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The year was 1864, thirty years or so into the reign of Queen Victoria, twenty years after the Industrial Revolution, so life was good... for most.
Life for Antony Stark, the son of the wealthy landowner Howards Stark, was good, at least, that's what everyone outside of the Stark household would have thought. But if people thought life for Anthony was easy and good, they would be very wrong.
Anthony's father, forever working, never gave Antony the time of day. His mother tried, she tried to make up for an absence of Antony's father but it did nothing to help. Anthony lashed out, trying to be rebellious, that that's easier said than done for someone of his class.
On a frozen day, sometime in the middle of winter, an argument with his father had caused the dark haired male to storm out of the overly large house and into the snowy grounds. Once out there, he grumbled and huffed, finally sitting on the icy stone leading to the house, gradually getting colder and colder, his fingers turning a pale blue, and his teeth starting to chatter.
He knew it would it would be smart to go back into the house, but his pride wouldn't let him, his pride wouldn't let him walk up the gravel and through those oaken doors. He couldn't see the smug faces of his parents, they would be expecting him to return when he got cold. He had no plans to go back with his head hung low.
But Antony did know that he needed to get warm, he'd heard stories of what happened if you caught hypothermia and he wanted that less than he wanted to less than he wanted to go back home.
He sat there for a few more minutes, thinking, trying to work out where he could go, somewhere other than the house. And then it hit him. The Stable Boy.
As a wealthy family, the Starks had a variety of horses, some just for riding, others for pulling the carriages, but they were all managed by one man. Others came and helped, but Steven? Steven lived on the grounds in a small building near the stables. Steven and Antony had never really spoken, other than a few, short words when saddling a horse, but seeing as Steven worked for the Starks, he should do as Antony told him. Or, at least, that was what Antony reasoned. He tried to push back his thoughts of how attractive Steve was, he knew that was wrong.
He pulled himself up off the hard, frozen ground and started the trudge to Steven's cabin. It wasn't far, but in the snow, if felt like miles for Antony but soon enough he was rapping his knuckles against the door of Steven's cabin.
"Come in!" a warm deep voice sounded from behind the door. There was a warm light seeping from under the door, and Antony could already feel the warmth emanating from within. There was a soft aroma of smoke in the air and if Antony listened carefully he would be able to hear the soft crackle, the telltale signs of a fire.
Antony pushed the door open to the small, rustic place. It only had one room, Steven didnt need much, he only often got food brought over by the cook, and when he did cook it was things he could make over an open fire. He had a small bed, big enough for him and maybe one other at a squeeze, but it would be comfortable for long periods of time.
Steven was currently lying on the bed, he wore a dirty white tank top, dark brown trousers with some black suspenders, his golden hair was messy, but not in a way that made him look dirty. It Steven's large hands he held a pad of mismatched paper that clearly had been sourced from all sorts of places, he had a stick that he had seemingly taken out of the fire and was using that to draw with. As Antony had pushed the door open, Steven looked up, some longer pieces of hair falling onto his forehead, his cerulean eyes, widening as he realised who was at his door.
He quickly put his drawing to the side and put a hand through his hair in an attempt to tidy it. "Uh. Sir, How can I help you?" He stood up and bowed his head respectfully. But Antony only chuckled at his reaction.
"You can sit down Steven. I had an argument with father stormed out. It's cold outside and I don't want to go back to the house yet. Do you mind if I stay in here for a while?" He asked, His cheeks were flushed slightly from the contrast of the warm interior and the cold outside.
"Of course, come in, Sir. I apologise the mess, I wasn't expecting visitors." Antony smiled gratefully as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Please, call me Antony. There's no need to call me Sir, it never felt right to me, especially coming from you."
He took a slightly tentative seat on the bed, surprised at how comfortable it was. "Yes Si- Sorry, Antony." Steven gave a small, almost shy smile as he sat next to him on the small bed. Antony rubbed his icy hands together, still shivering visibly. Steven noticed and gently draped a woollen blanket around his shoulders.
"Thank you..." Antony raised his head to look at him, pulling the blanket around him tighter. "I'm so cold..." His teeth were still chattering gently, while he shivered. Steve opened a muscular arm, partly expecting to be rejecting.
"I'll help you warm up?" He offered gently, and any other time, Antony would have shoved him away and denied the physical touch, but right now he didnt care. He just wanted to be warm.
He shuffled closer on the bed and leant into Steven's chest slightly. In turn, Steven wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his shoulders and upper arms gently in an attempt to warm him up. Antony couldn't deny, Steven was definitely helping him, and it nice, just being in someone's arms.
After a few moments, Antony nodded his head towards his paper. "You draw?" He asked quietly before looking up at Steven with a raised eyebrow.
"I do, or at least, I try to. You can look if you want, although I have drawn you before, just a warning." Steven's cheeks flushed a dark pink as he didnt meet the eyes of the other. Antony only chuckled as he picked up the papers. He slowly looked through them, a soft laugh leaving his lips as he realised just how many were of him.
"You like to draw me, huh Steven?" He teased softly, taking his eyes away from the from the drawings to look up at Steven, grinning at the dark flush.
"I just, your face is really nice to draw..." He mumbled, still not meeting Antony's eyes.
"Are you trying to say I'm attractive? He teased more. "Come on Steven, look at me."
"I... You definitely have attractive features, yes sir, I mean Anthony." Steven stumbled over his words, the flush on his cheeks getting darker.
"Mm, good. If you want attractive faces to draw, you should consider drawing yourself." Antony grinned at him and settled against his chest. "I might have to spend more time out here, oh and remind me to buy you proper art supplies. You're good."