[AU][C][M] Festivities

Richard smiled back at the slave, a little sadly, his hand unmoving when the slave pushed up into it.

A moment passed and he pulled the hand back into his lap.

"I suppose I should go back in there too," he said softly to the slave.

The only people out here were nobles and their slaves too wrapped up together in the corners of the garden up to pay attention. The Prince felt he could talk easily to the slave, as he did in private.

"Thank you, for helping me in their earlier."

"I would stay out here a little longer. You've made rounds well, and they're quite taken with you, my Prince. You deserve a moment to yourself. They'll think you're using me, with how you kept me to yourself tonight. You won't be disturbed for a while."

Dick's prudish nature in that aspect had translated to an intense possessiveness to the Ecrutezian court, and that would work in the Prince's favour now he wanted a moment alone.

At the thanks, he smiled.

"You're my Prince. I couldn't stand back and leave you to drown when I know how to help."

Dick flushed, but he was thankful. While he didn't like that the Ecrutezian court thinking he was 'enjoying' himself, he was glad it gave him a moment alone and to clear his head.

"Still, thank you."

He met the slave's smile.

"I've always struggled with this sort of stuff," he admitted, toying with the rings of his fingers. He had been itching to do it all evening.

"Without offence, my Prince, it is plain to see."

He didn't meet Richard's eyes as he spoke, worried that he was overstepping boundaries, but wanting to help.

"The best ways of having a crowd eat from your hands in this land is to stroke their egos. Praise their slaves, or their jewels, or their alliances. Pet their egos like you would a cat, and they will melt to you. Feed their egos enough and they will come at your beck and call."

He'd seen it enough. He'd done it enough. As a businessman, he had had to compliment a lot of people to be noticed and have his services called upon.

"I can help, if you wish it, my Prince. I know many of these people. I can tell you which tells they have, where you need to pet to have them dance for you."

Dick shook his head, no offence taken. He knew his own faults. It was also pleasing hearing the slave speak up for himself.

Richard listened intently to what the slave had to say. Ego-stroking, while it was done in Alden, was a lot more subtle (as with every other difference between the two countries).

He contemplated the slave. Not only did he know multiple languages, but from the sounds of it, he knew how to work people. He knew how to wrestle. Lord Donaton had his highest praises for the slave, saying his village had some of the best warriors.

It brought him back the same question: How did this man ever end up a slave?

"I would appreciate that, thank you," he said gratefully. Dick eyes searched the garden and spotted two women walking. "How would you make them dance for you?"

"Ah," Fleck hummed, making a little face. "For me it was different. I was never a noble. I had them dancing different steps."

He appealed to them as someone beneath them, stroking their egos by praising them like celebrities. Admiring their talents or their Slaves, and wishing to do something for them.

"You are a Prince. Your goal is different. You are to show them a sliver of attention and let them know they could be of use to you."

Different standings had different games. Fleck played very differently than people like Donaton did, and even more differently royals like Richard and Emilion.

"Now I could not make any of them dance."

Richard's face softened at the slave's words.

His hand found the glossy head of hair again. He frowned at himself. This was becoming a habit.

He slid it down so it rested on the tanned shoulder. Less like he was petting a dog, more like showing affection to a friend.

It was there for only a moment until he pulled back.

"Okay, so as an example, if you were a noble and I approached you, how would I make you dance?"

He enjoyed the hand atop his head. It was a nice affection, something he didn't get often - just little affections. 

His full lips pressed together as he thought on the question. "That would depend on what bought me into Nobility," he finally answered.

"Am I old money? New money? Did I marry into a noble name? Do I tote a slave? Or more than one? How finely are they gilded? How do they behave? Am I from a military family, or does my family oversee trade work? Something else? The answer to each of those questions are important in deciding how to make them dance, my Prince."

It was all about careful observation and acting on what you saw.

The sort of game that they were playing was a slow and careful one. Something that Fleck had observed well in the past half a dozen years. It was all about little acts and manipulations that mounted to a great loyalty that could be called on in times of need.

Richard hummed.

No wonder why his mother was so quiet all the time. A constant stream of questions rushing through her mind - never once not observing.

"So, thinking back to Lord Donatan... He was from the House Ruiz. That house is old money, I believe. It is one of the few noble houses here that I recognise."

He pulled on his sore lip as he tried to remember all the little details about him.

"He had two obedient slaves, both well gilded - safe to assume they were expensive... So he has money and lots of it. Enough to afford luxuries."

All the nobles had slaves. He couldn't think of a noble he met that night who didn't own one. Each slave varied in how well decorated they were. At first, he thought it was a matter of taste. Now he realised; it was how nobles showed off their wealth in Ecrutez.

It was different from back home in Alden. Nobles there showed off with how decorative and well made their clothing was; what type of sword they had on their hip; how intricate their jewellery was.

"He said his son was the one to lead the forces, so he is from a military family - right?"

Blue eyes trailed down to the slave.

"That was why he was so impressed with you. Or rather, me 'owning' you," he said the word with disgust. "To have control over a man with a strong warrior background is a difficult thing to do. So to him, I seem to be a strong person to have you stand beside me obediently."

Lord Donaton said it outright himself, but he had been so uncomfortable with the situation he hadn't taken too much notice.

"At least, that is what he observed."

Richard didn't feel like a particularly powerful or strong person. Not like his mother or brother. The slave had been - on the whole - obedient since he had been handed over to him.

Not that he would have done much is he wasn't. If anything, he would he preferred it.

So they were going to use Donaton as an example. That worked as well as any.

He listened to the Prince's observations, nodding along slowly. 

"House Ruiz is a long-standing family. Their origins were from my village. A thousand years ago, a man from my village joined the Armies of their country - Ruiz of the Island in the Lake, before Ecrutez had invaded the lands. He took up arms against Ecrutez, and led strong armies against them. His closest men were the last left standing, but they bowed under the strength of the Ecrutezian army."

His eyes lit up as he spoke of his history. "Admiring the strength and stubbornness of this leader, the Queen of Ecrutez gifted him with high standing, if he bent at the knee and vowed to serve her." He smiled, pride shining in him. "Ruiz bowed to the Queen, and vowed he would stand besides her, and serve under her. She took him with her back to the Capitol, to this very city, and his children took on his name, and his duties training the army. A thousand years have gone by and House Ruiz still commands our countries' Army. The House is the oldest still-standing noble family of Ecrutez. Some believe it is the strength of Islanders still in their blood, even if diluted by a a hundred generations of noble life."

The history lesson was not the aim of this exercise, though.

There is pride in that name. More than any other in the city, but they know they are strong. Stroking at their noble name will do little to sway them. They are secure in themselves like few other noble families are. Donaton and his son particularly so. You must find other things to compliment to have them dance."

He gestured to the Prince. "You were right with his slaves. He gilds them better than most. Any compliment to their slaves will compliment them. Donaton also gilds himself. That is important as well. He is so powerful, so wealthy, that he can afford to dress himself up in the same fineries that he can don his slaves in. Only the Royal family does this besides the Ruiz. It shows their high standing. That will also gain you a friend in them if complimented. Their wealth is a high mark of pride that you can manipulate. I have done so in different ways in the past." Not to Donaton himself. To his wife, his daughters and his sons wives.

Richard listened intently to what the slave had to say.

In-depth Ecrutezian history and their legends were all new to him. Having nothing much to do with the kingdom before, he spent more time reading and learning the countries they normally interact with; their enemies and alliances. Everything he knew about the kingdom was brief and glossed over as the two never had much to do with each other. Up until now, that is.

The slave's story made him think back to the oil wrestling match. As far as he was aware the majority of Nobles were present. It was safe to assume Lord Donaton was there, too. Idly, he wondered how the lord felt about the treatment of the island slave. Sure - the slave was nothing more than a pleasure slave - but he still hailed from the island Lord Donaton's ancestors were from. Did it offend him, seeing the island slave's hard-won victory snatched away? Or did he laugh along when the Queen turned the victory into a mockery?

He had a feeling it was the latter. It seemed here a slave was a slave here - no matter what blood ran through them.

"So, complimenting his house would do no good for me as he is already aware of his power and security. Instead, I should continue to compliment his slaves and clothes, as it shows I am aware of is high standing and wealth."

He toyed with the rings on his finger as he summarised what the slave said, ingraining his teaching into his head. After a moment's pause, he glanced down at the slave curiously.

"What did you do? Before you were a slave? If you don't mind me asking, that is," he hastily added on.

"Yes, my Prince. That's it." For someone that didnt enjoy social interactions, he was a quick study on them.

They just needed to work on the less theoretical side of the situation. Talking, seeing, manipulating. It was something that came in time, and with practise.

"A travelling artisan, my Prince."

His eyes turned upwards, back towards the hall the gathering was being held. "Perhaps you should return, my Prince."

"An artisan?"

Richard looked at the slave in wonder. He didn't expect that. Questions were at the tip of his tongue. Instead, he sighed and he stood up.

"I suppose you are right. Thank you, again, for your help."

Now he had to put what he understood into practice. The reality was always a lot more difficult to do than what the theory made it out to be.

Blue eyes glanced down at himself and then at the slave. They looked as impeccable as they were before they went outside.

"Should I make either of us look dishevelled?"

Back home, it was frowned upon if a couple rejoined the party with even a hair out of place. It was offensive, to either the guests or the hosts - depending on who left the party to find more interesting things to do. If those things were done, the rest of the court would like to turn a blind eye. They don't want to see any tells.

He didn't know if that ran true here, too.

The question had Fleck smiling. He was learning very quickly to blend in in this court. Clearly he was well travelled.

He raised his hands, gesturing towards the tight lacing at the Prince's crotch. At the minuscule nod, he unpicked the tight Aldish knot and loosened the ties slightly, then redid them in another decorative knot, a decorative Ecrutezian piece of knotwork. It would be enough, for anyone looking.

After that his hand pushed into his own hair, gripping it close to the roots and scrunching it. It left one patch of his hair dishevelled. It would fall flat again soon, but people would notice it, and they would believe just what they wanted to about it.

And after the quick adjustments, they were walking back into the gathering together, Fleck half a step behind his Prince.

It wasn't long before the cats pounced.

One cat in particular.

A tall, thin woman with a dark tan and golden eyes approached the pair, bringing with her a young blond-haired blue-eyed boy dressed up in fine silks but very little jewellery. She herself was dressed in the sheer red cloth Ecrutez was known for, though there was a splash of white in her garment. A white silk sash tied around her waist.

Fleck was the first of the pair to notice her, and her determined approach.

A servant carrying a tray of fruits passed them, and Fleck seized a handful of the sweet red berries that the Prince had favoured at breakfast.

He pressed up against the Prince's side in a very familiar move, and pressed one of the sweet berries to the Prince's lips. "There's a woman approaching," he whispered into Richard's ear. "She's wearing white. She wants to be noticed."

His dark eyes turned to the woman, observing her. "She's of new money. A foreign slave. She spends her money on frivolities. Not an important alliance to make, but I think that's what she's wanting."

He plucked a second berry from his palm and held it up just like he did the first. "No neckwear, so she's not married and she's wearing light colours. She wants to be noticed by the Aldish. My guess is she wants you to notice her, my Prince."

His smirk was widening as he pressed a third berry to his Master's lips. "Smile, tug at my hair. Pretend I said something naughty," he ordered. "She's almost here."

And just a few moments later the woman was before them. She smiled brightly and bowed to the Prince. "Prince Richard, it is a pleasure. I am Emiliana of the Valentina House."

While he allowed it, his face still burned as the slave loosened to laces of his crotch and redid them in the elaborate Ecrutezian style. At least, this way, people wouldn't question why the Prince didn't look flustered. It wasn't something he could do on demand, despite how often his pale skin showed colour.

Back in the midst of the party, his gaze roamed. he had spoken to most of the higher up nobles already. It seemed that there was an unspoken rule in the air that they were allowed speak to royalty first - it was a same back home.

He stiffened in surprise when the slave pressed into him and the fruit was brought to his lips. The soft whisper tickled his ear and a shiver crawled down his neck and spine.

Taking the fruit into his mouth, he searched the room for the woman his slave described. It didn't take long to spot her. The bright white sash stood out in a courtroom that favoured darker colours.

There were some things his slave said that he had noticed; that she was of new money and that white sash meant she wanted to be noticed.

There were other things he didn't pick up on. The lack of necklace around her neck being one, not being accustomed to their culture. He definitely didn't notice that all of this was to gain his attention. That she desired him.

Flustered and scandalised, he didn't do as the slave ordered when the woman approached.

He gave her a tight smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Emilliana."

His eyes drifted to the slave. With everything that had spoken about, complimenting a slave was the safest thing to do. But looking at his blue eyes and blond hair - and with his slave's comment about her wanting him - he didn't feel all that comfortable doing so.

Besides, he most definitely didn't want an alliance with her.

"I hope you are enjoying this evening's celebration?"

"I am, Prince. Lady Kataline certainly knows how to throw a party."

She smiled, but it wasn't the graceful small smiles full of hidden knowledge that courts usually held. She was new to it all. Totally new and trying to play a game that was above her.

For people like Fleck, who had observed it for many years, it was plain to see. It was probably even easier to see for the Prince. Richard had been around it all his life.

Emiliana held out her hand to the Prince in the way that she had seen other courtiers do to each other.

Oooh, Fleck thought, eyes quickly moving up to his Price's face to gauge his reaction. That sort of thing was done between courtiers of the same level, and never done to a member of the royal family. A Royal could hold out their hand to be kissed, or to receive a hand, but for a noble to do it to a royal?

He wondered how the Prince would handle that one.

"She certainly does," he agreed.

Richard came to the same conclusion as the slave. The woman's smile was too large, too friendly and warm. She smiled at him like how his sister smiled. It was too familiar.

What she did next threw him off guard. He didn't expect her to raise her hand for him to kiss.

He never intended to kiss her. he never raised his hand first because he didn't want her to get the wrong message. He wanted her gone. Instead, she had thrown him into this horrible awkward situation.

Everyone would be discreetly watching. They would be judging this woman and the decisions he makes.

If he left her hand in the air, she would be upset. Maybe some of the Ecrutezian courts would find him rude.

If he kissed it, that would mean he would have shown interested in her simply because she raised her hand first.

If things were done the way they were supposed to, it would have been just a greeting.

An awkward moment passed.

He took pity on her, with how only moments ago he had asked the slave for advice. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips but didn't kiss it. He held it there for not even a second before he gently dropped both of their hands.

Fleck inhaled sharply besides Dick's ear when he did bring her hand to his lips.

Wrong move. Now Dick was going to be known as the nice Royal. The one that let even a newbie with no knowledge of the way things worked into his circle.

He was going to be overwhelmed with everyone wanting to talk to him, because he'd shown that he would treat even the lowest of the low well.

That would lead to awkward situations and a lot of mistakes. Fleck decided to put a stop to this little show before Emiliana got any ideas. They could fend off the others later.

He snapped up a fried dough ball drenched in honey, the same as the one the Prince had fed him as they watched the wrestling, from a server's tray. The honey dripped down his fingers as he once again pressed up to his Master, and run the honeyed treat over his lower lip. "Try it, Master. It's very... sweet." His lips brushed against Richard's ear as he said it, voice low and husky and dripping with sex.

Emiliana watched the display with slightly narrowed eyes, upset over being interrupted, even if it was just by the Prince's slave.

"Quite a needy slave you have," she commented, her voice slightly high pitch than her usual tone. She was trying too hard to be calm and friendly, when all she wanted was for the slave to back away so she could have the Prince's full attention.

Richard heard the sharp intake of breath beside his ear. He made a mistake.

Panic settled in.

Before he could attempt to dig himself out of the hole, he felt his slave press closer. His cheeks warmed and his Adam's apple bobbed as the sweet treat was glossed over his lips. The voice in his ear even sweeter. Another shiver crawled down his neck and spine. Then lower.

He bit his lip and tasted honey.

Tentatively, he brought the dough ball between his lips. It was sweet and sharp on his tongue, slightly chewy. His cheeks glowed but his face was one of honest bliss. He hadn't had the chance to try the fried sweet treat yet. He guessed he had to thank the situation for that.

He hummed in response to Emiliana, still slowly chewing. Slower than normal. He was trying to calm himself down, the heart in his chest hammering.

Once the initial shock and surprise had passed, he had seen the situation as it is. The slave had helped him. Doing this he was pushing Emiliana out. Dismissing her.

Any other noble would have patted their slave's backside. Richard just let the knuckles of his fingers graze the slave's firm thigh. It wasn't to show appreciation for the dough ball. It was for helping him out of the situation.

"I would say he is attentive rather than needy."

He was hot under the collar and it was difficult not to let his voice crack as it normally did when he was flustered. Miraculously, it stayed smooth.

"Attentive enough to interrupt a noble." Her voice was just a little sharp. Clearly she wasn't happy.

And that just pushed Fleck to act harder.

His honey-soaked fingers, that had fallen down to his side when Richard had taken the treat from him, came back up to run over the Prince's lower lip.

"You left my fingers all sticky, Master." He said that with a humorous sort of lightness, and let his fingers play over Richard's sticky lip lightly.

He bit his lip, smiling as he nuzzled against Richard's neck.

He could see the hot blush blazing over Emiliana's cheeks. She was getting really angry now. She looked caught between walking away and causing a scene.

Fleck hoped she was smart enough to walk away.

Richard felt caught between the noble and the slave.

His skin became hotter as the slave spoke playfully, fingers continuing to gloss over his lips. Tempting his mouth to take them in and suck off the sugary sweet glaze. He wanted to. Badly.

The tips of his own fingers tingled. Phantom memories of the slave's tongue sliding over them, licking the honey off his own fingers.

The face nuzzling into his neck didn't help. It tickled and took him all his effort not to squirm on the spot and keep a cool presence about him. All the other nobles managed to and they had slaves slipping their hands up skirts and down trousers.

He licked his lip and felt the tip of the slave's fingers.

He wanted the marble floor to open up and swallow him whole. Get away from the nobles and the slave and be left with his own hand. But he was stuck here.

"Attentive enough to please a Prince."

Normally, he didn't like to use the status card. But he had just saved the woman from social embarrassment and she thanked him by using that sharp tone. Nothing irked him more than people turning tut.

The tongue barely brushing his fingertips bought a tiny noise from Fleck's throat. A noise that was loud enough for Richard to hear, pressed so close to him as he was.

When Richard opened his mouth to speak, his fingers slipped lower, resting on his chin, leaving that, too, sticky with honey.

A smirk came to Fleck's hips at his Prince's sharp comment. Now that was a slight and no mistaking it. Fleck had pleased the Prince, but this woman, this noble of new money, hadn't.

She swept away in mortified silence, and around them amused titters and laughs filled the air. Her embarrassment in front of a Prince would be court gossip for months.

"Perhaps you don't need much help in this court after all, my Prince," he muttered, still pressed against him, fingers still at his chin. He didn't want to move away, in fear of showing the entire court his wide grin.

That tiny noise shouldn't be allowed. It sounded honest, but he wondered if it was practised. Either way, it sounded sinful against his ear. It made his blood run south.

He turned so his own lips were close to the slave's more decorative ear. His voice was low enough so only he could hear it. He was sure the court would fill the blanks in with something filthy. Far too filthy for him to ever think.

"I want to make the court dance, not insult everybody."

He paused, hyper aware of the fingers on his chin.

"You made my whole face sticky now," his voice was still soft and he wasn't reprimanding. His lips kicked up. He was so embarrassed with the whole situation he wanted to laugh.

His tongue ran over his lips slowly when the Prince's breath fanned over his cheek and ear.

Fuck.

This sort of tension was exactly why the Prince was sporting that split in his lip right now. One of them could do something stupid like that again.

He didn't think he'd mind if the Prince made the first move, though.

Not that he would.

"You're a prince," he reminded gently. "Your role isn't to please people, it's to have others please you. Sometimes you will insult others. Nobles as low as her aren't important to please. You want followings in the richer and more powerful families."

The last comment made him pause, then let out a little chuckle. "Shall I lick it off, my Prince?" he asked in a similar light tone.

Without the noble woman gazing on him, he did allow himself to squirm just slightly.

At the slave's suggestion, his breath shuddered.

"Would it be frowned upon if I washed my face?"

He didn't want the slave's tongue all over him (He did. He really, really did.) but he was worried that if he rebuffed the slave the Queen would take it as an opportunity.

But he also wasn't all that comfortable with that level of affection in public, even if the court wouldn't batter an eye.