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Morgana lies down on the couch, yawning and spreading his whole body out. The sun shines on his fur just right this afternoon and he can lounge comfortably while Akira takes care of the last customers for today.
Opening just one eye, he watches him move around the workshop, pouring tea into a cup, a sweet and vernal scent immediately wafting through the workshop.
The woman at the table gratefully accepts it into her slender hands, her tired eyes lighting up once she feels the warmth of the cup on her skin. She is wearing ragged clothing and her short brunette hair is held back with braids and a tattered headscarf. The circles under her eyes speak words.
“Life has been hard since our father passed away,” she mutters out after the first sip, her voice deep and mature. “My sister has been travelling into the city almost each week and it leaves me with all the chores. I’m lucky if I manage to take care of just half of the fieldwork now. At this rate we won’t be selling our harvest this year…” She lets out a sigh and stares into the cup.
Poor girl. So young and already in charge of the house. Morgana wants to stand up and walk over to her, rubbing his furry head against her in the way it always makes Akira’s customers smile, but frankly, he fears that the sun could go away in the meantime.
And besides, judging from Akira’s expression, he has the perfect solution on his hands already. Promising to only take a moment, he retreats to the back of the house.
“This should help you,” he says as he sets a tiny wooden fairy house on the table before her. It’s decorated with dried flowers and even has little doors and windows.
The girl stares at it in confusion. “I thought you fix problems?”
“That’s what the people say about me,” Akira replies with a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m merely a toymaker. Place it outside and tell me in a few days time if something changed. Who knows, maybe the fields will be plowed by then?”
Morgana sees it clearly: The girl doesn’t believe a word and is one sentence away from verbalising her disappointment.
She holds back, though, and leaves the workshop with a stilted thank you, the wooden house in her arms.
Akira sighs and comes over to where Morgana is resting, petting his soft fur. “Do you think she will use it?”
Morgana tilts his head. “You know, Akira, you’re only ever worrying about doing enough. Maybe you should take a break to recharge?”
Akira chuckles. “I wish I could,” he says, “but who would take care of the villagers then?”
“Right,” Morgana admits with a wistful sigh. “I just want them to be more thankful to you, I guess.”
“Patience.” Akira softly strokes through his black fur and leans down to give his head a small kiss. “Good deeds will always be rewarded one way or another. Give it time.”
The workshop is busy this week. The elders have announced that a storm is likely going to hit soon, so on top of the usual customers, Akira gets people that are worried about the weather changing too. Morgana tries to help him as good as he can, but in the end his paws just get in the way and he retreats to cheer Akira on from afar.
The toymaker spends all his days and nights crafting beautiful wind chimes in all colours to give to customers who come to him looking for safety from the elements. It takes him a lot of energy to cast the spell on them that will protect them, so he spends the few remaining hours of his days curled up with Morgana on the bed sleeping.
His normal customers are almost a breath of fresh air by now.
An artist comes to the workshop one day. He frames various corners of Akira’s home and workplace with his fingers, even Morgana one time, before sighing and lamenting his lost inspiration.
Akira gives him a kaleidoscope made out of wood and crushed stained glass. The man is delighted and vows to share the fruits of his labour with Akira once they are ready.
An elegant-looking lady is the next person that stands out to Morgana. She carries herself with an air of refinement, but seems terribly nervous, pulling on her fluffy brown hair every so often. Her eyes fall on Morgana and she sighs, telling Akira of how her cat has run off into the forest recently and hasn’t come back yet.
Akira asks her to come back soon and spends the better half of a day sewing until he ends up with a stuffed toy almost the size of a real kitten. When she comes back, she’s delighted and not even confused at Akira’s suggestion to leave it on her front porch at night.
A rainy day, probably the first harbinger of the storm, brings a pair of twins with it. The two girls share the same maroon hair, the same spring in their step, even the ribbons they are wearing in their hair have the same pattern.
They would be an adorable pair if not for the horrifying gash across one of the twins’ faces, protruding and drawing attention to it. The girl says she was attacked by a deer while protecting her sister and that the wound has made it harder to sell her wares at the market.
Morgana plays with the girls while Akira takes his time painting a spare mask he had sitting around. He adds intricate ornaments to it and adjusts its shape so it fits perfectly. When he’s done, the girl can’t even be mad about his instruction to wear it for at least a week, too caught up in tracing the patterns of flowers and spirals.
Once they're gone, Akira falls on the couch and exclaims that he’s done enough for a day. Morgana is about to praise him for finally admitting it, but the rumbling thunder surprises him before he can.
Soon enough, the storm hits.
Akira is pacing up and down in the workshop. “Something’s not right, Mona,” he says. It almost gets drowned out by the crash of the downpour against the tiles of the roof.
Morgana is curled up on the couch. “It’s just your imagination. You’re always on edge when it storms.”
“No, that’s not it.” Akira shakes his head. “I have to go outside. Something’s calling out to me.”
Morgana can’t even react as Akira is already leaving, the sounds of the storm coming in for only a second before they're shut out again.
Why, oh why does he always have to be so careless about himself? Morgana sighs and snuggles back into the pillows. There’s nothing he can do now except wait.
There’s a stranger lying in Akira’s bed, his bandaged chest heaving, eyes closed yet still thrashing in his sleep, accidentally hitting Akira as he’s taking care of the last of his wounds.
Morgana doesn’t like him. His clothes that Akira has hung up to dry look too strange and out of place for this area and his body is littered with scars that no amount of farm work and hunting could have produced.
“He’s a knight,” Akira states before Morgana can.
“We should get rid of him,” Morgana suggests.
Knights are bad news. Their appearance in villages always precedes tragedy: no matter if on the lookout for disloyal residents or there to collect taxes until the villagers are only left with the clothes on their body, everyone quickly hides when the heavy boots of a knight are heard throughout the streets.
Akira doesn’t look scared. In fact, the look he gives the man thrashing in a restless dream on his bed is way more compassionate than appropriate. “I’ll take care of him until he’s better. He must have been through a lot.”
“But he’s a knight!” Morgana protests, throwing his own words back at him.
Akira shakes his head. “He’s a human first.”
The knight’s name is Goro. They learn this after trying to convince him that his injuries are too bad and that he has to stay in Akira’s care for now unless he wants to risk permanent damage to his body. In the end, Morgana is sure what won him over wasn’t Akira’s never-ending kindness, but the fact that his left arm is practically useless and stabilised to his body to speed up the healing process.
Akira quickly tells him about what this workshop does, not exactly shoving into his face what the selling point of his craft is, but not making much of an effort to hide it either.
Goro stares with a hard gaze.
“A toymaker, you say? I have only heard of a witch living around here. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?” His voice is curt, every word calculated for maximum intimidation.
This man is quiet danger, Morgana is sure of it. If he’s as perceptive as he seems to be, it won’t take him long to put two and two together.
Akira only shrugs. “Never met a witch myself, but I think I’d get along with them.”
Fiery red eyes narrow at Akira.
“You are truly peculiar,” the knight says. It sounds degrading, yet in a strange way complimenting too.
Akira eats it right up, if the glint in his eyes is anything to go by.
Their daily routine continues as usual, except that Akira now changes the knight's bandages in the morning, secretly adding healing magic, and spends the nights with Morgana on the couch while Goro gets the bed to hopefully speed up his recovery.
Customers still trickle in throughout the day and after isolating himself in the bedroom for the first two days, Goro is sitting with Morgana on the couch by the third.
Morgana’s fur stands on edge and not once does he let the knight out of his sight. A few times, his hand extends almost automatically to pet the cat, and while Morgana wants to hiss and flinch away, he figures that this serves as adequate payment for all the stress he’s putting him through.
He watches each customer take place at the table and state their problems, occasionally throwing the duo in the corner a confused glance.
“Ah, these are just my assistants,” Akira smiles charmingly. “Don’t hesitate to ask them for help, yes?”
Morgana feels Goro’s hand clench in his fur and yowls in protest.
Contrary to his words, Akira sets up tea himself, provides his guests with sweets and all in all spends a long time just listening to their stories instead of getting to the core of their problems.
“Disgusting,” Morgana hears Goro mumble under his breath. Yet when he looks up, the knight’s expression is... conflicted. As if he can’t understand Akira’s kindness towards a stranger like this.
Morgana figures there might be some projection involved.
Akira one day sets up his old chessboard on the table, giving Goro a challenging smile. The other’s eyes light up and a few playful taunts later, they are engrossed in one match after another.
It only spirals off from there.
The two start to make dinner and breakfast together. Goro tries to help out with Akira’s toy making and discovers a penchant for woodcrafting. They sit on the couch until late at night, lost in discussions with opinions so different yet similar that it makes Morgana blink in confusion over how they understand each other and even seem to get joy out of the occasional argument.
He strolls into the kitchen one morning to find a rather unusual sight.
Akira is standing at the stove, preparing something warm for them. Goro is right beside him, laughing at something he said, eyes never leaving Akira’s and his good hand hovering over his back as if he’s not sure if he should really touch him. There’s warmth in his eyes Morgana would have never suspected him to be capable of.
And Akira looks back at him with equally as much, if not even more passion. His lips part and something hushed escapes him, only for the two of them to hear.
There’s really only one thing Morgana can do and that’s charging at them while screeching loudly so they jump away from each other in shock. Later on, he claims he saw a mouse and just wanted to protect them and their food. They eat the lie up more wilfully than the charred breakfast and Morgana is pleased to find that the atmosphere between them is back to being awkward.
It’s late at night when Morgana comes back from a stroll through the woods. He sneaks into the dark workshop, but is surprised to find the couch still empty.
Voices come from the bedroom, agitated and clearly in some kind of argument. Morgana hides around the corner, peeking in, his tiny heart beating loudly in his chest.
Akira sits with Goro on his bed, close and almost touching. Intimate if it wasn’t for the guarded expression on Akira’s face and the fury on the other’s.
“I’ve seen you help so many people who don’t even spare you a glance,” the knight spits out, “so why not me?”
Akira looks away, hands trembling. “I can’t just… I don’t know how…”
Goro shifts closer and pulls Akira’s chin up so he has to stare him in the eyes.
“Give me the power to kill him.”
A cold shiver runs down Morgana’s spine, but it’s as if he’s frozen in place, not able to intervene.
Akira looks at him in shock. “But he’s the king!” he stammers out.
"He's a deadbeat father, that's what he is!" Goro suddenly shouts. "That man has no right to a crown!"
Silence fills the house. Morgana slowly sinks down on his legs, eyes wide and mind unable to comprehend what he has heard just now. Suddenly, it makes sense why the knight was so reluctant to leave the past few days, claiming his injuries still hurt too much to make it back on his own.
Morgana has recently heard from villagers that there has been a failed coup in the kingdom, the person behind it still in hiding.
“Why won’t you help me?” Goro continues, exasperated. “You worked day and night these past few weeks just to give something to people who don’t even care to pay you! Why not me?!”
Akira’s body shakes and Morgana thinks he can see the first tears form in his eyes.
And then he breaks.
“Because it would be too much for me to handle,” Akira confesses, voice trembling. “I gave away so much already, I don’t know if I have enough left for something this— this terrifying, Goro, I’m so sorry, but I can try—“ The rest of the words die in his throat and give way to quiet sobbing.
The knight is rendered speechless. Morgana sees the way his eyes widen and he leans back in shock. It seems like it finally clicked for him, though.
Every spell has its price. No matter if it’s physical labour they need, a wound they want to get rid off, a bit of creativity to make things work—Akira gladly takes all their problems and gives as much of himself as he can. It exhausts his body to no end, but it makes him feel like he’s doing something good.
Taking someone’s life would require Akira to give up something of himself of equal worth.
“Akira,” Goro’s words come out as no more than a whisper. “Akira, you— why have you never told me?” He looks on the edge of breaking himself. Morgana isn't sure if any kind of feline attention would even work to cheer them up right now, so he stays in his spot.
The toymaker keeps quiet save for the sobbing that he desperately tries to hold back.
Something in Goro’s expression changes completely. He shuffles forwards on the bed, tentatively getting closer. “I’ll take care of you from now on.” He pushes Akira’s hair back and presses a kiss to his forehead that makes Akira stutter on his next sob, clinging to the other’s shoulders. “You won’t give away any more of yourself as long as I have a say in it. And you’re going to take the next few days off.”
Akira stammers out a few weak protests, but they all get swallowed by Goro’s lips. He pushes against him weakly, but then pulls him in the next moment and tilts his head to fit better against him.
Morgana blinks in surprise. This explains… a lot.
Still unsure if he should do something or not, he decides it might be the best for tonight if he leaves them like this, especially once he sees how Goro pushes Akira back into the bed, something in his eyes that Morgana finally comes to recognise as devotion.
With mixed feelings, Morgana turns and leaves on velvet paws so as to not disrupt them. He would definitely have a talk about this with Akira soon. Alone.
At least he has the couch to himself tonight.
Goro keeps to his word and forces Akira to stay away from his workbench for the next few days, still taking customers but letting them know that it will be a while before he starts working on things. It works wonders as even Morgana feels the magic in the workshop become more potent, stronger than it has ever been in the last months.
And soon enough, something even more magical happens.
Apparently word got out that the kind toymaker who lives in the forest isn’t feeling well and is taking a break and now almost every day, villagers knock on the door, bringing all kinds of gifts and good wishes to Akira, thanking him for all he has done for them.
The artist comes back to hang up a stunning painting of the sunrise in Akira’s workshop, thanking him and claiming Akira’s little gift changed his life and saved his career.
The lady arrives one day with a covered basket in her hand. As soon as the door closes behind her, she lets the kittens inside run wild in the workshop, exclaiming in joy that her cat didn’t come back alone.
The twin girls, now both with identical woundless faces once again, bring him the leftovers from the market each day, drinking tea and eating their homemade pastries together with them.
Goro stays even when the bandages come off. He helps Akira when he goes back to work off requests, making sure he eats regularly and rests enough. And at night, he holds him close to himself and pats the space in between their bodies for Morgana to snuggle into.
Morgana came to like him a bit more than anticipated.
“You won’t exhaust yourself anymore, will you?” he asks Akira one evening.
Akira hums, coming over to the couch to pet Morgana. “I’ll make sure to not overdo it anymore. Promise.”
There’s steps behind them and then an arm wraps around Akira’s waist. “I wouldn’t let you do that anyway,” Goro kisses his cheek and makes Akira smile bashfully.
Morgana wants to hiss at the knight for taking away Akira’s attention, but he knows that Akira is happy with this and that soon enough, he will go back to showering Morgana in attention.
He just needs some for himself first.
“It’s time you take care of your own happiness for once. There’s lots of people who think so too,” Goro says gently.
Morgana jumps off the couch and rubs his head against Akira’s legs in agreement. The toymaker chuckles and scoops his cat up in his arms.
“Having you two with me is already the greatest happiness.”