Claimer: I do hereby claim all rights and responsibility for the characters in this series of vignettes because the Amaranthine Saga is mine. (Which means I should probably behave myself since anything I say or do could be taken as canon.) Indulge the lot of us, especially the one who grew up in France.
When Jacques revived, he wasn’t in his own bed—mattress too soft, sheets too rough, and musky with a scent that hadn’t come from a bottle.
“Swooning, Smythe?” Argent perched near the foot of the bed, burping the baby who’d drained his bottle. “You really are too fond of drama. A butler must not swoon.”
“Yes, my lord.” Jacques clutched at the covers. “But… dragons are coming.”
“Tsk. What color are Kyrie’s eyes?”
“A fine merlot. Or perhaps a syrah.”
Argent’s lips twitched. “If you meet a dragon with eyes of the same vintage, you have my permission to swoon.”
Posted: October 21, 2018
Prompt: #Inktober2018, Day Twenty-One: Drain
Summary: Jacques Smythe brazens his way into Stately House and shows no sign of departing. Like it or not, Lord Mettlebright has himself a butler. An Amaranthine Saga Serial. [Humor, Drama, Family] Begins here. To scroll through archived chapters, use the Lord Mettlebright’s Man tag.