#I’ve since changed isa’s character to be an ofc named ‘Valeria’ lol

[f1-stuff]

harem...

I knew rissa would want that one asfdhfgsh (here's the previous snippet of this fic that I shared last year). And below the cut is another little 650-word drabble.

(Warnings for the sort of insensitive language you'd expect from royalty about a bed servant? I guess? 😅 As well as my limited Spanish knowledge - anything written in Spanish is meant to signify that Charles doesn't know what it means)

The prince trains often and hard, nearly every day of the week, practicing his swordsmanship with his cousin or his instructor, Rupert. Sometimes, even the king, though much more rarely. Charles always accompanies him to these training sessions, prepared with facecloths for him to wipe away perspiration and water to keep him cool. The prince sometimes thanks him, smiling in gratitude or, on rare occasions, adding a wink that inspires Charles to blush.

He often...overhears things. It’s a consequence of (almost) always being in the prince’s company, along with his curious nature not allowing him to shut off his ears. Especially not when Charles is the topic of conversation.

“Have you had a taste, then?” the prince’s cousin, Duke of ____, asks him one day. ‘Gusto’ - it’s the same word in Italian.

“Taste?” The prince asks.

“Of the boy?” 

Charles flushes, despite his best efforts, focusing harder on the ground at his feet to feign unawareness. It’s possible they aren’t referring to him...

“‘The boy’ can hear you, tío,” the prince says. So much for that theory.

“You are evading the question,” the duke says, and Charles can hear the teasing note in his voice, but doesn’t dare look up to confirm. “I don’t understand you, cousin. You are gifted a lovely creature like that, a bed servant trained for a king, and you consign him to the role of a glorified assistant.”

The prince doesn’t respond, but Charles can see him practicing his swings and stances from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t have to work hard to imagine the impatient frown on the prince’s face. He’s seen it enough times while he responds to tedious letters at his desk in the late hours of the night.

“Is it because he’s un gabacho?” the duke asks, and the prince only huffs in response.

Charles doesn’t know the word, but he’s heard it applied to him before. He wishes he could talk to Valeria, continue their Spanish lessons or even just spend time in each other’s company the way they used to. He misses her, perhaps his only true ally in this place. He’s convinced he has her to thank for the prince’s decision to reassign him. Otherwise, he might’ve ended up in the kitchens or stables, or worse, cast out of the palace completely, condemned to a life as a beggar or in a brothel, without any other skills to make a living.

“I’m not amused by this topic,” the prince says, his tone bored.

“I am,” the duke says, laughing. “Come now, cousin. Do you not agree that he’s at least pleasing to look at?”

“I’m bored of this, Caco. I’ve told you to leave it.” The prince’s voice is hard now, annoyance lacing his words. Charles glances up long enough to see the duke raise his hands in surrender.

“I’m only curious, cousin. But I’ll leave it. For now,” he adds, a smirk in his voice. But then his tone grows more serious. “But know that I am not the only one with such questions. If you continue to show indifference toward the boy, you might find others are tempted where you are not.”

“What does that mean?” the prince asks, in a dangerous tone.

“I think you know,” the duke says. “No one would dare insult you by laying a hand on a bed servant of the Crown Prince. But he’s not your bed servant, is he?” There’s a beat of silence that feels loud, heavy. Then, the duke continues, “A creature like that will not stay unsullied for long, cousin.”

Silence again, then the prince says, “I do not care where the tontos in this palace stick their pollas.”

“Your words say one thing, but your face says another, my friend.” The duke doesn’t give the prince a chance to respond, though. “Come on, cabrón. Let us cease talking and begin swinging.”

“Finally,” the prince says, but he sounds far less enthusiastic now than at the start of their session.

WIP Wednesday