Thomas had had it. He just wanted to escape his life, runaway and start fresh. His step-father would never allow it though. Lord Janson had married Thomas' late mother when Thomas was seven years old, bringing his two children into the family. A girl, Teresa, and a boy, Aris. At first the two older children just made fun of and picked on Thomas, but after his mother died a short two years later their mocking and teasing grew worse. Soon people forgot that Thomas was the son of a Nobleman, only seeing him as the man servant for Lord Janson and his children.
When Thomas was sixteen Janson hired the first paid help in seven years, a stable boy called Minho. Minho was a few years older than Thomas but that didn't stop the two from becoming fast friends. Minho was the only one who Thomas could vent his frustrations to, because he understood what Thomas dealt with from his step family. The Asian man was always there when Thomas needed to escape the incessant yelling for him to clean this or get that. Minho was the only one who knew who Thomas truly was, a kind-hearted, gentle, idiot who was afraid of disappointing everyone.
Nothing incredibly interesting happened to the dysfunctional family until Thomas' 19th birthday. The day had started out like any other, Thomas woke up with the sun, prepared breakfast for everyone, fed the animals, and started on his daily cleaning. Things went as usual until lunch.
"So Thomas, big day today isn't it?" Lord Janson smirked. That smirk always sent chills down Thomas' spine, the way his step-father leered at him, a wicked glint in his eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," Thomas kept his head down, he didn't want to believe that his step-father might have actually remembered his birthday, he hadn't remembered the past ten years, so why now?
"Oh I'm sure you do Thomas, it's your birthday after all, so Teresa and Aris put together a very special present for you, why don't you go up to your room and see what it is," Lord Janson said, that sickly sweet and deceptively kind tone layered over rueful hatred for the young man before him. Thomas wasn't sure if he should trust his step-father, but fear of punishment from disobeying lead him to his room. He didn't know what to expect, nothing good that was for sure, but his room just not being there was not on his list. Instead of his single bed and two drawer dresser there were multiple piles of clothing scattered throughout and in the middle of the small room stood a large full length mirror that Teresa was admiring herself in. Aris was sprawled out on a hideous orange chaise lounge smirking at Thomas' dumb-struck expression.
"Where, what, what did you do to my bedroom?" Thomas managed to say after the shock had receded from his face.
"Oh good you're here, could you please do something about that," Teresa said, pointing to the pile of Thomas' things that had been haphazardly tossed into the corner.
"What did you do to my room? Where is my bed?" Thomas asked again, this time with more bite to his words.
"Well you see, my closet was just too small, I didn't have any room for my new dresses. So I decided your room would make a good walk-in closet, and I was right. So we moved your things to the attic, your new room," Teresa explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Thomas should have been furious about what his step-siblings had done, but he wasn't, he wasn't even surprised. There was no point fighting them, they would always win and Thomas would always be seen as their manservant. Thomas sighed, picking up his pitiful assortment of things he left to the attic without any further interaction with his "family".
The plus side about moving to the attic was that it was actually larger than his previous room. That was the only positive about the attic, there was no viable way to heat the room, and the one dingy window wouldn't open to let a cool summer breeze in. Dust coated once white sheets in thick layers. What little light managed to peek through the grimy glass only accentuated the musky, stale air with it's dancing dust particles. The only clean surfaces were Thomas' bed and dresser, the only pieces of furniture he could call his own.
"If this is where I am to live from now on so be it. But I refuse to live in this filth, I've got a lot of cleaning ahead of me," Thomas said to himself with a resigned sigh.
The rest of the afternoon was spent dusting, sweeping, reorganizing, and scrubbing away years of dirt and grime. The brunette would've cleaned far into the night, but he still had to prepare dinner and gather the laundry from the day. Then after dinner was finished and the dishes cleaned and put in their rightful places he would have to assist Minho with feeding and tending to the animals, water the garden, and finally prepare and serve everyone's nightly tea. The only part of the evening Thomas could look forward to was helping with the animals, and that was only because he could vent his woes to Minho, his only friend. But first he had to et dinner ready.
To say that dinner was an awkward situation would have been like saying the black plague was nothing more than a common cold. Thomas could feel the malicious eyes on him as he served the roast and vegetables, but he refused to acknowledge them. He was able to tune out the snide remarks and rude gestures throughout the course of the meal, that was until he brought out dessert, a carefully crafted raspberry tart.
"Thomas," Lord Janson started, poorly disguised bitterness cutting the air, "Why don't you join us for dessert?"
"No thank you sir, I would hate to intrude, and I should be getting back to my chores," Thomas answered, he didn't trust his step-father to not have ulterior motives for the request.
"Nonsense, it's your birthday after all,"
Thomas knew he wasn't going to get out of it that easily and slowly slid into a seat at the far end of the table, closest to the kitchen door for when he needed a fast escape.
"So how are you settling into your new room?" Lord Janson asked.
"It's fine, just needed a bit of cleaning,"
"Good, good. We wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable in your own home now would we?"
"I'm sorry, but did you want something from me? Because if not I really must get back to work," Thomas quipped, not enjoying the conversation one bit. All he wanted to do was run, far and not look back. Just keep running until this life was nothing but a whisper of a memory deep in the subconscious of his mind. As much as Thomas wished he could do just that he knew he wouldn't get far before his step-father sent someone after him.
"Fine, return to your chores boy, and don't forget the scotch when you bring me my tea tonight,"
"Yes sir," Thomas was halfway out the door as he replied. The dishes could wait until he got back from helping Minho, Thomas told himself as he ran out to the stables.
"Thomas!" Minho exclaimed when young man burst into the stables, "You're early,"
"Yeah, sorry, I just needed to get out of there," Thomas answered, dropping ungracefully onto the small wooden stool Minho used when milking.
"What did they do this time?" Minho was fully aware of how Thomas' step-family treated him and he hated it. That was why he never turned the boy away when he came running to the stables in search of an escape. No matter how busy Minho was he always made time for Thomas, because the brunette was too kind for his own good and deserved to have someone who was on his side.
"Teresa decided her closet was too small and that my bedroom would be a better one, so now I'm living in the attic,"
Minho walked over to where Thomas sat and gave him an apologetic look while squeezing his should in comfort, "You want to go for a ride? It is your birthday, you should do at least one fun thing for yourself today. I'll cover for you in case Rat Man comes looking for you, take Rhonan and go escape for a while,"
"Thanks Minho, I owe you one," Thomas said with a weak smile. Riding always made him feel better, but he to be careful that his step-father didn't find out. If Lord Janson found out Thomas was out riding Thomas would never see the light of day again. Thomas loved riding when he was younger, his mother would take him out every chance she got. But when she fell ill and couldn't take him out anymore Thomas promised her that he wouldn't give up his love just because he couldn't share it with her. After she passed Lord Janson had banned Thomas from riding, the horses were to valuable to let a dimwitted boy like Thomas near them, or at least that's what he was told. Thomas never did stop riding, he was just more careful about when he did so. It became a lot easier to sneak out for a ride when Minho was hired because the Asian man would cover for Thomas.
"Not this time, like I said, it's your birthday, go have some fun, just don't stay out too long," Minho said as he finished preparing Rhonan. Thomas grinned at his friend, took the reins, mounted the black, Arabian stallion and took off into the surrounding forest.
Thomas loved the forest. Wind slid over his face in a race against itself to graze the pale, mole dotted skin. The subtle light of the twilight poked it's way through the ever shifting leaves. Rich scents of a nearby meadow collided with the deep, earthy musk of rotting leaves on the forest floor, fusing to create an altogether new, unique scent. Here Thomas could be himself, not a slave to his step-family. These trees had seen him grow into the strong, kind, young man he was. Thomas loved the forest, no one ever ventured out this far from the kingdom so he never had to worry about awkward conversations with random strangers. Or so he thought. He slowed to a trot as he came upon the small clearing he would would frequent to clear his head. The normally silent sounds of the night were overshadowed by two unknown voices coming from the clearing Thomas was approaching.
"Newt, what do you think you're doing out here?" a deep voice asked.
"I just needed to get away for a little while," a softer voice answered, the words drifting over Thomas like a fresh spoonful of honey drizzling over crisp toast. "I'll head home soon, you don't have to stay out here with me Sig,"
"You know I can't do that Newt, your father would kill me if I left you unattended in the middle of a forest," the deep voice retorted. As Thomas listened to the two men banter back and forth he quietly dismounted Rhonan and crept closer to the edge of the clearing, hoping to catch a glimpse of who was invading his forest. Slinking up to a large oak Thomas cautiously peered around to rough trunk. Apparently he had leaned over too much and thusly found himself face planting in dew coated grass.
"Are you okay?" the same angelic voice asked. Thomas' eyes fluttered open.
"Am I dead? Because you definitely look like an angel," Thomas said before he could stop himself. The man above him had sparkling amber eyes and a golden halo of blonde locks. The man's sharp angles were perfectly contrasted to the gentle gaze he was directing at Thomas.
"I would hope you're not dead after simply falling face first to the ground," the blonde chuckled. He stood from his crouched position and offered his hand to Thomas. Thomas blushed a brilliant shade of red as he was helped off the forest floor.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on your conversation, I was just curious as to who was in my clearing," Thomas said with a nervous laugh.
"Your clearing?"
"Uh, yeah, I've been coming here ever since I can remember. My home isn't far from here and when I was young my mother brought me here and told me this was where I could go if I ever needed to escape,"
"I see, and what is your name? I feel I should the name of the owner of this clearing I so rudely barged into," the level of sass in the question hit Thomas harder than Aris' cologne.
"Thomas," was the quiet reply.
"Well Thomas, I'm Newt. I didn't actually know about this place until today, didn't mean to intrude, really," Newt said.
"It's okay. I'm sorry for quite literally crashing in," Thomas kept his eyes glued on the ground. There was something about the well dressed man standing beside him that unsettled Thomas in ways he couldn't explain. Newt, on the other hand, couldn't seem to take his eyes off of Thomas. He didn't realize who Newt really was, and it was a relief to not have someone falling over themselves just because of his status. Newt found Thomas to be quite interesting, and certainly attractive, not that he would tell the boy just yet. No what Newt wanted was to know more about Thomas, wanted to show him the world, wanted to kiss those apple red lips Thomas kept nibbling on.
"Newt we need to get back before your father sends out a search party," the dark skinned man, who had remained on his horse the whole time, said.
"Right, be right there Sig," Newt called in reply. He turned back to Thomas, "It was nice meeting you Tommy, I hope we will meet again soon," and with that Newt was gone, riding off towards the kingdom.