Word Count: 696
Summary: Prince Eames meets his new servant boy.
Notes: Written for frek about a month ago to cheer her up. <3 (I may have to expound on this further some day.)
Aspect are within us, and who seems most kingly is king. -- Thomas Hardy
Once upon a time, there lived a handsome prince. Prince Eames, they called him, though he honestly preferred just Eames.
These days, Eames' sole purpose was to find a wife. Every day it was the same story: pretty young things appearing long enough to bat their eyelashes and tell stories of their wealth, until Eames had suffered long enough and sent them away as kindly as possible.
When they were gone, he would sit in front of the mirror and see how well he could mimic their appearance, down to the overdone makeup. It helped stave off the boredom, but still, it wasn't enough.
His ability to change his appearance was a well-kept secret in the kingdom, though within the castle walls, rumor tended to spread like wildfire. Most everyone knew, even the servants, but they were smart enough to keep quiet about it.
Which is why it comes as such a surprise when, one day, someone stumbles into his room through the servants' entrance and then makes a big scene upon finding a thin blonde woman sitting in front of the mirror.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know the prince had a guest this evening."
Eames twists the blonde's lips into a lovely smirk and turns around to look the servant in the eye. His sarcastic reply stops in his throat when he takes in the sight of the man, gorgeous as hell and with just enough judgment in his gaze to make Eames curious. None of his other servants would dare even hint at defiance.
"I'll just... leave you alone."
"You must be new here," Eames says in a lilting tone to match his form.
He cocks an eyebrow slightly as if to say, How would you know? Eames likes him already. "I just started."
"What's your name?"
Arthur. The name suits him. Eames stands up and approaches Arthur, hips swaying as he walks. "Can I ask you a question, Arthur? Just between you and me."
Arthur nods, everything about his expression saying, Do I even have a choice?
"What's your honest opinion of our prince?" he whispers, as if the real Eames might slip in at any moment and overhear.
Arthur doesn't even glance at the door. He purses his lips and looks Eames dead in the eye. "Eames is a brilliant man. I have no doubt that he could revolutionize this kingdom, if only the king would stop wasting his time with unnecessary courtships."
His condescension is palpable, and Eames feels a thrill and cannot resist sliding back into his true form as he beams at Arthur. "Oh, I am keeping you."
Arthur's eyes widen comically. "Eames."
"The one and only, darling."
Arthur's expression turns more serious, his voice more ominous. "Eames. Wake up."
Eames' eyebrows draw together as Arthur says once more, "Wake up."
"Were you dreaming?" Arthur says with some surprise as Eames blinks awake.
Eames groans as he stretches, the dream already fading. "Why'd you have to wake me up? I was about to have my lovely way with your servant arse."
Arthur pauses where he's pulling on his shirt and quirks an eyebrow. "Servant?" He smirks. "Only in your dreams."
Eames stretches again, strategically moving the sheet further away from his body. "You should really make it up to me."
"We have work to do," Arthur says, but his eyes follow the movement of the sheet over Eames' hips.
"Come on, love. You're not even dressed yet." He trails a hand slowly over his stomach with an obvious southward trajectory.
Arthur climbs on top of Eames quickly, pushing his hand aside. "If we do this now, you're going to behave and focus for the next eight hours so I can get some research done."
Eames mumbles his promises, willing to say whatever it takes to get Arthur to keep touching him like that.
Arthur smirks. "I'm hardly the servant in this relationship." He leans in until his lips are barely a breath from Eames'. "Clearly your subconscious needs training."
"Always willing to learn," Eames offers. Arthur surges forward to kiss him soundly, asserting his control of the situation. Honestly, Eames wouldn't have it any other way.