Ashe and the Glass Sword

by KuroKoneko Kamen

  Sure enough, just as they were approaching the château the front door swung open to reveal a disheveled looking Lord Tremaine, who was dressed in a black and white robe over a pair of black, silk pajamas. “What is the meaning of this?” Christian asked in a condescending tone.

  “Lord Christian Tremaine, I presume,” Snow spoke up in a cavalier tone.

  Christian’s sharp, gray eyes focused on Prince Snow Flurris. “Yes, I…you’re Prince Snow Flurris, aren’t you? What can I do for you, Your Highness?” Christian whipped out a cigar, lit it with his Zippo, and began to puff away at it.

  “I’m just here to drop off my friend Ashe,” Snow explained in a nonchalant tone.

  “Ashe?” That’s when Christian spotted Ashe seated on the saddle behind Prince Snow. His eyes flared in surprise. And he wondered wildly how Ashe had come to be in Snow’s presence when he should be with Doriana Gray. “Y-Your friend, you say?” he sputtered out.

  “Yep. Ashe is my drinking buddy,” Snow said.

  Christian’s expression grew even more bewildered. “But how…?” He shook his head, and tried to regain his composure. “I see. I hope my son didn’t cause you too much trouble, Your Highness?”

  Ashe’s eyes widened like saucers at the words coming out of Lord Tremaine’s mouth. He just called me his son!

  Snow gave Lord Tremaine a cold smile. “Not at all. I’m usually the one causing him trouble.” Ashe dismounted and approached Lord Tremaine in a wary fashion. “Take care, Ashe. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon!” The playboy prince said brightly.

  “Tomorrow afternoon?” Ashe echoed with a questioning note to his voice.

  “I’m taking you out drinking again, of course,” Snow said. “There’s a new club I want to take you to. See you then.” He turned his attention to Lord Tremaine. “I’m sure that will be alright with you, right, Lord Tremaine?”

  A vein at Christian’s temple throbbed in ire. “Of course, I don’t mind. Young men should…go have fun once in a while.”

  “Excellent. Farewell! Till tomorrow then! Hyah!” Snow snapped his horse’s reins and galloped off.

  Christian and Ashe stood together at the top of the front steps and watched as Prince Snow and his wizard guards rode away.

  As soon as Snow and his guards were out of sight Christian gave Ashe a scrutinizing look. “However did you manage to befriend Prince Snow? Touché, Ashe, touché…” He inclined his head in Ashe’s direction. “Wonders never cease. But don’t think your newfound friendship with the prince will save you from your usual daily chores.”

  “I didn’t think that…” Ashe stammered.

  “Good. My sons and I will be expecting breakfast first thing in the morning, as usual,” Christian drawled, taking a drag on his cigar, and blowing out a cloud of smoke in Ashe’s face.

  “Of course,” Ashe said, resisting the urge to wave his hand in front of his face to dispel the smoke.

  “And you’ll need to have all your chores done before you can go off gallivanting with Prince Snow.” Christian sighed.

  “Right,” Ashe agreed.

  A sudden thought occurred to Christian, and an evil glint formed in his gray eyes. “Did Lady Doriana invite Prince Snow to join in on your punishment? Is that how you two met?”

  Ashe paled at the bizarre suggestion. “No!”

  “He probably felt sorry for you when he saw your scars,” Christian continued, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

  “He didn’t…he never…!” Ashe denied.

  “Whatever,” Christian interrupted, raising his hand to silence Ashe. “Your love life is really no concern of mine. Though it is surprising. I thought Prince Snow was only interested in women.”

  “He is!” Ashe snapped hotly.

  “Becoming Prince Snow’s bitch…I didn’t think you’d have it in you, Ashe,” Lord Tremaine sneered, his lip curling in disgust. “I underestimated your ability to debase yourself even further than you already have. It’s a shame you’re not a girl. I could have you seduce Prince Snow, get pregnant, and then he’d be forced to marry you. Although, there are certain forbidden spells that might make something like that possible.”

  “You’re sick!” Ashe growled out, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. His blood was boiling from his anger, and he had to use all his strength of will not to punch Christian hard across the face.

  “No. I’m ambitious,” Christian drawled, taking another drag on his cigar and exhaling a cloud of smoke slowly. “We’d have a claim to the throne of Apple Kingdom then. Power is everything, Ashe. It’s what I live for.”

  Ashe suddenly recalled Lord Tremaine’s plan to have either Knuckles or Picasso drug and seduce Princess Juleka Glass. If one of Lord Tremaine’s sons actually succeeded in marrying the princess, and either Knuckles or Picasso became King of Glass Kingdom…the one who would really be King would be Lord Christian Tremaine who’d be ruling from the shadows.

  “Prince Snow is an honorable man. He’d never fall for your devious schemes,” Ashe argued, raising his chin in a defiant pose. “And I have the feeling that Princess Juleka Glass won’t fall into your trap so easily either.”

  Christian’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Ashe. “Do you think the opinion of a slave matters to me? Let’s see which one of us climbs higher. In the end, despite the prince’s favor you’re still just a slave.” A triumphant smile curled Lord Tremaine’s lips. “Goodnight, son,” he said mockingly before turning and leaving Ashe standing alone in the doorway.

  “Goodnight, father,” Ashe snapped back, and was pleased when he saw Lord Tremaine flinch. Two can play at that game. He thought venomously.

  Ashe entered the foyer and slammed the door shut behind him. He started to make his way up the grand staircase when he felt a weight in his pants pocket. Ashe wasn’t stupid enough to reach in and see what was in his pocket while Lord Tremaine or his sons could be watching him, and just gave the pocket a pat. That pat was enough for Ashe to know that his pocket was filled with diamonds. Julie must have slipped them into his pocket when he hadn’t been looking.

  That stubborn little minx. I told her I didn’t want them. Ashe shook his head, but he was smiling crookedly. He’d add them to his hiding place beneath the floorboards in the attic where he had all his other gold and jewels squirreled away.

  Ashe climbed several flights of stairs, and finally made it to the attic. He opened the door, entered, and shut and locked the door behind him. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the glittering blue diamonds so that he could admire them in the palm of his hand. She cried these tears for me. Ashe’s heart started to beat a little faster inside of his chest at the thought that someone would do something like that for the likes of him.

  Ashe made his way over to a ratty, moth-eaten rug, and pulled it aside to reveal a hidden hatch door. Ashe opened the hatch to reveal his secret hiding place. This was where he hid all of the gold and jewels he’d received from the ladies he’d seduced at Glass City’s casinos.

  The interior of the hatch resembled a pirate’s treasure chest since it was filled with gold coins and sparkling jewels. But even all this still wasn’t enough to buy back his freedom. He needed ten times the current amount he’d managed to get his hands on.

  Ashe tilted his hand and watched as the diamonds fell down through the air and landed on top of the pile of treasure. Her contribution did make a dent. Ashe wished there was something he could do for her.

  Sex. A dark part of his mind suggested slyly.

  No! Ashe thought vehemently. He’d tarnished her innocence quite enough already. He still felt guilty that he’d begged Julie to suck his cock only a few hours ago!

  There had to be some other way to repay her. What did he even know about Julie really? He asked himself. Well, she likes unicorns…that’s it! Ashe gathered his sewing supplies: needles, spools of colored thread, rolls of material, and a sewing machine. He started to cut a piece of white material, and grinned. Julie was going to love this.

 
To be continued in…Chapter 9:

  Chapter 9:

  The following day, Ashe got up at the crack of dawn, and did his usual morning chores. He fed the farm animals and did the laundry. After that, he started making breakfast for Lord Tremaine and his sons. For Lord Tremaine and Picasso he made eggs, bacon and toast. And for Knuckles he made a huge pile of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup.

  Ashe piled the three plates of breakfast onto a silver tray, which he carried into the parlor. He set the three plates down on the small round dining table and was just about to leave when Lord Tremaine addressed him. “Ashe, why don’t you join us for breakfast, son?”

  Ashe gaped at Lord Tremaine for a moment. Picasso and Knuckles both appeared to be equally shocked by their father’s unexpected amiable invitation. Ashe hesitated, and he watched as Lord Tremaine’s expression grew cold. “I said ‘join us’. Take a seat, Ashe.” Ashe obediently took a seat at the table. Lord Tremaine used his coffee saucer to serve Ashe some of his own scrambled eggs and a slice of toast. “There. Eat.”

  Ashe scraped some egg onto the piece of toast and ate warily. Would he be punished for the audacity of sitting at their table? He wondered, his stomach tying itself up into knots and making him feel nauseous.

  Seemingly without a care in the world, Knuckles was digging into his pancakes with gusto. Picasso was eating his eggs slowly and watching Ashe and Lord Tremaine like a hawk.

  Ashe took that moment to observe his stepbrother Picasso. His outward appearance was normal enough. One might even call Picasso handsome if not for his gaunt and overly sharp facial features. He also had a lanky physique, which made the man appear weak, but Ashe knew from experience that he was not to be underestimated in the strength department.

  Picasso was also ghostly pale in a way that made him look unhealthy. Still, no one would guess that behind that cold, calculated demeanor he was so twisted and sadistic. Poor Princess Juleka Glass. Ashe thought to himself. She’ll be marrying a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  “So, Ashe, tell us what you know about Prince Snow Flurris?” Christian began in a casual tone.

  “What do you mean?” Ashe raised an eyebrow at his stepfather.

  “Why would Ashe know anything about him?” Picasso asked sullenly.

  “Ashe here has managed to befriend Prince Snow.” With a sinister glint in his gray eyes Christian steepled his fingers together on the table before him, and leaned forward slightly. “I’d like to know if Prince Snow has any…weaknesses.”

  A vein at Ashe’s temple throbbed out of anger. So this is what this charade was all about. Ashe’s golden eyes narrowed at Lord Tremaine. “You’d like to know Snow’s weaknesses…or King Reginald wants to know his weaknesses?” Ashe folded his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow at Lord Tremaine.

  “That is none of your concern,” Christian drawled, taking out a cigar from the front pocket of his jacket, and lighting it with his Zippo.

  “I don’t know any of Snow’s weaknesses!” Ashe snapped as Lord Tremaine started to puff on his cigar. “And even if I did…I wouldn’t tell you!”

  “You wouldn’t?” Christian said, inhaling smoke into his lungs, and then blowing out a cloud of smoke a few seconds later. “That would be unwise, Ashe. If you cooperate your living situation here could vastly improve. If you become useful…if you become my ally you would be treated differently in this household. No more visits to the Red Room of Pain.”

  Ashe shuddered at the mention of the room that was filled with Lord Tremaine’s instruments of torture. Lord Tremaine wanted him to sell out his new friend in exchange for finally being treated like a human being. No fucking way! Ashe stood up from his seat at the table abruptly. “I’ve lost my appetite.” Ashe stomped off.

  “Ashe, don’t forget to polish and sharpen my scalpels,” Picasso reminded casually. “I may be needing them later.”

  “Yes, Picasso,” Ashe said through gritted teeth.

  “After lunch I want you to mop the entrance hall,” Christian said. “I won’t let you leave with Prince Snow until the floor is immaculate.”

  “Understood, Lord Tremaine,” Ashe grumbled.

  Ashe left the parlor to go polish and sharpen Picasso’s scalpels, which the son of a bitch usually used on him. God, this is so fucked up. Ashe thought hours later as he finally finished sharpening the last scalpel. He was just putting the scalpels back into their case when Knuckles entered the kitchen. “I’m hungry,” he grunted.

  Ashe gave his stepbrother a look of disbelief. “You just had breakfast.”

  Knuckles punched his open left palm with his right fist. “I said: ‘I’m hungry’.”

  Ashe let out a defeated sigh. He didn’t feel like being Knuckles’s punching bag so early in the morning. “What do you want?”

  Knuckles’s dark demeanor brightened instantly. “Brownies,” he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

  “Brownies? You’ll ruin your appetite for lunch,” Ashe warned, causing Knuckles to raise an eyebrow at him. Ashe let his gaze travel over the three-hundred-pound man, and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. What was I thinking? Brownies it is.”

  Ashe baked Knuckles a tray of brownies, and let the brownies cool before cutting them into squares. When Ashe deemed the brownies ready he handed the tray to Knuckles.

  Knuckles took the tray from Ashe. “Thanks.” He grabbed a brownie and handed it to Ashe. “Here. For you.”

  With a suspicious look on his face Ashe took the brownie. “Why are you being nice to me?”

  Knuckles lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “Because father is being nice to you now. He must want you to be our ally.”

  “We will never be allies!” Ashe snapped, slashing his hand angrily through the air. “Did you really think I could forgive everything you guys have done to me? You think being nice to me now will make it all go away?”

  Knuckles scratched his head in a bewildered manner. “We were just punishing you for being a disobedient slave.”

  “Punishing me for imagined slights, you mean!” Ashe argued hotly. “I never did anything wrong!”

  “I just did what father told me to do,” Knuckles grumbled in a defensive manner.

  “So, if Lord Tremaine told you to be friends with me…you would?” Ashe raised an eyebrow at Knuckles.

  “Yeah. Sure,” Knuckles agreed.

  Ashe’s body started to tremble with rage. “You’ve punched me so hard before that you’ve broken my ribs! For days afterward, I had to be careful how I breathed because I could have ended up puncturing a lung and drowning to death in my own blood.”

  “Uh…sorry?” Knuckles said.

  “God, you’re pathetic.” Ashe let out a frustrated huff. “You obviously can’t think for yourself at all. I can’t believe I used to be afraid of you. But now I realize you were just the monster under my bed. An imagined terror that once confronted the truth becomes blaringly obvious that you’re pathetic, and not to be feared at all, but rather pitied.”

  “I can think for myself,” Knuckle argued, raising his chin angrily.

  Ashe waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, sure. Just go eat your brownies, fatass.”

  “I…will!” Knuckles stomped out of the kitchen with his tray of brownies.

  Brownies - they were another odd dessert Ashe had had to learn how to make. Brownies didn’t exist in Fantasia. Well, until now. Ashe took a bite out of the brownie Knuckles had given him. Damn, that’s good. Ashe ate his brownie quickly in case Lord Tremaine or Picasso showed up and tried to take the brownie away from him. That would have been even worse to the physical torture they subjected him to.

  For lunch that day Ashe made his ‘family’ hamburgers and French fries. He made sure to make a lot of them because Knuckles could eat several all on his own. When Ashe set the plate piled with hamburgers down in front of Knuckles the fatass actually said ‘thank you’ which had Lord Tremaine and Picasso giving him funny looks.

  After Ashe was done serving lu
nch he started to mop the entrance hall. Ashe wanted to be done cleaning by the time Snow arrived. He’d even made sure to lock Lord Tremaine’s cat Lucy in the Master bedroom so that the evil cat couldn’t sabotage his work again.

  During this time, Knuckles and Picasso passed Ashe on their way out the front door. The two young men were dressed in riding gear, and Ashe figured they were going out for a ride through the forest, or more likely into Glass City to drink at one of the taverns.

  A few hours later, Ashe just about finished with the floor when Knuckles and Picasso abruptly entered the château through the front door. The two young men started to make their way across the floor as they headed for the sweeping grand staircase that led to the second floor.

  Ashe planned to ignore them until he noticed that their boots were covered in mud and that they were tracking boot prints all across the entrance hall. A muscle ticked in Ashe’s jaw out of irritation, and before he could think better of it he called out to them: “Hey! What the hell, assholes?”

  Knuckles and Picasso both turned to face Ashe. Knuckles had a confused expression on his face while Picasso’s expression was cold. “Whatever is the matter, brother?” Picasso asked sarcastically.

  “You’re tracking mud inside the house. I just finished mopping in here!” Ashe snarled, making a sweeping gesture to encompass the entire hall.

  “How is that my problem?” Picasso asked dryly. “Just mop the damned floor again.”

  Knuckles looked down at his muddy boots and looked around at all of the muddy boot prints he and Picasso had left behind on the floor. He looked up and gave Ashe a sheepish expression. “Sorry, bro.” Picasso and Ashe both shot Knuckles disbelieving looks.

  Picasso slapped the back of Knuckles’s head. “Idiot! Why are you apologizing to him?”

  Knuckles rubbed the back of his head as he glared at Picasso. “Uh, because we tracked mud all over the floor he’s been mopping…by accident?”