The Queen, The Butler, and The Prince (job w/ Birch)

Birch had been laying on his back on a padded bench, his long, golden locks gently brushing the floor beneath as his body strained to lift the thick metal bar with weights on each end. He was well into a set of repetitions, enough to have his muscles clenching, his skin flushed a healthy pink in places, and a light sweat just beginning. Without his proper clothes on, it was much easier to see the state of his body. Like the others, he too was shirtless, offering a rare glimpse of his well-built muscles to the queen.

Then the man heard his name called in her voice. His brow twitched.

He was none too happy to be interrupted, especially by girls gawking at him. Moodily, he lifted the bar one last time and rested it back on the rack. He then sat up and slung a towel over his shoulders, using one end to pat his face before his narrowed eyes darted up at the trio who had undoubtedly come to fetch him for yet another annoying task. Bertrand took over speaking, which annoyed him less. The male attendant was more tolerable, and honestly, Birch took a little pleasure when he and his sister called him 'Master'. If only for a moment, it made him feel like he was back in his proper place in society and none of the horrible things had happened.

The small high from the title soon came crashing down with a flourish. Everything was normal with Birch up to a point. He was his usual grumpy self, put out by being bothered yet again, especially by the silly woman who lorded over them all. But then a word was uttered that changed everything. A place. Giltena. Before he could help himself, he'd jumped to his feet, towering over Bertrand with an ominous glare. His eyes were filled with fire, though he was working to try and appear neutral. For once, he was having a true struggle doing so. Everything about him was lashing like solar flaring. A snarl teased at his mouth, his jaws clenched like a heartbeat. Truthfully he looked as if he could slay Bertrand where he stood, though his malice wasn't for the manservant at all. It was for something unseen. Something in his mind's eye, perhaps a memory. With a hard swallow and a sharp inhale, he managed to back off Bertrand and settle enough to speak. He wanted to ask if he heard the place correctly, but asking for clarification might give away some information. Even in a rage, Birch fastidiously maintained his secrecy.

Eyes shifted from the man to the queen herself as she took up the explanation. If she knew him at all, she should have expected at least a little rebuttal. He tried not to tell her no since he did want to stay in her good graces for his own devices, but he hardly ever accepted without at least a little resistance or at minimum some grumblings of displeasure. And those were for proper things. This, what she was asking him to do, was even more grounds for him to scoff at the frivolousness of it and attempt to get out of doing something so inane, but instead, he stood still. His vibe was still mysteriously hostile, but otherwise, he gave no hint of dissent. To make things stranger, he gave a short nod of agreement. "Yes, I'll join you," he said stiffly. What? Birch was agreeing to go with Saraphina to enter an entertainment contest...without any huffiness? No lip? Not even an exasperated eye roll? No deep, begrudging scowl? All the flushed, warm tones in his skin had abruptly vacated, leaving him grim and pale as he suddenly stepped around the guild master and her two assistants. "I'll change and meet you in the courtyard."

Once he entered the relative sanctity of his room, his poor wardrobe didn't stand a chance. He swung and angry fist right into the side of it, splintering the wood all over his clothes within and the room around. For a few tense seconds, he stood with chest heaving, riding out his temper tantrum and the memories that brought it. Giltena. His home. The prince of Giltena, which used to be him, was coming to Crocus and was to be entertained. He knew exactly who this man was, and he wanted nothing than to suck the very life out of him drop by drop and watch him slowly shrivel like a corpse in the sands and sun of Desierto. Or maybe he'd trap him in his own personal vacuum of space, to freeze and suffocate, then be crushed by the gravitational pull of a thousand suns. Prince Farraday was going to die today. It was unavoidable. At least that thought balmed his aching and furious soul, bringing a wicked smile to his lips. Yes, he should be happy. This would be a great day.

Dressing in much different clothes than usual, gone was his butler look, or even his casual servant look. No, now he wore a black dress shirt without a tie, unbuttoned a couple extra buttons under the collar and fitting tightly to his chest with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. Crisp, khaki slacks that nearly matched her outfit reached down to the gleaming black dress shoes. Strangely, he had his hair pulled back into a low, neat ponytail, and had his glasses on even though he didn't need them at the moment. Despite the more relaxed appearance, he still looked as impeccable as always. Birch indeed met her in the courtyard, now seeming to be in the best mood he'd ever been in since he'd joined Errings Rising. Birch didn't even complain about the stupid bear, which would inevitably be nearby. "Shall we?" he asked with a small bow.


word count: 973
thread total: 1622/7000