#edgymaid

[lukas-clost]

origin story, lol

I was reading skeleton mansion fics and I just simply adore the dynamics between lords and their workers to the extent that I made a one shot featuring a very edgy skele.

It's an old, cliche thing that I simply wanted to see written, which led me to want to see other AUs written in a similar way which then snowballed into a huge story that I really want to undertake

A bunch of Undertale AUs, plenty of servants and problems in a kingdom run by the original Asgore and his skeleton lords. If you're interested, why not stick around and see if I actually get this thing done, lol

Aforementioned one shot under cut

Light rain pattered against the window of the mansion, creating a rhythmic lullaby for the dozing girl inside. She had been sitting there in the foyer for hours, waiting for something, and hadn’t intended to doze off, but one can only stay awake for so long. 

The loud banging of the front door opening jolted her awake. She was quick to rouse herself as she watched the perpetrator walk inside, bringing with them muddy footprints and dripping water. She pursed her lips at the thought of having to clean that up later, but it was immediately overshadowed by her concern for the person. 

They were hobbling into the room, cursing lightly with every step they took as they gently closed the door behind them. A quiet gasp escaped the small lady as the dim lighting exposed them. 

What she could see of his clothes were wet and tattered, and she could make out the telling signs of blood, especially as they were pronounced against his bleached white bones. Her stomach rolled as she watched marrow trickle from a broken bone and her eyes trailed upwards to see a dislocated arm. Unbelievably, his face remained untouched, the familiar double scar over his right eye socket the only thing that marred it. 

At the sound, he whipped his head in her direction, dark eyes first widening in surprise before narrowing into scrutinising slits. She stood up from her seat quickly, steeling herself against what she knew would be a reprimanding, but at the back of her head she noted how he had taken much longer than he should have to notice her presence.

“What are you doing?” His voice was the usual hiss of annoyance although she picked up on a slight strain as he tried to hold himself straighter. She watched him suppress a wince before she answered, her palms lying flat against the black and white uniform she wore. 

“I was instructed to lock up the house every night, but I cannot do so when not all members of the house are present.”

There was a moment of silence where he tried to gauge how she knew he had gone out, but he was quick to dismiss it, deciding that it was just another unexplained talent of hers. Much like how she managed to prepare his meals to his liking, exactly to a T, and how she almost always knew when he needed her for something. He would have been impressed with her skills if they weren’t just a standard that all slaves should have. 

In the moment, she noted his laboured breaths, muffled by the light rain outside, but still there all the same. She stopped the frown that threatened to form, knowing full well that he would not take the show of emotion kindly. 

“Then what are you waiting for?” He finally snapped.

The maid swiftly went to the door, starting the long process of putting all the latches and locks in place. 

As much as security had never been much of an issue in the house, there were still citizens that didn’t care about their life enough such that they would dare attempt to climb the hill to make their disapproval known. Master Black made swift work of them, making an example out of them for any remaining unhappy citizen.

She slowed in her work as she listened to him moving out of the room. Now that he knew she was there, he put efforts into concealing his limp, but she knew the way he walked and this gait was obviously wounded. As she neared the last lock, she heard him seat himself heavily on a couch in the lounge. She allowed herself a frown this time; since he didn’t immediately go to his room, his injuries were so bad that he couldn’t bear the walk upstairs to heal himself there. 

She quickly went for the first aid box, hidden somewhere in the closet of the foyer before entering the room where he had stopped in. The sight before her made her face soften in sympathy. He was laying on the couch with an arm over his eye sockets, the broken one hanging off the edge as his head rested on the arm rest. His breaths came out laboured, but softer than they had while he was standing, an occasional quiet groan escaping him. He still hadn’t noticed her standing in the doorway and her eyebrows pinched in deep concern as she started gauging the extremity of his injuries.

She paused before stepping forward. She had to do this tactfully such that he wouldn't dismiss her help, or feel weakened by getting it. Pursing her lips and steeling her features into passivity, she walked into the room and placed the box beside the couch. 

He started at the sound, weakly lifting his arm from his face to watch as she rummaged through the box. He mused the thought of asking what she was doing, but it was obvious and he really didn’t want to waste his breath on asking the obvious.

“Stop,” he said instead, placing his good arm back over his face. 

“Master Black–”

“I can do it myself.”

She pursed her lips. She knew he would make it difficult and she really didn’t want to disobey any orders, but she also didn’t want to leave him to bleed on the couch as she would have to clean that up later as he struggled to heal himself. She gathered her conviction and returned to dabbing some alcohol on a cloth. 

“Of course you can, but seeing as you are in no state to be doing so, I will do it.”

“You dare disobey me?”

At his whisper, she looked up from her work, but his face was still covered and the whisper was more so out of exhaustion than it was anger. She lifted the alcohol-soaked cloth and said, with as much authority as she could muster, “yes.”

He hissed as the alcohol came into contact with the broken arm, but he didn’t move, save for removing his good arm to watch her work. She was careful as she cleaned up the surrounding mess, pausing for a moment whenever he let out a sound of pain. 

He didn’t like that he was at her mercy, having let her tend to him without so much as a struggle. Granted, he wouldn’t have been able to heal himself properly as he was, but the thought of having himself weakened and vulnerable in front of her made him irritated. A feeling that completely washed away the slight pride and awe at having her ignore his orders to do what she thought necessary. 

She worked in silence as she cleaned up the wound before setting the bone as best she could and wrapping it tightly in gauze with a splint. She mused calling a doctor in the morning but quickly dismissed the thought, knowing that he would feel even more embarrassed than he was right now with just her helping him. 

Any questions as to why he was yet to send her away were pushed aside as she worked to clean the other wounds she could see. She felt his eyes on her constantly as she worked, a reminder that he was still waiting for any excuse to reprimand and punish her. But even as he winced whenever she reached a particularly nasty spot, he didn’t do anything to stop or chastise her.

She stood up when she was left with the dislocated shoulder and met eyes with his ever-watchful ones. 

“Lay down properly,” she commanded, although with just enough authority that it wouldn’t rival his. He hesitated for a moment; eyes narrowed again as his mouth opened slightly as if to say something. She narrowed her own eyes, arms crossing against her chest challengingly. He eventually rested his entire body on the couch, grunting softly every now and again. She didn’t bother helping him, knowing that she would be pushing it, and waited until he was comfortably laying down. 

“Remove your belt,” she said. 

“What?” He had the common sense not to sit up, but his face contorted into a mix of rage and confusion, even as his face brightened in what she learned to be a blush. 

She stifled the smirk that wanted to show as she dropped her arms to her side. “Relax. Since I can’t give you anaesthetics, you’ll need something to bite on.”

“What are you going to do?” He asked, even as he unbuckled his belt one handed. 

“I’m going to pop your shoulder back into place.”

He spasmed at her words, his dislocated shoulder tingling at the thought of being touched. She scrambled to his side, but before she could touch him, he screeched, “no!”

She halted immediately and stood up straight, her body leaning to one side with a hand resting on her hip. She quirked an eyebrow in question as he fought to get his breathing under control.

“No?” She asked, looking at him as though he was a petulant child she was forced to take care of. He didn’t particularly like that look, so he averted his gaze to the ceiling. 

“No,” he answered, voice softer and quieter than the first yell.

“Master Black-”

“No,” he repeated, still not looking at her. 

“Master Black...” Her voice was stern and chastising. He turned to look at her again, eyes pouring forth the determination he felt to not let his shoulder be touched. 

“No.”

“Would you rather I call the doctor?” She asked, her arms moving to cross over her chest again. 

“I can do it myself,” he hissed. 

She rolled her eyes at him—actually rolled her eyes! If he weren’t in such poor condition, he would have her on her knees begging for mercy for her insolence! As it was, anything he said right now wouldn’t be very effective.

“We both know you can’t right now,” she said. 

“I will do it myself,” he insisted, though he didn’t make any move to do so. 

“Master–”

“Myself–”

“Papyrus!” She shouted. 

He clamped his jaw shut at the name and she shivered at the warning look he gave her. She hadn’t meant to say his name, but since she had, there was no going back now. She would give him the help that he needed—no matter what it took—and deal with the consequences later. 

“Do you really want me to call your brother down here?” It was a low blow, sure, but he was being childish, so she gave him an ultimatum; either have Master Red fix his shoulder at the loss of his pride, or let her do it while she’d already seen him in his sorry state. 

She watched him work his jaw angrily. It was an obvious choice, so without another word, he furiously put the belt between his teeth. She didn’t smile at her triumph, knowing that it would upset him further and instead gripped his arm. 

“This might hurt,” was the only warning she gave him before twisting his humerus back in place. He grunted onto the belt and bucked slightly as it moved but was otherwise relieved to be able to feel it properly again. She remained holding his arm for a moment and he found himself relishing the warmth that she provided. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he jerked, effectively removing her from his arm. 

He sat up gingerly, testing the movement of his shoulder. 

“Be careful for the next few weeks or so,” she said as she packed up the first aid kit. Once done, she curtsied in front of him and moved to leave the room, but before she could, he called her back. 

“Slave!”

She repressed the urge to roll her eyes and instead turned back to face him expectantly. He didn’t speak immediately and she grew antsy at his displeased expression. Had she finally gone too far?

He was glaring at the ground in front of her feet, dark features made to look darker with the scowl on his face. Truthfully, he didn’t quite know why he called for her. She had done what she needed to and he was free to leave and recuperate in his room, but the word came out without much thought and now he had to come up with a reasonable request. The thoughtlessness of his actions made him really think about the amount of marrow he must have lost on the way back home. 

“Run me a bath,” he finally said and she almost sighed in relief. Instead, she nodded in understanding, but still lingered by the door, expecting him to ask for something else. She warily asked him when he failed to speak up again. 

“Will that be all, Master Black?”

She watched him work his jaw again, clearly wanting to say something else, but not quite being able to say it. She waited patiently for his response, hands clasping the handle of the heavy red box in front of her. 

“That will be all,” he said finally. 

She didn’t let her surprise reach her face as she curtsied quickly and left the room, scurrying to put away the first aid kit before setting up his bath—an odd but nonetheless understandable request.

As she set everything up to his standards—two black towels by the tub (with painkillers and a roll of gauze on top just in case) beside a neatly folded pile of his black silk pyjamas, his bone scrapers and sponge, hot-warm water almost to the top with a few drops of his specially prepared scented liquid (a concoction of citrus essential oils, eucalyptus essence, branded sandal-bone cologne and the smoke from burnt spices, which she had to remake every other week), and the stray rose petal floating on top—she didn’t stop the pleased smile that grew on her face. 

Even though she was only going to sleep for half the amount of time she normally would have and had a lot of blood and mud to clean up in the morning, she was satisfied that he had let her help him tonight. And the fact that he hadn’t requested more than the bath was the closest thing she would get as a thank you from him.

She left the bathroom to set up his room for the night again, replacing his cup of now cold milk with a cup of chamomile tea. She was sure he would appreciate its soothing effects. She fluffed up his pillows again and dusted off the bedding before heading down into the basement so she could sleep. She would still wait to hear the slamming of his bedroom door before she let herself sleep, but in the meantime, she contented herself with thoughts of having made further progress with the edgy master of the house. 

When far too long had passed without hearing his bedroom door shut, she went back upstairs to see if there was a problem. She first went to the lounge to see if he had even left. She was about to scold him when she found him on the same couch, but when she realised that he was asleep, she went to get blankets instead. 

She wasn’t surprised that he had been either too weak or too tired to bring himself upstairs, nor was she upset that her efforts had been wasted. She was more concerned that whatever he had gone out to do had taken so much out of him that it left him in that state. She wasn’t one to pry, especially as her masters were very secretive people and wouldn’t tell her anything anyway, but she was worried that Master Black may be biting off more than he can chew. 

After she gently arranged the beddings comfortably for him, she took a moment to admire his peaceful face; it was pinched into a slight grimace, probably due to the pain (she silently cursed herself for not bringing the painkillers with her), but was otherwise the most peaceful she had ever seen him. She memorised the expression quickly, not wanting to stay for much longer as she could get caught and her inner voice would start telling her how creepy she was being, before going upstairs to drain the bathtub. 

She decided to clean the other messes as well. Master Black would be sure to wake up irritable and sore and any transgression, even the slightest one, would be sure to set him off into a rage, and she’d rather not have to deal with that first thing in the morning. As she scrubbed at the muddy footprints, she thought of his peaceful expression and reassured herself that her edgy master wasn’t all doom and gloom, and with enough time and effort, she knew she could crack through his tough exterior.