Clearly, traveling means you get even more fic writing done b/c you have nothing to do while in a plane other than wish you were anywhere but in the plane…
Well, that and write fic. ;D
Unfortunately, this chapter is relatively short and boring and eventless. Just a breather from all that angst and rape and noncon. ...Okay, maybe not the angst, but it's more of the subtle variety and less hitting over the head this time.
Master of the House
Chapter 5 - Of Joyless Victories
It was clear to Charles that all this commotion on behalf of his Omega was affecting him for the worse. For, instead of his comfortable bed in his own room, he woke in Connor’s quarters, still inside of the boy. It was grossly inconvenient for the warm constricting channel had encouraged him to harden.
It would not be such a problem save for two facts.
One, he had overslept, and it was now mid-morning. The second, which resulted in part from the first, is that there was a knocking at the front door.
A knocking.
At the front door.
Charles’s mind was still somewhat asleep, but he knew there was something important about there being someone knocking at his door at this hour...
Oh.
James had agreed to escort his Omega to Charles to aid in Connor’s recovery. They had agreed on mid-morning.
Bugger.
Charles thought about it, but decided against it. It wouldn’t do to keep James waiting. Despite his recent mental upheaval at the epiphany of James’s affectionate relationship, James was still a valuable ally, and it would reflect poorly on Charles.
With a sigh, he pulled out of his wife’s warm body and called for the servants to help him dress.
Absentmindedly, he reached for a long and thick jacket. Its length would hopefully help hide his rather uncomfortable erection.
A quarter of an hour later, he greeted James and his Omega in the foyer. James blinked at his appearance.
“Pardon me for mentioning this, Charles, but, you look like shit.”
Charles glared halfheartedly at the man. It was true, after all. He did look, as James so quaintly put it, ‘like shit.’
“Rough night,” he muttered.
Clipper, standing next to James, stiffened at this. As Charles’s irritated eyes glanced at the Omega, Clipper quickly looked him up and down, pausing ever so slightly at his groin.
He first turned red, then, clearly realizing what Charles meant, pale.
“You—“ the man sputtered, nearly white with fury.
James quickly laid a soothing hand upon his Omega’s shoulders, and Charles watched the young man visibly deflate.
Perhaps it was uncalled for, but Charles felt a spike of loathing for them both at that moment.
Oblivious to Charles’s sudden anger, James turned to him.
“It’s been a tiring journey for Clipper. Why don’t we let him drop off his things for his stay and reacquaint himself with his friend? I have some sensitive news that should be discussed in the privacy of your office.”
Charles blinked, but, seeing the sense of such a suggestion, quickly called the servants to help Clipper and his belongings to the guestroom. The news must be important to warrant his immediate attention.
----
Charles stared at the scroll in shock.
So.
He was King.
His eyes sought James’s seeking confirmation. The man nodded.
“And, after all that trouble to declare ourselves independent and break free from England’s grasp, we are to be modeled after that very nation and her government system.”
James nodded again. “It would seem that Lady Irony has a sense of humor,” he said without mirth.
“Quite.”
Charles rolled up the scroll and pressed it to his lips in thought. So he was to be King of these quarreling, squabbling states with their own frightfully independent governing bodies, and there was to be a Congress underfoot, much like Parliament in England.
Well.
A thought came to him.
“How did you come by this, James?”
Brown eyes suddenly looked away, as if in...shame?
“Master Kenway is representing New York, and, upon discovering the news, delivered it to me three days ago knowing that I often call upon you.”
“Three days ago, he had business closer to my place than yours. Why wouldn’t he call upon me personally? Surely, he knows he is always welcome.”
Brown eyes refused to look at him.
Charles grew angry.
“You are implying something. What?”
James licked his lips in the nervous fashion he had had since Charles first met him.
“Master Kenway is a complex man...”
“Yes, yes,” Charles interrupted. “I know. What about it?”
James hesitated.
Charles lost his patience.
“Out with it! Either speak or leave, but I have neither patience nor desire to waste my time dawdling—“
“He is a father.”
Charles snapped his mouth shut. For a second, neither man said anything, one too stunned, the other too uneasy.
Finally, Charles managed to gather his wits about him. But when he spoke, there was a lost tremor in his voice, a tone of disbelief and betrayal hinted within.
“He agreed to it.”
James said nothing.
“He agreed to the wedding, agreed to my bedding the boy, agreed to my begetting a child upon him!”
James still said nothing.
Charles swallowed bitterly. “Why?”
James shook his head. “The miscarriage, the boy nearly dying because of it, the loss of his first and only grandchild...”
“He blames me?” the cry was anguished, devastated, unbelieving. It did not sound like Charles.
“He...” James paused. “He had believed you would convert the boy, tame his temperament and turn him into a respectable wife.”
“You make it sound as if he feels for the boy,” Charles snorted. “But he cannot. He is Haytham Kenway, not a man to be swayed by mere sentiment.”
To this, James had nothing to say but… “Despite all that remains between them, despite their last and only confrontation, Connor is still Master Kenway’s son. Master Kenway will love him for that if nothing else.”
“They are enemies. They hate each other.”
“But that does not mean there cannot also be love. Even a thin, barely noticeable one such as this.”
The words fell heavily in the air and weighed between them. Oppressive.
Charles forced himself to speak and to inquire, feeling as lost as he had when he had realized he lost his son.
“Does he support me still? Does he still...” he could not go on.
In this, James took pity on him.
“Yes, for he respects you as a comrade still.”
It was a weight taken off his shoulders, but not the entirety of it. That he still had Master Kenway’s respect...
James continued. “He mourns in his own way, Charles. And so he avoids you, his friend, for you are important to the Order and important to the country.”
But not, Charles noted, important to him.
Still, he supposed it could be worse.
The sentiment did not make him feel any better.
“Thank you,” Charles said abruptly. “Thank you for delivering the news. I owe you, my friend.”
James shook his head. “Think nothing of—“
“We both are very busy today, and I must see to my guest’s needs.”
James frowned. “Ch—“
“The servants will see you out.”
With that, Charles strode out of his office and did not look back.
Master of the House - part 6
Well, that and write fic. ;D
Unfortunately, this chapter is relatively short and boring and eventless. Just a breather from all that angst and rape and noncon. ...Okay, maybe not the angst, but it's more of the subtle variety and less hitting over the head this time.
Master of the House
Chapter 5 - Of Joyless Victories
It was clear to Charles that all this commotion on behalf of his Omega was affecting him for the worse. For, instead of his comfortable bed in his own room, he woke in Connor’s quarters, still inside of the boy. It was grossly inconvenient for the warm constricting channel had encouraged him to harden.
It would not be such a problem save for two facts.
One, he had overslept, and it was now mid-morning. The second, which resulted in part from the first, is that there was a knocking at the front door.
A knocking.
At the front door.
Charles’s mind was still somewhat asleep, but he knew there was something important about there being someone knocking at his door at this hour...
Oh.
James had agreed to escort his Omega to Charles to aid in Connor’s recovery. They had agreed on mid-morning.
Bugger.
Charles thought about it, but decided against it. It wouldn’t do to keep James waiting. Despite his recent mental upheaval at the epiphany of James’s affectionate relationship, James was still a valuable ally, and it would reflect poorly on Charles.
With a sigh, he pulled out of his wife’s warm body and called for the servants to help him dress.
Absentmindedly, he reached for a long and thick jacket. Its length would hopefully help hide his rather uncomfortable erection.
A quarter of an hour later, he greeted James and his Omega in the foyer. James blinked at his appearance.
“Pardon me for mentioning this, Charles, but, you look like shit.”
Charles glared halfheartedly at the man. It was true, after all. He did look, as James so quaintly put it, ‘like shit.’
“Rough night,” he muttered.
Clipper, standing next to James, stiffened at this. As Charles’s irritated eyes glanced at the Omega, Clipper quickly looked him up and down, pausing ever so slightly at his groin.
He first turned red, then, clearly realizing what Charles meant, pale.
“You—“ the man sputtered, nearly white with fury.
James quickly laid a soothing hand upon his Omega’s shoulders, and Charles watched the young man visibly deflate.
Perhaps it was uncalled for, but Charles felt a spike of loathing for them both at that moment.
Oblivious to Charles’s sudden anger, James turned to him.
“It’s been a tiring journey for Clipper. Why don’t we let him drop off his things for his stay and reacquaint himself with his friend? I have some sensitive news that should be discussed in the privacy of your office.”
Charles blinked, but, seeing the sense of such a suggestion, quickly called the servants to help Clipper and his belongings to the guestroom. The news must be important to warrant his immediate attention.
----
Charles stared at the scroll in shock.
So.
He was King.
His eyes sought James’s seeking confirmation. The man nodded.
“And, after all that trouble to declare ourselves independent and break free from England’s grasp, we are to be modeled after that very nation and her government system.”
James nodded again. “It would seem that Lady Irony has a sense of humor,” he said without mirth.
“Quite.”
Charles rolled up the scroll and pressed it to his lips in thought. So he was to be King of these quarreling, squabbling states with their own frightfully independent governing bodies, and there was to be a Congress underfoot, much like Parliament in England.
Well.
A thought came to him.
“How did you come by this, James?”
Brown eyes suddenly looked away, as if in...shame?
“Master Kenway is representing New York, and, upon discovering the news, delivered it to me three days ago knowing that I often call upon you.”
“Three days ago, he had business closer to my place than yours. Why wouldn’t he call upon me personally? Surely, he knows he is always welcome.”
Brown eyes refused to look at him.
Charles grew angry.
“You are implying something. What?”
James licked his lips in the nervous fashion he had had since Charles first met him.
“Master Kenway is a complex man...”
“Yes, yes,” Charles interrupted. “I know. What about it?”
James hesitated.
Charles lost his patience.
“Out with it! Either speak or leave, but I have neither patience nor desire to waste my time dawdling—“
“He is a father.”
Charles snapped his mouth shut. For a second, neither man said anything, one too stunned, the other too uneasy.
Finally, Charles managed to gather his wits about him. But when he spoke, there was a lost tremor in his voice, a tone of disbelief and betrayal hinted within.
“He agreed to it.”
James said nothing.
“He agreed to the wedding, agreed to my bedding the boy, agreed to my begetting a child upon him!”
James still said nothing.
Charles swallowed bitterly. “Why?”
James shook his head. “The miscarriage, the boy nearly dying because of it, the loss of his first and only grandchild...”
“He blames me?” the cry was anguished, devastated, unbelieving. It did not sound like Charles.
“He...” James paused. “He had believed you would convert the boy, tame his temperament and turn him into a respectable wife.”
“You make it sound as if he feels for the boy,” Charles snorted. “But he cannot. He is Haytham Kenway, not a man to be swayed by mere sentiment.”
To this, James had nothing to say but… “Despite all that remains between them, despite their last and only confrontation, Connor is still Master Kenway’s son. Master Kenway will love him for that if nothing else.”
“They are enemies. They hate each other.”
“But that does not mean there cannot also be love. Even a thin, barely noticeable one such as this.”
The words fell heavily in the air and weighed between them. Oppressive.
Charles forced himself to speak and to inquire, feeling as lost as he had when he had realized he lost his son.
“Does he support me still? Does he still...” he could not go on.
In this, James took pity on him.
“Yes, for he respects you as a comrade still.”
It was a weight taken off his shoulders, but not the entirety of it. That he still had Master Kenway’s respect...
James continued. “He mourns in his own way, Charles. And so he avoids you, his friend, for you are important to the Order and important to the country.”
But not, Charles noted, important to him.
Still, he supposed it could be worse.
The sentiment did not make him feel any better.
“Thank you,” Charles said abruptly. “Thank you for delivering the news. I owe you, my friend.”
James shook his head. “Think nothing of—“
“We both are very busy today, and I must see to my guest’s needs.”
James frowned. “Ch—“
“The servants will see you out.”
With that, Charles strode out of his office and did not look back.