Chapter Text
For four years, Tanya had worked in the Imperial palace diligently, and she had never witnessed as much chaos as in the past few days, with the schedule seemingly changing on a whim. The careful balance of work had been thrown to the wayside.
Silently, she despaired. There would be no escaping punishment this week.
It was inevitable.
In the quiet recess of her mind, she cursed the royal who was undoubtedly behind this chaos. The servants were mere props for their entertainment. Maybe one of them wanted to pursue their sweetheart and confined the poor girl—or boy—to be at their beck and call all day. She could sympathize.
Biting her lip, she glanced at the strange, red haired boy, Louis, who had joined them from the kitchens in the Stained Glass Wing. They normally served guests of little importance, and she had started there as well as a doe eyed fourteen year old who still believed in royalty. Louis at least didn't harbor such sickening naivety.
"How do you like the Royal Wing?" he asked as they finished cleaning the fifteenth fireplace.
She set down her brush, wary of her traitorous thoughts. One could never be too careful in the palace. Louis seemed nice enough, but he could be a spy, checking their loyalty. If they had an inkling of her thoughts, she would be cast out on the streets—a state her family could hardly afford.
"It's unique," she answered honestly. "There's always drama somewhere. On the other hand, the pay is better and we get bragging rights. We actually meet royalty!"
His face twisted. "Doesn't seem like a positive."
She laughed despite herself. Oh, this was risky, but he felt genuine. "So you've never had fantasies of being swept off your feet by a royal? It's sooooo romantic. And of course, working directly under royalty increases our chances. We're a stroke of luck away from living out a real life fantasy."
"That— Do people actually want that?" Shaking his head, Louis knocked on the next room and swept inside. "It would be a living nightmare. A horror story in the making."
"You would get in the way of true love?" she teased to hide her own unease at the prospect. She was supposed to have such fantasies. After all, what could be better than the attention of a royal?
"It's unrealistic," he grumbled. "A servant would be at best relegated to a mistress. It caused enough of a scandal when the Emperor married Empress Marianne, and she was already a knight."
"But, true love!"
He glared at her halfheartedly. "That's a fool's dream."
"Geez, you're such a cynic. I guess it's true what they say of people from Area Two."
He jerked the blanket a bit too roughly over the bed. "What are you implying?"
"Folks from Area Two are all skeptics." She frowned consideringly. "Honestly, I'm surprised they hired you. Everyone I know from there was hired before the Count incident."
"You mean they know more about Britannia's darker side," he whispered.
"I guess." Checking the room one last time, she pondered the implication that he knew of Britannia's darker side. "They hired you a few months ago, right? I guess enough time has passed... and you do have a pretty face, although your hair is just awful."
He scowled and patted it reflexively as they exited into the hall. "Maybe they want more enlightened people. It's not like anyone would be oblivious for long, serving royalty."
Her heart skipped a beat and she swatted him on the arm. "Don't say things like that! You'll get into trouble, even if you're new."
"I'm only being honest," he mumbled.
"Don't be. Thoughts like that stay nice and quiet inside your head, especially in this section of the palace. The Imperial Housekeeper gave me five lashes because I was unkind about Princess Guinevere's hairdo."
"It is rather ridiculous at times."
She groaned as they entered the break room. "You need to stop talking."
Inside the break room, other harried servants stared forlornly at the job board. The work was immeasurable. On the opposing wall, various lights flickered on, summoning the servants assigned to each area. Royalty never gave them a break. It would only get worse near the end of the day as they finished their afternoon tea and began prepping for dinner.
Bianca collapsed against the wall, grabbing a nearby towel to dry her face. "I heard some of the empresses are visiting."
"Ten of them," an older man added. "They're throwing together a little luncheon. They're vying for the Emperor's attention."
Louis snorted. "Good luck with that."
She elbowed him.
The man shook his head. "He's right. Like, the Emperor hasn't even slept with them since their wedding night. They could prance around stark naked, and he wouldn't give them a second of attention."
"But that's the problem! Mrs. Ygritte is sick," wailed Bianca. "She's the only one they listen to, and you know they're going to be pissed when His Majesty doesn't sleep with them... again."
"It's not like His Majesty entertains many of them anyway. The only one he bothers with regularly is Empress Victoria, to award her for Princess Cornelia's victories," someone said.
Tanya grinned. "His Majesty only has eyes for Empress Marianne."
"How do you think they do it?" Bianca asked. "With her being in a wheelchair. Like—"
"Is this really an appropriate topic?" Louis interrupted desperately.
As they left with their new assignments, she raised an eyebrow at him. "You were the one disparaging royalty earlier."
"I wasn't disparaging—" He rolled his eyes. "Listening to anyone's sex life is excrutiatingly uncomfortable."
Buckling under the bulky load of fresh towels, she shook her head. "You really are innocent. The guys in the dorm across from us are constantly talking about who they want to fuck."
"I'm very well aware," he said, pained.
"All the juiciest gossip is about sex and romance. We always know when Empress Marianne is on a mission because the Emperor is in a foul mood and actually entertains his other wives. And Prince Odysseus has a secret lover. His drafted love letters constantly end up in the trash. Of course, nobody saves them or anything..."
"I find the kitchen far superior." He sniffed. "We always know who has favor because we're ordered to prepare their favorite foods. Or something they detest if they displeased His Majesty recently."
While his words held merit, relationship gossip was far more entertaining.
He was a strange one, honestly. He was barely interested in any of the usual gossip, but he perked up over minor, inconsequential details. At least, he was a hard worker, even if he clearly didn't know how to do some of their tasks properly. She could scarcely believe he attempted to fold clothes.
Did he earnestly think nobility risked creases in their precious clothing?
Taking a small break by the windows, he asked, "Who is Mrs. Ygritte?"
"The Royal Housekeeper for the wing. I can't believe she is sick. I didn't think she could get sick," Tanya complained. "She's like a demon who crawled out of hell to make the palace her dominion. You'll meet her soon enough. Her screeching will make your ears fall right off. It was only a speck of dust."
He chuckled. "Better her than one of the royals blowing a gasket."
"Fair." She giggled. "You have some right rotten luck. Right when you get used to the Stained Glass Wing, they send ya right into the dragon's den 'cause we're short staffed. You better follow my lead. Else a dragon will gobble you right up."
"Hey, Tanya!" Her friend, John, waved from the end of the hallway. In one hand was a massive bucket frothing with soapy water. "Where you heading to? I was going to shadow Zeke and help him with some rather stubborn stains, but... I swear whoever set today's schedule is a mad man. I don't even know where I am going!"
"The spa and pool, John. Same as when you asked me two hours ago."
"Who is the new guy?" John leaned close and stretched his hand from his own forehead to Louis. "Why is he so tall?"
"Louis." He extended his hand. "Was working in the kitchen by the Stained Glass Wing until the Madam hollered at me. Now, I'm cleaning floors?"
"Kitchen staff always have it so lucky," John complained. "Imagine being able to eat all day."
"Right until someone gets sick."
John blanched. "Right. Well, better than the main kitchen, right? Heard they—" He sliced a finger across his throat. "Would never want to head over there."
"At least you have a chance for a day off. Apparently Prince Lelouch likes to requisition it for his own use." Tanya shook her head. "What do you imagine he does?"
"Cooks," Louis said simply.
"Nah. That's too boring." John hopped forward, spilling water over the floor. Sighing, Louis grabbed a towel and knelt to clean up the mess. "I bet he's making poisons!"
"He's a prince. He would use a lab," Tanya said. "John! Stop swinging that around! Geez, you're making Louis clean up after you."
"You three! Why are you dawdling?"
"It's her underling," John hissed, and they all straightened as an elderly woman approached.
Her eyes swept over him and a sneer contorted whatever fine features she possessed. "Have you seen Oliver and Sasha? No? The Emperor ordered A-6 to be prepped and readied. Whatever you are doing can wait."
A group of giggling maids passed behind her, and she spun around, chasing after them with hollered commands.
"Who do you reckon this is going to be?" John asked as they entered the quarters and passed the numerous boxes stacked outside.
A large window overlooked the inner courtyard and the various flowering trees which radiated a sweet, relaxing scent. In the next room, a sturdy door led to the balcony with its railing twisted in extravagant shapes. The ground alternated between a dark rich hardwood and the softest carpet she had ever the honor of walking upon.
"Oh man, the A quarters have their own kitchens!" Tanya squealed. Raising her arms, she spun dramatically. "I've never been up here before. I think I can die happy now."
"Huh?" John asked.
"Prince Odysseus lives down the hall! Ooh, do you think those are real gemstones?" she asked, grabbing a chalice from the cupboard and turning it over in her hands. "I'm holding it!"
John sighed. "That's probably worth more than your entire family put together." He peered out the window at the inner courtyard. "Do you think I could sneak down there and grab a flower?"
"Doubt the flogging would be worth it." Gently, she set the chalice back down. "Ugh. The dust is so thick. Bet nobody has been in here for years."
"Then we must scrub this place clean!" He dragged in the cleaning supplies and hung his head. "I thought I was done with them when I got promoted."
"Oh so high and mighty you are, a mere footman. You're just a glorified waiter."
"Take that back!"
She stuck out her tongue.
Shoulders trembling, Louis failed to hide his amusement as he set to work.
Unlike the other quarters, the A quarters were almost fully independent, requiring the owner to use their own staff instead of leeching off the palace's hospitality. It made them ideal for long term residents of the palace who the Emperor believed deserved some privacy. She wondered who had managed to acquire the Emperor's favor recently to receive such an honor.
If it was Princess Carine, she might lose all her faith in the Emperor.
In the kitchen, Louis cleaned the oven, dropping a pitch black towel in the bucket of water with distaste.
"Black as their souls," Tanya joked, forgetting herself.
"At least this washes clean."
Nervously, she chuckled and rubbed the back of her shoulders.
"I'm sorry," Louis said. "That was inappropriate of me."
"I should be apologizing. I forgot myself."
She rushed out of the room, resting against the wall outside. He was too easy to talk to. She wanted to trust him and bare her heart, but the consequences were too great. Her back throbbed in remembrance, and she bitterly turned over a small, glass trinket in her palm. It would take but a moment to break.
Whoever lived here didn't deserve such splendor, none of them did.
"You alright?" John asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"You know how it is." She set the glass lion back on the side table. It probably cost more than her entire life's wages. Breaking it would enslave her in debt. "She'll call me again soon."
He frowned and pulled her into a hug. "You shouldn't have said that to him. You don't know him."
"I know. I need to work. If the new owner finds a speck of dust, it'll be us suffering for it."
She marched off and ignored the various decadent bedrooms—not able to stomach such frivolity at the moment—and focused on the servant quarters. They were cramped in comparison yet much grander than her own. Working here was an unimaginable privilege.
Her stomach clenching painfully, she moved onto the bedrooms and hurried through shaking out the sheets. There would be no lunch until they were finished with their tasks.
A sweet aroma filled the air, and she swallowed nervously. It had to be from a neighboring quarter, yet as she followed the delicate scent, she didn't wander to the balcony, but to their kitchen.
She glared at the two idiots. "What do you think you are doing?"
Louis gestured to the simmering pots and pans. "Lunch?"
"You can't— We'll get into trouble."
He smiled warmly. "We'll be fine."
She flushed and glanced away. What right did he have to be so confident?
Accepting a plate of scrambled eggs, she sat down at the table, terribly self-conscious that she had no right to be using such fine dining ware.
She delicately took a bite, careful to not let the fork scrape against anything. "Fuck, that's good!"
The last time she had eaten anything remotely as good was back when she had begun working in the palace and foolishly tried one of the lord's leftovers. She hadn't been able to walk for weeks afterwards.
How was he a lowly kitchen servant if he could cook like this? Any noble would probably be dying to hire him. Lowly servants weren't paid that much at the palace. He would fare much better as a head cook elsewhere, and with such a promotion, he wouldn't have to worry about random beatings.
If she could, she would take a demotion to escape from here.
John pulled her aside, his eyes worried. "The meal was really good. Too good."
"How could you let him use the ingredients?" she hissed. "You know what will happen if we're accused of stealing."
"He was so sure..." John shrugged. "But it's strange, isn't it? He said he started recently, but he's so comfortable with everything."
"He knows his way around the palace. It took me months to get comfortable, and he's new and from a different wing, but he has barely any trouble."
"Think he's a spy?" John asked.
Ice ran through her veins, and she peeked around the wall to watch Louis clean the kitchen. Loyalty tests weren't unheard of. Send a spy with treacherous words and catch anyone foolish enough to open up to them. Normally, they could barely pass themselves off as a servant.
Desperately, she said, "Why would anyone be interested in small fry like us? Unless you've done something."
"No, but I want to. It's not right," he said. "And you have to admit, the last few days have been weird. Schedules changing every moment. Utter chaos. And then he shows up from nowhere we'd know."
"Well he didn't lie about being able to cook." That was where spies always failed. They often had no idea how to cook. "You think a spy could do that?"
"Nobody is that comfortable dipping—stealing. And he's too good at it. All I'm saying is watch yourself."
The cabinet door slammed shut in the kitchen, and they fell silent as Louis approached.
"Well, that was the last of it. Should we be unpacking the rest?"
Tanya bit her lip. "No. The staff should handle the rest. If we break something by accident..."
Blanching, John inched away from the box.
"Then shall we?" Louis asked, strangely not offering any additional protests. He seemed like the type of person who always wanted to ensure a job was completely done.
"Talking all fancy, eh?" John asked. "Cook one meal, and you think you're better than us."
Louis turned up his nose and snootily said, "I am the keeper of the stove, a god given task, more important than any of those minor roles bequeathed by the Emperor."
"Let's go then Sir Keeper of the Stove," Tanya teased.
A beep from her pager interrupted her.
Not now. She was too far away from the royal quarters. The day had been going so well. She ducked her head, ignoring how her friend had paled. He knew what was coming. Too often, he was the one to patch her together again.
"Excuse me. I have to go," she mumbled and pushed past them.
Louis caught her shoulder. "I don't have anything left to do. Let me help you."
"It's fine." She shrugged him off and fled from the room.
"You're late," snapped Princess Carine, a demonic fire to her eyes. "I shouldn't have to summon you."
She fell to the ground, pressing her forehead against the cool tiles. "Please, Your Highness. I have my duties to attend to. I was halfway across the palace; I meant no disrespect."
"How should I punish you?"
No. Not again. Everything always circled back to punishment, but to resist would only make it worse.
"However you see fit," she said dully.
The knight snatched her arm, dragging her to feet and into the room. A desperate whimper escaped her, and Princess Carine laughed.
"Hold still," Princess Carine ordered.
Tanya blinked the tears out of her eyes and shakily raised her arms. She knew the drill by now. The first strike of the whip had her stumbling forward.
"One—two," she counted dutifully. Only a little longer. Then Princess Carine would bore of her and send her on her way again. More troublesome would be doing her duties in the coming days without incurring further punishments. She was sure Her Highness took great joy in requiring additional help the days after. With the recent chaos, this would be untenable.
At the sixth strike, her vision blackened, and she fell to the ground. No matter how often this happened, she could never get used to it. "Please! I beg you, Your Highness."
The next strike hit higher, and Tanya bit into her handkerchief as she screamed.
Then someone was there, stepping between her and the next blow. She blinked through the numerous tears to focus her eyes. Louis?
"She is not one of your servants to punish," he said imperiously.
No. What was he thinking? He would only make it worse!
None of them could stand up to Princess Carine. She was royalty, and her mother had absolutely no qualms about her actions. They would all die now. They were just servants, useful objects able to be deposed of when they became inconvenient.
But he had stepped in... She was grateful that he cared. Definitely not a spy, just a foolish boy.
"Who do you— Lelouch?" Princess Carine dropped the whip. It rolled down beside Tanya.
Lelouch? But—His name was Louis? Wasn't it? The only Lelouch she knew of was the prince. That didn't make any sense.
And then John was on the ground across from her as the room descended into chaos. She didn't understand what was happening, but John— He was supposed to be smart and keep out of this.
"Stay down," Louis ordered.
"Louis?" she murmured. Maybe he was a spy. But it wasn't her fault. "I didn't do anything wrong... I had to. I had to."
He had to believe her. Her family needed the money.
Was that Princess Carine screaming?
Her eyes fluttered closed again, only to jerk open at the abrupt gunshot. What was happening? They were all going to die.
Princess Carine was shouting something unintelligible again, but she had only eyes for John. Tanya should've told him before how much he meant to her. He was always there for her and now it would end like this.
How could he be so stupid! He shouldn't have come.
Heavy footsteps entered the room, and she twisted as a lavish robe swept the ground past her.
The Emperor.
Holy fuck.
"Lelouch," the Emperor boomed. "Would you care to explain?"
They were all so dead. Louis was a prince, but how— She couldn't remember a single prince with obnoxious red hair. What kind of prince knew how to cook anyway?
She bit her lip. They were talking again—or rather, shouting.
"Girl, how many lashes?" the Emperor said suddenly, bringing her back to reality.
"Twenty—Twenty-two," she whimpered. "Your—Your Majesty."
He nodded to one of the guards. "Twenty-two lashes."
The guard dragged Princess Carine forward, ignoring her struggles, as the Emperor looked on impassively. To his side, Empress Marianne—she was even more impressive in person—watched with a satisfied smirk. They secured her hands to a coat stand, and Tanya couldn't believe it.
Royalty was being punished.
She risked raising her head to glance at Prince Lelouch, swallowing at his ice cold expression—so different from when he had been pretending to be one of them—and dropped her gaze again to John, who trembled violently. They were intruding on royal affairs. That never ended well.
Servants lined the walls, watching in silent horror. Their lives were undoubtedly forfeit.
Tanya chucked weakly as the Emperor banished his daughter. At least, she got to see her tormentor punished. After so long, justice had finally come.
Tanya awoke in the infirmary to a surprising lack of pain. When was the last time she had felt like this? She couldn't remember. What had happened?
The Emperor... Prince Lelouch... Princess Carine.
How was she alive?
"You're awake," John whispered, grabbing her hand. "I was so worried."
"Did the Emperor really..."
He nodded. "The guards brought us here, but I talked to Bianca. All of them are dead."
She shuddered. Why were they still alive? They knew too much, had seen the royal family's spat in action.
The curtain parted, and Mrs. Ygritte stepped through, her eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. Beneath her arm, she carried a small sack. She grabbed the medical chart hanging off her bed and scanned it before dropping into a nearby chair. "What trouble did you run into, girl?"
"I'm sorry," Tanya whispered. "Princess Carine requested me and—"
"She's banished." Mrs. Ygritte pinched her nose. "You two fools are so far above your head. Did I not warn you to keep your head down? What is the first thing I always say every month?"
" 'Do not draw attention', ma'am," John answered.
Tanya bit her lip. "I didn't mean to!"
"Then why has the Emperor asked me about you?" An unfamiliar hint of pity entered her eyes. "His Majesty wants to see you. What happened?"
"Prince Lelouch was pretending to be one of the servants, ma'am," John answered. "We swear we didn't know. We thought he was a little strange, but he had an accent from Area Two and everything."
They were so dead. She had left enough clues that she wasn't as enamored with royalty as she should be.
"Get dressed," Mrs. Ygritte snapped, throwing the sack at her.
Tanya opened it hesitantly, eyes widening at the fine clothes. "Ma'am?"
"If the Emperor demands your presence, you may at least be dressed appropriately for the occasion."
"Thank you, Mrs. Ygritte," Tanya said. Maybe she wasn't a demon after all.
"One of the guards will collect you at one-thirty. Be prepared."
John watched her leave before desperately hugging her. "We should run away. If we leave now, they can't catch us."
Staggering to her feet, she spread the fine clothes across the bed. "My back is a mess. We wouldn't last a day. If we're caught, they'll charge us with treason and my family—"
"Right..." He grabbed her hand. "It should be quick at least. We didn't do anything wrong—"
"We stole food," she reminded him. Prince Lelouch had, after all, insisted on cooking. She lifted the hem of her flimsy medical gown. Through the haze of painkillers, her back screamed. "Help me?"
Delicately, he helped her slip out of it and averted his eyes respectfully as he passed her the dress from the bag.
"It's okay," she said. "I trust you."
He nodded and grabbed the brush, gently combing through her hair. "If we die—"
She pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't. Let's not think about this. Please? I want to laugh and cry and pretend none of it happened."
He nodded. "Sure. Should I get Bianca? We could play Uno."
"I would like that."
The guard arrived to uproarious laughter as Bianca wrestled John's cheating ass to the ground. Tears streamed down Tanya's eyes, and their fine clothes were beset by wrinkles. The guard cleared his throat, and the group fell silent, catching sight of the familiar colors adorning the edge. He served the Emperor directly.
"You're gonna be alright?" Bianca asked desperately.
Whatever good spirit Tanya had possessed fled. She hung her head. "I don't think so. Thank you for everything... and tell my family I love them, please."
Bianca desperately reached out, her hand skimming over her skirt, but Tanya had already stepped away, facing the guard, and his silent demand. He nodded brusquely and led the way, heading away from the central throne room and into more unfamiliar sections of the palace. No one was allowed here except the Emperor's personal servants. At various points through the hall, guards stood, armed to their teeth with a mix of traditional and modern weapons.
She lowered her head deferentially the further they walked inside and glanced at John in confusion. He shrugged slightly before nodding ahead.
Stopping in front of a nondescript door, the guard waited for them to catch their breath before knocking on the door.
"Come in," the Emperor boomed.
She swallowed nervously as the guard opened the door and gestured for them to enter. The door shut behind them, trapping them in the dragon's den.
The Emperor peered at them over his desk, and belatedly, she knelt, pressing her forehead to the ground against the protests of her back. "Your Majesty."
"John Lewis and Tanya Sorkin." The faint scratching of his pen stopped. "I offer my condolences for the unfortunate incident yesterday."
"You honor us, Your Majesty," John said.
"I will be speaking with the Palace Manager and the various housekeepers to clarify that the discipline of palace staff is solely in their jurisdiction."
She swallowed. Earnestly, she said, "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"You made a favorable impression on my son yesterday."
No. Not again.
"He has asked for you to be transferred to his personal staff, which has been approved. You may take the day off to pack your belongings, then report to A-6 this evening."
"We are grateful for the honor, Your Majesty," John said after she failed to speak.
Now, there would be no hope of escape. She had been transferred. She was essentially Prince Lelouch's property now, to do with what he wished.
"What do you make of my son, Ms. Sorkin?" His Majesty asked.
"He was very brave, interfering," she stuttered. He was also a manipulative bastard who had tried to trap them in treasonous statements.
The Emperor hummed noncommittally. "And what did you discuss to make such an impression?"
Thankful that he couldn't see her face, she answered, "I do not know, Your Majesty. He asked me where I was from. I apologize for my breach of decorum. I failed to recognize him."
"You are dismissed," he finally said.
"You're back!" Bianca threw her arms around her as she returned to the servant quarters. "What happened?""
Tanya smiled weakly and pushed past her to enter her room. "I'm being transferred. I will be serving Prince Lelouch exclusively now."
"Prince Lelouch?" Bianca wrung her hands. "There's a rumor that he attacked Princess Carine."
"I can't talk about it."
"So it's true?" She sagged against the wall. "He's a strange one. He only had his two guards, you know. Not a single servant at all. He never leaves much for us to do either. And he's always in the kitchen. Scandalous, right?"
Tanya dumped her photo album in the bag. "You remember Louis?"
"Yes?"
"That was him."
"Wait—You're kidding!" Bianca crossed her arms. "He had an accent and everything. And I didn't hear him complain at all."
"Would I lie to you?"
"Yes." She sighed. "But fine. I believe you. That's wild. Hey, do you think he knows how his parents do the business?"
Tanya shot her a dirty look. "I'm not losing my head to indulge your aimless curiosity."
As she hoisted the bag over her shoulder, Bianca snagged her sleeve. "Don't be a stranger, please?"
"That will be up to His Highness," she said weakly.
As his servant, he would be the one to decree where she could and couldn't go. Royals' personal servants tended to not interact much with the general palace staff, either due to their work or out of a sense of superiority.
Outside, John smiled a little more eagerly at her, his belongings on his back as well. With somber goodbyes, they headed out, taking the hidden hallways to the center of the palace.
She glanced at the main door of A-6 warily, wondering if Prince Lelouch was already inside, expecting her. What did he want from them?
"I never thought we would be so lucky," John said. "It's going to be an honor."
"Are you insane? He's a prince," she hissed.
John reached out and grabbed her hand. "Yes, but he saved you."
Pursing her lips, she pulled away. He had tried to trick them. He had attacked Princess Carine. He had broken every social convention. The Emperor was invested in him.
Hesitantly, they opened the door, hearing raised voices from the neighboring room.
"I'm not hiring him," Prince Lelouch shouted. "You said I could choose."
"From people who are qualified. Give me one name from the list who has the necessary education and background to act as your steward, and I will happily concede."
"I don't need a steward."
"Yes, you do, Lelouch." the Emperor turned, catching sight of them and quieted. "The decision is final. Lord Ivan will be your steward. You are free to submit candidates for his replacement, and I will consider them."
Grasping his shoulder, the Emperor leaned in, whispering something, before striding past them. Prince Lelouch glared viciously at the door, his gaze only softening slightly as he caught sight of them. He nodded at them in acknowledgement and retreated into the neighboring room, slamming the door.
"Wonderful," Tanya said bitterly.
John shrugged. "I'm sure there is a reason."
"How many chances are you going to give him?" she hissed. "He is royalty."
With a sad look, John passed her, carrying their items to the servant quarters. There, a young man leaned against the wall looking rather displeased. He sneered as they passed him by. An older woman, unnaturally still, sat at the table as she read a book. As the minutes ticked by, various other young servants filtered in. One girl looked to barely be fourteen.
"Did you meet the Emperor too?" a young woman asked. Her hair was tinted blue, and her eyes were a brilliant purple that reminded Tanya of royalty. She turned away to hide her jealous grimace. "We met some new servants... and apparently one of them was Prince Lelouch's guards. He recommended me."
"Yes," John answered and extended his hand, introducing himself. "But we met Prince Lelouch. He dyed his hair red and had an accent and everything. I couldn't believe it."
"Morgana," she answered. "You have to be kidding. A royal pretending to be a servant?"
John nodded. "Yeah. It blew my mind when we realized. I was terrified out of my mind, and he can cook!"
An older woman, laden with wrinkles, stretched in the corner. "He used to haunt my kitchen rather frequently. He is a rather accomplished cook. I dare say I've never met anyone quite like him, but it's going to be a right challenge for him to eat anything we prepare."
Rolling her eyes, Tanya retreated to her room and carefully put away her belongings. John was unfathomably enamored, and the rest were smitten with the idea of serving royalty. None of them had any idea what it was actually like. They would soon learn.
The only question was how long Prince Lelouch would insist on a mask of civility. How long he would try to maintain the image that he was closer to a commoner, that he understood them because of Empress Marianne.
Her hands stilled, and she glanced out of the thin window—unlike the main rooms, this wall faced only concrete, with a skinny tree the only hint of greenery. She had seen the Emperor thrice now. Empress Marianne once. Would she see her again?
After the attempt on her life, Empress Marianne had only dismissed all her servants, not put them to the sword like other Empresses had when the assassin came too close for comfort. The older men and women still spoke of her warmly in the palace. She had apparently been a pleasure to work under; the rumors meanwhile said serving Prince Lelouch was difficult.
Soon, she would find out what they meant.
"Line up!" a female voice ordered.
Quickly, they filtered out of the room, chatting in hushed whispers, and lined up against the wall as the dour woman overlooked them. Her book, with a blank cover, rested on the table. The posh young man, sneered from behind her, did not bother to even stand respectfully. On the woman's other side was an elderly greying man, his clothing immaculate—the perfect butler. She had to be the housekeeper.
Her eyes narrowed at John, the only hint of human emotion. "Why were you in the women's quarters?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I was helping my friend settle in. It will not happen again."
"Make sure it doesn't. Your behavior reflects on Prince Lelouch now." Her eyes swept over them, laying them bare and finding them lacking. "His Highness has personally selected all of you, an incredible honor. Yet, you are unpolished and ill-bred, hardly fitting to personally serve royalty. By the end of the month, you shall serve as a well functioning team so no fault can be found with your performance. Remember, the Emperor is watching."
Tanya was so screwed.
The Housekeeper nodded. "I am Mrs. Nova Campbell. I have served His Majesty personally for the past twenty years as an assistant housekeeper. To my side is Mr. Preston Sebastian, our butler."
Mr. Sebastian stepped forward, the edges of his eyes crinkling in warmth. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I was one of His Highness's tutors when he was young. Afterwards, I briefly served as Empress Marianne's butler before returning to tutoring more princes. It is an honor to meet you all."
"I am Lord Ivan Webb. My father is the Viscount of Dunlop. I will be acting as the steward, managing His Highness's affairs. Mrs. Campbell has generously granted you a month of grace. Anyone I find lacking,"—his eyes drifted to John, then her, and a few other members—"I will suggest your immediate termination to His Highness."
Would His Highness actually let her go? She swallowed. Or would he punish her instead for failing to live up to whatever standards he had imagined for her?
Without another word, the Steward spun around and stalked out of the room. As a minor noble, he would have his quarters elsewhere, not with the lowly servants. But he could be nicer about it. Judging from the snippet she overheard, Prince Lelouch wanted to fire him.
"Tanya Sorkin," Mrs. Campbell said. "You have been assigned as a lady's maid. As for the valet, that will be John Lewis. Congratulations on clearly having made a positive impression on His Highness."
She had been a mere house maid, not even a chambermaid! Why would he promote her like that? She had no idea what her duties even entailed.
"Ma'am," John interrupted. "There must be a mistake. Tanya and I were..."
"I am aware. You will be meeting with me in the evenings after His Highness retires to learn the details of your new role. His Highness's mind couldn't be swayed. As for Tanya, since this household has no lady, you will only assume such duties when His Highness is entertaining female guests. You will be assisting Lewis and myself for the most part."
"Thank you, ma'am," Tanya said, ducking her head as jealous looks bore into her from the other servant girls. She just wanted to sink into obscurity and safety for once,
"Dianna Cook will be the head cook. Assisting her is Morgana Cepheus."
The old woman from the kitchen merely grunted in acknowledgment, clearly unsurprised. Morgana meanwhile gaped. It was strange. The girl was pretty enough that she would've been ideal in currying the favor of various guests. Her soft skin and airy posture suggested that had been her role before. Being in the kitchen was hard work.
"Quinn Stone and Joanna Hunter: personal maids. You are to assist with guests and serving food. Sidney and Carson Walsh—"
Two impressively tall male twins perked up in anticipation.
"—first and second footman, respectively."
They discreetly high-fived each other, and she quickly stifled a small laugh.
"Layla Read and Georgia Pearson: chamber maid. Flora Fox and Keiran Kerrigan: parlor maid—servant. Noah Jones: scullery boy. And finally, Matilda Foster"—the tiny girl from before grinned—"laundry maid. I know we are rather short staffed. Unfortunately, we will have to make do."
The first day was quiet, one of the prince's guards, Frederick, pulling aside Mr. Sebastian to tell him that Prince Lelouch would be having dinner with his parents and that they should simply focus on adjusting to their new roles. Their steward, Lord Ivan, had barely refrained from storming out of His Highness's office and spent the rest of the day hidden in his rooms.
"I don't understand," Morgana whispered the next morning as they hurriedly ate their morning gruel. "Why the kitchens? I've never worked in the kitchens before. And you— I'm sorry, but I am more qualified than you."
"I know." Tanya sank into a chair and glared at the mantle with its lavish excess. "How long have you been here?"
Morgana shrugged. "Since I was two. I assume I am some noble's bastard but my mother was scared of confronting him. It doesn't matter. She died when the Emperor took the throne and one of the wet nurses took me in. Now here I am, seventeen years later, and I basically have never left the palace... Kitchen maid. Utterly ridiculous."
"Maybe the Steward will reassign you?" Tanya asked.
"Have you seen how he looks at us? He's a damn cold bastard and probably couldn't care less about us uneducated commoners." Morgana sniffed. "I would have better luck convincing His Highness, but Mrs. Cook says he never cooks with anyone around. How can I convince him if he never sees me?"
"I wouldn't put your hopes in him," Tanya said bitterly.
Desperately, Morgana grabbed her arm. "But you will see him. You're a lady's maid now. He already has one eye on you. Please? I will owe you a big one."
"I... can't," Tanya whispered.
"Why the hell not? Or are you too important for us now? You don't even know what you're doing. You have no experience, and now you're representing royalty. I actually have the experience, but I've never been in the kitchen before. You have, haven't you. You don't get those kinds of calluses easily."
"Because..." Tanya winced the memory of Princess Carine flashing by. "It's best not to disturb royalty."
"Seriously?"
Tanya focused on the table. "Maybe... You can help me with my duties? And I'll do your work in the evenings? You can cover for me unless His Highness specifically asks for me. Say I'm not feeling well if he notices. Or have ghastly pimples. That way you can talk to him." And she could try to avoid his attention. "Does that work?"
Morgana frowned, slowly stirring her porridge. "We're going to be in so much trouble if she finds out... or the Steward. I've never been whipped before."
"How?" Tanya asked, baffled. Beatings were commonplace from her and John's experience, even excluding Princess Carine's extra-judicious use of the whip. "Anytime we messed up... They say it makes the lesson stick."
She raised a delicate eyebrow, the image of nobility for a second. If she was trying to pull a trick on her by pretending to be one of them... "I don't mess up. Ever."
"Well, little Miss Perfect"—Tanya sneered—"do you want to be stuck in the kitchens forever?"
Morgana paused, her anger fading and shoulders slumping. "No."
Carefully under the rising morning sun, they climbed the stairs to the main quarters to begin their main duties. The kitchen would wait for a little later. Mrs. Cook seemed reasonable—or the type to not ask too many questions. As long as they caused no trouble in her kitchen, she would hopefully leave them be.
"I still can't believe His Highness won't eat the food she cooks," Tanya mumbled. "Apparently, only His Majesty's personal fare is good enough for him."
"No. He cooks for his parents," Morgana whispered as they refilled the incense in a guest room and checked it was adequately supplied. "At least that's what Mrs. Cook says. Apparently, it happens quite often. I can't imagine why though. Him cooking is strange enough, but the Emperor eating it?"
"He is a good cook," Tanya grudgingly admitted.
"There a story behind that?"
Tanya blushed. "He sneaked in among the servants as Louis. I was with him before... But I didn't know. He made lunch for us... It was the best thing I ever had."
"Your life is pulp fiction," Morgana teased. "Such a sordid affair. A prince and a lady's maid."
"It's not like that," Tanya snapped. "He... lied. We didn't suspect a thing until he cooked and even then..."
"What is he actually like?" Morgana asked. "There are stories online. Not that I read them or anything. But a... friend does. She says Prince Lelouch is quite a common character, probably because he's a commoner prince. But there are basically two versions. One who is cold and cruel, harsher than even the Emperor... The other is warm and kind and once you crack his icy façade, the best lover one could hope for."
"Louis—His Highness made it quite clear he thought such types of stories stupid."
"Oh come on. They have some truth to them. Rumors start from somewhere."
"He's a good liar," she answered. "He knows enough about us to blend in but..."
He had tried to trap them in treason. He had attacked Princess Carine. He had the Emperor's unprecedented support.
"I guess I'll just have to find out. Stories are never the real deal after all. And—"
Pushing open the next door, they screamed as a shadowed figure leapt to its feet, soon joined by two others.
The lights flicked on. Prince Lelouch stared at them blearily, a discarded blanket by his feet... halfway across the room from the actual bed.
What in the name of the Emperor...
Prince Lelouch glanced at his wrist. "It's four thirty. I'm not even up until five normally."
Frederick stretched his back and grabbed the blanket, making a new nest for himself on the ground and his light snores quickly filled the room. On the bed, Henry continued to gaze at them warily, and her heart skipped a beat as she noticed the gun in his hands.
Trembling, Tanya dropped to the ground and pressed her forehead against the ground, Morgana quickly following suit. "Please forgive us, Your Highness. We expected you to be in the master bedroom."
He sighed wearily. "Three hours. Damn it. Um, can you two get up, please?"
Morgana rose first, and Tanya stood shakily, eyes trained on the ground. The goal was to not attract his attention, not barge in on whatever strange shenanigans he was engaged in with his guards. Royalty was so strange at times.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"To prepare the quarters so everything is ready for when you awake," Tanya said diligently. "I will inform Mrs. Campbell of your preference for an early start, so we can adequately accommodate you."
"I hate this," Prince Lelouch grumbled and nudged his guard with his foot. "Come on, we're up."
"Lelouch... Your sleep schedule sucks."
"At least take the bed if I'm already up."
Frederick jumped to his feet, the bedding scrunched in his arm. He glared at them, then yawned and collapsed in the giant bed.
Seriously, what the hell was happening here?
Prince Lelouch rubbed his eyes and opened the closet. "You guys don't actually have to clean the rooms. It's not like anyone else is coming here any time soon. Go and enjoy your morning."
"You are too kind," Tanya mumbled insincerely. She stepped forward, suppressing her shudder at the sight of all his fine clothes folded instead of hung up properly. This was why noble and royalty needed them. They had no idea how to take care of their excess. "Let me at least assist you in preparing for the day, as an apology for arousing you."
"Tanya—" He caught her hand. "I'm fine."
Before she could insist, he pulled off his shirt, revealing a well toned body. Her eyes widened at the faint hint of scars which were quickly covered by his new shirt, preventing any further inspection.
"Like I said, I'm fine."
"Your Highness, the wrinkles," she bemoaned. They would be the ones blamed for them.
"It's not like it matters."
"I should really assist you—"
His eyes narrowed. "Enough."
She backed away slowly, her eyes wandering to the dirty shirt.
"I will take care of the laundry. I really do not need any assistance, especially with something as menial as dressing myself. Your workload should be simple enough. Keep the chambers well stocked and stay out of my way. I will hardly have a problem with any of you if you can follow my two simple rules. I don't care what else you do, except treason I guess. Enjoy yourselves."
"Thank you, Your Highness," she said and backed out of the room.
Morgana huffed. "Really? Who does he think he is? Menial? That was so rude. You were just trying to be helpful but for him to dismiss you like that! Ugh."
Three hours later, the Steward entered Prince Lelouch's office.
"Don't touch that!" Prince Lelouch barked from inside.
"Your Highness," Lord Ivan protested.
"They're classified. And don't touch that. It's supposed to be there."
A slight pause, Lord Ivan's voice indecipherable.
"No. I don't need your help. Get out!"
Lord Ivan stormed out, his eyes narrowing at John who was aimlessly dusting in the effort of appearing busy. "Why does His Highness's clothes have wrinkles? Your job is to dress him. You cannot even do a simple fucking task right? Low-born filth."