After the night that the Cotswolds came to their kingdom hopeful and left unsatisfied, things had grown a little tense between Gregory and his father. A tenseness that never seemed to go away. For, you see, the Cotswolds had cancelled the arrangement in search of something better, and his father couldn't seem to forgive Gregory's actions that had led to such an outcome. Gregory found it unfair that the blame was pinned solely on him, as Rebecca had also stood against the decision.

Because of how thick the air was between Gregory and his father, it wasn't uncommon for squabbles to break out between the two. One would say something snide or smart, and the other would snap back. However, Gregory was never the winner in these, as his father always became physical in the end. He started hitting Gregory more often, so much so that it became something expected. Something Gregory had grown accustomed to. It didn't make the smacks hurt any less, but Gregory did little to prevent them. He was much like his father in that way. Though only eight years of age, he never failed to snap back at someone so above him. He didn't know how to back down from a confrontation. Both of them had too much pride, and Gregory paid for it in bruises. He was just thankful it was usually only one or two smacks and getting sent to bed without dinner. He knew it could be worse.

It wasn't all bad, though.

His mother was far more understanding. She would often try to stop his father from getting physical, and sometimes try to diffuse fights before they could even break out, but she often failed in both endeavors. Gregory's father was strong, and while he never hit his wife, he would push her away from the altercation, and there was little she could do. So, she helped in what ways she could. She became a support system to him, letting him talk to her about how he was feeling, and comforting him after being hit once his father was gone. She even taught him how to use makeup to cover the marks so he could look presentable. She tried her best to be there for him in whatever way she could.

Then, there was Christophe, who played a very similar role to his mother, but better. Someone to talk to. Someone to hug when he was sad. A support system. Christophe even became more open to the idea of physical contact if it meant it would help Gregory feel better, and he even began sleeping in Gregory's bed nearly every night just to keep him company. Gregory was uncertain where his mental state would be without his mother and especially Christophe being there for him the way they were. He surely would have gone mad.

Three months had passed since then, and things still remained this way. The weather took a turn and the transfer in season took place. But as the weather grew colder, the bond between Gregory and Christophe grew warmer. They were starting to more resemble friends than master and servant. Gregory grew more understanding the longer he knew the boy, and Christophe seemed to further warm up to Gregory. He even started speaking more, and with Gregory's rudimentary teachings, Christophe was starting to speak in awkward Franglais, and Gregory managed to pick up on some of Christophe's foreign words because of this as well.

~o~O~o~

"Gregory, qu'est-il arrivé? You okay?" The brunette asked as the blonde walked into his bedroom where he'd temporarily left the servant boy, sniffling and wiping at his eyes with a sleeve. At the question, he looked up with a frown, his eyes red and glossy as a red mark on his cheek that crudely resembled a hand became visible. "Father?" He asked, pointing at his own cheek. Gregory nodded, placing a hand to his reddened cheek. A bruise was sure to be left in its place. Gregory sniffled again as he made his way to his bed and clambered onto it wordlessly. He didn't even bother changing into his pajamas as he pulled the covers over himself. Christophe approached the bed with a frown. "What is now?" He asked. Gregory rubbed his bruised cheek slightly as he flickered his glossy gaze to the brunette.

"I talked back to my father..." He muttered. Christophe cocked his head slightly in confusion. Gregory rolled his eyes before speaking in simpler terms. "Fight. With father." Christophe's eyes lit up a bit in recognition.

"Fight..." He muttered under his breath, as if testing the word on his tongue before looking back at Gregory with a sad expression. "Je suis désolé, Gregory. Shouldn't 'it you."

"Don't be sorry, Christophe..." The blonde sighed. "You didn't do anything..." Christophe looked downward with a frown as he thought.

"Talk of it?" He offered. Talking about it always seemed to help Gregory, even though Christophe knew he likely wouldn't understand half of what the blonde would say. Especially since Gregory seemed to often forget that the boy couldn't piece together sentences longer than just a few words. But he didn't mind. He liked hearing Gregory talk. He liked the sound of his voice. And he knew that, sometimes, it simply helps to talk just to get it off your chest, whether the other can understand your words or not. Gregory pulled his blankets up to his chin with a pout.

"There's not much to talk about..." He mumbled. "Father told me I was stupid for not understanding my studies today, so I got angry and said he was stupid, and he smacked me and sent me to my room...Told me to go to bed without dinner, and I'm terribly hungry..." His brows furrowed as his eyes darkened a bit. Christophe gave a small nod of acknowledgement to show him that, even if he couldn't understand everything, he was listening. As Gregory rambled, Christophe noticed that the venting was working and that he was visibly relaxing, but he took it upon himself to try to piece together what he could so he could respond accordingly. Key words he picked up were 'father,' 'hit,' 'bed,' and 'hungry.' He already knew his father had hit him, that was nothing new. He was unsure what the bed had to do with anything, but if the boy was hungry, did it mean his father forbade him from eating?

"Get food?" He suggested.

"I can't, Christophe. Father is angry with me." Gregory sighed. Christophe glanced down, understanding the basic gist of what he was saying. However, he hadn't a chance to respond when a soft knock was heard at the door, but the person didn't wait for a response before they pushed the door open. It was Gregory's mother. She walked in and ushered Christophe away from the bedside as if he were a pest before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Christophe resigned himself to sitting on his own covers on the floor.

"Hey, sweetie..." She said softly to Gregory as she brought a hand up to run her fingers through his hair. Gregory glanced at her with a sad expression, but said nothing. "I'm sorry this keeps happening...But you don't exactly help matters. It's almost as if you try to get under his skin." Gregory pouted at this.

"Well, maybe if he was nicer to me, I would be nicer, too..." He huffed. "He needs to get over that whole arranged marriage thing...It happened so long ago."

"Yes, well, you know how your father likes to hold onto grudges."

"But he shouldn't hold grudges on me...I'm his son..."

"He'll...get over it eventually, I'm sure. Just please try to stay on his good side..." His mother pleaded. Gregory looked to her with uncertainty, but he gave a slow nod and a sigh.

"Okay, mother...I'll try." He mumbled. The woman smiled a bit.

"That's my good boy." She said as she leaned down to kiss his forehead. She then glanced over at Christophe for a brief moment before looking back at Gregory. "And do try to keep your servant away from your bed."

"His name is Christophe." Gregory yawned. His mother sighed, but smiled still.

"Right, then. Try to keep Christophe away from your bed. He could track dirt on it." She said.

"Yes, mum..."

"Good boy." She said, brushing her hand through his golden curls once more before standing up from the bed. "I'll help you with your makeup in the morning. Goodnight, dear." She said as she started walking out.

"Goodnight..." Gregory sighed as he watched her leave and close the door behind her. Now alone, Christophe once again joined Gregory at his bedside. "Well, she wasn't much help, was she?" He asked Christophe with a sort of playful tone. Christophe didn't understand, but he smiled ever so slightly in response to the tone of his voice. "You really should smile more." Gregory suddenly said.

"Smile?" Christophe asked. Gregory nodded.

"It suits you." He said as he patted the spot on the bed next to him, which Christophe well knew by now that Gregory wanted him to lay down with him, so he did, despite his mother's wishes. Getting comfortable beside him, he let Gregory pull him into his arms as he usually did. "Mh...I sure am hungry..." Gregory mumbled through another yawn. "Perhaps if I just close my eyes, I can try to sleep through it until breakfast tomorrow." He said softly. Christophe nodded.

"Just rest now..." The brunette boy said softly as Gregory closed his eyes.

~o~O~o~

It wasn't too long after Gregory and Christophe both dozed off that a low growl startled Christophe awake. He blinked himself to awareness, listening for what he assumed to have just been his imagination. But, after a few moments, it came again. Christophe slowly loosened himself from Gregory's hold as he sat up, glancing around. Again, it came, but it was then that he took notice that the growls were coming from Gregory. He looked at the blonde, who he could see faintly with the beams of moonlight that shown through the windows. That's when he realized that it was Gregory's stomach. He was amazed at how loud it was, but even more amazed that Gregory had not woken from it. Christophe furrowed his brows. Gregory must be pretty hungry for it to be that loud. He stared at the blonde boy a moment in thought before looking towards the bedroom door. Gears turned in his head as a plan formulated, and he slowly slid himself from the bed.

He walked towards the door and listened in. It was quiet. Gingerly, he opened the door slowly and stepped out into the hall. He wasn't allowed to be anywhere in the castle without Gregory, except for Gregory's room, that is. So, if he were caught, he would be in serious trouble. But he was Gregory's servant, tasked with caring for the blonde's well-being and wishes. He was going to do his job, whether they liked it or not. He slowly made his way down the hall and to the stairwell. So far, so good. He continued like this down the stairs, stopping and hiding a moment against a wall as a guard walked by. Once the guard had passed, he slipped by. It was a good thing he was a bit small. He snuck down the hall, keeping to the shadows as he made his way towards the royal mess hall, where Gregory and his parents, as well as the advisors, ate their meals. He had never once set foot in there, but that didn't quell his daring escapade.

He slunk into the mess hall, heading towards the kitchen, but it was then that he heard voices. He panicked and moved against the wall near the doorway of the kitchen, pressing himself against it and keeping to the shadows on the wall. He furrowed his brows a bit as he listened in.

"Is it really that big of a deal?" Came a familiar male voice.

"Yes! I'm so sick of it." Another voice, this one female. Christophe peered around the corner to see if he could spot who was speaking. He caught glimpse of what appeared to be the two advisors, Thomas and Estella. It sounded like they were arguing.

"Estella, you're one of the highest ranking individuals in the castle. What more can you want? Why can't you just do your job and be happy with it?"

"Because, Thomas, I am one of the highest ranking individuals. Not the highest ranking."

"Be thankful for what you have. I know what it's like to come from nothing. My parents didn't want me and they - Shit! - shoved me onto the doorstep of the castle when I was little. I was lucky enough to be taken under the wing of the king and queen, so I am more than - Fuck! - grateful for my position, and I wouldn't dare ask for more. You were lucky enough to be born into it. You're blinded by entitlement."

"Is it wrong to aspire to be something greater?"

"It's wrong to take what you have for granted. Would you rather be a servant? I mean, we are second to the king and queen. What more could you want?" Thomas asked. Christophe jumped a bit when he heard a slam of dishware clattering to the floor, following by Thomas shushing her.

"Wrong! We are not! You know who else is above us? That little blonde brat! Talk about entitlement!" Estella hissed. "That is what really gets me, you know? The fact that a child - a child - can tell us what to do! Someone who is literally half my age. A single word from his stupid mouth, and we would no longer be advisors! That is why I desire to be more!"

"But he is the prince. The future king. One day, we will be answering to him and only him, so you'd better get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it! I am worthy of more than being a king's lapdog!" She spat. Christophe could hear Thomas attempt to shush her again.

"Such talk can be seen as treasonous, Estella. Let's not let anyone hear you, now." Thomas sighed. "Come. Perhaps a late night walk in the garden will calm your nerves."

"I don't need calming, Thomas."

"You most certainly do, lest you wake the whole castle up. Come on. It's less likely you will be heard while we're outside."

"As if the castle isn't already woken by your tic." Christophe panicked as he heard them start walking towards the doorway where he was, and he quickly pressed himself back against the wall to try to blend in with the shadows once more. No sooner had he done that did he see Thomas exit the kitchen, then Estella. They passed him, but Estella stopped a moment, taking a glance around. Christophe held his breath as he remained motionless. Thomas stopped and looked back at her. "What is it?" Estella was silent for a moment as she took one last look around before shaking her head.

"Come on, let's go. I feel like I'm being watched-" She muttered as she turned back towards him and continued on. Once they turned down the hall and were out of sight, Christophe exhaled deeply and let himself relax. He waited a moment to see if they were really gone before quickly darting into the kitchen. He wondered what that whole confrontation had been about. He wished he could have understood everything that they had said rather than just bits and pieces that he couldn't piece together. Once he was in the kitchen, he glanced around, making sure the coast was clear before proceeding to start opening cabinets and drawers, looking for whatever he could find for Gregory. In one drawer, he found a white cloth. He pulled it out and examined it for a moment before laying out out flat on the floor. He then continued his search until he found a pantry. He pulled the door to it open, and his eyes suddenly widened at the sight. Sacks of vegetables and grain, various teas, breads, and jams. But one case in particular caught his attention. It was full of sweets. Pies, cakes, sweet rolls, a jar of cookies, and other assortments. He grinned to himself as he grabbed the cookie jar and pulled it from the shelf, setting it on the cloth. He then grabbed a couple sweet rolls, some bread, a jar of jam, and set them all together in the cloth. Though, before he could make off with it, he suddenly felt eyes on him, and he froze in place, glancing up. There stood a boy in the doorway, who was staring at Christophe. Though, in the darkness, he couldn't see who it was. The figure hesitantly stepped closer and more into the moonlight from the window, only to reveal that it was none other than little 5-year-old Philip. Christophe instantly relaxed and gave a relieved sigh. The little blonde boy stared at him and the treats questioningly. Christophe offered him a small smile as he put a finger to his mouth to prompt him to keep quiet about this before moving to open the cookie jar. He took out five cookies and held them out to Philip. The other servant slowly stepped forward and took the cookies into his hands, gazing down at them curiously as if he had never seen a cookie before. He then looked back up at Christophe and smiled back as he took a bite out of one of them.

"No tell." He whispered to Philip. The blonde child shook his head in confirmation that it would be their little secret. Christophe ushered Philip from the kitchen, then grabbed the corners of the cloth and tied them together to make a sort of makeshift sack to carry the items before heaving it up and taking them with him, heading back towards the stairwell and towards Gregory's room. He wasn't able to be as sneaky with what he was carrying, so he just had to pray he didn't get caught. He did, eventually, make it back to the room with little tribulation, where he closed and locked the door. He set the cloth on the ground and walked over to the bed, gently shaking Gregory. The young prince groaned softly in his sleep as he tried to shove Christophe away. The brunette scoffed and shook him a bit harder. This caused Gregory to wake up with a small growl, turning over to face his servant.

"What is it?" He hissed grumpily, clearly a bit hangry. Christophe only smiled at him as he beckoned him to leave the bed. Gregory sighed as he sat up and lit the candelabra on his nightstand before getting up from the bed. "You'd better have a good reason for waking me up this late-" He yawned. Christophe simply nodded as he grabbed Gregory's hand and led him over to the middle of the room, where the sack sat. He untied the top and the cloth fell flat, revealing what he had taken. Gregory's eyes widened. "Christophe, what...what is this?" He asked.

"Hungry. I take. You eat." He said with an accomplished smile. Gregory looked at Christophe with a perplexed expression.

"You stole all this...for me? You would have been killed had you been found out..." Gregory stated. Christophe simply shrugged. Gregory's expression then softened, and he moved to wrap his arms around Christophe. "Thank you..." He purred. Christophe loosely hugged the other boy back before they separated, and Gregory sat down next to the food. Christophe sat beside him with a small smile as Gregory grabbed a sweet roll and took a large bite, his expression showing great relief the moment he did. He then grabbed the other and offered it to Christophe. "Here, you deserve it." He said. Christophe looked between Gregory and the roll he was being offered, and he smiled a bit wider as he took it gratefully.

"Merci." He said before taking a small bite. It was certainly different from the food he was used to eating, and he savored every bite.

"I knew you were the best servant ever." Gregory cooed playfully as he gently nudged Christophe's side, earning him a chuckle from the foreign boy. The two spent the next few hours eating the treats Christophe had procured, and simply enjoying each others' company, eventually eating themselves into a food coma and passing out together on the floor.