It's probably bad. But I was gone for 2 years, so please show mercy.
I'll proofread later. Gotta sleep.
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You remember it all too clearly. The day you arrived at the manor to serve as the new maid. You were young - almost too young for the job you would be working. But that made you all the more qualified to be the one doing it.
You're one of the new aides of the lady of the house. Your task is to be there for the young master, especially when no one else is around. For that, you will receive special training.
Back then, you weren't so sure what that 'special training' meant.
Would it include learning to multitask? Or maybe training to carry heavier loads? Perhaps learning to cook all sorts of dishes in order to suit the palate of your master and lady? Or could it be something more intangible like building patience, diligence and attitude?
All of the these were legitimate and honest possibilities. Tasks that involve serving your purpose right as one of the Lady's Aides - whatever that is.
After all, they did say you would be spending most of your time being in close quarters with the members of the noble family. You'll be their personal attendants.
Little did you know this was completely different from the kind of job you expected it to be.
No one could paint the visible shock that flew over your mellow features the day you were brought to the training grounds for your first day. How you received a sword and a gun instead of a broom or an apron. And how instead of being brought to the maids to learn how to clean, you were instead introduced to the family's most skilled retainers.
A Lady's Aide is not just any ordinary maid. She is a woman of boundless grace and unmatched ferocity. A warrior hiding behind the delicate nature of a lady.
As per your instructors, the goal is to develop you into a battle-ready soldier. To mould you into a dauntless warrior who would have no hesitations in laying down her life to ensure the safety of the lady and her children.
"The purpose is noble, the uniform is cute, and the title is undoubtedly regal, but..."
Everyday from then on was a living nightmare.
It was painful. It was hard. It was unreasonable.
Your body was forced to bend in all sorts of directions, pull in all sorts of ways, and break in every possible manner everyday, and then be expected live all over again just to suffer another one.
"What the hell did I sign myself into?!" You thought as your stared at your shaking hands - fingertips broken, bloodied, and numb from the endless hours of skills training out in the frigid stillness of the courtyard. Your breaths coming out in hard smoke-like puffs in the freezing early evening air as you rested on the snowy grass.
You would have quit right then and there.
Left everything in that eccentric, death trap of a manor behind and just returned home to be the farm maiden that you thought you were always meant to be.
But something broke the silence right as your misery pushed you to the point making a decision. Breaking your reverie like the multitude of times it has happened before.
"Hey... Your training's done?" A soft silvery voice with a hint of calm indifference abruptly took your attention, pulling your eyes to the entranceway of the courtyard where a beautiful young man was standing beside the rose riddled, white stone archway.
Blood red cloak was draped over his dignified shoulders - the proud sigil of the noble family emblazoned vividly over its heart - and a shining silver half crown pinned over his soft, strawberry blonde hair, glimmering rose gold under the late afternoon sun.
"You look terrible. Like always..." He scowled as he approached your nearly broken form with careful footsteps. So careful it was almost as if he believed that his mere proximity would shatter you. "Why do you insist on staying when all it does is just make you hate yourself more and more each day?"
He pushed you slightly as he crouched down - taking your hand as he did - before taking out the apothecary's chest that he kept hidden underneath his cloak.
"Young master..." You could only whisper as you watched him treat your wounds with slow but practiced movements.
"Just Eugene..." He corrected you tersely with a clicking of the tongue.
He was always the one to treat your wounds whenever the harsh training of being a Lady's Aide breaks you. His silently compassionate and determined nature driving him so that his once clumsy and trembling fingers have now become so adept he could bandage you with his eyes closed.
Eugene always struck you as obstinate and vexing. Like wild rapids unyielding to the forces of nature around it. But it's this hardheadedness that got him treating you even after his parents and assistants told him not to.
"You should go back to your farm and just milk cows or whatever." He muttered bitterly and low. His vibrant amber irises fixated on suppressing the blood flow from your broken fingernails. His tender care making even the deepest cuts bearable.
If not for the ruthless words that flowed past his lips, you would not have flinched. "You're too weak to for this sort of job. You'll just die before you can even get close to cutting anyone. I don't want to be protected by someone like you."
His words pierced deep, slicing right through your heart. The coldness in them making the gentleness of his touch feel like a fever dream. Almost unimaginable.
"I know that!" You retorted with striking roughness that his beautiful caramel eyes flew towards you in disbelief.
You regret was you said instantly. He was still your master after all. And more than that he was caring for you. But you stood your ground and pulled your hand away timidly.
"I know I'm not strong. I didn't even think I'd be doing this when they hired me."
"Then why are you still here?!" He then asked with a sharp glower twisting his handsome features. "For what purpose are you trying so hard?! You should have given up the moment you found out they're going to make a soldier out of you!"
"Because I still want to be close to you." Your voice was soft and shy. It was all you can do not to curl up in a ball or run away. But you knew you had to tell the truth at some point. "Young master has always been so kind to me. Even if they say you're a fickle boy with ever changing moods."
"WHAT?? Who told you I'm a whiny baby?? As if I ever throw a hissy fit!" Eugene hissed raising his hands in disbelief, his glower deepening as his rage came out in waves.
You looked at him steadily, trying not to show any semblance of amusement at his exaggeration. "That's not what I said, young master..."
"They're basically the same!"
"They're not." You countered, cracking a small, beautiful smile that on any other day would have stopped the young man in his tracks. "You don't throw a hissy fit. You're just passionate and determined when it comes to the things you want. And also..." you stopped and looked at him - a sliver of seriousness casting over your tender face.
"You're not a whiny child. Just high maintenance." The calmness in your voice was all the more insulting.
"What??"
Eugene was about to let out another barrage of complaints when you stopped him with a soft tug at his hand. Bandaged fingers squeezing at his palm, your tender heat radiating off of you, as you wordlessly expressed your gratefulness for his efforts.
"But that's why I want to stay with the young master even if the training is hard. Because I love maintaining you."
You've noticed it countless times before.
Being the lady's aide, you were given the opportunity to work with him on a multitude of occasions. Your closeness in age and your inexperience in other complicated tasks meant you could only work as his body attendant whenever he has to leave for important events.
In all those times you spent with him, not once did Eugene look genuinely happy.
He never seemed to fit in with his adventurous peers or get along with his gallant older brothers. He preferred to be hiding in his chambers or to while away in the music room in the comfort of his old piano than to go out with his parents. He never attended lessons unless absolutely necessary. And he refused to meet any young lady from other families regardless of how prominent or influential they were.
On rare occasions when he would be in the presence of others. His mood never shifts to the pleasant. He is constantly thorny with a coldness that makes the other maids shiver at the sight of his handsome face.
To everyone, this made Eugene an indifferent brat who cares about nothing but himself. But you saw differently.
"I always liked listening to you sing and play the piano. And I always admired your ruthless honesty." You muttered, glancing over amber sunset in the hopes of concealing the shy blush staining your cheeks. "You don't get to live the way you want. But you're trying your best to live a life you won't regret."
Eugene stared at you upon hearing your words flow out. The strength in your soft but determined voice causing him to scan your features for any hint of a bold-faced lie.
"I honestly wanted to go home the moment I realized this job wasn't what I signed up for." You sighed, your brilliant (e/c) gaze falling to your broken fingers still entwined with his.
You gave his hand another gentle squeeze as if to remind yourself, despite his silence, that he was still there. And Eugene did not show any attempts to move away, despite the striking warmth of your hand against his. It gave you the courage to continue talking.
"But I didn't want to leave you alone. I wanted to be here with you... Of course I could never hope to be anything other than an attendant to you. I just wanted you to know that there's someone who sees you for you."
His face twitched in slight irritation upon hearing the conclusion of your explanation, sighing sharply as if to tell you that he found it unsatisfactory.
It was not to say your words sounded deceptive. Nor did they seem embellished to him in any way. But the way you held back your feelings, withholding a truth that he deserved to hear, was truly frustrating.
"So you mean to tell me you're staying because you're just a petty little people pleaser?" He shrugged, abruptly pulling his hand away from yours and turning away as if being with you any longer would make him sick.
Eugene stood back up and dusted the dirt and snow off his velvet cloak, turning on his heels with a swiftness that matched the annoyance enveloping his entire being.
It was heart wrenching to learn that he felt that way towards your confession.
Did he misunderstand the message you were sending across? Or did he think you were being presumptive to even believe that the admiration you felt mattered to him?
"I guess that's fine. I didn't expect you to feel anything towards me anyway." You smiled sadly before standing up to follow the young man. You straightened your long skirt before picking up the apothecary's chest that he left behind, a soft yet sad sigh leaving your lips as you did.
"I'll bring tea to your room later, young master." You called out halfheartedly, your voice sounding weaker as you tried to bite back the desolate gloom hovering over you like a shadow. "Would you like some cake to go with it?"
The melancholy in your tone made even more depressive by the darkness and frigid coldness now engulfing the both of you vexed Eugene so much that he grit his teeth and stopped in his tracks. Turning to face you again with a cold and dark glare that would certainly send the other maids running for the hills.
"Hell, woman if you know we're both miserable here, then why is it so difficult for you to take me with you back to your home?! Is being my mom's aide more important than being with me?"