Title: Hands Off
By: N'kala
Disclaimer: Not mine! I make no money from this work.
Summary: Frustrations are about to be taken too far. Thank goodness for Cain.
Author's Note: Random jump back into this fandom. I won't be here for too long, but apparently long enough to jot down a couple of vignettes. I hope you enjoy this one!
Hands Off
The sound of shattering glass filled the air, drawing every eye in the foyer to the flustered headcase currently kneeling down to gather shards of what had once been an expensive crystalline vase from a neighboring kingdom. One that had managed to survive fifteen annuals of oppressive reign by the witch only to meet an untimely end at the hands of a clumsy former advisor.
"I-I'm so sorry!" Glitch stammered, using his hands to sweep the glass into a pile. Specks of red began to appear on the pieces as sharp edges sliced effortlessly through fluttering fingers.
"You stupid headcase!"
Several nearby servants tensed and others made themselves scarce as Barnard, the Master of the Royal Household, strode forcefully towards Glitch.
Glitch flinched at the thunderous tone and increased his frenetic scooping of shards, either unaware or unconcerned by the blood staining his hands. "I-I've got it! No problem! Be set in a jiffy!"
Barnard growled as he seized one of Glitch's arms and roughly hauled him to his feet, shaking him like a rag doll. "You have been nothing but trouble since you've been here! Why the Queen permits your presence, I can't imagine! If it were up to me, I'd have you back in the gutters with the rest of the trash!"
Glitch's eyes flashed in indignation. He struggled futilely against the man's bruising grip. "I'm not trash! I'm an important member of the O.Z.!"
Barnard scoffed, tightening his grip on Glitch's arm. "Exactly the kind of delusion I'd expect from someone with half a brain! I have had it with you bumbling about, destroying priceless artifacts! You're out of here!"
Glitch tried to shove ineffectively against Barnard, resisting the man trying to yank him forward. Bloodied hands smeared across Barnard's pristine white shirt, igniting another fit of temper.
"My clothes!" he cried. "You stupid, useless zipperhead!"
Barnard drew his free hand back, preparing to strike Glitch, when a firm grip clamped down around his wrist and held it still. Barnard's head swiveled back, a sharp rebuke dying a swift death on his lips when his eyes fell on a pair of ice-blue eyes glinting dangerously.
"Take. Your. Hands. Off. Of. Him." Wyatt Cain's voice ground out each word between clenched teeth, his own temper hanging on by a fraying thread.
"Mr. Cain!" Barnard exclaimed. "He . . . the headcase . . ."
"I won't tell you again." Cain's tone could cut diamonds, sending a chill down Barnard's spine.
Barnard abruptly released a still-struggling Glitch. Not expecting his sudden freedom, Glitch tripped and fell back onto the ground amidst the remnants of the vase.
The instant Glitch was free, Cain twisted Barnard's wrist, wrenching his arm behind his back and frog-marching him toward the door.
"Go to your quarters, pack your bags, and get out of the palace before I throw you in the dungeons," Cain ordered, releasing Barnard and shoving him across the threshold. "You have one hour. If you're still anywhere on palace grounds after your hour is up, I will personally escort you to the stockades."
Barnard straightened, smoothing his rumpled and stained clothes as he glared at Cain from a safe distance. "You can't do this!" he snapped pompously. "I am the Master of the Royal Household, selected personally by the Queen herself twenty annuals ago! When Her Majesty hears about this, you and that abomination will both be out on the streets before day's end!"
Cain took a threatening step forward, causing Barnard to stumble a couple of steps backward.
"That abomination you just abused is a personal friend and former advisor to the Queen," he stated lowly. "One that she has known since childhood. Go ahead and tell her what happened today, and why it happened. I dare you."
Barnard flinched.
"Get lost," Cain commanded. "Fifty-five minutes."
Barnard turned and stiffly strode away, barely stopping himself from running.
Cain slammed the door after him, then spun on his heel and returned to his friend's side. Gentle hands carefully helped the trembling headcase to his feet.
"You okay, Sweetheart?" Cain asked quietly, taking Glitch's hands and examining the cuts on his palms.
Glitch's head bobbled, curls swaying with the motion. "Don't mind Barnard," he said. "He's always been rather officious. No sense of fun. Always bad-tempered and forceful."
Cain's hands tightened slightly on Glitch's as blue eyes lifted to meet guileless brown.
"Has he done this before?" The words were innocuous, but the tone promised action if Glitch answered in the affirmative.
"What, yell?" Glitch asked. "He yells all the time. Don't mind Barnard. He's always been rather officious. No sense of fun. Always bad-tempered and force-."
"Glitch." Cain released Glitch's hands only to grasp his forearms firmly. "Has Barnard ever abused you before today?"
Glitch blinked at him. "Abused me?"
Unease warred unpleasantly with outrage in Cain's gut. "Grabbed you. Shook you. Hit you. Has Barnard ever laid his hands on you before today? Has anyone?"
"I . . . no?" Glitch answered, tone wavering in uncertainty.
Cain stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his friend. "C'mon, Glitch. Let's get your hands looked at, then you and I are going to have a long talk about what people are and are not allowed to do to you."
"Okay," Glitch said easily, allowing Cain to steer him away from the mess behind him. "Oh! Is dancing allowed? I love dancing! Did I tell you? I'm a fantastic dancer . . ."
END