Written for Kurohedonism on livejournal. Originally posted on August 11th, 2010


Alois smiled at the little creature as it squirmed in helpless agony. Its many eyes stared up at him from where it was it was pinned, the tip of Alois' quill running through one of its legs like an ink-tipped spear. Alois twisted the quill slightly and its many legs flailed in a painful tap dance. It lurched its rounded body this way and that in search of escape, but didn't have the strength to free itself.

Such a fucking pathetic creature.

A frown darkened the young earl's brow. He looked up at the butler standing before him, the golden-eyed man holding a laden tea tray. Claude's back was perfectly straight, his clothes perfectly in place, his face so perfectly expressionless. He was standing there so regally, as though he was the manor's royalty. As though he was the one who should have been sitting in the padded chair behind the mahogany desk.

Alois smiled wickedly and plucked the quill from the spider's leg. He let it scuttle a little way toward the edge of the desk before he set out to catch it. He brought his thumb down on top of its bulbous body and pressed down, ripping open its belly and smearing its black innards over his desk. Alois lifted up his hand and one of its legs clung fast to his thumb. He giggled and climbed atop the desk, leaning so that he and his butler were eye to eye.

"Are you angry, Claude?" Alois teased, pinching Claude's cheek with his clean hand. He placed his lips to Claude's ear as he spoke. "He wasn't family, was he?"

"No, your Highness," Claude said, taking Alois hand and moving it gently away from his face. Claude's lack of emotion was not very pleasing.

Alois wiped his thumb slowly across Claude's white shirt, leaving a black smear of spider guts behind, including the one stubborn leg.

"That's funny," Alois said, settling back down in his chair. "You both have so much in common," he said.

Claude's eyes widened for a moment, a fleeting second that did not escape Alois' notice. Claude sighed and ran a hand through his hair as Alois threw back his head and laughed. Claude set down the tea tray he was holding, diligently pouring his master a cup before excusing himself from the room. He gently closed the door, separating himself from Alois's laughter.

Claude knew his master's foresight was lacking. He may have been the master, but with these things it was always the servant who feasted like royalty in the end. In time, Alois would learn that he was no insect to be crushed beneath his finger. Pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, Claude sighed and set down the hallway toward the kitchens. It was time to prepare the master's supper. Not before changing his shirt, of course.