Asher heaved out a heavy sigh as he placed an ornate fork on the counter in front of him and leaned back on his stool. He'd been polishing utensils for nearly an hour and was only just over halfway finished. He was typically stuck with tedious tasks like polishing, washing, and cleaning. He glanced across the kitchen at the men cooking and baking, friendly chatter mixing with the sounds of meal preparation. Cooking was something Asher liked to do, something he was good at. It was also what he thought he had signed up to do when he said he wanted to work in the kitchen, but apparently scullions were in higher demand than cooks. There were only two others aside from him, David, the chief scullion, and Spencer, an arrogant prick. Asher shook his head a bit and picked up another dirty fork. "Goddamn taxes paying for this fancy silverware," he grumbled to himself as he resumed his polishing. "Talkin' to yourself again, kid?" The voice grated on his nerves. Asher turned his head to glare at Spencer, who had walked up behind him carrying a bucket. "What've you got to complain about when you always get the easy jobs?" He was right, but Asher wasn't going to tell him that. Instead, he turned back to his work with a "Go away, Spencer." Recently, the guy wouldn't stop bothering him. He thought he was entitled to picking on whoever he wanted because his dad was a member of the nobility, and Asher was his new favorite target. Spencer scoffed at the dismissal. "I bet you couldn't handle half the shit I do." He knew Asher wouldn't back down from a challenge. Asher took the bait, immediately whipping back around to glare at Spencer once again. "I could do your work blindfolded," he spat out without thinking. "Interesting wager," Spencer replied with a laugh, "but how's about we see if you can dump out this dishwater first." He shifted the large bucket in his arms, a bit of soapy water sloshing out the side. Asher pulled his leg out of the way as the water hit the ground, then stood up from his stool. "Easy." He waved his fork and rag before setting them on the counter. "But you have to finish polishing." "Easy," Spencer echoed with a smug grin. "Catch." Asher fumbled to get a solid grip on the bucket when Spencer shoved it into his arms, and nearly dropped it right there. It was heavier than he expected, and his fingers were already tired from rubbing at utensils, but Asher got a decent hold on the bucket and cast one last glare at Spencer before leaving the kitchen. Asher had never been very strong. The muscle he did have was from carrying supplies for his mother and helping his father chop firewood. He was thankful he didn't have to carry it very far, just through a corridor and then outside. Asher was focusing on not dropping the bucket so much that he hardly noticed footsteps coming down the corridor.

Bas had been sitting in a meeting for what felt like hours. Most of it he had been day dreaming, his eyes involuntarily shifting from one person to the next and they had their turn to speak, contradict, and debate various matters of business within the kingdom. Raise taxes, lower taxes, road taxes, exports, imports, you name it and these men talked about it. It was quiet early on that Sebastian had tuned out and instead gave the other members different animal noises. They made quiet the farmyard of animals. The cow, the horse, the chicken, the duck, and the pig. Bas began to smile as his personal fantasy gave way to angry 'moo's' and irritated clucks. The counsel members caused the young prince's mind to wondered further away from the discussing topics. His eyes were seeing men, but his mind was seeing a farm yard with an improvement on the stench of course. "Your Highness?" The cow had mooed at him, as Bas's eye could only stare. They counsel member repeated himself. This drew the attention of the others and before he knew it, all their eyes were on him. "Ah, yes. The tax issue that has been debated over the course of this weeks meetings. It seems to me that with the increase in taxes the lower class starve, making my father and mother look like selfish monarchs. If that what you want of your King? From him to be overthrown." Sebastian began and stood from the table. "Nobles don't live when hungry people rebel" He added looking over his shoulder at the table and started towards the door. As Bas walked down the corridor he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his coat. This was a servant hall, and thus should be empty at this time. It turns out he was wrong. However, he realized this too late as he rounded a corner and collided with a servant. Before he new, the young prince was soaked from chest down in something slimy and wet. "What in God's name!" He began opening his eyes as the bucket bounced off the stone floor and rolled in a semi-circle near by. His eyes flared up, like pits of ice, ready to freeze on contact. However, instead of seeing the servant that was to be expected, Spencer, it was a smaller boy, what was this one's name. "You have 10 seconds, talk." Bas stated, this young man was clearly not built enough to have handled the bucket, and yet had tried. Had this had been anyone else he might have punished them immediately, but this servant was different and something had made him take the bucket.

Asher let out a yelp of surprise when he collided with someone rounding the corner, effectively drenching the both of them in dishwater. All he could do for a moment was watch in shock as the bucket rolled away. He said a quiet string of curses under his breath, most of them directed at the man who had gotten him into this situation in the first place. Spencer would never let him hear the end of this. He let out an irritated huff of air at the thought and began rubbing his sore fingers as he turned his head to look at the unlucky person he'd run into. If it was David, he'd be better off dead. His eyes widenned and his breath caught in his throat when Asher recognized the man standing before him as the prince. That was far worse than anyone he'd expected to run into in a servant hall. When ordered to speak, he started without thinking. "Spencer's been pickin' on me for weeks and callin' me weak and I wanted to punch him in the face, I really did, but I ended up carryin' that bucket instead and I would've been able to handle it, maybe if these halls weren't so damn narrow-" He stopped himself when he realized he had gone to muttering again. He had been gesticulating nervously during his rant, but now his hands were shoved in his pockets, eyes cast down as he watched the water drip off their clothes and onto the stone floor. "I can't lose this job," he said more to himself than the prince. "My family, I just..." He trailed off with a small groan. Surely he was done for. He'd spilt filthy water on the prince, of all people. He'd be kicked out of the castle by the day's end.

Bas could feel the water run in droplets down his chest, clothing, and end in a slap on the floor. He listened to the boys rant, observing every movement and gesture presented to him. The servant was in such distort, and angry at Spencer. Bas could understand why. It wasn't often that kitchen staff names stuck in Bas's head. Spencer was of noble blood, although no other noble wanted him and so his father had thrown he into the kitchen to see it straighten him up. With the features of this boy it did not surprise Bas that Spencer would pick on him, and the prince let out a sigh of irritation and rubbed his temple. At least no one was here to see him in this scenario. The prince's eyes came directly to meet the boys. His own looking more like waves crashing, and swirling into rapid whirlpools around the black of his pupil. This boy had more then his own issues to worry about. He shouldered a greater burden. Of course he did, he was a peasant. A small string of words came back to the prince as he stared silently at the boy. The pig and the duck, who had argued over the living conditions of the lower class, although they had never been and would not comply to the prince gaining this knowledge first hand. "Take your bucket, boy." Bas said throwing his head in the direction of the runaway water bucket. "And get back to work, before the taxes rise" He added calmly finally turning his gaze away from this servant to look around for anyone else. That would be the last thing he needed, to be seen covered in smelly dirty water. New clothes ruined, not that he cared. With the coast clear of stray servants and guards the prince made his leave as if the boy did not exist and made it through the castle and to his bedroom.

Relief filled Asher's chest at the prince's words. He hurried over to where the bucket had fallen as carefully as he could, not wanting to slip and make an even bigger fool of himself than he already had. The hall would have to be mopped as soon as possible to avoid any more accidents, and Asher knew Spencer wasn't going to be the one doing it. He ran a hand through his hair to get his wet bangs out of his eyes and picked up the bucket. The lightness of it now almost seemed to mock him. Steps heavy with dread and water, Asher made his way back to the kitchen. He was expecting Spencer's howling laughter to punctuate his entrance, but the man was nowhere no be seen. Asher's relief was short lived as David's voice sounded from behind him. "Asher, you're soaked! What happened?" David's tone belonged to a worried yet disappointed mother. Asher turned around to face him, shoulders slumped in defeat. "I was on my way to dump out the dishwater, but I ran into someone in the hall." He chose not to mention who it was he had run into, knowing David's reaction wouldn't be very pleasant. David raised his eyebrows, a bit of anger sparking behind his glasses. "I told Spencer to take care of that. Did he make you do it for him?" His voice was controlled, but Asher knew if he told David that Spencer had made him do it, he'd be giving him the most disgusting jobs he could think of. David was as tired of Spencer's arrogance and lack of respect as everyone else. Asher wouldn't lie though. Bad karma wasn't something he could afford at the time. So he told David about the bet, and about running into the prince. "You did apologize, right? Asher, please tell me you at least remembered you manners." All Asher could do was shake his head. David let out an exasperated sigh and took the bucket from Asher's hands. "Don't you understand these things reflect poorly on me? Go change your clothes and properly apologize to the prince. I'll take care of the hall." David started to walk off, but Asher grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and met his eyes pleadingly. "You won't tell Spencer, will you?" David uttered a few words of agreement before shooing Asher out of the kitchen. He got himself a dry set of clothes and put the drenched ones out to dry before making his way to the the prince's room. He'd had to ask a maid the way, and hesitated once he reached the door she had described. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the wood and took a a step back.

Opening his own bedroom door and closing it behind him was the most relieving action Bas had done all day, and he thanked the gods that no one had seen him enter, or in the hall for that matter. 'An ignorant slave dumped the days dish water down me' He imagined himself saying to a passerby in his mind. But that wasn't him. Bas's voice betrayed his mind most days, and he didn't want that for the servant boy. Bas crossed his room stripping away the dropping clothing and tossing it to the floor before standing in his bathroom doorway. most of the rooms walls were encased in curtains. All minus one which held the family banner. A spear that flowed and split into vines that weaved to all edges of the cloth. The symbol of growth for the people through the power of the royals. Bas laughed staring at the banner and slipped into his evening bath. The bath was most like a hole that encompassed the floor, walking in there was steps down to enter and a pathway around for chamber maids to serve him. However, he n ever used them. This was to only time he could be himself, locked away like a child on time out. He splashed himself, rubbing smooth water over his body. The chamber maid had done an excellent job scenting the water with that of lemongrass and sage and soon the rotting water mixed in with the pure water of the bath. The water, now considered dirty, still called out to the child is Sebastian and he spun and fell backwards. Letting the water consume his body he lay at the bottom and stared up through the water. Watching the ceiling ripple and sway, distorted by the liquid that glazed his eyes. "BAHHH!!" He shouted as he sprung from the water and laughed at his own being. "I should switch that boy and Spencer, give that bulk what he deserves. Such a big head with nothing in it, even for someone of nobility. Although that boy." Bas said to himself as he slid into his night clothes and tied up his robe. "He seems to take on challenges quiet easily, hmm" He added, voicing thoughts as he made his way to the bed. Laying in bed he let his mind take him back to the farmyard counsel meeting. Of course he had never been to a farm, so the setting in his mind off, however the animals yelling at each still sparked amusement. With the farm animals yelling at one another his dreams started to pull him towards sleep. He did not desire supper, nor the company of anymore people. His wish of dreams was denied by a knock to the door. He wanted to deny it and drift away, but knowing he couldn't lifted himself from his bed and slipped himself into a red jacket and pants. He left the jacket undone and pants loosely tied. Certainly this couldn't be a political matter, as a lazy look would due. He opened the door and once again was surprised to see the water boy from earlier standing in his doorway. "You.." He started with a curious tone, then gave a quick glaze down to hall both ways. "Get in before someone sees you and wonders why you, of all people are here." He finished, not giving the boy much time to answer never mind obey. He grabbed the boys sleeve and yanked him through the doorway and closed it. Here he stood, half dressed, with a servant stumbling into his chamber, no thanks to him of course. He started to tuck and adjust the clothing he had thrown on, this was just a servant. However, servants gossiped enough without throwing his night dressage into it.

Asher let out a confused noise of protest as he was yanked into the room. He pulled his sleeve back up on his shoulder as the prince shut the door, then looked around with wide, curious eyes. It was undebateably the nicest room he had ever been inside. Ornate forks were nothing compared to the furnishings of the prince's chamber. As awed as he was, it also made Asher a bit angry that while the nobility surrounded themselves with luxuries, his family and many others struggled to get even the most rudimentary of supplies. But he hadn't come to debate politics, he had cone to apologize. Asher turned to face the prince, eyes fixed on the floor by their feet, which was considerably more dry than it had been during their first meeting. He tried to remember what David had told him about manners when addressing nobility, and he vaguely recalled bowing his head to be a sign of respect, or something like that. He hated having to present himself as a lower being, as if being two castes below someone made him inhuman. It was humiliating, but while living with his parents, Asher had seen people killed for not behaving "properly" around those of a higher class. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, derailing that train of thought. "Forgive me if this is bad timing," Asher spoke, trying to keep all hostility out of his tone, "but I came to apologize for earlier. I should've been paying more attention. I'm very sorry, Your Highness." The words felt like poison on his tongue. He glanced up briefly through his bangs and felt his cheeks burn hotter at the sight of the prince. He really was as handsome as the other servants said, and Asher felt completely inferior, standing before him with disheveled hair and clothes that never fit quite right. He lowered his gaze once more, fingernails digging harder into the the flesh of his hand.

Finishing with his tucking and pulling and trying to keep his wet hair from his face his iced eyes looked back towards the boy. He wore the same look as most of the servants that see his chamber for the first time. His gaze briefly met the floor. This wasn't what he wanted lower class to think of when they saw him, but it was. A prim, well dressed Prince. One that held himself over everyone, and that wasn't who he was. Not on the inside. He swiftly caught himself as the servant turned towards him, and straightened up into a more respectable manner. The mask he slid on was the same emotionless look that had been forced onto him by his father. However, it was starting to crack listening to words of the servant. This man was disgusted by just looking at him. Little by little pieces of his imaginary mask broke and and fell to the floor. He wanted to scream at himself, as well as the servant. It was the hands. It must have been the hands that finally broke him. Pushing his hair over his head towards the back in a sleek style, only held by the water that hadn't dried yet he walked over to the servant maybe a little too closely. He wanted the boy to stop even though he had already finished. "Stop, please.." Bas started, not quiet sure how he was going to continue he sentence. He just couldn't take this anymore. "Stop with the manners, and the highness, and everything. I am just......human" He finished to put it simply. Although his words were simple his tone wasn't. He struggled to keep composure and quickly broke under the stress of his words, looking down at the servant with sad eyes. The seeming to melt away in them before he realized how close he really was, and backed away trying to find his princely manners.

Startled by the prince's first words, Asher lifted his gaze and unclenched his fist. Had his apology been that bad? His face displayed a mixture of confusion and hostility as he wondered what he had done wrong. It quickly deteriorated as the prince continued speaking, though he was still quite confused. He hadn't spoken to many of the nobles during his stay, but those he had talked to never displayed such raw emotion. His apology had somehow caused the prince to crumble before him, and he almost felt bad for taking some pride in that. It wasn't until he met the prince's eyes that Asher understood. There was a deep sadness in those pools of blue, a sadness that Asher wanted to fully understand, though he wasn't sure why. This small display had gone against everything he had originally thought of royals. He had believed they were all boundlessly confident and arrogant, but his words had been the opposite. It crossed Asher's mind that he may be lying, but the prince had looked too vulnerable for that to be the case. One thing he was sure of was that he wanted to know just what the prince was thinking. So, when he took a step back, Asher dared to step forward. "Why haven't you shouted at me or scolded me?" His voice was tenative at first, but he soon began to speak without thinking. "I drenched you in dishwater and disturbed you at an inconvenient time, yet you haven't been rude to me at all. You're supposed to get irritated with me, threaten to throw me back out on the streets, curse at me, something. We may both be human, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm a servant and you're supposed to think of me as no more than a tool. So why don't you? What's so different about you?" Again, his rant had faded into mumbling, the last question said more to himself than the man in front of him. There was an intensity in Asher's eyes, fueled by curiousity and frustration, and he focused them on the prince.

Bas's eyes shifted sideways to the corner. "I.... I never asked for any of it. I didn't want to be prince. The bowing, the kneeling. Having people dress me and treat me better for acting like I am. Blood means nothing." He said, getting into a rant of his own. He had gone over this at least a million times in his head. This was the reason. He had never told anyone, but it was the reason why he had the mask in the first place. His whirlpool blue eyes slowly made their way back to the servant, and the prince let someone finally see him. This servant of all people, was the first to see him in years, and he had dared to move closer to the prince, causing him to angle his neck more acute. His cheeks slowly began to flush. Bas retreated to his bed sitting on the edge. "If I were you I would have dumped water on me too, so how can I scold you? I..I don't want to be.. me" His rant got muffled out at the end as his hands came to cover his eyes. His eyes started to water, but no sound came from his mouth. He rejected himself for who he was, and this servant heard it all. He could bring himself to yell at the boy, never mind throw him into the street. "you're not a tool. Tools you hold in your hands, and use them to create something new. You pick them up yourself. You are lower class, and I have seen beautiful things from the lower class, love and creation and dedication. I envy you." Bas finally announced as his tears hit the floor. He was broken.