagine salty air and a prismatic sea.
She can almost imagine black fire and tendrils of soot singeing her cheeks and pulls the wide shutters closed.
It was unfair.
But, she harbored no desire to be cut down at the hand of some brute down on Alterra. It was a worldwide war in which people are dying in the name of imperialism, draconian dignitaries, religious conquest, glory and gold. A plague of nationalism and an assassination with the right (or, more correctly, wrong) timing set off a chain reaction of animosity. It was exactly the sort of thing that could be sparked within a precarious net of allegiances. Here, all she could do was proceed to scheduled activities as enjoined by Lolar to keep her fit and busy. It was a measure to keep all of them busy and comfortable on Skaia, confined to routine and safe from black-charred bones and burning castles. The War was something she had studied for years, since being brought to Skaia. War was all they knew, all she ever heard of bouncing on mother's knee over crystalline coffee tables and sharing secret sugar cubes with Jaspers. When it had not yet come to her shores, before it melted snows in the mountain ranges of Lofaf, bent mighty metal structures in Lohac and brought fire to Lowas, it was easy to ignore. There are many things a child need not consider, but she wasn't really a child any more, was she? The four of them had spent seven years here, and not so united. She and Sir Strider were once confined to the towers of the black castle in the far east, Heir John and Princess Jade bound to the white castle in the west. A collision of air-bound land masses brought the progeny of the world's largest and most powerful countries to know one another so well little over four years ago – on John's thirteenth birthday, no less. Said land masses showed no signs of separating, even melded together complimentarily as if they were rent for each other, matching pieces of a cosmic puzzle.
It was not as if parting were an option in any case. Interesting relationship dynamics had formed between not only the four royal (they had come to accept this as a loose term of their assembly, courtesy of John) children, but their full court of twelve. Three each from their respective countries, carefully selected to provide company and act as caretakers more or less of peer age. Careful selection being a loose approximation in some cases: All of Dave's company was functionally handicapped, and between the violent tempers and dramatic mood swings it was a wonder John's unit functioned well enough to serve him. Not that there hadn't been conflict within her three escorts, but Kanaya made an excellent medium when it came to solving issues between people. But not even she schism from forming between Eridan and Feferi. Her youngest maid had grown tired of her elder brother's overbearing nature and tendency to stalk and meddle in her affairs. She'd gone as far as to entirely break contact with him unless it was absolutely necessary. The moment he slipped into her thoughts, Eridan made his presence known as if beckoned by them by ripping into existence by way of a flash of white science. His violet cape clasped around the nape of his neck with an ornate gold clasp shaped like a pair of wings, it rippled around him when he marched singularly towards her with his hands folded behind his back. He offered a stiff approximation of a bow, unable to stem the flow of words from his mouth before he'd even stopped to do as much.
"I would glub to wwatch you stare wacantly at shutters but wwhatewer you're thinkin' about can wwait. I'll let you skip out on penmanship, but you hawe got to tell me what Fef's been up to. And don't shrimp on the details!" Hands sweeping from behind him, fingers dancing with anticipation, digitss swathed in a multitude of gaudy gold rings that clicked together noisily.
"She is still enjoying the company of one Sollux Captor, if I'd so imagine."
"I kneww it! By cod, I'm going to scallop that lispin' bottomfee—" She cut him off, with no desire to listen to another detailed description of how he would like to "ewiscerate" Sollux.
"Yes, yes, blood on the walls and what have you. I could recount every queerly specific violent murder fantasy Jade seems to have taken a shining to her, and Sunday evening she seemed quite 'ex-cit-ed' when Kanaya and I presented her with a new layered skirt. I can't help but imagine things would be so much easier for you if you laid your pride, and wand, down and actually attempted to make amends with Feferi."
"I'we told you Rose… She wwon't hawe anyfin' to do with me!" He whines, crossing his arms and tucking in his chin. He pushes his glasses up some while he thumbs at the bridge of his nose then raked a hand through his the striking violet forelock, taking a few steps forward and depositing himself in Dave's vacated seat. "But if anemone knows what to do, it's you." It was amusing to watch the wry twist of his lips and furrow of his brow as Eridan tried to work out something, anything, to say that didn't involve himself. "It must be puff not seain' your paww, eh? I guess that's pretty relatable to howw I miss Fef. Ohh, Fef." He croons.
"Jaspers is not my father. He's only a butler from my mother's estate, albeit a dear one." She enunciated carefully, sounding much like Kanaya for a moment.
"If you ask me, Jaspers is obwiously a father figure for you. The man changed your diapers and secured you a place up here in Skaia. And strictly speakin', I'm your butler."
"I don't believe you were ever asked, and, If we're going by that title, I've never met a worse butler. You never cook, you never clean, and you never actually escort me to my appointments because you are content to wring the latest gossip from me like I'm a particularly permeable sponge."
"Wwell carp, Rose! If you don't like skippin' out on penmanship with Eq, then I guess I'll just hawe to…"
"That isn't at all what I meant to imply. In any case, the comparison is hardly valid. Feferi resides in this very castle, and through whatever methods it isn't terribly difficult for you to stal… seek her out. I could not see Jaspers if I wanted to." She slicks her hands across the lap of her dress, banishing dust from the shimmery lilac fabric. It is her turn to make her way towards the door, flicking her fingers over her shoulders in the barest semblance of a wave. "And if you ever use 'puff' in the place of tough again, I will personally set fire to your entire scarf collection. There comes a point where your sea puns expunge you of all dignity and cause listeners to lower faces into their hands in exasperation. It's a cod-damned shame, Eridan."
She can imagine the fish-like expression he wears as he works his jaw, sputtering and letting slip a scandalized "Wwhat?"