"I thought you didn't want me anymore."

Alfred's pulse rang in his ears as he entered the room. The words had been released in a thoughtless burst of desperation and exhilaration which had been building up on his way to lord Bonnefoy's quarters and the moment they passed his lips, he wished he could take them back. They made him sound like the petulant child he had been accused of being not too long before.

Arthur had never made him feel this way. Arthur had never ignored him for days on end and had forced him to live among competitors. There hadn't been any competitors-

His cheeks flushed crimson. How could he compare his benefactors so selfishly? He was where he was supposed to be. Arthur had been a deviation from the grand scheme of life. Alfred had been meant for Francis all along, just like the man had whispered to him as he'd kiss his neck. There was no reason for him to miss the one who had dismissed him so easily after promising forever.

And here he was, facing his owner with stinging eyes and thoughts of another.

I should be ashamed of myself.

Alfred bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "I apologize, master. I know I have no right to stake claims on you. I-I should know my place. If you want to send me-"

A finger pressing against his lips stopped him. Alfred opened his eyes and saw a darker shade of blue staring into his own. He swallowed thickly as the crouching figure curled the rest of his hand around his chin and pulled him forward into a short and searing kiss.

"If I knew you would have thought I had abandoned you, I would have called for you sooner," Francis said quietly as he pulled away and straightened up, guiding Alfred's face to follow suit. "Look at you. That cute little nose of yours is all red."

A flash of panic coursed through Alfred, leaving him stiff with dread. Were all of his efforts, sugaring his legs and plucking his brows, were to have gone to waste over a flushed nose? Was he going to be sent back to his room to wait his turn for another month?

Alfred couldn't even blame Francis. Who wanted to bed an emotional wreck who unrightfully demanded commitment?

Francis regarded him closely with what was becoming an amused smile. "Good lord, Alfred, have you ever been told you have a terrible habit of over thinking? Relax, darling. I'm not going to throw you out over your nose."

No. Alfred had never been told that he had ever thought too much about, well... anything. It was always the opposite. He'd been accused of jumping into situations and taking action without giving them enough thought.

He frowned, immediately disliking the unsettling feeling which followed. When had such a fundamental part of him changed? Was this part of adulthood? Or was he changing into someone he couldn't recognize anymore?

A pair of arms circled his waist and pulled him close in a tight embrace. Alfred swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, wrapping his own arms over the other man's shoulders and burying his face in the crook of Francis's neck. He had craved this- during his time in the Bonnefoy estate, he had become a glutton for the physical.

All Alfred needed was a simple gesture of intimacy to soothe him. When he was touched, he was needed. When he was surrounded by warmth and could feel damp puffs of air on his heated skin as he was slowly filled, he was safe.

Francis was murmuring in a dialect Alfred couldn't make out, but that hardly mattered when the unintelligible, reassuring sounds were accompanied by wandering hands rubbing the back of his neck and working up and down his back. Alfred focused on evening out his breathing as Francis's murmurings were replaced by chaste pecks on the sensitive skin behind his ear.

A few steps later, Alfred found himself straddling Francis's lap, arms wound tight around the man's neck and Francis's hands on his hips in a firm hold. His lips found their way to Alfred's mouth and met sweetly, deepening in a leisurely pace. There was no reason to rush things. They had all night, after all.

Alfred's vision was a little hazy when he pulled back for a gulp of fresh air, but he thought he saw something akin to guilt flash in Francis's eyes. The moment passed, however, and he was swiftly pulled back against the other's lips. The hands on his hips dug into the fabric and Alfred ground down in response, gasping as he felt something hard prod his thigh. His gasp was met with a low groan and a sharp nip on his lower lip, quickly soothed by Francis's tongue in apology.

In truth, Alfred didn't mind the bite, but Francis had always been so careful and gentle with him that he didn't have the heart to point it out. If his master enjoyed the illusion of a broken china doll he had to treat with utmost care, then so be it. In the end of the day, Alfred was there for Francis's pleasure alone.

The hands on his hips delved down to his backside, groping the supple skin as Alfred dug his nails into the back of Francis's tunic. Fingers traced the seamline between his cheeks and Alfred keened, grinding down into those hands.

"Please," he breathed against Francis's ear, dragging his tongue over the shell before sucking the lobe just the way he knew the other liked it.

Francis didn't need him to elaborate. Grunting with the effort, he lowered his hands to the back of Alfred's thighs and carried his weight as he stood up from the chair, beelining to the canopy bed Alfred never grew tired of. Not one to remain idle, Alfred crashed their lips together and dug his fingers into the other's long, wavy hair, pulling them as close as possible.

Force of gravity broke the kiss as he was dropped on his back on top of the mattress. Alfred watched with lidded eyes as Francis crawled over him and yanked down his silk pants, immediately taking him in his hand as he peppered the column of his neck with kisses.

Once the oil was applied and Alfred was properly stretched, Francis positioned himself and slid into the tight heat, one hand keeping Alfred's knee in place over his shoulder while the other applied pressure on his hipbone. Alfred felt himself being filled to the core.

A sense of calm settled over Alfred amidst the heat and his hand reached down to Francis's wrist, grabbing his attention. Their eyes met and Alfred smiled shyly.

"Don't move just yet. Please."

Francis raised his brows but complied, waiting a minute before he pulled out and snapped his hips forwards, creating a rhythm that was a little too fast to be strictly comfortable, but very much satisfying.

They basked in the afterglow a while later, holding each other close in a way Alfred had experienced many times before with Arthur. Francis had pulled his back to his chest and curled around him, resting his chin on the crown of Alfred's head and arms draped lazily over his waist.

Alfred tried not to think about it too much.

No, there was something far more important than the gorgeous man who had abandoned him.

"Did you find Matthew yet?"

The hand tracing shaped on his skin stopped. Alfred could feel the body behind him stiffen and a sense of dread fell over him like a dark cloud, robbing him of the warmth he had been feeling only seconds before.

He never got to voice his apprehension, however. Francis's voice left little room for contradiction.

"I have men working on it, Alfred. I promise. Don't you trust me?"

Alfred felt very small as he nodded his head. He heard a sigh from behind and the hands on his body pulled back.

"Turn around."

He complied, if not apprehensively, turning to his side to face the other man. Francis's blue eyes were serious as he regarded him silently.

"Alfred..." Francis sighed and closed his eyes briefly before meeting Alfred's gaze. "I hope you will not take this the wrong way. When I called for you tonight, my intention was to speak with you, not to bed you. As you can see," he gestured to their naked bodies, "things didn't go as planned."

Alfred's breath caught in his throat. Francis hadn't wanted to sleep with him? What had he wanted to tell him, then? Was he-

His stomach churned. Was he being sent back to the kitchens?

Had he crossed a line? Was it because of Matthew? Had Laline spoken to Francis? What had he-

"Alfred!" Francis snapped, looking tired. "You're doing it again. Please, hear me out before jumping to conclusions."

Cowed by his master's tone, Alfred lowered his eyes and nodded meekly, biting his lip hard. A had curled around his cheek and forced him to raise his gaze to meet Francis's. To his surprise, the look the man gave him was soft.

"It has become clear to me, especially after this evening, that this lifestyle does not suit you. You were not brought up to be a harem concubine, Alfred, and it is taking a toll on your health. You cannot blossom unless you are the center of attention, and I cannot offer you that."

Alfred exhaled shakily. None of his masters had ever put his needs before their own. Or what they thought were his needs. The last thing Alfred wanted was to be sent away or sold, even with the best of intentions. He opened his mouth to say so, but was cut off.

"Consequently, my overseer has not been functioning as he used to these past few months. In any other situation I would have replaced him, but..." Francis trailed off before clearing his throat and continuing.

"I know Arthur yearns for you, and I can tell that you still care for him. Don't deny it!" he smiled sadly, watching Alfred's cheeks color. "I have many concubines, Alfred, and while I enjoy my time with you, I have only one overseer. When I took you in, I thought I was helping you while teaching him a lesson. I cannot help but feel like I came between you two instead.

That is why I have decided to return you to Arthur. He needs you, and can give you what I cannot. I hope you can understand."

Alfred stared at Francis blankly before turning away, his mind finally allowed to run rampant.

Francis had tried to sugarcoat it (as was in his nature, Alfred supposed), but the fact was that Francis valued his overseer far more than he cared for Alfred, and was willing to give him up in order to have a smoothly ran household.

His mind was telling him that he should be offended, but all he could think about was a pair of vibrant green eyes boring into his own as they made love. A deep laugh reverberating through the room whenever Alfred made a witty remark.

Hell, just the fact that Arthur wasn't performing because of him was enough. He missed him. He cared.

"...Alfred?" a tentative voice penetrated his thoughts and Alfred rolled back to face Francis, who was looking at him with a worried frown. The lines marking his face had never been as visible as they were at that moment, but Alfred didn't care. He surged forward and pressed his lips to Francis's in a quick kiss.

"Thank you," he said when he pulled back, biting back a smile at the other's confused face. "For everything."

It took only a few moments for Francis to collect himself, offering Alfred a kind smile and a warm body to press against as he drifted off to sleep in his master's arms.

The smiles remained all through breakfast, which they ate in bed as a special treat. Francis offered him a bit of his baklava, but Alfred shook his head and focused on his own portion.

He had a feeling there would be plenty of sweets later that night, in Arthur's rooms.

.x.

Whispering surrounded Alfred wherever he went throughout the day. While this was not uncommon in the harems, there was a grave quality to them that Alfred had never heard before. After a concerned look in his direction, Alfred frowned and retreated to his own room, refusing to get caught up in a whirlwind of gossip. This was supposed to be a good day, and he wasn't about to let a group of concubines ruin it for him.

Instead, Alfred busied himself with going through his wardrobe, wondering which outfits he should take with him once the guards came to escort him to Arthur's quarters. Had Arthur kept his old clothing?

It was likely that the man had tossed them in a fit of anger, but Alfred entertained thoughts of the man keeping a few of his garments and bringing them close to his face every now and then and inhaling deeply, trying to remember his scent. At least, that's what Alfred would have done had he had anything of Arthur's.

Would Arthur want to buy him a whole new wardrobe? On the one hand, being in charge of the household's finances, Arthur was likely to want to conserve their funds, especially if it was a difficult year. He could be cheap like that. On the other hand, Arthur may not want Alfred to wear anything he had worn for Francis. That sounded like him too.

Oh! He couldn't wait to see him!

He was in the middle of stuffing a satin belt into a bag when the curtains at the entrance of his room parted and a man in uniform entered. His gaze was stern.

"Alfred Jones?"

Alfred turned around and smiled at the man, oblivious to his demeanor. In his experience, all of the guards he had encountered hadn't been very friendly. "Yes?"

"I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

Alfred turned back to his bag with an air of dismissal. "I know you're only doing your job, but could you come back later? I'm not packed yet."

A hand grasped his forearm and turned him around forcefully.

"You're coming with me. Now."

Startled, Alfred allowed himself to be escorted out of the harem by a group of guards, his blood pounding in his ears at the looks he was being cast by passerby. Dread began to fill him as he was led down stairs to a small room.

He wasn't going to Arthur.

A sense of deja vu washed over him. The guards, the tense expressions on the people surrounding him- this was just like when he had been accused of trying to poison Laline. Was he being accused again?

What could he have possibly done?

The guards sat him in front of a wooden desk. A man was sitting on the other side, wearing the same uniform as the other guards did. By the way they saluted him and how he dismissed them with a wave of a hand, Alfred figured he must be in charge.

"You're Alfred Jones, correct?"

The man's words were clipped and businesslike, but Alfred could hear the threat behind them. His eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I am. Why am I here?"

The man gave him a sharp look. "I am the one who will be asking the questions, slave. Where were you this morning?"

Alfred's cheeks burned, but his voice was steady. "I was in lord Bonnefoy's chambers and then left for the harem."

"While you were with lord Bonnefoy, did you notice anything strange about him?"

Alfred's heart skipped a beat.

"No. Is there something wrong with him?" he asked anxiously, brows knitted in concern. "Is he alright?"

"Lord Bonnefoy passed away," the man said stiffly, watching Alfred's face closely. "He did not leave his rooms this morning, and when a slave went to investigate, his body was found on the floor."'

Alfred's vision swam as his face lost all coloring.

Francis, dead? The man who had held him the night before, made love to him, dead?

"But he was just fine when I left him!" Alfred protested, digging his nails into his palm. "How could this happen?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," the man looked away for a moment before clearing his throat. "Without any signs of aggression, we're interrogating everyone he was involved with for the past twenty four hours. Until the doctors can rule out poisoning, I'm going to have to ask you not to leave your room."

Alfred nodded and stood up, recognizing his dismissal. The guard's voice reached him before he could leave the room.

"I would be careful if I were you, what with your track record. There may not be someone willing to cover up for you this time."

The words followed him up to his room where the guards deposited him. The half packed bag looked out of place and Alfred pushed it off of his bed in a burst of aggression.

How could he have been worrying about clothing while his master had been lying dead on the floor?

.x.

Alfred wasn't called back for interrogation, much to his relief. The doctors who had examined Francis's body concluded that his death had been a natural one. In his advanced age, hearts tended to fail when one least expected them to. Tragic, of course, but no foul play was involved.

The air of suspicion and tension evaporated, leaving in its wake a dark cloud of mourning. The whole household was issued new tunics, white and plain to signify the passing of their master. No vibrant colors, no jewelry, no music and no feasts. Silence was only broken by low tones and prayers. Everyone kept to themselves for one month following lord Bonnefoy's death.

At least, that was what was supposed to have happened. The household followed most of the traditional mourning directions, but nothing could stop people from talking. There were no elaborate food, but that did not compel anyone to keep their conversation as plain as their fare. On the contrary- the lack of distraction, be it pretty clothes or late night partying, only encouraged people to entertain themselves with each other.

Alfred had never heard the harem so talkative.

The one topic everyone kept returning to was the question of succession. While lord Bonnefoy slept with many women, he had never taken an official wife. Any concubine whom he had impregnated despite the herbs they were told to take was married off.

With no son, it was hard to guess who would inherit. All the concubines could do was hope that their next master would find them attractive and not tainted by their previous owner.

Alfred was no exception. Seeing as Arthur had yet to claim him, it was apparent that Francis had not told anyone aside from Alfred about his decision before he died. For all anyone knew, he still belonged solely to Francis. To the next lord of the estate. Nothing he said could change that.

After all, he was just a slave.

So Alfred, no longer confined to his room, joined the harem in their suspense and whisperings, waiting with them for the last day of the month of mourning when Francis's will was to be revealed to all. As a man who had continually rejected his unborn children, Francis must have had a successor in mind.

.x.

It was late at night when they came for him.

"Sir!"

Alfred opened his eyes and sat up in bed, looking at the servant who had entered his room. He groaned softly and ran a hand through his hair as he frowned at him in annoyance.

"It's the middle of the goddamn night! What do you want?"

It was only when the boy smiled brightly at him that Alfred realized that he was wearing a rich shade of red.

His eyes widened as he scrambled out of bed, pulling on a robe over his sleepwear. "Who is it? Who has been named?"

The boy simply shook his head with a secretive smile. "I was told not to tell you, sir. Now, if you will please follow me...?"

Alfred rushed to follow the boy who had already pushed past the curtains. "Where are we going?" he asked, adrenaline leaving him wide awake.

"To the master's quarters, of course," the boy hummed, something gold shining through his fingers in the firelight.

That explained his good mood. The new master must be generous, then.

But what did he want with Alfred? He had never even met the man!

Alfred followed the boy until they turned a corner and stopped in front of a pair of unfamiliar doors. Two guards stood in front of them and after a cursory glance at Alfred looked away in disinterest. They must have been expecting him.

Hesitating at the door, Alfred looked back at the boy for reassurance, but the latter had already disappeared. He wasn't sure what to think of that.

With a deep breath he opened the door, entering a vast and richly decorated room. With no one in sight, Alfred slowly made his way around, inspecting his surroundings. These rooms were nothing like Francis's.

At last, Alfred stood at the entrance to the last room he had yet to set foot in. Cautiously he stepped past the fabric and blinked at the dim light, searching for the man who had summoned him, his knees ready to bend once he found him.

"Hello, Alfred."

Alfred froze. Slowly, his body turned halfway towards the all too familiar voice.

A figure sat on a large bed, settled against a pile of colorful throw pillows. His legs were crossed and his torso was exposed, revealing creamy white skin which had rarely been exposed to sunlight. The loose pants he wore looked soft to touch, but Alfred's focus was entirely on the man's face.

Striking green eyes reflected the golden flames burning in the fireplace, beckoning him. His lips were curved in what could only be a smug smile.

Without realizing, Alfred had approached the man and had fallen to his knees in front of him. Looking up at his new master, Alfred gently cradled the man's foot in his palm and brought it close to his face, pressing his lips in a reverent kiss against the soft skin. He trembled as a hand reached out to him and cupped his cheek.

Alfred exhaled shakily.

"Arthur."

No, this is not the end, I can assure you. I wouldn't finish this story so easily, haha. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I hope you'll stay tuned 3