(Section 0) A house;

It was something dull that belonged to a man to be more than life. And a life;

Something that was wasted on him.

His mother was one of those great kinds of women, the ones who entire communities anchored into. They spoke her praises and called her a mother before she even thought of a child. In her youth, she took care of her friends, and her friends took care of her right back. She was selfless, kind, and graceful in her beauty, a natural charmer, all of the words that could be said of a good woman. Her hometown revered her as a rose, brushing and admiring her bloom even as her petals wilted with age. She was cradled as she brought life to those around her, practically giving the jewels from her neck for those who needed them.

She was such a woman that, in her late youth, she decided she would have a child while she was still of age. Everyone had been talking to her about it; how could a woman like her still be single, without child? She had considered it herself, what her being married to the town. But, in her private thoughts, she looked out the window in her quaint, minuscule mansion that she often paced about in, and she considered it. It was like that for quite a while, before she wed her dear friend, the grocer to whom she always smiled when he gave her discounts on the little things.

In due time, she had her firstborn, a young and beautiful baby boy. She named him Casper, but her club of girls that swooned for her presence called him Prim. His eyelashes fluttered so delicately that they knew he would be a gentle soul, and his cry was so melodic that they thought him a singer. Why, they may have even taken him for themselves, did her own gentle voice ease them down from it.

Still, while he was too young to be sentient, every manner of remark was made on his name, his face, even his mind. Praise, before he could even comprehend it.

(Section 1) A man;

"Really? No, I just wanted to catch up, see how you've been today. Before the dinner non-discussion." Prim balanced a hard candy in his teeth, pressed up against his tongue as he leaned over in his fine chair in his Sunday best. He peered forward with a rhythm to his idle movements, all of which were focused on the tapping of his knee. "'S my house, I can ask what I want."

"I wasn't referring to that," Mende Briar sat in the chair opposite, legs crossed and leaning on his hip. The ray of sun from the high window he sat under set his hair aflame in a rich, honeyed brown that left his actual form de-saturated in comparison.

"Regardless, regardless," Prim leaned in, "I am in a debt with you, my heart… I spent the money I promised you. You play pauper so convincingly, I forgot I even owed it to you!" Prim's arm reached out, pulling himself downward so he could lean over on his mother's dreadful little chairs. The shift made it screech ever so slightly across the floor, to which he resigned to sitting in it sideways. His own strawberry blonde hair lie so pale in the idle dimness of the room without the sunlight, yet what did catch sparkled across all the walls. When he noticed that for himself, he lifted his hand to the light to catch the sapphire on his thumb. "It… slipped my mind completely, so to speak… "

Mende Briar tsked, his eyes flicking up as he threw his head up. "You went to your mother's today, then?"

"No."

"Oh, then you… held it for me, all this time?"

"…No."

His eyebrows fell in confusion, and the accompanying silence had Prim lean back to look to him. "So it is existing money. What, did you hold it for drugs again?”

Prim gave a damning little smile with a lilted little laugh. So it was a 'yes'…

“Then it’s exactly that,” Mende Briar crossed his arms as he stood up to look at his master. “You can keep my money, then, wherever it’s from. If that’s all you do with it. You can keep my money, spend it on yourself and your little trinkets and toys you call friends.”

“Trinkets. I’ll have to remember that for them.” He curled the fingers of his outstretched hand in the sun. Satisfying his daily remark, he let himself fall from the chair to the floor. As he slid down with a thud, he reached in his pocket to produce a stained old envelope. His mother’s neat and tidy seal was browned and broken, soiled with God knows what.

“You said—”

“It’s my allowance... Keep me from it, if you care so much.”

Mende took it, raking his fingers across the top of the stack inside as he counted the bills. It was just one after the other, all up to nearly four thousand in the largest bills. There was loose change, even a receipt for some small sum. But in the back, tucked into the corner of the envelope lay some ruined note too far gone to read.

“Where is this from?” He snapped, tucking the money away without a second thought.

“My mother… does it matter? Cay does the shopping, you do the cleaning, and I just hoard the money.”

“When did you go see her last? This is far more than she ever sends for you.”

“I saw her when I sold her car… Ah, is that what that money is from?” He tweaked his head to the side, moving from his seat with a waltzing step. "Rose wanted me to sell her car, so I did. I had asked a fine man what he thought it worth, and he replied by mail. Perhaps six thousand, he said?—Maybe less. And I, I had replied, as you know, that is by far, far too little, friend. And he had written back exactly, ‘yes, I know. But as an opportunist, I thought you would appreciate a poor man’s discount’.”

"And you really accepted that sum?!"

"Yes, of course." He nodded to himself, hooking Mende Briar's chin in his hand with a soft smile. "My mother, imagine what she will say when she gets the notice.."

Mende Briar shoved him off, standing just as tall as him as he began to pace. Prim watched him idly, standing still as if he didn't cause the panic. “You—You SOLD that car for just that much? Did you give her a return back?”

“What has she done for me to care?” He waved his hand in the air, legs idly moving back and forth as he let himself fall into his chair once more. As he bounced on the tough cushion, his long hair bounced around him, falling to the back of the cushion.

But Mende Briar grabbed him by the wrist before he could settle, earning some manner of resistance. He pulled him close, all but fighting to hold him. “Let me tell you why you should care. Your mother is one of the most important people in the entire region. And you are an extension of her.”

Prim froze. “…An extension.”

He idled for a moment, not even tapping his hands or kicking around. “My mother…" He began, "is a people pleaser…"

"That is no way to…"

But he smiled. "…I can do nothing without being attached to her name, then…” In the silence between them and his detached expression, Prim had turned to the window. All he was was a child, all he could ever be was a man of his mother. But he knew Mende Briar would never respond to the assumption that it was her fault.

“Briar,” Prim called with a sigh, limply waving his hand in the air as if waiting for something. “A woman like Mother, what do you think she will say at my funeral?”

“Funeral?,” he replied flatly, doing nothing more than raising his eyebrow. “Is that the sort of thing you think about these days?”

Prim laughed. "Well, you never know."

(Section 2) Care;

Liebe, with her raven hair and her doe eyes, was the first thing Prim saw when he woke up. Her soft hands came to his face, turning him away from the light as he opened his eyes. When she retreated, she placed a hot towel in their place. “Good morning, Cas.”

“Cay…” he mumbled through his lips, stuck together for a moment like a bubble. The words popped through, leaving him to dart out his tongue and wipe his mouth.

“You slept for so long, why is that?” She said, wiping the rest of his face. It was only then he realized he was nude and being bathed by her. At the realization, he started to jerk upwards, but her hands came back to steady him. “Hey, easy...”

“Get off me,” he slurred with a snarl, tearing the towel from his eyes. The sudden onset of light pierced his brain, making his body curl up and let out a whimper. Palming his eyes, he took a deep breath before letting his legs fall underneath him.

Slowly, he revealed his eyes to the world, wincing up at Cay. She was in her nightdress and one of Mende Briar’s cooking aprons rather than her own. So it was laundry day… so it was Sunday.

“I'm… missing Church,” he said to himself as he allowed the realization. “What time is…? Where…”

“You vomited all over the bathroom. I found you in here, so I came to clean you up.” She yanked him back into the tub by the hair. “Sit still and let me help you.”

“Get off me!” He repeated.

“Sit… just let me…” She eventually wrangled him back in, running new hot water from the faucet. At the hot temperature, Prim seemed to retreat, almost like an instinct.

“Catharine?” Mende Briar knocked before coming in momentarily, holding a small bucket. Prim winced the moment the chemical smell hit his nose. “Oh, so you collected him.”

Liebe took no pause. “He is disgusting and sweated through his clothes. Why?”

“Why what? I have nothing to do with it?”

“You are his servant, Rosemary hired you, didn’t she? Why would you let him sit out in the hallway?” She pointed, tilting her nose down at him.

“You found him, what did you do with him?” Mende Briar shot back, setting the bucket on the floor as he propped both of the wooden doors open. “For all I know, you drugged him.”

“I…” she trailed off, squeezing out the rag she had in her hands. “I won't be a part of your games. Negligence is serious, you know, and Casper is very sick.”

Mende Briar chuckled at that, pushing his hair back as he picked up his own sponge and rag. “Ha, sick. Very. Perhaps you should move in to help him more, Miss Catharine?”

“Please, where do you learn to talk like this, to a lady like me? Lady Rosemary would never let me live in this house, it is just not done. Otherwise I would have moved in and moved you out!”

“You couldn’t move me more than a shove, even if you did live here. Casper has only improved under me, as far as my Lady knows, as I’m sure that is precisely what Casper performs. I would leave, if I could, but it seems I am called on time and time again.”

Prim’s eyes darted back and forth between the body of Liebe next to him and the voice of Mende Briar in the hall. They were talking over him, like usual. Everyone always did, for whatever their reason of choice was in the moment, but this was truly something new. For once, he could not remember what the context was.

Every time he tried to peek at Mende Briar out in the hall, he was pushed back into the tub. Every time he tried to relax in the hot water, Liebe’s loud tones interrupted him. Mende Briar was even tempered; he wanted to be bathed by him, as was usual. But of course Liebe had to stick her head in the door today, of all days.

All he could do was either listen to them or listen to the sound of Mende Briar cleaning up in the vanity room.

When Liebe was done cleaning every inch of him, she pulled the silver chain of the stopper and let all the water out without ceremony. Putting a towel on top of the toilet, she decided to stick her nose up one more time at Mende Briar before retreating.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Mende Briar said, not letting a moment of peace pass the room. “You know that woman is a miniature version of your mother, and you just let her see you like that?”

“I don’t know what ‘like that’ is, I’m afraid,” Prim rasped, drying his hair like a wild animal. He thrashed his head around in the towel with his hands, pulling the mid-length curls out all at once. Putting the towel around his waist, he moved past Mende Briar to drip over to the vanity. “So I collapsed in the hall again? From what?”

“Food poisoning? Alcohol poisoning? I don’t know,” said Mende Briar as he pulled on the towel to move it about Prim’s body. “Do not let that woman touch you again. She’ll never leave.”

Prim shifted his legs as his servant dried him off. It was almost embarrassing having him handle him like this, but the arguing from before made sense as to why he would. “Its a little late for the 'never leave’, no?”

“Perhaps. When you die, or whatever it is you said to me. She’s a leech of a woman.”

Prim took the brush in his hands and grabbed the roots of his hair, brutally wrenching through the slight tangles. “Cay… is nice. Relatable and agreeable. My age… you know why she’s here.” Parting the sections of his hair to brush, he paused and looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Damn… did I hit my head on something?” He asked as he poked at a blackened spot on his forehead with his pinkie finger.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mende Briar sighed, letting the towel drop at his feet. “You don’t have any injuries. I checked.”

“You checked and then left me on the floor for Cay?”

Mende Briar didn't answer, just chuckled under a scoff as he wiped his nose. He washed his hands in the sink, then opened the closet to reveal some clothes. “This is your night clothes. I don’t think you’ll be leaving the house today, and I won’t tell Cay you went to bed.”

At that, Prim returned his little smile. “Sounds like a fine trade. I suppose you will clean my office out, then?”

“Ah, a bonus,” Mende Briar mocked him. “If I clean it, I’ll set the fireplace. Maybe make you come downstairs and sleep before it.”

As Mende Briar went down the hall, Prim preened in the mirror as he got changed. He dabbed some eyeshadow in the corners of his eyes, something to darken the dark circles. Tonight, he wanted to look so aesthetically pathetic. It fit him in his mind, the awkward smile of his reflection something of a masterpiece itself.

“It’s no wonder that hag wants to sell me off,” he said idly, fingers trailing down his mouth to his chin.

(Section 3) Mind;

Liebe was in the library, lounging on Prim’s couch so delicately as she read from his books. With an even more delicate hand, she daintily sipped from a teacup, dug up from some dusty corner. Prim was not the kind to have tea, so the sight of a tea set gave him pause as he came down the stairs.

“You’re properly sober, then?” She said without looking up, setting her cup on the plate with a tink. “You didn’t even stumble down the stairs this time.”

“Im not an addict,” he answered to the unasked question that always lingered in the air. He came to stand at the end of the square table, his shadow looming over her body.

“Not an addict.. and I'm not Catharine,” she said, swishing her hair out of her face. “You're in my light, darling, may you please—yes, thank you, dear.”

Prim sat next to her, poking over his shoulders at the tomes to his immediate right. They were good at existing in parallel silence, but he could almost time the moments she would chime in. Never about her, always about him or Briar, maybe a small festure of his favorite subject, his mother…

“If you’re not an addict, then why is your life always so… endangered when I come to visit you?” She flipped the page, unaware of his exhale as she proved him right."

“If I were sober every hour, you’d be in danger. Maybe I'd actually have a mind to do something about all these daggers people stare at me when I come about.”

“Oh-ho? So it’s a sacrifice? How noble of you, Ser.”

Prim hissed in response, crossing his legs to turn around in his seat. Plucking a book at random, he thumbed his way into some random page. His eyes scanned the words without intent to read, just to belong to the rhythm of the moment.

The silence seemed to bother Liebe for once, and so she looked up. “Why did you come down here?”

“Why are you still in my house?” he returned.

“You have your mother’s expensive library, for whatever reason… and she allows me to read and research from her collection. And, besides, I will be staying for longer, let us not forget.”

“Yes, that would be a shame,” he muttered into his palm, tapping his foot on the ground. “What would I do without you?”

She poured another cup of tea for herself, clutching her book to her chest to hold her place. With her knees locked together in that girlish pose, she almost had to strain her arm to get the angle she wanted. “You say it like it's nothing, but sometimes I do wonder.”

She was talking about Briar under those words, another strike through the list of topics she circled around. Prim couldn’t help but to hate her sometimes. She always had a valid reason to worry about him, finding gaps in-between the already gaping holes in his defenses.

Looking at her, Liebe was that kind of woman, wasn’t she. She was three parts Catharine, who he at least respected and liked, and one part his mother. His mother, even though she was the one who hired Briar, seemed to be repulsed by him in the same praise and pay routine she gave him. And he, what? Let himself bow to all of their silent scorn. Even when it wasn’t Briar, it was himself or the house.

Prim glanced up at Liebe, who thoroughly ignored him for her own book. Or perhaps she didn’t even consider him like this, and he was the one worrying. Nonetheless, he uncrossed his legs once more, leaning forward to stand up. She glanced up at his movement, following him as he walked over to the bookshelf, but said nothing.

“Does Briar take care of you?”

There it was. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to sound as if he didn't know.

“Even now, you’re fidgeting with every second and wandering. I’m not expecting a butler like him to provide stimulation like a… zoo animal’s master or anything, but you always seems so listless. I worry that you can’t keep this up forever. When that comes, who catches you?”

“Briar will.” He sat back down with another book, one of some sort of fairy tale. “Don't act like he isn’t dependable. After all, my mother hired him in the first place… why do you both talk about him like that never happened?”

She closed her book at him. “Do you know when I walked in today to bring you coffee, you were left on the floor? I asked about it before I put you in the tub, your man just said ‘oh, he’s perfectly fine, really’? And your little..”

“You don't know what you’re talking about,” he snapped at her, pressing his hands into the table.

“Then tell me. Please, I must not have eyes,” she grinned. “If your definition of a life is to die for nothing, then you must be plenty happy here, slowly cascading into whatever you do in the dark…”

He dipped his head down for just a moment, long enough for her to lower her eyes as well. Another moment of theirs, this fragile silence fracturing into a more guilty existence.

Regardless of his feelings, he buried them with a hand through his hair and a flick of his eyes to the door. “I’m certain we have better things to talk about, Cay.”

“Oh, I…” she hesitated as she followed his gaze for a moment, glancing between the door and himself. “We do?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I think I'll get something to eat.” He kicked the table on the way up, spilling some tea onto the hard cover of the book.

(Section 4) Idle;

Liebe walked down the stairwell that went directly into Prim's study. No one ever used it but her, so he sighed a cloud of smoke into the air as he tilted his head to the side.

He was sitting sideways in the chair when she arrived, and she hesitated on the last step before she came all the way in.

"You're a smoker?" She said, clutching her purse as she hopped off the last step. "This place smells dreadful. Whatever could you have brought home with you, Casper?"

Prim held her gaze for a moment, but as she got closer he turned away. Her heels were always too loud for him. When he couldn't ignore her, he set his pipe on the desk.

"Maggie is coming around in a few days," he sighed through his teeth. "I want the house straightened up, and perhaps even a room opened for her."

Liebe looked behind her, holding a strand of her hair. When she turned, Prim gave her a look. "You're asking me? Who do you think I am, your lady? I think not."

"You expect me to clean the whole house by myself? I can clean a few rooms, but…" As he spoke he began to cough, hitting his chest as he tilted his head downward. "Excuse me."

Liebe sneered at him. "You're in no condition to do anything at all, is that right?"

Prim gave her a look, something between self-pity and a scowl. Instead of following it up with words, he turned back sideways in his reading chair and began smoking his pipe again. The sweet smell carried in the air immediately, making her retreat from him.

"I'll pass it on to your savior, then," she hissed, going out the side door.

When she left, Prim closed his eyes and leaned even further back in his seat. From where he was, he could look out the window, out at the garden and the sky. Maggie would want flowers, and she hated the roses his mother had planted in the Spring. He could almost see himself getting Briar to order him some Pansies from the market. Then he could have a face to look at that wouldn't judge him. Something that would blow in the breeze.

He let the pipe fall to the floor as he tilted his head back. He felt like absolute hell, and the smoking was only making it worse, wasn't it?

"I hate you," he whispered to the open air, chuckling and forcing his chair backward. The delicately handcrafted iron legs of the chair caught on the designer carpet, tilting both himself and the chair directly to the floor. His head thunked on the ground, making his vision go white for just a second. His hands leapt up to cradle his head with a sharp whine, tears pricking at his eyes as he realized he had hit his head on the steel pipe he'd just dropped.

"Casper!"

His head swiveled to the side at the sound of Liebe's voice. He should have known she'd come back, she came down here for something, didn't she?

"Casper, what happened?" She palmed at his head, picked up the pipe, picked up the chair, spun him around… He closed his eyes at her touch, almost letting himself lean into her nagging.

It wasn't nagging, was it? He opened his eyes and looked at her properly. His head was pounding, and she was scolding him while she picked up his pipe. She struggled to pick after him in that corset of hers, and he was the one making her do it. He tried to keep his eyes away from her, but all he could do is sit in the chair and breathe like he was catching his breath.

"Are you listening to me, Casper?" She narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him from her task. Her lips parted when she saw him staring squarely at her. "What?"

He felt himself staring, feeling his ears burn in a way that made him turn away. He peered out the window instead, turning the chair in its direction. "Cay," he said, unsure of what else to say. "I want to plant flowers in my garden… it's the only thing I like to do here. Can you…"

She narrowed her eyes again, crossing her arms after she puts the pipe back in its perch on the desk. "Can I… what? You want me to do something now, of all times to ask me?"

He shook his head. "I want to plant… pansies. Where do you buy pansies? They're my favorite."

"Very nice, but I know nothing about the craft," she said, her shoulders dropping as she looked out the window beside him. "I thought you stopped gardening when your mother stripped the land. Don't you like the roses?"

"Red roses… they're so… monotonous. She stripped my Calla lilies for her sophistication…" Prim scratched at the soreness at the back of his head. "Calla lilies are much more expensive than roses. They are rarer, they take years to do what I did with them."

Liebe side-eyed Prim as his fists balled up. She started to extend a hand to put on his shoulder, but he moved away before he got the chance. He wasn't one for sentiment, despite overflowing with it himself. When he bared his eyes to her, she could see that same intensity he had before his mother did what she did. It went without saying, that was the last strike to shatter any love he held for Lady Rosemary.

Nonetheless, she smiled in his direction. "Your man will know where you get your flowers. I will take you myself, perhaps you can start the lilies again."

He winced at the mention of them. "I want nothing to do with lilies. They are fickle and the soil is not the same as it was. Imagine planting roses in a lily bed…" He latched himself to the window again like a magnet. "I can only hope they sprout up again. They will."

"Your mother stripped the land using a team. I think that the soil was given nutrients and then left alone. If you cut those bushes down, when the men come back they'll only tell her, Casper." Liebe pulled him away from the window, forcing him to sit back down. "Listen, we can get pansies, that will make you feel better. We can plant them back in the window boxes like you used to."

Prim let his eyes be torn from the window. By instinct, he picked up his pipe and lit it using his candle. "I might go out tonight," he started. "Is there something you came in here for earlier?"

"Oh!" Liebe said, bowing a bit under her forgetfulness. "My father sent for me, he says he wants to meet you." She frowned at how fast Prim's eyes landed on her, stopping mid-inhale before he breathed out a breath of smoke. "He will not stop asking me, and I believe if I put it off, he'll end up visiting unannounced."

He froze for a moment afterward, staring at her as he polled his mind for an answer. He was in no mind to think today, and he knew his blank stare betrayed him. He bit into the mouthpiece, closing his eyes as he considering it the best he could.

"You don't have to answer," Liebe replied softer, taking the pipe from his hands. "You need to rest, why not get to bed? We can make plans in the morning."

Prim swallowed on nothing, his fingers coming to his mouth against his will. "I don't want to go to bed, I'm fine."

"You had a bad fall and you're acting up. I want you to go to bed." When Prim refused to move, she crossed her arms. "I won't hesitate to ask Briar to do it for me."

Prim lowered his head on his desk, looking up at her while his chin lay on the hardwood.

"When you get to bed, I'll call the doctor and lie for you," she offered, extending a hand. "You can get the cocktail again, then you'll sleep for days again."

"Mercury and laudanum," he muttered, easing his head down further. "I don't want to… talk about it."

Liebe touched a hand to his temple, pushing him to the side. His eyes were closed, and he whimpered when he pushed down on his head. Maggie wouldn't want to see him like this, they both knew that. And Maggie aside, her own father would be coming soon.

She decided to leave him there for the night, informing Briar of his condition before she went to the book in his kitchen cabinet. It was a small, bound leather book, old and worn in. When she opened it up, all sorts of addresses were listed inside.

"Lady Catharine," Mende Briar greeted her from behind, standing a ways behind her. His hands were folded behind his back, and he said nothing to her.

"I am sending a letter for your Master, do you understand? I need it delivered to the family physician, this Housin sir. I trust you know him?" She penned the entire letter without looking at the man she spoke to, writing her elaborate signature with one looping pull of her wrist. "I would hope so, otherwise I would tell my Lady."

"Ser Casper doesn't like to see the doctors," Briar explained, eyeing the way she folded up the note. "He hasn't been to one since his mother took him regularly, although I'm sure he's killing himself."

"And you let him?"

He took the letter when she handed it to him, pocketing the pen hanging off the corner of the note. "I let him be Casper, son of Rosemary. I've served young Dukes before, he is no different from the worst of them. And you wouldn't know it."

Liebe stepped in front of him as he started to leave. He eyed her, but held his tongue.

"You do not take him to the doctor, let him sit in his study and.. do as he does, and you let that woman come see him?"

"Lady Margret, you mean? She is nothing but good for him."

She shook her head, opening the door behind her for the two of them. They stepped out into the courtyard, where her eyes flickered to the grand, arched gothic window of the study. The curtains had been drawn, perhaps Prim had gone to bed after all.

"My lady," Mende Briar said, gently gesturing her out of her position. "If you don't mind, I have to get this letter to the physician."

"Uh…huh. Very well," she said, eyeing the window again as she moved out of the way. She let Mende Briar pass, grabbing the corner of his sleeve before she released him. "Will you get me some starts for pansies, like the young Master asked of you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mende Briar said, going off as soon as he was allowed to.

Liebe sat out in the courtyard, flittering her fingers through the gentle waters of the fountain. It was covered in moss and algae, cracking and slightly leaking in the summer, but she had began to work on it. Prim never took any comfort in the other part of the garden beyond the soil, and Mende Briar was not hired until the garden's incident.

She bent over to the best of her ability, patching it with putty that Prim had in the storage unit under the back stairs. It didn't have to be pretty, just enough to stop the leaking and preserve this beautiful fountain. When it was hers, she wanted to have it refinished professionally, but for now she could only patch it.

As she stood up from her work, she heard a slight rustle behind her. Looking back, the door to the house was open.

"Casper?" She called, peeking over the side of the bushes. He was standing beside her, bracing all his strength against the wall of the stone fencing that let into the paved pathways. "You are supposed to be in bed, waiting for the physician to arrive."

"I'm not sleeping," Prim muttered, struggling to keep his balance as he pushed himself onto his feet. "You're in the garden, like I… like I asked you to be? You never listen to me."

"The sunshine is cooler today than last time I was out here. I wanted to fix the fountain." She wiped her forehead as she leaned back. "If your physician wasn't coming, I would have stripped to my under dress just for this craft. I know you don't care."

Prim didn't respond, instead of responding, he rested his head against the warm stone and looked to his left. Rose bushes and thorns were wriggled into the grooves of the fence like ivy. It was disgusting how little his mother cared for proper gardening that she could even allow it. He had no doubt she considered it gorgeous, perhaps thought he wasn't gardening at all. The men who came, who knows what they did with his lilies while he was away. He couldn't remember what he did after.

No… His brows furrowed as he remembered. Maggie was here, they had been discussing French wine and absinthe, some Spanish drink. They were drinking in the slow carriage on the smooth roads. The driver called her Lady, and they laughed as they pretended all they were drinking was a light drink to pass the time. The carriage hit a rock, and his eyes flickered up as they were just in view of his home estate…

In time with his memory, Prim's own eyes flicked to the roses. They widened as he saw the destruction in his mind, as if he were im two realities at once.

"Casper…" Liebe tried to soothe him. But Casper's wild eyes had already opened. When she put a hand to his shoulder, he grabbed her wrist as tight as he could, shoving her off.

"My mother tore up my garden," he whispered, climbing up to stand in-between the stone grooves of the fence. "My lilies… my pansies. My… garden…"

"Casper, get down!" Liebe yelled at him as she grabbed his ankle. "God forbid you break something and give the physician a reason to stay, you know!"

"I broke her vase," he muttered with a frown. "My… inheritance…"

"Casper…!" Liebe won her bout, and Prim looked behind him as he fell down into his pile of dirt he had been digging up a while ago. She crossed her arms, looking down at him. "What on earth is possessing you to do these kinds of things, Casper?"

"Mmmhm.." He leaned his head back, closing his eyes at the heat of the sun. Liebe let him stay there, powerless to move him on her own. He could hear her sighs and pacing around him, but he kept his eyes closed.

When he opened them, she was still there pacing. Of course she would be.

"Catharine," he rasped, wiping his forehead as he strained himself to get up.

"What?" She tapped her foot on the grass, pushing her hair back.

"Let me… do not let me… destroy the garden," he said, leaning on her. "I want to go to bed."

(Section 5) Heart;

 Lady Margaret sat daintily in her private carriage, driven by her trusted servant. Aristidis drove it well, had enough sense to slow the horses from a full trot to give a certain drama to her entrance. In her arms, she held a small kitten tied by her collar to a rope under her chair. The covers were down today, and she wanted the poor thing out of its cage, if not only for a little while.

"Lady," Aristidis called, pointing over the way. "Is that the mansion there?"

She looked up, not at the house, but at the treeline. As she relaxed in her carriage, she could see the trickle of sunlight through the leaves. The crest of the line was a bright mess of color, pierced through by one prominent dead tree. She clutched the creature to her chest, ignoring its mewling as she looked up at it.

"Of course, we have been in Lady Rosemary's gardens for all this time." She sighed, finally letting the kitten go to the ground. "It is awfully nostalgic, it almost pains me to come back."

"Ah bon? My mistake."

Lady Margaret finally leaned back as she saw the familiar greenery around the property's house. It was a pathetic thing in terms of how large the property was, but that seemed how Lady Rosemary operated. "Do you mind if I pass on something for you to remember, dear Aris?"

"Anything, Lady, I will listen," he said, drawing the horses to an even slower gait. When he was sure they wouldn't collide with any item in their path, he leaned back just so.

"I'll tell you this once to temper your expectations," she said as she leaned in as well. "My friend, this Prim, to whom you are to address as the young Master Casper… he is not himself. This place is evil to him, but he refuses to leave with me to France. The lady of the house, she is Catharine Lieve, and she is the average woman in your mind. She will be wary of me, but you pay her paranoia no mind."

"Is that all? Do we not have the same trouble at home and abroad wherever you go, Lady?" He chuckled to himself, ducking his head. "Forgive me, of course."

"No," she sighed, hiding a laugh of her own. "You are not wrong. But it is that other man—Prim's man. I want you to befriend for me. I have not had the pleasure of making his acquaintance, and, as I'm sure you know…"

Aristidis nodded, holding up a hand as he loosened the reins. "Do not worry. I understand completely."

"Well, they will be waiting for us," she said after a while, watching as the horses eased into the yard next to the path up to the house. "Well, for me most certainly. I did not tell them that I was bringing someone to stay as well."

"Aye, and a stranger," he grinned, watching the house. From the other entrance of the house, a man carrying a briefcase got into a carriage of his own. From his seat, he watched him leave the way they had just come. "Lady, do you know who that was?"

"I fear I don't," Lady Margaret answered, untying the kitten and placing it in a sizeable glass box. From inside it mewled in the darkness, peering up at her from the holes in the top. "You poor thing," she whispered, threading her nail through the small slits to poke the creature's nose. "It is only for a short while. Then you will be loved forever and onward."

"Lady Margaret," said Mende Briar, hurriedly trotting outside and bowing before her. "I am Briar Mende. I apologize, we were not expecting you so soon."

"Of course not, but a… small detail bid me come sooner. Prim is always happy to receive me, is he not?" She handed him the box. "Put this somewhere out of the sun, I will come for it momentarily." He held it, but the kitten inside twirled and yowled. She held it steady when he gasped, pushing it back into his arms.

"Lady, perhaps I should handle it," Aristidis offered, brushing past her with his hands behind his back. He eyed Mende Briar up and down, nodding when his eyes met the other man's. They were each suspicious of the other, that much he could tell.

"Nonsense." She clapped softly, her fur-trim gloves muffling the sound. "Where is Prim? I want to see him at once, we have so much to talk about."

"He cannot be seen as of now," Briar said, helping her up the staircase to the house. "He has just had a dosage of medicine, he is fast asleep."

"Is something the matter?"

Briar nodded. "A simple complication is all. He… just had a fall. It was nothing too serious that he couldn't heal from." When they were inside, he shut the door behind him. "You can visit him now, but he is fast asleep."

"And… Catharine? Is she in the house?"

"No, Miss Catharine is gone for the day, likely to Lady Rosemary if not back to her father's house. She does not know you're here." He lit a candle in the main hall, gesturing for Lady Margaret to rest. "As for Master Casper, he is upstairs. But I think it would be best to wait."

"You don't open the curtains?" Aristidis muttered to himself, poking at the dusty fabric. He rubbed it between his fingers, looking back for a moment to see if he was spotted. They were too absorbed in idle conversation to notice him, talking about this "Casper" and his condition. The man sounded miserable by the way they talked about him, so he could only imagine what kind of ties Lady Margaret had that kept her coming back to this house. The help was evasive, there was a woman of some kind, unmarried but seemingly employed here?

When he was sure he would not be missed, he took off his chauffeur cap and snuck up the stairs. The house was dark, but a doorway was open, shining the only natural light in the house. When he went in, the entirety of the room seemed to be made of a dark mahogany, polished and sealed over. Everything in here, unlike the rest of the house, was worn in and polished well. The giant window that he seemed to step closer and closer to was the centerpiece of the room, however. The glass panes were cut into shapes, just like stained glass, but were entirely clear. The scene was plain, one of doves reaching out to carry some sort of parchment across the sky, but the craftsmanship was remarkable.

He let his eyes fall back to the other side of the room. It was dark by design, almost suffocatingly so, but it must have been the perfect lair for work and reading. There really was nothing like it, even with the scuffs across the floor from the dragging of furniture.

On the left, he noticed a couch with a man on it. He was wrapped in blankets, his long, unkept hair messy from turning about in his sleep. Walking over to him, no doubt this was the young Master they spoke of.

Once he laid eyes on Prim, he decided to not take any more chances. Going out the way he came, he took the path that he could only think went to the back of the house. Instead, he landed in a grand library. Unlike the rest of the dark house, this one was lit and had blankets about the lounge like a bedroom. Books were taken in stacks, kept out of their places and tucked into a side table.

He didn't linger long here, either. A library was a library, and the habits of the inhabitants were none of his business as of now. But as he noted, this house layout was puzzling. It was built as if it needed to fold over on itself, packing as many rooms into the small place it fit into. He wanted to find stables for his horses, but it was proving much more difficult than he assumed.

"You're lost, sir?" Briar said from behind him, carrying a bundle of clothing in his arms.

"Somewhat… I apologize for finding myself in your private areas of your home," Aristidis admitted, instinctively bowing his head downward. "Your Master's home is very nice, if there is any repentance in my saying so."

"Well, I'll make sure he hears it. In the meantime, you may as well go and take care of whatever beast is in that box."

"It is an Archangel kitten, you know," Aristidis peered round the corner, eyeing an overturned box. "It seems to have taken care of itself. Perhaps it is with Lady."

"Lady…" Mende Briar set the clothes out neatly on the wide, dusty dining table. "You do not call her Lady Margaret?"

"I call her my Lady, of course. Why do you ask?" Running over to the corner, he caught the yowling creature in his arms. It flailed and thrashed, but it was no match for the strategic scruff pull.

"Never mind that, what is this?" He said, pinching the kitten's hind leg. "What kind of lady brings an animal…?"

"Lady Margaret breeds these cats in France from time to time with men that visit her Queen with their own. Her name is Lilith, and this one is one set aside to nurse for longer.

He is named… Moelleux, but the young Master is allowed to call him whatever he wishes."

"The… that.. that cat is to stay here?" He looked up at the Greek man, who smiled at his reaction.

"A cat is a wonderful pet, especially on property like this one. It can be let out and will come in the morning if you feed it inside." He pet little Moelleux, who purred as he kneaded his vest. "They are magical things, a hound must be housebroken, but these creatures will go to the dirt."

"Keep it out of our business," Briar said, eyeing the thing climbing onto Aristidis's shoulder. "The stables are that way, straight down the hall and out of the blue door that leads to the kitchen. The horses are out back already, but… I'm sure you know that."

"I don't understand what you're getting at."

"Of course you don't. Just know that I am happy to serve the both of you as guests." He eyed the cat. "And… your kitten will be received warmly, I would… hope."

(Section 6) Reprisal;

The effects of it, he was told them right before he took the medicine. It was a doctor for Catharine Lieve, not his mother's, not his own doctor. She believed in him wholeheartedly, and he was too weak to think.

He felt the cold press of something moist on his face, some kind of squeaking noise against the throb of his head. There was a sort of cursing. French words, he could tell, but he wouldn't dare open his eyes when he felt like this. If he closed his eyes, he would once again be asleep.

Catharine… Catharine… would help him, if he could only go back to sleep, she would be here.

"Moelleux," Aristidis hissed just slightly too loud, freezing at the hiss that came out of Prim's mouth.

The young master had been asleep all this time, why now did he wake? Especially when he was trespassing, lazily letting the kitten bound up the clunky, decorated staircase that was too tall for it. He knew he should have collected it at once and not let it climb, but…

"Briar," Prim whined, grabbing at his eyes like he was going to tear them out. The sound was one like a dying animal, something that garnered sympathetic pangs in Aristidis's own stomach.

Not wanting to get caught, Aristidis moved to put a pillow over his eyes, pulling the blankets back and unbuttoned the front of his thick sweater he wore in his sleep. He was sweating as if it were warm, but the fireplace had not been lit in his rest.

"Young Master," Aristidis said, lowering his voice like the more familiar servant. "Please, try to rest. Is it a headache? I will get you something."

Prim didn't respond, panting as he gripped the pillow to his face, writhing on the couch.

Aristidis managed to get him to quiet down, but he had no idea what was wrong with him to begin with. He could likely treat this himself, at least soothe him back into sleep if not, but he had no way to know.

Nor did he know his real name, no doubt. He looked to the side as Prim squirmed on the lounging couch. And that… servant of his was most definitely improper with him. Lady Margaret told him only once the name, so he had to make do.

"Master," he said tentatively, easing his legs down from kicking off the covers. "Are you… feeling any better?"

Prim whined again under his seeming illness. He writhed again, rolling over and bending upwards in the blankets. The pillow fell from his face, dotted with sweat from the strain of even moving this much.

Aristidis froze at the sight of it, and even more so when he spotted Moelleux pawing at the blankets again. This was foolish, he knew it, but all he could do now was keep caring for this sick man. "Listen," he said, grabbing the young master's shoulders to pull him over.

Before Prim could look at him properly, Aristidis adjusted the pin on whatever manner of wrap he had around his head. "You had a fall?"

"Yes," Prim uttered, motionless other than the slight trembling of his upper frame. Every breath he took seemed to rattle him, not to mention the cat beginning to knead in the warm bedding.

"You need to be in bed, do you have a bedroom?" He wiped sweat from the other man's eyes, pulling the bangs of his hair out from the wrap. "When you are there, I can give you some of my Lady's… some medicine."

Prim squinted at him, struggling to figure out who this masculine, curly haired man was.

"I apologize… please do not tell on me, if you even can," Aristidis hushed, pulling on Prim's wrist to have him stand against him. "My name is Aristidis Katsarakis, Dame Margaret's servant…"

"Maggie…" Prim said with a start, as if he had gained new life with one word. "Maggie is… here?"

"Yes, my Lady is resting from the trip, she came to see you. Your butler said you were ill, and I want to help you. Does he know you are this far gone?"

"Maggie," Prim whined, his legs catching up to how his head felt. He braced himself against his couch and this stranger, leaning politely on the foreign coat. "I want to see her soon," he laughed. "Is that… possible?"

Aristidis frowned. "Do you know where you are?"

"Maggie…" He wiped his mouth. "We are… in my study."

Hm. He tsked to himself, reaching inside his small satchel he carried. "I have this for now, I think this will help you," he said as he put a small container under Prim's nose.

Prim lurched back, covering his nose and mouth with a snarl. His eyes tried to blink away the light before staying closed against the cushion of the couch.

"Something is the matter with you if that did not do it… perhaps I should call for a doctor," he mused, clutching Prim's shoulders to keep him steady. "I am not entirely unfamiliar with this part of the region, I think I know of a man…"

"If only you could find the phone, then?" Maggie said from behind him. She startled both of them, but none more than Mende Briar, who stared daggers into Aristides's heart as he stomped his way up the stairs.

"My… lady," he said breathlessly. "Your kitten, he…"

"Do not apologize for caring for someone, Aris. You mean well, despite the circumstances."

"But, truly, I…"

"Tu sais bien que…" she began in French, something that made her servant frown and retreat down the way they came. Before Briar could follow or do anything about it, she clasped his hands in hers.

"Surely you do not let your Master of the house be treated like this. Fix it, else I will go to Rosemary myself." She lowered an eyebrow, pointing at Prim on the couch. "You should be ashamed of yourself, and I will make it my sole duty this month to see to it that you are."

"Y-Yes, my Lady," Briar said, taking Prim into his arms. "But…"

"Take him to his bedroom. This study is too dusty for him, and I want him in proper linens."

More to come Soon;