Not quite fluff, but at least it’s not angst! Yay! And hopefully semi-amusing. And there will be Pomeranians next chapter. :)
Master of the House
Chapter 9 – Dinner Conversation
By the time it was time for dinner, Charles had managed to compose himself again. The ink stains were cleaned, though the servants were still working on recovering the painting (Charles made a mental note to give Mary and her best helpers a bonus come Christmas), and he had much benefited from a splash of cold water against his face and a cup of calming hot tea in his hand.
Upon thinking the matter over, he could even laugh at himself a bit. What an absurdity his passions had led to! What insanity he had wrought!
And it was all due to his Omega, of all things.
Charles sighed and made ready to join the dining room table. Hopefully, one of Mary’s girls will have found James’s Omega and requested his presence at dinner.
Before exiting his office, though, Charles stopped and quickly glanced at the empty wall where Master Kenway’s portrait had been. He raised a hand and caressed the open space.
His temper was too quick. Oh, he had always known that his passions ran high, but he had thought he had them under control.
He snorted. How disgraceful. How inelegant. How ungentleman-like.
He had always resented the name Connor’s village gave him when he sent them word of his nuptials with the boy, but, ruefully, he began wondering if perhaps they hadn’t been on to something.
‘Boiling Water’ wasn’t particularly original, but it seemed those savage Natives had seen what he had not. And now he may have ruined one of the few things he had to remind him of Master Kenway.
Particularly if the man never acknowledged or called on him again.
His heart squeezed painfully at that, but he forced the feeling down and away.
He would not let it be. He would fix this...problem...with Connor and prove himself to Master Kenway again.
He relaxed minutely.
Master Kenway was a reasonable man, dignified in his bearings, cautious in his passions. He would forgive him.
He must forgive him.
Charles pushed open the door to the dining room and waited for his ‘guest’ to arrive.
-----
When one of the maids (not Mary, Clipper noted), arrived to fetch him for dinner, Clipper had already begun to plan his time with Connor.
Sadly, he was no doctor and knew very little about ailments of the body or of the mind. But if he could gain access to Connor’s doctor (though he shuddered at the thought of being anywhere near the greedy, ambitious Davies), then they might potentially puzzle out how to bring Connor back.
And in the meantime, when he was not allowed near Connor, he could study medical books on his own! Surely the Templar Order’s private collection of books must be enviable. All he would need to do would be to convince Lee to lend them to him. Or perhaps he could write to James...
But his first action must be to move Connor to a less...oppressive...room. His quarters felt like decay and death, and Lee really thought Connor could recover in here? Where Connor was, no doubt, forced upon nightly?
Clipper shuddered at the image and once more forced down the anger he felt for Lee. Lee would undoubtedly resist any attempt to move Connor, and his anger would not help him win the odious man over.
And, perhaps, Clipper remembered the way Connor’s eyes fixed on that window, perhaps it would do him good to breathe some fresh air. The window, he had already checked, were bolted tight, but if he could convince Lee to let them spend some time outside, against one of the trees that Connor used to love climbing or perhaps rest his head against a comforting pile of leaves...
The maid pushed open the grand doors before him, and Clipper spied Lee sitting at the head of the table. The man’s face was carefully blank, the insanity Clipper had seen in his eyes before when he had been accused of wanting his mentor gone.
Well good.
Swiftly, Clipper seated himself in the chair the maid pulled out for him. Immediately, man-servants entered bearing food, breads and meat and fresh vegetables and sauces.
Clipper made sure his face was as polite and his manner as non-threatening and relaxed as possible.
It was time for him to do battle.
-----
“I would like to request access to Connor’s doctor.”
Charles paused, a bite of mutton (imported from England, he wasn’t going to touch that lobster business) halfway to his mouth.
“Oh?” Feigned disinterest.
“Yes. I believe that, if we pool our knowledge, we can better help Connor.”
It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and Charles saw no reason not to grant it.
“I shall pen a missive to Matthew requesting his presence tomorrow, if possible.”
The Omega nodded. Then, “does your library contain any medical journals?”
Charles raised an eyebrow, slightly discomfited. He chewed for a moment, thinking and suspicious. Finally he swallowed.
“James seems to have confided a great deal in you,” he prodded, carefully.
The Omega only smiled at this.
“Oh no,” he replied. “James cares for me, and he is wise enough to know that were I to know too much, you or the Grandmaster would have me dealt with.”
Smart man. Accurate, very accurate.
The Omega continued. “Since the Assassins have tales of an exquisite library full of knowledge, it made sense that the Templars would have a similar library. And you yourself seem to be of a background to be able to collect books.”
Again, all true. Charles was fortunate that his father and his father’s father had known the value of books, and Charles himself had expanded the collection immensely...some of them from Connor’s old manor.
He nodded again, not seeing any harm in the request.
“I have no medical ones within my collection, but I will add a request for Matthew to lend you his.”
He returned his attention to the mutton stew. It was quite lovely today, all tender morsels of meat and rich broth. He shall have to ask that it be served more often in this style.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Omega fidgeting nervously.
He narrowed his eyes and set his spoon aside. He had the feeling he would need his full attention soon.
“You clearly have something you wish to say. Say it,” he ordered.
The man fidgeted for one more minute.
“I want to move Connor to my room.”
Charles saw red.
Trembling in fury, he abruptly stood and shouted, “So you admit you have intentions towards him!”
The man had the gall to shake his head in disagreement!
Briefly, Charles pondered the benefits of stabbing him with the cutlery.
“No, I do not! I only want him to get better and for your child to survive safely.”
Oh, but that was a low blow.
“Explain yourself.”
Clipper nodded.
“He’s stayed in that room for as long as he’s been with you, no?” While that was true, Charles didn’t see what it had to do with anything.
As if reading his mind, the next thing that came out of the Omega’s mouth was, “that means most of the times he’s been upset or—or intimate with you has been in that room.”
Ah, Charles was beginning to see where the Omega was going with this. Still, he would not abide his Omega staying with the man. Not when Clipper’s affection for his mentor was clear for all to see.
He thought for a moment, but could see no way around it.
Damn them both. He needed his Omega to get better and birth him that child too much, and it was forcing his hand.
He didn’t like it one bit.
“Connor will stay in a different room if you believe the change in atmosphere will help. But not yours.” Because he couldn’t give him that. His Omega was his.
James’s Omega looked as if he wanted to argue, but one look at the resolute expression on Charles’s face made him reconsider. Reluctantly, he closed his mouth.
Charles once again turned his attention to his stew, but found that the flavors were not as enticing as they had been. Somehow, it seemed bland on his tongue.
Pity, he had been so looking forward to mutton too.
“I hear,” he heard the Omega begin again.
Blasted! Would the man never leave him to eat in peace? Charles sorely regretted inviting the Omega to table with him. Even Connor knew better than to interrupt his meal!
“I hear you normally spend time with your dogs outside after dinner.”
What an inane statement.
“Yes,” he confirmed, wondering where the Omega was going with this.
“James always spoke admiringly about your dog Spado. He’s very loyal and affectionate and a great companion.”
Well.
Charles felt his cheeks redden. It was true that Spado was his favorite. A better dog had never lived.
“Do you think,” the Omega’s voice was soft, wondering, almost...innocent. “Do you think that being around Spado would help Connor?”
Charles immediately opened his mouth, ready to refute the ridiculous idea but...
He stopped. And he thought about it.
Connor had seemed fond of Spado those few times they had met, one of the few things Charles gave him credit for (it was certainly in better taste than many of the boy’s former companions). He supposed that it couldn’t hurt to see if Spado could help with the situation.
Certainly, his fine Spado was capable of many amazing things. What was one more on the list?
Slowly, he nodded his assent.
The Omega broke into a smile.
“Excellent,” he cried. Then he turned to Mary. “We shall have to make sure that Mr. Kenway,” (Charles twitched at the name), “is appropriately attired for the weather.”
Mary bowed. “I shall have him clothed in a warm cloak.”
The Omega smiled fondly. Then he turned back to him.
“I must find my own cloak. Please excuse me.” He stood, bowed slightly and left.
Charles was left sitting at the table, mostly uneaten mutton stew quickly cooling in front of him, and with the strangest feeling that he’d just been played.
Master of the House - part 10
Master of the House
Chapter 9 – Dinner Conversation
By the time it was time for dinner, Charles had managed to compose himself again. The ink stains were cleaned, though the servants were still working on recovering the painting (Charles made a mental note to give Mary and her best helpers a bonus come Christmas), and he had much benefited from a splash of cold water against his face and a cup of calming hot tea in his hand.
Upon thinking the matter over, he could even laugh at himself a bit. What an absurdity his passions had led to! What insanity he had wrought!
And it was all due to his Omega, of all things.
Charles sighed and made ready to join the dining room table. Hopefully, one of Mary’s girls will have found James’s Omega and requested his presence at dinner.
Before exiting his office, though, Charles stopped and quickly glanced at the empty wall where Master Kenway’s portrait had been. He raised a hand and caressed the open space.
His temper was too quick. Oh, he had always known that his passions ran high, but he had thought he had them under control.
He snorted. How disgraceful. How inelegant. How ungentleman-like.
He had always resented the name Connor’s village gave him when he sent them word of his nuptials with the boy, but, ruefully, he began wondering if perhaps they hadn’t been on to something.
‘Boiling Water’ wasn’t particularly original, but it seemed those savage Natives had seen what he had not. And now he may have ruined one of the few things he had to remind him of Master Kenway.
Particularly if the man never acknowledged or called on him again.
His heart squeezed painfully at that, but he forced the feeling down and away.
He would not let it be. He would fix this...problem...with Connor and prove himself to Master Kenway again.
He relaxed minutely.
Master Kenway was a reasonable man, dignified in his bearings, cautious in his passions. He would forgive him.
He must forgive him.
Charles pushed open the door to the dining room and waited for his ‘guest’ to arrive.
-----
When one of the maids (not Mary, Clipper noted), arrived to fetch him for dinner, Clipper had already begun to plan his time with Connor.
Sadly, he was no doctor and knew very little about ailments of the body or of the mind. But if he could gain access to Connor’s doctor (though he shuddered at the thought of being anywhere near the greedy, ambitious Davies), then they might potentially puzzle out how to bring Connor back.
And in the meantime, when he was not allowed near Connor, he could study medical books on his own! Surely the Templar Order’s private collection of books must be enviable. All he would need to do would be to convince Lee to lend them to him. Or perhaps he could write to James...
But his first action must be to move Connor to a less...oppressive...room. His quarters felt like decay and death, and Lee really thought Connor could recover in here? Where Connor was, no doubt, forced upon nightly?
Clipper shuddered at the image and once more forced down the anger he felt for Lee. Lee would undoubtedly resist any attempt to move Connor, and his anger would not help him win the odious man over.
And, perhaps, Clipper remembered the way Connor’s eyes fixed on that window, perhaps it would do him good to breathe some fresh air. The window, he had already checked, were bolted tight, but if he could convince Lee to let them spend some time outside, against one of the trees that Connor used to love climbing or perhaps rest his head against a comforting pile of leaves...
The maid pushed open the grand doors before him, and Clipper spied Lee sitting at the head of the table. The man’s face was carefully blank, the insanity Clipper had seen in his eyes before when he had been accused of wanting his mentor gone.
Well good.
Swiftly, Clipper seated himself in the chair the maid pulled out for him. Immediately, man-servants entered bearing food, breads and meat and fresh vegetables and sauces.
Clipper made sure his face was as polite and his manner as non-threatening and relaxed as possible.
It was time for him to do battle.
-----
“I would like to request access to Connor’s doctor.”
Charles paused, a bite of mutton (imported from England, he wasn’t going to touch that lobster business) halfway to his mouth.
“Oh?” Feigned disinterest.
“Yes. I believe that, if we pool our knowledge, we can better help Connor.”
It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and Charles saw no reason not to grant it.
“I shall pen a missive to Matthew requesting his presence tomorrow, if possible.”
The Omega nodded. Then, “does your library contain any medical journals?”
Charles raised an eyebrow, slightly discomfited. He chewed for a moment, thinking and suspicious. Finally he swallowed.
“James seems to have confided a great deal in you,” he prodded, carefully.
The Omega only smiled at this.
“Oh no,” he replied. “James cares for me, and he is wise enough to know that were I to know too much, you or the Grandmaster would have me dealt with.”
Smart man. Accurate, very accurate.
The Omega continued. “Since the Assassins have tales of an exquisite library full of knowledge, it made sense that the Templars would have a similar library. And you yourself seem to be of a background to be able to collect books.”
Again, all true. Charles was fortunate that his father and his father’s father had known the value of books, and Charles himself had expanded the collection immensely...some of them from Connor’s old manor.
He nodded again, not seeing any harm in the request.
“I have no medical ones within my collection, but I will add a request for Matthew to lend you his.”
He returned his attention to the mutton stew. It was quite lovely today, all tender morsels of meat and rich broth. He shall have to ask that it be served more often in this style.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Omega fidgeting nervously.
He narrowed his eyes and set his spoon aside. He had the feeling he would need his full attention soon.
“You clearly have something you wish to say. Say it,” he ordered.
The man fidgeted for one more minute.
“I want to move Connor to my room.”
Charles saw red.
Trembling in fury, he abruptly stood and shouted, “So you admit you have intentions towards him!”
The man had the gall to shake his head in disagreement!
Briefly, Charles pondered the benefits of stabbing him with the cutlery.
“No, I do not! I only want him to get better and for your child to survive safely.”
Oh, but that was a low blow.
“Explain yourself.”
Clipper nodded.
“He’s stayed in that room for as long as he’s been with you, no?” While that was true, Charles didn’t see what it had to do with anything.
As if reading his mind, the next thing that came out of the Omega’s mouth was, “that means most of the times he’s been upset or—or intimate with you has been in that room.”
Ah, Charles was beginning to see where the Omega was going with this. Still, he would not abide his Omega staying with the man. Not when Clipper’s affection for his mentor was clear for all to see.
He thought for a moment, but could see no way around it.
Damn them both. He needed his Omega to get better and birth him that child too much, and it was forcing his hand.
He didn’t like it one bit.
“Connor will stay in a different room if you believe the change in atmosphere will help. But not yours.” Because he couldn’t give him that. His Omega was his.
James’s Omega looked as if he wanted to argue, but one look at the resolute expression on Charles’s face made him reconsider. Reluctantly, he closed his mouth.
Charles once again turned his attention to his stew, but found that the flavors were not as enticing as they had been. Somehow, it seemed bland on his tongue.
Pity, he had been so looking forward to mutton too.
“I hear,” he heard the Omega begin again.
Blasted! Would the man never leave him to eat in peace? Charles sorely regretted inviting the Omega to table with him. Even Connor knew better than to interrupt his meal!
“I hear you normally spend time with your dogs outside after dinner.”
What an inane statement.
“Yes,” he confirmed, wondering where the Omega was going with this.
“James always spoke admiringly about your dog Spado. He’s very loyal and affectionate and a great companion.”
Well.
Charles felt his cheeks redden. It was true that Spado was his favorite. A better dog had never lived.
“Do you think,” the Omega’s voice was soft, wondering, almost...innocent. “Do you think that being around Spado would help Connor?”
Charles immediately opened his mouth, ready to refute the ridiculous idea but...
He stopped. And he thought about it.
Connor had seemed fond of Spado those few times they had met, one of the few things Charles gave him credit for (it was certainly in better taste than many of the boy’s former companions). He supposed that it couldn’t hurt to see if Spado could help with the situation.
Certainly, his fine Spado was capable of many amazing things. What was one more on the list?
Slowly, he nodded his assent.
The Omega broke into a smile.
“Excellent,” he cried. Then he turned to Mary. “We shall have to make sure that Mr. Kenway,” (Charles twitched at the name), “is appropriately attired for the weather.”
Mary bowed. “I shall have him clothed in a warm cloak.”
The Omega smiled fondly. Then he turned back to him.
“I must find my own cloak. Please excuse me.” He stood, bowed slightly and left.
Charles was left sitting at the table, mostly uneaten mutton stew quickly cooling in front of him, and with the strangest feeling that he’d just been played.