Sage fell asleep before calling for his Valet to undress him. When he woke, he thought it was morning. "No," he groaned with his head on the desk after someone heavily shoved him. "Stop waking me like that."
"I've told you before, I shout you and you don't hear me," a deep voice said close to his ear.
Sage wanted to roll over, until he realised that he was in a weird position, and his neck was sore. He groaned and lifted his head. Taro was leaning over him with those bright green eyes. "It's not morning, is it?" Sage asked, still half asleep. The light that basked them was moonlight from the alcove window. His room was darkly lit and confusing him.
"No, It's almost midnight though. You need to get ready for bed." Taro already had Sage's pyjamas hanging over one arm.
"Wait what happened to the plant?" Sage asked after a long yawn. "Don't tell me the cleaner snuck in and took it while I was sleeping here."
Taro followed Sage's finger to the empty corner on the desk. "I took it. Anyway, I thought those plants didn't like direct sunlight."
"Do you know much about Devil's Ivy?" Sage asked, ruffling his tight curls as he pulled his jumper over his head.
"It might not like being on your desk."
"It seems to prefer my bedside table," Sage mumbled.
"Maybe you should keep it there then, Sir."
Sage's hazel eyes trained on his Valet to see where his eyes darted when he undressed. Taro was very impolite. His eyes didn't shy away at all, and Sage felt wary enough to go behind his changing wall. "You know, a well-trained Valet is meant to divert their gaze when their employer is changing."
"Even if they enjoy the view?"
Sage froze with one leg in his pyjama bottoms. What a gay thing to say. He quickly pulled them up to his waist. Is he gay? What if he thinks I'm gay if I don't tell him off? Is this a trick? Am I being recorded? He sighed and slipped his arms through the deep red silk of his buttoned-down night shirt. Shut up Sage.
He knew he blushed when he stepped from behind the changing wall. Taro, with that faint smirk of his, leant against the wall, staring calmly at a painting above Sage's bed. The painting was some ancient greenery around a lake that had dried up fifty years ago. Sage didn't like it, but it was expensive and had no other home than above his poster bed, where he assumed it had been for almost a century.
"You can go to bed now," he said after buttoning up his own shirt. "You'll be pleased to hear that I'll be sleeping in. I'll ring for you when I'm awake. Oh, and make sure the plant returns to me before bed. I think I forgot to water it today."
"The plant was watered," Taro said as he peeled himself off the wall. "You should probably not forget again."
Sage gave him a look, which was turning into the look that told Taro his manners were slipping.
"Sir," Taro reluctantly added.
"I'll set my alarm right now, to be woken at 4 in the morning to water it. Lucky me." My night just gets better and better, he thought bitterly.
"And lucky plant," Taro muttered with a smirk before striding across the long room.
"Good night Mister Vinea."
"Sir." Taro bowed his head and left.
Sage was asleep before he heard the usual thud of someone putting the plant outside his bedroom door, so the plant was still sitting in the dark and cold corridor when Sage's alarm woke him four hours later.
"Oops," he murmured to himself and scooped up the plant. Trekking to the servant's kitchens at such an hour was far from appealing. Sage had already forgotten to water the plant the previous day, he couldn't give it water from his bathroom. Sage had promised to give it the best care.
He grabbed his dressing gown and tiptoed through the halls. He was very careful on the steep servant's stairs. Sage was more concerned about smashing the plant pot than hurting himself. He held it close to his chest, so he could watch his feet on the steps.
The hallways on the ground floor were cold. Sage stopped to tie the golden silk around the waist of his dressing gown. He didn't hear any talking in the kitchen, though the light was on, and he was glad he peered around the door before striding in.
Two maids and one servant sat comfortably by a hot fire. They were playing cards, smoking, and drinking what Sage could only assume was wine. He knew why they weren't in bed. His family had decided to stay in Radix Castle for the night, and as Sage was the only Royal in the building, the staff could relax, at least until more senior Royals returned.
The male servant noticed him first and his quiet chuckles died immediately. The maids turned to see why he had suddenly gone pale. They stood so fast that two chairs fell to the orange tiles. Everyone cringed at the loud clang. Osier's bedroom was only down the hall.
"Sorry," Sage whispered, "I'm only here to water my plant."
Before he stepped into the room, the male servant leaned back in his chair and murmured, "Careful, there's a step. Don't trip."
One of the maids covered her mouth, but a little too late. Sage already heard her laughing at his expense.
Sage had to make do with the papers and the paparazzi making him uncomfortable in public, but he'd be a fool to let it happen within the walls of his own home. He stepped into the room and put the plant on the counter. "Looks like expensive wine," he commented, then purposefully knocked into the metal grid that dangled pots and pans by their handles. All it took was an elbow from Sage and the largest pan fell.
The sound was spectacularly loud, and as Sage expected, a door opened down the hall. "Oh dear, sorry about that." He collected the pan and as he hung it back up, Osier burst into the kitchen, red in the face, wearing blue patterned pyjamas.
He was about to bow his head at Sage until he spotted the members of staff in the corner, up too late, smoking in a room that was forbidden, and drinking wine that didn't belong to them.
"Sorry to wake you, Osier," Sage said politely. "I'm just here to water my plant."
Osier face turned yet a deeper shade of red. "Your Royal Highness, forgive me, but-" The butler faced the staff. He was fit to burst, and burst he did. "What in God's name do you think you are doing!" He roared. "Clean up after yourselves, then go to bed at once! I want to see each of you in my office in three hours!"
Sage watered the plant and slipped in some plant food. Osier waited for him by the door and switched off the light. He also followed the Prince to the stairwell, just to bow his head deeply. "I apologise for shouting like that, Sir. Now I hope you'll go to bed. You need sleep too."
"I'll go straight there now. Good night Osier."
"Night, Your Royal Highness."
Sage slept roughly the rest of the night. He woke to rain hammering his window, and wind whistling against his old walls. He sat in bed for a while and drank coffee. He watered the plant and decided to have a long bath.
Sage did his best to relax. He expected not only his immediate family to be home later, but hungover family were likely to stay for dinner on their way home. Sage hoped they wouldn't stay long, but if they did, he hoped that they wouldn't demand too much of his time.
As his bath water turned from hot to warm, and his fingers wrinkled, Sage thought he could hear someone in his bedroom. "Oxley?" he called out. The rummaging stopped. Sage faced the closed door, expecting it to fly open, but it didn't. "Mister Vinea?"
"Yeah?"
Sage sighed with relief and sank into the tub. warm water reached his chin. "What are you doing?" He called out.
"...Returning your jeans with a new button."
"In future, return them when I'm not in the room, or return them when I summon you here."
The bathroom door opened, and Sage would've shot hands to cover himself if his water wasn't soapy enough to hide him already. "How can I do that when you've not yet summoned me, and you're already in your room?" a deep voice said from the door.
Sage sat up with a scowl. "A little privacy would be appreciated, Mister Vinea."
"Want a towel, or do Princes like to air dry?"
All Sage could do was cock a brow. He had never been spoken to with such... nonchalance. He admitted that the change was refreshing, but a little odd. Sage should have drilled etiquette into him until Taro didn't dare to set a foot out of line. Yet Sage let him get away with it. "A towel, please," he said blankly, maintaining a stern look in his tired hazel eyes.
Taro's smirk dropped slightly, and he strode through the room. He was dressed appropriately, in a white shirt, a dark green waistcoat, and a golden blazer with dark green trousers and black shoes. His shirt was tucked in and his blond hair was a little less messy than usual.
At the start of Taro's trial, if Sage had to describe him, he would've described Mister Vinea as tall and lanky and maybe even a little scruffy. Now he would describe him as tall and well-built with broad shoulders and great posture, with fairly muscular legs and pretty big feet, and also a pleasing face, a rather handsome one, with a cheeky smirk and bright green eyes that... were staring directly at Sage.
The prince quickly cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to his soapy water. Stop it. He silently grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist, ignoring Taro Vinea's intense eyes as they followed him across the room.
Sage disappeared behind his changing wall that blocked his view of the bathroom door. His cheeks were boiling, and his heart was thumping. All his Valet had to do was spread the fact that he caught Prince Sage checking him out, and Sage would be ruined.
"Sorry for staring," he said, unable to cope with the silence that followed. "I um, I was just admiring the fact that you had dressed appropriately. You're making an effort today."
A pale hand appeared with Sage's underwear and black trousers. "You can't blame your eyes for wandering," Taro said almost contently. "I am very good looking in this suit."
Sage scoffed and relaxed a little. He had never met anyone like Taro. His confidence was almost admirable, if it wasn't teetering on the edge of arrogance. "Very modest."
"What's the harm in admitting that you look good, Sir?" Taro, as usual, was leaning against the wall with Sage's clothes when the Prince stepped out from the changing wall, buttoning his trousers.
"There's nothing wrong with it."
"Then look in the mirror and say, I look good today," Taro said as he finished buttoning up Sage's clothes and attaching cufflinks to his wrists.
"I'm not doing that."
"Why not?"
Sage stared at himself in the mirror. His curls needed drying, he was close to needing a shave, and his appearance could've greatly profited from more sleep. "I- no I can't."
"Just do it." Taro sighed when Sage frowned at him in the mirror. "Sir."
"Why?" Sage asked a little sharper than intended. He pulled away from Taro, and away from the mirror. Non-formal conversations scared him. He never knew what real intensions were in those he barely knew, especially those who could earn a bit of money for recording him saying something that the papers would love to print. He could see it clearly, Prince Sage, the most arrogant of the Royals, loves to boast about his appearance.
"Fine," Taro said, not giving up. "I'll do it for you. Prince Sage, you look fucking hot in that waistcoat. There, now you can go on with your day knowing that. You're welcome."
Taro scooped up his pyjamas and left without a care in the world, leaving Sage standing in the middle of his bedroom, gawking again at his boldness, blushing, and nervously tugging at the bottom of his waistcoat.