[Christmas Gift Fic] #20 - Yes, my lord

[h_itoshi]

Title: Yes, my lord
Prompt: #20 - As a house-worker/master
Wordcount: 1283
Notes: AU. Briefly Kuroshitsuji-inspired (because imagine bratty-Nika in one of Ciel's outfits), R for mentions of graphic violence.

Nikaido sits on the thick marble railing, dangling his feet and looking out over the garden. He knows he's not supposed to sit here, knows his mother would scold him about ruining his expensive clothes if she'd see him do it. But she's away on business travels with his father as usual, and in their abscence he's the head of the family. And the head of the family does as he wishes.

He looks at the two gardeners tending to the roses planted in perfect patterns and thinks that it must be a boring job.

Nikaido has everything he could ever wish for. He's the heir of one of the greatest trading companies in England, he lives in a mansion with 100 amazing rooms, wears clothes of silk and velvet and brocade, and he's pampered to every minute of his life. But it's so boring.

Greeting stiff trading representatives, have fancy afternoon tea and supper and dinner, and spend time with his parents a few hours a month. Otherwise, he's just stuck here in the mansion, doing nothing but being beaten at chess and reading books of adventure that he's smuggled in. His parents don't think he should read that kind of books, as it may “affect him in an unflattering manner”.

But Nikaido has them anyway, and even though his servants probably know, they let him keep them.

“Young Master?” A voice says softly behind him, and he doesn't even have to turn his head to know who it is. “Your mother has made clear she does not wish you sit here.”

“But I like it.” Nikaido says simply. “It's so suffocating inside, and from here I can look at the garden.”

“I could bring you a chair.”

Nikaido turns his head to look at Senga, who has the tiniest smirk on his lips, because he knows this is just formalities and he can't make Nikaido move.

“I don't want one.” Nikaido says simply, not even a challenge since he always gets his way.

“As you wish.” Senga says and bows, about to leave.

“Stay here.” Nikaido orders. “I'm bored, amuse me.”

Senga silently comes back to him, standing just next to Nikaido and looks out over the garden as well. “You could always read the books your father recommended.”

“Or I could look at the grass growing.” Nikaido says, not bothering to keep his manners with Senga.

Senga smiles at that, the only one of the servants being amused with Nikaido's bratty behaviour, and that makes Nikaido want to break him. When his own life is so boring it hurts, he's not above making other people's life hard for amusement. But Senga always just smiles softly no matter how rude Nikaido is, and Nikaido is so intrigued by him. He's fairly new, has only been in their service for a couple of months, and nobody really knows where he came from or who he is.

“Tell me about yourself.” Nikaido says bluntly, and if Senga is surprised, he hides it well.

He's not much older than Nikaido, if he's older at all, that much Nikaido can see. Yet, he doesn't look like the servant uniform is wearing him. It suits him well, the double breasted black jacket enhances how slim and well built he is, the white shirt and black tie makes him look sophisticated. And the white gloves. Damn those gloves.

Senga smiles, that soft amused smile as if Nikaido never surprises him, and Nikaido wants to grab his shoulders and shake him for being so collected all the time.

“I am from London.” He says softly, as if that's the end of the story.

“Yes?” Nikaido urges as he doesn't continue. “And?”

“What do you want to know?” Senga asks, voice still as soft as he looks at Nikaido with an unreadable face that makes Nikaido grit his teeth.

“Everything.” Nikaido says, knowing he sounds greedy and spoiled. But something about Senga just frustrates him.

Senga smiles, a real, lopsided smile at Nikaido's obvious irritation. “I am from a poor family. I have a sister and a brother. My mother died when we were young. My father works as in an asylum.”

“Really?” Nikaido can't help his curiosity taking over from irritation. An asylum is something he has never been close to, has only heard whispered stories from servants who didn't know he was close, about mad people and horror. “What does he do?”

“He tends to the patients. He is no doctor, more like a helper.” Senga explains.

“Isn't that dangerous?” Nikaido asks, feeling the thrill of horror stories run up his spine.

“It can be.” Senga says. “My mother worked there too. She died when a patient had an attack.”

“Oh.” Nikaido says, but he's not very phased. People close to him don't die, and he's raised not to care too much about other people. “How?”

That actually makes Senga's mouth fall out of the gentle smile for a second, before he manages to put it back on, but Nikaido watches his serious face, remembering it with interest and wanting to see it again.

“I am absolutely certain that I should not tell you such things.” Senga says finally, and Nikaido rolls his eyes. Both at Senga not thinking he can take hearing it, and that Senga speaks more politely than Nikaido does even though he's the well raised one.

“I want to hear it, so tell me.” Nikaido urges, annoyance back. He's not twelve years old anymore. “Do I have to tell you it's an order or will you tell me anyway?”

Senga's smile fades for real and Nikaido looks at it, intrigued with how much he looks like an adult now. “I have only heard it told. There was a man, a tall and strong one, who was normally very calm. Then he had an outburst and my mother didn't have the time to get out. He broke her neck with his hands, and then continued breaking off her bones. Nobody could get inside until he had calmed down.”

Nikaido shivers, terrified in a pleasing way, like a ghost story leaves you with chills but excitement.

“I was not allowed to see her body.” Senga continues, too into his story to wait for Nikaido's prodding. “But my dad threw up when he saw her. I was seven.”

“Sounds horrible.” Nikaido says, even though he's hardly said anything compassionate in his life. He thinks of his own mother dying, of her being mutilated by a mad man, but he doesn't feel differently about that than about Senga's mother. Probably because he hardly ever meets his own mother, and when he does, all she tells him is how badly he behaves.

“Yes.” Senga agrees quietly.

Nikaido eyes him more closely, and now that the smile is gone, that Senga's eyes are staring emptily into the sunny garden, Nikaido misses it.

“Smile again.” He says, and Senga looks down at him with a confused gaze.

“Your smile is annoying. But I like it better than this.” Nikaido admits, slowly fingering one of the golden buttons on his dark green jacket.

Senga eyes him for a few seconds, before smiling softly, back into the servant role where nothing can touch him, everything just washes off. “As you wish.”

Someone else calls for him that it's time to prepare tea, and he excuses himself perfectly.

Nikaido stays on the marble railing and continues swinging his feet, thinking that he'll make sure Senga talks to him more often. He's definitely more interesting that his smuggled adventure books.

Comments

[snowqueenofhoth.livejournal.com]

iiiiinteresting.