It was a lovely morning in the Bartleby estate. As the Master himself gingerly cracked open an eyelid to the wakening sun. He was on his left side, where a large, curtained window lay. The sunbeams were bleeding through the red curtains, creating enough light to wake the sleeping Bartleby. He smiled content and satisfied with the world he had woken to. He was so absorbed in this sleepy activity that he didn’t notice a shallow breathing coming from behind him. Stretching his arms, he rolled over to his other side and stiffened immediately. Jergens was there. Wide awake and grinning like a hyena, leaning on his shoulder. “G’mornin’, sunshine.” He said, lightly brushing his lips on Bartleby’s forehead before he could even react. “Man, and I thought you were cute enough awake! I didn’t think yer sleeping face could be so adorable…” he mumbled to himself.

Malware trudged lightly through the halls, tipping his head in greeting to anyone that passed, as they would regard his pictogram in return. He stopped to have a word with one particular servant that he was acquainted with when he heard a hideous screaming from the Master and Lady’s quarters. He flinched and looked down at his companion. “Did you hear that?” he asked. The servant nodded. “Aye, soonds like someone froom tha Master’s quarters.” He muttered. He froze. “Is it tha Master?!” he asked the stag. The deer shook his head and pointed his muzzle to the Lady’s room. “It had to have been the Lady. It was awful too high-pitched to be the Mas-…” a sudden door slam was heard down the hall some.

“You sneaking pervert!”

“Whoa Faith, settle down a bit there…”

“I will not! How did you get the key to my room?!”

Malware chuckled and turned back to the man. “A few months and yet they still continue to fight…” he mused to more to himself than his companion

It had been three months since we left off, and during that time it can be safe to say that Bartleby and Jergens were now more than just acquainted. Since saving him from possible death, Bartleby had promoted Jergens from the dog kennels to be his own personal ‘assistant’. In other words, Jergens just followed him around and delivered things to various servants. During this time Nippers had also come to know Jergens more, much to his own grief. Though after a while, Jergens came to somewhat tolerate her. She was different from other women, a bit like Irene. It was not long before Jergens soon began to think of her as a little girl, which, in all reality, was what she was.

However, these adventures belong to another tale entirely. Perhaps, if you are good, I shall one day tell them to you. But for now, let us continue.

Bartleby stormed down the corridors, taking so many twists and turns that Jergens was unable to follow. Not like it would have mattered anyway. That damn Jergens...! he thought to himself, hoping that none of his subjects would note his rather crimson face. Instinctively, he turned into the dank hallway that lead to the infirmary, mentally hoping that Malware would be there. He jerked open the door and slammed it behind him. Looking about the room, he sighed with disappointment. The room was empty. He walked over to the blood-stained cot that he had grown so attached to in his childhood and curled himself up against the wall, his head swimming with mixed emotions.

Quite later (as it seemed to our Bartleby), a tall stag entered carrying a rather large basket in his mouth, full of leaves and herbs. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the man. “Master Bartleby, are you feeling ill?” he asked, his voice carrying only the faintest hint of concern under its usual monotone sound. Bartleby didn’t answer, but shifted a little and turned to face him. “Perhaps…” he mumbled. Malware tilted his head and walked over, pressing his face against his shoulder. “Come now. Tell me about it. Fretting over it doesn’t do well for your illness.” He coaxed him, sitting down so he could be eye level with his Master.

Bartleby looked at the stag for a moment, watching the golden symbol anchored to his head. “I guess… I just feel odd. That’s all.” He finally mumbled. Malware’s face was perfectly still, as it always was. “Odd, how?” he asked, prodding him further. Bartleby placed his hands together, fiddling with them nervously. “Just… odd…” he said.

The stag was silent before he asked. “Have you ever considered the possibility; pardon me if you will that this ‘odd’ feeling could be coming from your ties with that assistant of yours? The one with the red hair?” Bartleby froze, feeling all the color drain from his face. Yes, Jergens had been making advances on him for quite some time now, and Bartleby always simply pushed them away. He was no imbecile. He knew that he was attracted to Jergens, but he would never admit it in fear only confirming the awful rumors that plagued the town he lived in. Rumors that if true, could cause not only his death, but Jergens’s as well. The stag nodded in mild understanding. “Ah yes, I had a feeling that was what it was. You love him, don’t you?” he said, face perfectly passive. Bartleby eyed Malware’s massive antlers, knowing how easily the stag could kill him if he so wished. Pale-faced, he nodded reluctantly. Malware cocked his head in confusion and chuckled. “You think I’m like the narrow-minded humans out there, don’t you?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. His eyes narrowed in sudden anger as he glared at him. “Do not think of comparing me to them. I am not a human. Yes, if people out here, if even your servants knew of your feelings for Jergens, then they will do whatever they can to eliminate you. Jergens himself has been an object of their hated for quite some time now. Their hatred of what is different is not rational. You must know that, and cater to them.” He stood and eyed his Master with pity. “I am sorry, my dear Master. But if you ever try to accept your friend’s advances, then you must be willing to risk your life as well.”

With this, the stag turned and walked out, lightly shutting the door behind him. Bartleby sat in silence. Yes, Malware had been a bit abrupt, but it was all true. Bartleby was terrified enough of the rumors that said he was a homosexual whore. When he had rejected the proposals for marriage, he had never thought of why he had, it was just an instinct. Perhaps he-

A sudden, muffled barking came from outside. Bartleby could tell just by the sound that it was Credit, and that something was wrong. He leapt up and ran from the room. Thoughts such as those could be saved for more relaxing times.

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I personally hate this chapter... so much. One of my many weakness as a writer is that I always have had trouble writing 'romance' Be it homosexual or straight. Because of this, I think this turning out to be quite weak.
Sorry for typos and missing words. I'll fix em' later.