Hey there everyone! Guess who's back delivering early Christmas presents (or just a present for the winter season if you don't celebrate)! Me! I'm hoping you'll enjoy this one, and have a nice December guys! Get ready for the tea-😈

Logan mumbled a healing incantation softly as he bandaged the consort's broken hand, ignoring his soft whimpers of pain, occasionally glancing over at Patton to make sure he is professional and professional only. God knows what happened last time someone got too close. Patton barely has ground to stand on as is, and one false move could send him topeling. He was quite lucky, Logan thought, that Logan was somewhat fond of him. Even though he could be a fool and quite irritating, imagining a life without the upbeat servant was too lonely. After all, the king was quite busy and couldn't just spend time with Logan like he used to. He had two husbands now, even if one of them was an undeserving harlot.

"We are almost done, your majesty," Patton says softly. "I promise," he whispers. Janus's face is screwed up in pain, whimpers escaping his mouth.

"I will have my brother deliver you a pain relieving draught," Logan says, standing up. "It will speed up the healing of your hand." Janus tries his hardest to give a thankful smile. Logan watches him fail, and doesn't care. "He should be here in time for you to join the king and king consort for dinner."

"Thank you," Janus says, jaw clenched in pain. Logan nods.

"You're welcome. Patton, when you are done soothing him, leave," Logan says, ordering the lesser servant around. As the king's butler, he was easily the most important of all the servants. Patton, to his dismay, doesn't look at him, but nods. "Good."

Logan walks to his brother's little cottage in the king's garden, only allowed this special privilege thanks to Logan's social standing. Unfortunately, much to Logan's distaste, Emile appears to be entertaining a guest with a black cloak. Of course. The banished prince's messenger. As he gets closer, small whispers exit the cottage.

"I wished you didn't have to leave," Emile murmured.

"I have to Em, you know that. Besides, your brother isn't too fond of me, you know that," The messenger says, cupping Emile's cheek. Logan shakes his head in disgust. "I'll write."

"Please," Emile says softly. "Just..one last time?" He says hopefully. The messenger laughs softly, leaning forward.

"You know I could never refuse you," He said softly, leaning in for a kiss. Logan has had enough, knocking firmly on the door. Emile gasps, jumping back.

"Go go, out the back door. My brother will see you," Emile hurries out the messenger, just as Logan walks in, shaking his head in a scolding manner.

"Emile, why on earth do you want to indulge in such repulsive displays of affection, with the traitor's servant no less," He scoffs. "People will suspect you to be a traitorous hussy, and it would be mortifying to-"

"Have a brother who betrayed the king because he chose to be a slut," Emile sighs listlessly, knowing the words by heart. Logan pauses, nodding.

"It's imperative you take this seriously Emile, you are in the king's good graces, you should not risk losing that for the sake of a foolish messenger boy," Logan almost implores him. He did not want to lose a brother, and as much as he knew the king cared for him, he would strike if he was betrayed and Logan could not blame him for that. Emile sighs.

"How am I to help who I love?" He asks. "I love him and I don't want to hide it." Logan sighs.

"Well, it will be your head on a stake if you get caught," he sighed. Emile's face looked pasty and sick with fear. Logan looked up, a bit relieved he kept his brother at least aware of the consequences. "Now Emile, do you have any quick healing potions? You know I'm simply atrocious at making them and the king requested them for Consort Janus," Logan explained. Emile frowned, still a bit shaky from the transition, but turned to his cabinet with a nod, scouring through the poorly organized piles upon piles of vials filled with colorful liquid. Logan sighed, trying to help.

"Is it the typical blue one?" He asks. "The cerulean blue, not navy."

"No," Emile shouts over his shoulder. "It's a yellowish shade, I used more turmeric? I found that the consort's body responds quicker and better to that kind." Logan frowned.

"You shouldn't be experimenting with potions," he scolded. "It could be dangerous." Logan's thoughts wandered off, to the first and last time he ever used potions. Though, for the life of him, he couldn't understand why it was in such a blur. Well, he supposed that was a good enough reason to avoid potions.

"Lo, it's better I have a way to help people isn't it? Besides, I don't mind a bit of danger," he said, blushing softly. Logan groaned, coming back to the present. Emile was obviously thinking of the messenger. "Found it!" Emile suddenly shouts, pulling it all the way from the back of the cluttered cupboard, waving the yellow bubbling liquid in the air. He teeters on one foot, jumping off the stool as Logan sighs in relief, taking the potion closely, cradling it in his hands.

"You have to be more careful with these-"

"I know Lo, relax, okay?" Emile says, brushing his hair from his face. "I'll be fine." Logan frowns.

"If you say so." Logan doesn't wait for his response, turning and walking away, a robotic movement as he heads back to the consort's room. Soft murmurs and gentle sighs slip from the room. Logan knocks on the door, not waiting for an answer, walking in. His lip curls in disgust when he sees Patton hugging the King Consort. The two jump away from each other, the consort falling back onto the pillow in clear exhaustion.

"Patton Baker!" He snapped. "I should have you removed from your post." Patton's big brown eyes tremble with tears, shaking, going to grab his sleeve. Logan pushes him away. "How dare you display such shameful behavior? You are a servant, approaching royalty with such familiarity is disgusting," he said coldly. Patton starts crying.

"Please please don't, I promise I won't do it again-"

"Enough tears," Logan says, cutting him off. "Seeing as you have had good behavior previously I will not inform the king of this relapse." Fresh tears burst from Patton's eyes, smiling in relief.

"Oh thank you, Logan you're the best thank you thank you thank you-"

"But," Logan interrupts again. "If I even hear a hint of this happening again from any one, I will report this to the King, and you will have to pray that he lets you keep your head." Patton freezes, but nods quickly. "Now be on your way, attend to your other duties." He nodded, darting off and going to the kitchens, where he belongs. Logan sighs. "Now your majesty," he says, his tone dripping with derision, "I have a pain relieving potion from my brother. After you take it, you should be well enough to meet the king in the gardens for dinner." The consort nodded slowly, the movement clearly pained.

"Thank you Logan. You may leave," the consort says, as though he actually has any control. Logan bows his head, turning to leave.

"Of course your majesty," he says, leaving the room. "Do feel better."