As far back as he could remember, Jonathan had always lived in the court of Casimir I. His earliest memory was of a dumpy, cabbage smelling wetnurse (obviously she was a wetnurse)wheezing as he played with dolls of wood and rags. Well, before that the memory of soft white and rose and a singing woman's voice, surely his birth mother.
After a succession of interchangeable dumpy nursemaids, he eventually found himself working in the stables. Then the kitchen, that was after the midden? He stumbled upward through the castle jobs over the years, until at 17, he was a valet to the Royal Huntsman or the King. Maybe both, seemed the case more often than not.But Lord Quick occasionally brought him along outside the castle walls.
When they were young, the serving children recounted the sad story of the Lord Hunstman. They even reenacted it. Morbid, the poor serfs of His Majesty's household. Unfortunately for the orphan, Lord Avery Quick, the Man in Black, personal assassin of King Casimir I displayed no paternal affection. But he remembered the valets' names, unlike the King who knew them all as "boy" or *disapproving grunting sound*.
Now approaching his 20th year, Johnny had a small private chamber in the royal wing which he shared with a mute named Rulf. Rulf came from Queen Carmina's finishing school for the gentry. Many matriculated tongue-less. Seen not heard,
But Johnny had his tongue and did well to keep it still in the presence of cruel courtesans and nobility of the royal house. He had a private room, always quiet (obviously), and ate the same food as prepared for His Majesty's own table. Life could be much worse.
Their mornings began well before dawn. The Night watchman woke the young men with a clamoring little cowbell. Dressed in their crisp, laundered livery- navy and gold- Rulf took to the scullery stairs and Johnny crept into royal washroom and prepared the oh so fucking highness's bath.
At sunrise, they were to stand in the kings private salon until Casimir emerged. Sometimes the Lord Huntsman slipped silently from the King's sleeping chamber first. After nearly a century, they didn't bother hiding it. Everyone in the royal palace knew exactly what everyone else was doing, the whole point of court was to pretend you had better secrets than your friends
Our young squires attended to their sovereign in whatever capacity he ignored them for. Plenty of free time to cat about the castle.
There were other valets of course, but we aren't interested in them.
Casimir did have one requirement of them: once a moon, they entered the small antechamber in the king's quarters. Only Casimir kept the key. Within, nothing but an ornate wall mirror. Spanning the wall from floor to cieling, mounted in a dark wood frame, carved with leering demonic faces, serpents: a depiction of the souls writhing, entangled in hell. The king would cover the black surface of the looking glass, and stripped to their underclothes, all three cleaned the mirror in utter silence.
The strange, alchemical solution received the blood of a dove, and from the King's slashed palm. Everyone knew the mirror existed, less than a handful had ever seen it. John dreaded the moon dark for that reason. It was as if the mirror drank the bloody mess as they slathered the damn thing with it.
The were, after all, in the court of the last Unseelie King.
Of the evening, super was brought to His Majesty in a small, covered serving tray. John was not permitted to open the lid. No servant was to enter the kings chamber after dinner was served.
But this night, Johnny was asked to relieve their superior of his nightly duties. He slid open the covering of the servants spying hole. Peering through, he saw on the kings tray, a fat, white snake. Coiled as if sleeping. Casimir took up his knife, a crude thing carved from bone-white stone, and cut into the serpent. Spearing the beast with a fork he removed a morsel and ate it. Lord Quick's bright eyes flickered up to the door, boring into the boy.
-"Enter," the huntsman drawled. Lit by the roaring fire, shadows undulated through the room. Quick didn't take his eyes, shouldering in the gloom from the young valet, as he fixed the cover back over the serpent. . King seemed to be in a stupor, staring placidly ahead without blinking.
Johnny made an awkward motion to take the platter and goblets.
"You weren't meant to see this, Master Jonathan."
"Sir, I'm not sure I understand your complaint,"
"It's not a complaint boy, it's a statement. As you can see your king is not in his usual demeanor and you will not repeat what you've seen.... Now, that was a command."
"Yes, sir. Forgive me,sir" Not my tongue, please.
The darkly handsome hunter gestured to the serving platter, "do you know what it is? No, well that's a pity. It's the White Snake"
The legendary White Beasts, they came, one of each species into the world of men when the worlds' boundaries were open. Legends said that if one caught a White Beast, it would grant you its favor: a powerful skill or piece of knowledge.
"You can hear it, can't you?" Casimir turned his head slowly to look at the boy, a feral grin spreading. "Oh, of course you can hear it." He chuckled, "Well?!"
"Yes, Your Majesty," he acquiesced, "though what is it?" He did feel something, a think, rippling sensation like sinking into a warm bath. A feminine voice humming,
"Faerie blood. Those with faerie blood can sense magic in ways mortals cannot," the King stood, a full head taller than the young man. His hand snatched the servant's face and turned it this way and that.
This was a more intimate exchange than Casimir had ever shown, and the king was known to thrust the hand of one who displeased him over a candle flame. The cold eyes narrowed and Johnny was released from the royal grasp.
"I forgot about you." And turning on his head, the king disappeared into the mirror room. I hope you keep forgetting your disdainfulness. What the fuck was that?
Beneath the hunter's supervision, Johnny finished clearing the table and made to leave, conscious of the eyes on his back.
"Master Jonathan?" He halted, looked behind him.
"I know you won't be repeating anything you saw in this room to anyone, not even the mute. Do you understand? Not a warning, it is fact. You've seen him murder men for less. I was inclined to murder you for seeing it. You understand?"
"Yes, my lord."
In the back stairs, the valet paused to cut a piece from the snake. He'd been growing increasingly euphoric in the serpent's presence. The distant humming drawing nearer mmmmmeatmmmm
Eeeeeaaaaattttt.
Eeeeeeaaattttt.
He hesitated, it was beautiful in an unearthly way. You came from the faerie land, he mused as he dreamily looked upon the coiled creature, white and shimmering like snow in moonlight. Johnny sank to the ground and began petting the (dead?) snake as if it were a dog.
Ffffffrrrrriiiiieeeennnndddd
"Yes! Friend!"
Ttttttaaaakkkkkeeee! Eeeeeeaaaaatttttt!
He felt the serpent's pain as he cut into it with his own little knife. "Sorry, friend," and he was sorry. Poor thing, stuck feeding that mean man for eternity, or however long he lasted.
Eventually he gathered his wits enough to collect the tray and return it to the kitchen. The whisper of the snake calling him to eat.
As soon as he returned to his chamber, aglow with the warm, honey like embrace of the White Snake, Johnny shoved the morsel of flesh into his mouth.
Like sweet mead....