Chapter Text
When Arlo woke up, he felt the distinct feeling of deja vu. For a full minute, he blinked in the low light of an unfamiliar room and worked through the panic of being taken by someone unknown. Then, the quiet clinking of glass from somewhere unseen reminded him of exactly what happened and he relaxed for a brief moment.
He still didn’t know what Misty wanted from him, sleeping for as long as he did unbothered meant she intended to be nice about the way she would get it. Which was… better than the alternative. The air was still chilled, but nowhere near as cold as it was the last time he woke, the sun high in the sky and warming the room. There was a part of him, again, that ached to try out that window. He knew that if there was a time to escape, it would be now. Arlo could hear more now that the fog of sleep was lifted –– the quiet murmur of voices, a chiming bell on a door, and the dull clang money pouches being tossed about. Misty, it seemed, sold her magic. At this point in the day, the warmth would draw people out of their homes and on their daily errands. It would be hours before she thought to check on her little hostage, hours that Arlo could spend running and hiding. Grateful for the socks left of his feet, Arlo padded to the window and glanced out. A ground floor room with no visible locks or spells keeping it closed. Arlo’s heart thumped loudly. Either Misty was confident bordering on stupid, or this was a trap. He lifted his hand to try the window––
“Tt, little bird, you never learn do you?” Arlo flinched back, the jagged marks around his finger’s joints throbbed like the day Wilhelm broke them. Misty was a mage, and regardless of how gentle she had seemed, there was only pain in believing her kind. He wanted to believe that she was unaware of his familiar status, but it was far more likely that she knew and was baiting him into complacency. Wilhelm’s gleeful sadism was likely not something all mages shared, but the desire for power was a prerequisite to magedom.
A loud peal of laughter knocked Arlo from his mind and he stumbled back to the bed. The mage had put him there and it was likely the safest option to remain there until called upon. At the very least, Arlo was thankful for the blankets and the comfort of a stuffed mattress.
___
Thankfully, he did not have to wait for long. It was only a short while before the door’s bell chimed and then silence fell. Arlo strained his ears until he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Carefully, he sat himself up, looking for a spot between submissive and unafraid. There was a quick rap at the door before it slid open, Misty stepping in. “Good evening, did you get some more rest?” Arlo nodded. “Wonderful,” Misty smiled, her eyes crescents as she clasped her hands together, “Well dinner is ready downstairs if you’d like to join us.” Arlo caught himself nodding again and standing before her words caught up to him. Us? There was more than one person? Did Misty mean another mage, or perhaps a familiar? Either option was bad, but he was already following her out towards the main space. He took a few deep breaths and cast a surreptitious glance around the room, noting the doorway that must lead to the shop front and the living space before reaching the kitchen.
Against the wall sat a large cooking fireplace, the bricks embroidered with silvery spells. Herbs hung down from beams and shelves in various stages of drying. The counter carried bowls and utensils, sacks of grains, and a bowl with a few multi-colored eggs. It was, in one word, cozy. “Sit at the table, little one, I will prepare a serving.” Arlo did as instructed. The crackling cooking fire behind him suffused the room with warmth, almost making his socks unnecessary. He flinched at the thought of removing them, curling his toes into the fibers as an apology.
While Misty was distracted, Arlo looked around for the mysterious “we” that she spoke of, expecting — well Arlo wasn’t really sure. The room seemed empty aside from them, though Arlo did notice that one of the chairs had several books stacked on it. He was unsure of the reason, maybe storing extra books?
Misty sat a plate down with a dull thunk, a slice of some kind of savory pie in the middle. Arlo hesitated, the food looked amazing, but his nerves were tying his stomach into knots. The empty seat was ominous, and Misty’s lack of explanation made it worse. Eventually Misty noticed that he was holding his hands in his lap. “Go ahead and eat, Morpheus may join us, but he tends to be a little late for dinner.”
Unable to make himself disobey a direct order, Arlo lifted his fork and took a bite. For a moment everything was calm, and then he began shoveling the food into his mouth. It was warm and robust, but it sat heavy on his stomach. Wilhelm would have only ever provided this to him as a joke, and some part of Arlo anticipated a mocking laugh and a hand slapping him away.
It never came, instead, Arlo forced down his final too-big bite and looked up to see Misty sedately picking at her serving. Heat flushed up his neck as he noticed the pinched look in her brow. The fork hit the table with a clang and he tucked his hands under his thighs. There goes his chance at eating more good food. He can almost hear Wilhelm’s voice, ‘If you want to eat like a dog then you can eat a dog’s food.’
“I apologize —“ Arlo started in a small voice, only to be cut off.
“Oh Morpheus, excellent!” Arlo turned to see a huge grey cat stroll into the kitchen as all the earlier heat drained from his face. That was a familiar, a powerful one. Loose magic fibers dug into Arlo’s skin as the cat — Morpheus— walked by, assessing him. “Why don’t you get Arlo another serving?” The words passed by without meaning as Arlo froze like an animal in the face of a predator. In many ways, the familiar was a predator. If Misty knew that Arlo was also a familiar, and chances are that she did, then this familiar also knew. There was a possibility that the new familiar would see Arlo as an ally, but it was equally as possible that he would see Arlo as a competitor for Misty’s favor. Arlo’s muscles tensed ever tighter as the cat smoothly shifted from cat to person. Disconcerting in itself, but made worse by the sheer size of the person left behind. Far taller than Arlo and Misty, with muscles to match. Any strike by this familiar would hurt far worse than anything Wilhelm was able to do without magic.
Arlo cringed away from the massive shadow that approached as a scarred arm took his plate. Some small part of him, not paralyzed by fear, mourned the loss of the plate and likely any other food. He fully expected for either Misty of Morpheus to yank him from the chair, his meal was over after all. He sat as still as possible, as if trying to avoid their notice. Misty spoke a few more words, though Arlo still couldn’t hear them over the blood rushing in his ears. There was the sound of clanking and escaping before a plate was sat in front of him again. Morpheus must want this seat.
Arlo threw himself from the chair, muttering “Sorry” as he went. Worried about the thick boots Morpheus wore, he scrambled out the way. Unfortunately, there was silence where he was expecting the quiet din of conversation to pick up as Misty and her Familiar ate. He glanced up, only to meet Morpheus’ eyes as they stood next to the chair, brow furrowed in confusion, and an additional plate in their hand.
Eventually Misty spoke up, “Ah, child. I apologize, I should have introduced you first. This is Morpheus, he is my familiar and dear friend. You ate so quickly that I thought you might still be hungry. If I am not incorrect, please join us and eat.” Her fork elegantly gestured towards the seat. Slowly, Arlo nodded and stood. He slowly took his seat as Morpheus cleared the additional chair of books and sat, his own plate in front of him. Arlo took a few deep breaths before picking his fork up once more. He was aware and so incredibly grateful that Misty was allowing a second chance. It was a subtle correction, but he wasn’t so stupid as to not see that Misty wanted him to eat slowly and respectfully.
For a few moments, the room was silent aside from the quiet clink of utensils on plates. Then, Misty spoke, “I do believe that I haven’t asked for your name yet, may we be introduced?”
Arlo swallowed thickly, “I am called Arlo ma’am.” His voice was raspy with disuse. She nodded, pleased. Morpheus then made a few small signs with his hands, Misty watching with interest.
“Ah, Morpheus wants to know if you would like something to drink.” Confused, Arlo nodded. Morpheus stood, walking to a shelf with ceramic cups. He wanted to ask about the motions, but something kept him silent. The cup was placed in front of him and filled with water from a pitcher he previously did not notice.
From then on, the meal was silent. Arlo knew that something would happen after, whatever Misty desired from him would finally come to light, but the calm of the room did not allow him to keep up the fear that had been plaguing him.