Hounds and bitches, chap.18

Posted by admin on March 16th, 2008 filed in Hounds and Bitches

“Thank you,” Keith said.
He began to eat, after what he got dressed and set to putting together Kester’s things like he had been ordered. All that done, he sat into a chair and waited. He did not get to wait for a long time, though, because then Kester came back and half an hour later they left the mansion.
Nothing very remarkable happened this day. In the evening they stayed at an inn, where Keith again worked all of his skills to both pleasure and tire the lord, who happily fell asleep, his little rose beside him. Keith himself did not sleep so well, but luckily he did not wake screaming from his nightmares either. The things he saw were the same, Tamhas and his , which Keith had caused. In the morning Kester remarked on the dark circles around Keith’s eyes, but a well-timed blowjob distracted him enough so that no more questions were asked.

The second day Keith spent more time with Aodh, his excuse being that he would need to learn all those detailed ways of conduct. After all, he was playing a noble and needed to know. All those wonderful little things. His body ached as if in a warning, but he pressed on. They would get to the castle in the evening, which was something that Keith welcomed. Maybe he would be able to plead some illness and go to sleep earlier, so that he could rest some more before he had to start. He involved himself in everything so that he would not have to think about the dreams and so that he would be tired enough to fall asleep right away.
He had been right, it was already dark when they got to the royal castle. It was big, bigger than anything Keith had ever seen before, made of sturdy gray stone. It seemed ominous and domineering. Keith felt slightly sick to his stomach, but he kept the nausea back and tried to look just like he owned it all.

Bowing servants and maids lead them inside. Lord Kester was, of course, treated with much honours, his son with caution and Aodh along with Keith lovably. Many eyed Keith, even at such late hour.
Aodh and Seoras received separate chambers, of course. Lord Kester and Keith found themselves in a dazzling chamber, adorned with red and blue, with a wide soft bed as the centrepiece. And there were flowers. Where would one find flowers in the middle of the coldest winter month, but there they were. Lilies.
Also, a dinner brought to them as soon as their belongings were unpacked. And now, if Keith had thought he had seen luxurious food and drinks, then he had seen nothing yet. Even the plates and ewers were silver and of most excellent craft.
Everything, everything looked and smelled of ravishing luxury.

All of it was a little too overwhelming, so Keith just nodded at everything, looking a little haunted and distant. When they were shown to their room, he just gasped. It was beyond anything he had ever seen.
So this was the life those lords truly lived. He found himself envious, but then remembered that he would also be able to have all of this. All of this. But he had to play his game well. Very well, indeed.
“This is all very beautiful, Your Lordship,” he whispered to Kester, after they both had taken off their outside clothes and the servants had left. Damn it, damn this stupid rule which meant that he would have to wait until Kester was finished. However, he did.

Or would have, but Lord Kester took a sideglance off his plate and sighed, chuckling.
“Oh well… Come. Dig in. As if anyone would see what we’re doing. You’re damn hungry, too. Come and eat with me.”

“Thank you,” Keith said, not even having to paint his smile of gratitude this time.
He ate with relish, but tried to keep his manners proper. When he had finished, he curled up in his chair and felt like he could fall asleep right away. Of course, he could not, because he would probably have to entertain Kester. But who knew. Maybe he would not have to.

Kester wiped his mouth and stood up.
“Ah, that was good. Keith? Oh rose, little rose, you are sleepwalking and sleep-sitting. Get a bath if you want, go to bed. Don’t wait for me. I have people to see. Not sure when I’d be coming. No need to wait.”

“Thank you, Your Lordship. I will make sure to be well rested when the sun rises again.”
Keith went to give Kester something which was a hug with a slow kiss. Not too arousing this time, but enough to remind him. Then he said goodbye and went to have that bath, which felt simply wonderful. All clean, he came back and slipped into the bed, falling asleep only moments after he pulled the blanket over him.

And then somebody barged in. A lad of sixteen or seventeen years, dark of both hair and clothes.
“Lord Kester, my mother has requested your presence at…”
Obviously, Lord Kester was not there. But SOMEONE was, someone asleep on the bed. Someone… beautiful. Who was that? Intruder took a few steps closer and peered at the sleeper. His bright grey eyes narrowed.
“Hmm,” prince Grahame muttered. “You certainly are not Lord Kester. But who are you?”

Keith was tired, but he had learned to be a light sleeper. A whore had to be. So he woke, sluggishly. Wait…it was not Kester, so who was it? Keith muttered under his breath and sat up, opening his eyes.
Gray eyes, reddish hair. Rather good looking. His age. Well dressed. And whose mother requested Kester’s presence? He put two and two together. So this must be that prince.
“I am Lord Kester’s valet,” he replied tiredly, then caught himself and perked up. “My name is Keith. His Lordship is currently away, he left me here to sleep.”
He drew the blanket up again. Damn. If it really was Grahame, then no way Keith could gain his friendship now. Not like this. Naked, in Kester’s bed. A valet, yes, but a whore as well. The other had to see that.

“Oh,” Grahame replied, eyes investigating Keith quite openly. Sharp. “Good evening, sir Keith. You are a sir? Of course you are. Do you know where Lord Kester went? My mother has requested his presence in her private quarters. Now, whom will I take her if he is not here… Oh, I know. Yes, that will be wonderful. I’ll take you. Get dressed, sir Keith. We’re going to the Queen.
Oh, right. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Grahame.”

For a moment Keith’s eyes narrowed. So, this one was the same as the rest. Stared at him like he was some piece of meat. Well, he was. But still. And now…damn it. Damn it. He would have to go before the Queen without any rest at all and in ill-fitting clothes.
Damn prince.
“Pleased to meet you, my prince,” Keith answered emotionlessly. He got out of bed, actually wanting to go and burrow himself under the blanket and to sleep. Blessed sleep. And he was not going to get any thanks to this prince’s whim. “As you wish.”
He got himself dressed, not even bothering to make it erotic, instead gathering what little strength he had now so that he could appear brilliant and dashing to the Queen. Kester would not be happy, but there was nothing that could be done.
“I am ready to go, my prince.”

But Grahame wasn’t going anywhere. Instead he stood and stared at Keith, almost smiling.
“You already hate me, don’t you? Amazing how fast these things can happen…”
He cocked his head.

“I apologize,” Keith said automatically. “I am weary and tired from the traveling, and I have had few hours of sleep. I do not think myself a good companion for your mother the honored Queen right now, but as you wish, I will come, my prince.”
That was it. Wait. He had done something wrong.
“I apologize again for rudeness. I meant to say your highness.”
He kept his eyes veiled and guarded, though he knew that he was not doing a very good job right now. Yes, of course he hated the prince. He hated everyone. Except for Aodh and those fucked over by fate. Did not care. Just wanted to go there and get it over with, then come back to sleep.

Grahame sighed and came back from the door, sitting on the bed.
“So, another one to hate me. Fuck those titles! Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them! I want none of them. I am Grahame! You hear me - I have a name! And the name is Grahame.
I… Sorry.
No. We’re not going anywhere. My mother can screw herself tonight. And she’s not honoured. She’s a damned whore, that she is. Don’t go. Stay. Do anything. Sleep… You were sleeping, you can sleep again. Just let me sit here for a while. I… I cannot go back just yet. I cannot!”

Keith felt like kicking something in exasperation. He sighed softly. No way he could go back to sleep with the prince in here, Kester could come any moment and get angry at him for being disrespectful.
“As you wish, your highness,” Keith said quietly. But he did not go to sleep. Instead he went to sit in the chair, struggling to remain awake when all he wanted to do was to sleep. So he sat there, slender legs crossed, eyes staring at the wall.

Grahame sat a bit and then lifted his eyes.
“Say, do you have a mother… sir?”

“No, I do not have a mother, your highness,” Keith replied quietly.
Never had had one. “She is dead.”

“Then you’re lucky,” Grahame replied. “I wish mine was. Wish she’d never been born.”
He brushed his dark fingers through his hair.
“Do you have a knife… Keith? A dagger, a knife, anything?”

Keith did not reply to the first by voice.
Once he would have given the world to have a mother. Now he was too dirty and filthy to have one, so he had stopped dreaming. Stopped dreaming of all what a mother was supposed to be. He bit his lip, it was a bad way to go. No. No thoughts. So tired…
A dagger…no. He had killed with one, but he had none now.
“I do not, your highness.”

Grahame sighed darkly. But then his eyes perked up, he rose and walked to the table and trays of food.
“Excellent. This will do,” he said, picking up the silvery sharp blade. Once again he sunk to sit on the bed. Rolled up his sleeve. Held the knife, smiled and then cut, running the blade deep over his arm.

Suddenly Keith did not know what to do. Was it even any of his business to interfere?
But…Aodh had told him to attempt being a friend. How? It was not like he even knew how. Not like he had had any. Damn it. If he really wanted to cut himself up so much, could not he take it somewhere else and let Keith get some fucking well-deserved sleep?
Shit.
However, he was supposed to keep his mouth shut and his ears open. So he…remained silent for the time being. Even if it nagged at the back of his mind. He really had not had princes cutting themselves in his room. He honestly had no idea what to do.

Droplets of blood landed on the carpet. Thump. Thump thump thump.
Again Grahame raised the knife and cut. Again and over again. As deep as he dared. It burnt. It hurt.
Not enough. It wouldn’t go away. The helplessness.
He bit his lip. He shuddered, buried his face between his knees and cried bitter tears.

Keeping his heart cold was becoming harder by each moment. Keith did not know why he cared or why he wanted it to stop. So that the other would not hurt. Keith could go and make it stop. After all, what else was there to fuck up? He had ruined everything anyways. Could he?
Damn it. Damn it, Keith.
He had cried once too. Of helplessness. He had cried often, so that all of his tears were gone. For ever. Now he only cried of anger or pain. He still hated seeing tears.
Slowly Keith got up and walked over to Grahame, getting on his knees in front of him.
“Your highness,” he said softly, lightly touching the prince’s hair.
Damn. He truly did not know what to do.
“Can I do something for you?” he asked in confusion.

“Kill her.”
That’s what he said. “Kill her before she kills us. Oh gods how much I want to kill her.”

Everyone wanted the bitch dead, did not they?
Keith just wanted it because as the Queen she was the symbol of everything that was wrong, the symbol of all the things done to him.
“I cannot do that,” Keith whispered. “I will bring you something to drink and something to bandage the wounds with. It would not do for His Lordship to arrive and find you in such a state, your highness.” Damn it. Don’t cry. Just don’t. Please. Please?

Grey eyes flashed and so did the knife - at Keith.
“Don’t! Call me! That!” Grahame hissed. “The name is Grahame! GRAHAME!”

Keith cursed loudly when the knife ripped through his shirt, also cutting into his shoulder. He retreated, of course. And the yelling, that was nothing new. Everything else was new, though. His heart sped up.
“As you wish,” he said calmly, though with a slight hiss. He inspected the wound and sighed again. Dammit, it hurt. His eyes narrowed. Just clean this up. Just clean all of it up and try to get some sleep.
Confusing. Terribly confusing.

“I…” Grahame started off. “Oh, you don’t care anyway. Not one of you does!”
He threw the knife over the room, plummeted past Keith, broke the door open and slammed it shut behind himself.

“Give me a fucking reason why I should care,” Keith muttered angrily. He started to clean up, scrubbing the blood from the floor and washing the knife. He then took off his shirt and began cleaning his own wound, hissing all the while he did it.
Damn it. It was not as if he had expected anything else. He would go to sleep. Some blessed sleep. He was so tired that he would fall asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.