Author's Notes

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So in lieu of working on any of my other ficlets I have lying around I have decided to write whatever came to mind to try and ease myself back into writing. This was supposed to be a one shot but too much Downton Abbey and a scary lightning storm are somehow combining and encouraging me to attempt a multiparter again. I'm going to try and write a short chapter about this length every day this week. So if this reads as though it was forced.

Well.

It was.

Still, I hope the stupid faux-pretentious writing doesn't make anyone fly into a murderous rage. Also please keep in mind that this is an exercise in speed writing. Perfection is so not my goal.

Also nothing really happens in this chapter I'm sorry.

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The Fall of Adam:

(A)pple

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It was fitting that they were apples.

The manor's orchard was small, only ten or twelve trees, but their branches were heavy with fruit. In spring they bore fragrant flowers, but as summer neared its end and the air grew stiflingly hot the blossoms were eaten by ruby fruit, and one by one they were either plucked by obedient hands or fell to rot. The fetid stench mingled with the humid air and choked the air on the path to and from the fields.

The fence around the orchard was white and clean with tufts of sweet grass crowding the posts where the gardener grew too lazy to edge. It was not a strong fence. One solid kick could uproot its hold on the earth and open a path to the trees beyond. But still the men on their way to work were as a complacent Eve, heavy-lidded eyes gazing wistfully at the shade and the bright apples before resigning themselves to the dust of the fields. Without a serpent to enlighten them most clung to their easy ignorance. They would gather at the edge of the field and eat their lunches shaded by wispy stalks and clouds of dust.

Ludwig ate his lunch by the fence, far away from the other farm hands. He was a relative newcomer to the group, newcomer meaning the ten years of experienced he had paled in comparison to the multi-generational workers who had toiled for the earl since before Victoria. They were kind enough people, but he was an outsider to their town, and they put forth little effort to hide the distance. So Ludwig would sit atop one of the fence posts along the path and stare at the tree as he tore into the bread he carried with him.

Beyond the trees lay the manor, but no one ever came from that far away. Ludwig had only seen the family at the annual Christmas party. The earl held the gathering for all the field hands, the maids, the butler, the valets. The earl was a kind man and treated his workers well, and the party was the jewel in his self-imposed crown of benevolence. To all other comers, it was an uncomfortable affair at first before the wine began to flow and the earl's child and his cousins were absolute monsters who would make snide comments under their breath until their mother, the true saint of the earl's family, would box them lightly around the ears and demand sweetly that they behave. The rest of the field hands seemed to enjoy themselves and would dance with the maids and exchange gossip with the house workers. Ludwig had to wonder if it was only he who found the whole thing an absolute sham. Maybe that was why he had not attended one in years, politely declining every time in favor of a quiet meal alone in his modest house where there were no earls and no earl ladies and no teen-aged children to mock him now that there was no longer a war for them to suffer and mature through.

Maybe that was why he started taking the apples.

One lunch break, with sweat dripping into his eyes and his fingernails aching from the grit lodged underneath them and the smell of fallen apples in his brain he found himself moving against his will. He slid off the post and walked the twelve paces to the edge of the small orchard. His boots kicked aside rotten fruit and twigs as he searched through the tall grass.

Nestled among the roots was a single intact apple, its skin a dull crimson luster.

Ludwig bent down and picked it up and walked the twelve paces back to the fence. Back to his side where he was allowed to stand and eat an apple that had mysteriously appeared in the palm of his hand. He shined it on his shirt until it gleamed, the smooth surface catching the white clouds above and twisting them into carnival shapes.

He imagined the earl's kind face as his teeth ripped open the apple's skin.

The next day had been easier to hop the fence. Small white splinters lodged themselves deep in his palm and he tugged them out with blunted fingernails as he combed the tall grass. He took two apples and shoved one in his pocket before returning to the other side. The earl and his family wouldn't eat them anyway. Not the ones that had fallen to the ground. He considered it a charity what he was doing. Saving the gardener the extra work of gathering the rotten fruit and disposing it on the unclean side of the fence.

Each day that week the number of apples on the ground were decimated until only the worm tenements remained. On the eighth day Ludwig sat on the fence and stared at the apples still clinging stubbornly to the branches. The gardener had already come and gone, plucking several to bring into the earl's larder. The house staff only ate the branch apples as well. They made them into pies and pastries and carved them into beautiful roses to catch the interest of the family. When the house staff came into town on their days off they would stand outside the bar and smoke and gossip about the earl and his child, his nieces and nephews he had taken in. Picky children, the lot of them, although they were hardly children any longer. The newest maid called them a pack of brats and was promptly walloped by the head housekeeper, although once the younger staff had left the housekeeper raised her eyes to the heavens and asked for forgiveness before admitting the accuracy of the young girl's complaints. The earl was too soft on them. Ludwig would drink his beer and listen to their conversation and wonder why anyone would choose to live in the house they served. To have no privacy outside of a town bar was an abhorrent thought. Better to be poor and free.

And a thief of simple luxury, apparently.

Ludwig eyed the ripe fruit on the branch and licked his dry lips, thoughts of the hours ahead in the field and his studies at home spurring him on.

The fence was worn now from hundreds of splinters that had been torn away, and it made it easier every time to cross. The trees' branches bent to him, and he paused underneath the nearest one to reach up and pluck a fruit. His rough fingers curled around the dull skin and the branch protested its separation for a long moment before relinquishing the fruit with an angry snap. Ludwig turned the apple over in his palm before pocketing it and turning to head back to the fence.

"What are you doing?"

A curious, coarse voice rang out through the orchard. Ludwig froze before turning to find its source, hoping a member of the house staff had come down to collect the fruit.

Peering around the farthest tree, a pair of dark ruby eyes stared at him, and Ludwig's blood ran colder still. Although he had not seen the boy in years (not since the last ill-fated Christmas party) the youth's build and coloring was unmistakable.

Ludwig took off his cap and politely inclined his head, the apple in his pocket feeling as though it had turned to gold.

"Good afternoon, my lord."

The earl's son took a few steps closer, one pale eyebrow raised in mild disdain.

"I did not ask for the time of day, nor whether or not it was a particularly good one," he said idly, kicking a fallen apple towards the other man. "I asked you what you are doing, field hand."

Ludwig fell silent, searching for a suitable answer, but before he could formulate one the youth moved forward again, a wicked grin on his face.

"And what is that you have in your pocket there? Surely it isn't something from my father's fields. Or perhaps his orchard…"

Ludwig did not respond, but his hands twisted the fabric of his cap slightly. He finally straightened his back and met the young man's gaze with an even one of his own.

"A single apple," he said quietly.

The earl's son bared his teeth in amusement and slinked through the grass.

"You stole," he murmured, sounding absolutely delighted. "My father will fire you the moment he hears of this. A farm hand sneaking into the family grounds. Oh it's unprecedented. Ah, actually that is a rather bold-faced lie. The last man to steal from my father is most likely still in Siberia. Poor fellow. His wife cried for days." He gave a dramatic sigh and then burst into wicked laughter. "Or the au pair. Although that was more a flight of fancy on my cousin's part. She was cross with her and it seemed too easy a ploy to plant the seed of doubt in my father's ear."

Ludwig felt his temper boil, but managed to contain himself. He fished the apple out of his pocket rested it in his palm.

"I have served your father loyally since I served abroad when I was eighteen," he said tersely, straightening. "Ten years of faithful work for a single apple. Your father is not so petty a man but I can see he has not raised you with those same values."

He tossed the apple at the young lord's feet and turned to hop over the fence again when something struck his back. He glanced over his shoulder to see the earl's son glaring at him, his pallid cheeks flushed.

"How dare you address me so brazenly?" he snapped, picking up another apple to hurl at the man. Ludwig caught it easily and let the apple fall to the ground, an unimpressed look on his face.

"You are a little old to be throwing apples, my lord," he said politely, doffing his cap again, his temper once again barely in check despite years of enduring rigorous humiliation. "And I would not want your mother to hear of you overexerting yourself. My lady is an anxious soul. I doubt she would fault even a farm hand for showing concern for his lord's son."

The earl's son opened his mouth again, no doubt to snarl and howl his displeasure when something flashed across his eyes and he took a step back into the shadow of the orchard. He pressed his lips in a thin line, and Ludwig noticed the red eyes darting back to stare almost fearfully at the manor over the ground's manicured hills.

Ludwig waited the appropriate amount of time and then said politely, "Perhaps a bit of discretion would be appropriate on both sides of the fence, my lord. If I may be so bold."

"What? Oh –" The young lord looked uncharacteristically unsure before he puffed up his chest and said haughtily, "I see no reason to deign myself to make deals with a farm boy. Even one several years my senior. I will see you canned. I hope your brief foray was worth your job."

With that, the spindly youth turned on his heel and picked his way back through the trees, heading towards the distant manor. Ludwig watched him go before climbing over the fence. He would be fired. The earl was a kind man, but someone as insignificant as Ludwig with no one among the house staff to vouch for him would not last even a single transgression. Even personally knowing the earl would not be enough. Ludwig briefly toyed with the idea of abandoning the day's work, but duty nagged at him like a petulant sore, and he headed back to the fields,

But not before reaching through the fence and pocketing the apple that had been thrown at him.

Even a small victory helped soothe his pride.