It's very clear that I wasn't a theatre kid

He awoke blearily, the first thing greeting him was the sight of his bed's banister. He didn't try to sit up, the feel of a cool, almost ice cold gel on his neck kept him from making any sudden movements.

There was a touch to his hand. "My Lord." His eyes strained to look to the side, where Edmonde knelt next to the bed to his right.

He spoke in a soft tone, the candles were all out, and the only thing that lit up the room was a smoldering fire in his fireplace.

"We've interrogated the servant, he tried to give you poisoned milk at the last second, when it was clear to him you didn't swallow enough to suffer a fatal dosage. He was sent by the Gaspers."

He closed his eyes and thought through where he'd heard of them, but came up empty.

Edmonde, luckily, continued on, so likely they weren't a family he was expected to know right off the top of his head.

"One of their sons' eyes was caught by Myrna at Vaughan's ball. He'd looked into your family and concluded you'd never let his proposal pass from your hands to Myrna's, so he concocted a plan to kill you off, and then he'd be her knight in shining armor."

He meant to make a growl of frustration, but it came out as a pathetic whimper instead, damn his injured throat.

"It will be alright my Lord, the servant has been dealt with. The poison that had been used is quite common among the ladies of the King's court, a more cruel way to take out both the mother and their unborn child at the same time. Your throat will be quite damaged, but it should only last a week with proper care."

There was a pause, he took that moment to just breathe, and try his best to swallow. The gulp was much too loud for his taste.

Edmonde rushed up to grab what he presumed was a glass of water, he helped him sit up and drink, the water ice cold, and tasted incredibly bitter.

"Be calm, it's a water and Aloe mixture, thankfully the doctor had some on hand. He gave strict instructions not to sweeten it, as it would irritate your throat further."

He doubted that, but he drank anyway, unwilling to piss off his caretaker.

"The other servants and I…discussed it, and we believe it would be best for me to take over your meals, and any other food you consume, from now on."

He gave the barest hint of a nod, finding nothing wrong with it. It honestly benefited him more than Edmonde, considering if he ever got poisoned again, it was Edmonde's head.

He didn't want to admit it, but the water did soothe his throat, and he motioned for more, grimacing at the bitter taste, but the soothing cold of the water helped balance out the absolutely disgusting taste of raw aloe.

Edmonde also pulled out a package of finely grained powder. "And this is your pain medication, I was told not to put more than two teaspoons into your tea per day, for the rest of the week."

The unease he felt came back as he thought of how bitter medicine usually was, and the power wasn't something he could simply swallow and wash down with water.

And he doubted he could persuade Edmonde to sweeten this thing for him either.

"Wh..at.." He cleared his throat as much as he was able, "Ahem, What happened to Elias, and Myrna?"

"Elias stated that he would head back to the Cely estate, and report it to his brother that the middle class were getting brave, and Myrna has been confined to her room, on my order, due to her trying to kill the servant."

He paled, "She..tried to kill the servant?"

Edmond shook his head, "It is only natural, My Lord, that she'd be angry with him. If you died with no heir, and she was forced to marry into a middle class family such as the Gaspers, she'd be doomed."

Jude winced, half bitter that his existence determined someone else's and at the same time, was hated by said person.

"Not to mention, no one on our staff would be very happy, including me." He smiled ruefully, flashbacks to his Father's many drunken speeches flitting about in his head. "Ah, right, your payrolls.."

In a rare show of improper decorum, Edmonde pulled Jude's chin up to look at him. "Not at all, My Lord. If I may be so frank, you are perhaps the best master in the entire high class nobility. You give weekly wages, and allow the staff to stay on property. You don't waste money for no reason, and employ people straight from the source, rather than funding the capital mongrels further."

"Ahh." He was barely given time to gather face before the tea was shoved in his hands next, already done steeping.

"It's black tea, extra weak, we can't strain your throat. Unfortunately, we won't get a shipment of slippery elm until the runner I sent to the silk roads returns."

The previous thoughts flew out of his mind as he looked down at the tea in dread.

_-_

It was almost a week later, that he suffered a different kind of poison. He would be hosting the Cely family, at Lord Cely's behest.

When the missive was opened while he suffered through more aloe water at his desk, he groaned, a slightly clogged sound accompanying it.

"Oh, just kill me now." He threw the missive to the side hopelessly. Edmonde picked it up with not a smidgen of fear, reading through it calmly.

"It seems we'll have to acquire better accommodations. Your stepmother's own parents will be tagging along with Lord Cely, his younger brother, and their father."

His eyes bugged and he whipped around, ignoring Edmonde's stern look at his sudden movements.

"What?! Why!"

"Your sister." He deflated. "My sister."

"We have a days notice. Apparently they were already on their way before Lord Cely decided to have enough decency to send word ahead of time."

Jude raised an eyebrow. "Don't let them hear you talking like that."

"Of course not, My Lord. A humble servant like me would never even think of it."

The joke made him feel a smidgen better, but not by much. "Ahh, we've got to buy biscuits on short notice, and tea. What's the Cely family's signature tea? I forgot.."

"Rose…very predictable, if you ask me, almost as predictable as the royal family making their signature tea earl gray."

"Should we serve our signature then?"

Edmonde shook his head. "It'd be a faux pass. While the lily of the valley tea is highly beneficial, it is for a broad spectrum of prevention of serious health problems, and is often prescribed for heart pains, as well as gut complications."

He winced, hardly willing to imagine giving that tea to a high family like the Cely's. But then again, there was nothing like subtly telling them they have constipation to get the conversation rolling.

"Rose tea it is. And macarons..cakes.." He rubbed a hand over his face. "There goes the budget for the summer gazebo."

"Be calm My Lord..hopefully they won't be too high maintenance."

Edmonde should eat his words, because a day later, they showed that, the Celys and the Marcys were in fact that high maintenance.

A separate carriage for each person, two horses per carriage. He shook his head in disbelief from the foyer window.

"Is it too late to say I'm too ill to attend?" A pat to his back. "I'm sure we can squeeze in a sudden cough attack followed by a fainting."

"Comforting."

They dressed him the nines, considering he was the host, no one was allowed to dress better than him, even if he was many stations lower than the Celys.

Edmonde suggested they..play up his injuries a tad. Applying light rouge around his eyes and the corners of his mouth to show stress of his skin, and lack of sleep, from coughing. They also heavily bandaged his neck, and slathered the bandages in the Aloe mixture to give off the sickly smell.

Edmonde corrected his sitting position, insisting on a few 'finishing touches' to complete the look.

"For once, we want you to look weaker in the eyes of the predator, considering this predator might just turn on our attackers instead of us, should we garner enough pity."

"Your words do so invite confidence." "I try, My Lord."

He instructed him to slump a tad, but make it look strained, like he was trying his best to stay upright, and to droop his eyes, like he was incredibly exhausted.

"Slur your words a tad as well, and lower your voice like it is incredibly taxing to speak."

"You are very conniving, has anyone ever told you that?"

Edmonde's head turned towards the door. "They are coming, My Lord. Get into position, remember, I shall be behind you the entire time."

Edmonde's actions spoke more of a worried, hovering parent than his right hand, but, he supposed, it was better in this situation. Hopefully the Celys would take care of the Gaspers if his acting was good enough.

He perked up before remembering he was supposed to look like a broken doll.

Not a moment too soon, The Celys walked through the door.

"The Celys, the Marcys, and Lady Myrna, My Lord." He nodded at the escort before making sure his hand shook as he waved him away.

He was given a brief time to observe his sister's family.

Lord Cely, elegant as always, and the brighter splotch under his left ear, now that he could see it clearly, was vitiligo. It seems he got it from his Father, who was a taller, darker, and wilder haired version of him.

A red lion's mane, dark eyes, and lighter color splotches speckling his face and neck. He was somehow so handsome he wore it well, his head upturned to make it look like he was looking down on everyone else.

Elias was close behind, followed by two people who looked much like Myrna, along with herself.

Dark skinned, dark haired, and well oiled, wild curls that fell elegantly. The woman was clearly a future version of Myrna herself, taking in their resemblance, even down to their chins, but she had the grandfather's long nose.

They all looked like a good, strong family together. For once, Myrna was smiling.

He cast his eyes downwards. He knew he wasn't her real brother…but it still made him feel guilty, remembering that he hadn't even made her smile once, maybe lift her spirits a bit, but never smile, never laugh like she seemed to do with her grandparents.

It made shame curl inside him, he was once a little boy who held the same hatred she did for Jude himself. Blaming him for why he himself had to suffer in poverty, and with an abusive father.

He waited for them all to settle themselves on the plush couches opposite of his chair, Myrna herself being between her grandparents, before he spoke.

"A-apologies for the poor ac-accommodations…" He wheezed like it was hard to breathe, before he opened his mouth to speak again, pairing it with trying to get up to greet them properly and serve them."

But Lord Cely--his father, held up a hand and shook his head. "Stop right there, we're in your home, and you are no servant." He accompanied that statement with a glare at his youngest son."

Elias looked to the side bashfully, and did a seated bow, "Yes, sorry for burdening you, it was because of me being a distraction your servants were so easily infiltrated by an assassin."

He made a show of clutching his throat and grimacing, closing his eyes as if in extreme pain. He pulled a hand back to tap at Edmonde, who took over.

"No need for the apologies, Sir…Elias..ahem, it was merely by luck that the foolish servant happened to pair that poison with Jasmine, which is a very fragrant irritant, when combined with something as corrosive as that poison."

He acted as if he was struggling to keep himself sat up, letting his hair become slightly disheveled in his struggle.

"I can assure you, my Lord and Master will be better soon."

Elias set his face into one of disbelief, as he looked at Jude himself, he probably looked as though he'd been trampled by a horse.

"I…see..that's glad to hear then."

The Father shook his head, sighing. "We've forgotten our manners, let me properly introduce these two troublemakers, they've given you enough grief already."

The grunted protest of "Father!" From Lord Cely and Elias' bowed head was telling enough on how bad off they thought Jude actually was, gratifying Jude if slightly.

The man stood up, "Salathiell Powell Cely, at your service." He did a slight bow with the statement, and then yanked Lord Cely himself up by his collar, to do a deeper, more respectful bow.

"And this disrespectful son of mine is Ezekiel Salathiell Cely, my firstborn and current acting Lord and heir to the Cely Lordship." His last son was given a mere glare before he stood ramrod straight from his seat in record time before bowing the deepest.

"And my youngest, and even more foolish and fussy son, Elias Powell Cely, the spare of the Cely Lordship."

Edmonde helped him stand up, keeping a hold of his arm as he bowed back in respect, to what was clearly the only noble with a good head on his shoulders.

"Presenting My Lord, Jude Josias Nazereth Harper, the last in line of the Harper Lordship."

They all sat back down, Jude was barely given time to redirect his acting to sitting 'painfully' again, before he was pulled back into conversation.

"As it is Cely's own fault that you are suffering, it is only right to give you aid in these times."

"T.there's really no need to—" Salathiell waved him off, "Nonsense, but with all due respect to how you manage your home, you won't be able to get your affairs back in order from your sick bed, trust me, I have tried."

"Therefore, I will have my own eldest take responsibility for his lack of management of his younger brother, and help you until you are well again, and Elias will aid you in your preparations for the annual spring hunt while you recover quickly. The entire nobility circle has heard of your acceptance of the Vaughan heir's invitation."

The older man shook his head, "Should the prince hear that his friend could not attend with a partner because said partner was practically sabotaged by botht the Celys and the Gaspers…I dare not imagine such a scenario."

These people really were…so dramatic.

"We accept, Sir." Edmonde spoke before he could even decline. Salathiell nodded, "Good, and my final act of kindness, we will take in your younger sister until the house has been cleaned, seeing as how she is our distant kin."

He paused, a part of him wanted to say, 'Hell no, fuck off, go back home.'

Myrna looked at him hopefully from in between her grandparents, he couldn't stand the way her grandmother clutched at her arm, or the way her grandfather had an arm around them both, looked at him pleadingly.

He cast his eyes down, and nodded.

"If that is all, honored guests, My Lord needs his rest. As you can see, he is drooping."

He tuned out all the other niceties as Edmonde 'helped' him get back to his room.

_-_

"You look stressed, my Lord."

Jude could only gesture wildly at the air while he struggled to get the bandages from around his neck.

"Stressed? Stressed?! I'm trapped! I'll have the two most annoying pests in my house for the foreseeable future until it's acceptable for me to be 'well again'."

He finger quoted the two words, and rolled his eyes.

"Not to mention, they have my sister, my one and only sister in their household now, who knows what may happen!"

Not to mention she was the start of his future bloodline. Should anything happen to her, would he cease to exist?

He brushed away the thought, he'd have that existential crisis another time.

"Elias is easy enough to deal with, throw a few words his way and he'll leave me well enough alone until dinner, but Lord Cely.."

His lip curled, he couldn't even stand to say the troublesome man's name. It was probably mutual, considering the absolute hateful words the man spent energy to write in every letter to poor Jude, who had just been trying to get his brother out of his house!

"This is it. I'd rather die than deal with the two. Or maybe I should run away.." He paused and turned to look at Edmonde, whose face was delicately twisted into mild exasperation.

"Right. Time for those riding lessons. No—wait, nevermind, you can come with me."

"My Lord, pardon my overstep, but this one does believe you are being a tad bit dramatic."

His jaw dropped, lost for words, he waved an indignant finger at Edmonde, "You…dramatic!" He scoffed, and tore off his shirt next, trying his best to get out of the flowy cotton before he suffocated.

"Dramatic! Absurd! You haven't seen anything dramatic yet- I can still flip a table!"

Edmonde shook his head and helped him escape the hot death trap that were his formal clothes.

"Calm down, My Lord. It will be over soon, and then they both will be out of your home, and Myrna will be back shortly after."

"..No." He momentarily stopped struggling, his face twisting. "Let her stay as long as she wants. It's the least I can do for her after…everything."

He rubbed his wrist absentmindedly, thumb feeling along the raised scar.

Edmonde nodded his head towards the window, clearing his throat.

"My Lord, the dusk is coming, we should get ready for dinner." He nodded, "Right, hand me a more breathable shirt. I'm not taking dinner with those two, lest I make them suffer more of my terrible acting."

That, and he was tired of wracking his brain for more proper old English grammar.