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Billiam stood on the balcony of his impressive mansion. His focus lay down in the yard where Butler was brushing out Carl’s coat. The servant was talking adamantly to the stallion as he worked though Billiam was too far away to hear his words. Carl stood dutifully, even occasionally bobbing his head as if in agreement to whatever the servant was saying. Billiam couldn’t help the small smile that threatened at the sight as he brought his glass of wine to his lips. His mind started to wonder.
It had been many years since Butler was first brought into his home - having been plucked from the dusty half dried up town to replace the estranged Hubert after his attempted escape and demise. Billiam had done as he had said, he had taken care of the child, saw to the child’s education - hiring tutors to make sure the boy could read and write. When the boy was of deemable age, Billiam took the boy to the yard and began training him in the ways of the sword. Butler learned very quickly and with practice, he had become very skillful in not only his words but also with a blade.
Butler had grown, not only in the way that humans do but also on Billiam. His unfathomable, unwavering loyalty was unmatched. He followed Billiam’s orders without question and took everything thrown at him in stride. Everyone else at the mansion adored him. He was special, a fact that Billiam could no longer deny.
Which presented within itself a new problem.
Billiam’s rut was approaching and he could feel it inching closer with each passing day. It was something that piglins usually went through twice a year. It was a period of time - usually only a couple of days - where they would resort back to their more instinctual, animalistic sides. Were he still in the Nether, Billiam would spend his rut contesting with his fellow piglins and perhaps even looking for his soulmate. But that behavior was far beneath him. Normally he wouldn’t be concerned, he’d never had any problems in the past. He’d just lock himself in his study with strict orders to not disturb him with a designated servant bringing him his meals.
That had been his routine before the Egg appeared. Since its mysterious appearance, however, Butler hadn’t undergone a rut in many many years. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Egg had something to do with that and now with it gone - mysteriously vanished without a trace - it seemed like things were returning to normal. Which was the source of his concern. Billiam hadn’t gone through a rut since he introduced Butler to the manor and he certainly hadn’t expected to get quite so attached to the servant. He didn’t know how his animal side would react.
“Careful señor. If I were to catch you staring at me like that I would think you were infatuated.”
The heavily Hispanic voice snapped Billiam from his worry. He jerked, spinning on his heel. Betty, the head maid of the manor, was grinning at him from the doorway to the balcony, broom in her hand.
Betty was an old hispanic woman that had been serving the mansion long before Billiam acquired it. “So you’re the new master of this mansion? Fine with me. I will tell you one thing, I came with the place and with it I will go.” She had said with a determined, confident gleam when Billiam first introduced himself as the mansion’s new owner. Billiam had initially accepted her bold declaration and simply decided to wait out her life - honestly she looked very old, how much longer did she have left? But that had been nearly a century ago and Betty was no different now than the day they first met. Billiam had a sneaking suspicion that she was not human but he wasn’t bothered enough to ask.
“I was not starring Betty,” He corrected, turning his gaze away as she raised her eyebrow as if she didn’t quite believe him so he added quickly, “I was simply making sure that my prized horse is properly taken care of.”
“Of course.” Betty sounded amused. He knew he didn’t fool her for a second. He thought she would at least let him slide with that but she quipped moments later, “Though I would imagine Butler would know how to take care of Carl by now.”
A sigh fell from Butler’s lips as his eyes scanned the yard in time to see Butler gently leading Carl back into the stables. Betty was right of course. There was no one else even allowed close to his horses. No one he trusted to take care of them. He stood there for a moment, enjoying the noises of the world around him and the almost rhythmic sweep of Betty’s broom.
“I’m going into a rut soon.”
The sweeping sound of the broom halts. A beat of silence hangs between them. Then.
“Ah,” Betty says, “As I suspected. Will you tell the boy?”
“Why?” He asks, turning to once again to meet the old maid’s eyes. The only one person who knew was Betty and Billiam had every intention to keep it that way. Butler did not need to know about his more animalistic qualities.
“Really Billiam?” Betty sighs, as if she knew something he didn’t and he suspected she did. “I don’t need to tell you that the rut is your instincts coming to the surface for a few days.” She was right, Billiam knew that already. “But, you and I both know that the symptoms start showing well in advance.”
“Yes, I am well aware” Annoyance bled in Billiam’s voice at her words. She knew he knew this. He’d had plenty of ruts before. He could feel his patience growing thin as he stated, “I just don’t know why this has anything to do with Butler.”
“Truly?” Betty asked, hiding a smile, “Señor, your tusks are showing.” Billiam blinked and sure enough, his tusks had pushed out from where they were normally hidden. He hadn’t even realized. To her credit, Betty didn’t look concerned, instead inquiring, “A sign of possession among Piglins no? As is shadowing, which you have been doing. You’ve followed the boy everywhere and have hardly let him out of your sight. I’m sure I don’t have to explain that one to you.”
Billiam blinked at Betty. He thought back to the last few days, realizing with growing clarity and horror that Betty was in fact right. He had caught himself just watching Butler from afar as he worked. Keeping an eye on him. He hadn’t thought anything of it because it felt right. He realizes now what it was. How stupid he had been.
“Oh,” He muttered, reaching a hand up to scrub down his face. That wasn’t good, especially if his animal side was sizing Butler up as a threat - even as something deep in him scoffed at that very idea. Contrary to the popular rumors stating otherwise, Piglins could somewhat control their ruts and Billiam had never had a problem with keeping his under wraps. Betty knew that. “Give me some credit here Betty.” He insisted, sounding more sure of himself that he felt, “I can control it.”
“Ah yes.” Betty dared, a small smile on her face and her eyes shining with mirth, “I remember those days you locked yourself in your living quarters and paced the floors all huffy and puffy. But that was when they were regular. It’s been years Billiam. Your instincts will come back with a vengeance. Your instincts will take control. The boy might be in danger. Perhaps you should consider sending him away just until you-”
“No!” The bellow that tore from his throat shocked him as did the curl of possessiveness at Betty’s suggestion. His voice had been loud, so loud that those down in the yard heard him. All eyes snapped to the balcony, even Butler’s as he’d just stepped from the stable.
Billiam shifted, letting the annoyance drain from him. Letting the anger that had ignited extinguish. Betty was silent, watching him with a gaze that was far too knowing.
“I’m sorry,” He apologized, reaching up to rub his temples. A dull ache was starting to form.
“It is quite alright señor. I understand that this is a tough time for you,” Betty leaned forward on her broom handle. For a microsecond her very form seemed to flicker but in a blink it was gone. Her voice, when she spoke next was low and sounded almost like a warning, “Do not dally too long in your decision. Send the boy away before the rut fully takes hold,” Sympathy flashed in her old eyes along with something else, something protective, “He is a good boy. Loyal without a doubt. He is one of the best things to ever happen to this mansion. You wouldn’t want to risk ruining that.”
“I won’t hurt him.” Billiam insisted and he felt that to his core. “I can control myself. Even if it’s been years, I know my instincts. We will plan to proceed as normal. I will lock myself away in my room, away from everyone. You will bring me my meals and keep him away.”
Betty leans back, a sigh falling from her lips. She doesn’t seem to agree with his decision but she does not argue. “If that is what you wish señor”
Billiam opens his mouth, intending to say more but Betty’s hand comes up stopping him. Moments later there is the click of a door handle turning and the squeak of a door being pushed open.
“Um… sir?”
Billiam turns at the sound of Butler’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, halfway in the door. Billiam noted with a touch of guilt that Butler looked nervous, hesitant. He waved his hand, inviting Butler into the room, which the other gladly accepted. Billiam waited patiently for the other to speak.
“Carl and the others will need more food soon. Shall I take the buckboard to town and get some more?”
“Have one of the others do it.” Billiam ordered instantly, gruffly, not liking the idea of Butler leaving his territory for one se- he caught himself mid-thought. What was he doing? Betty had that smirk on her face again. “I have another task for you to assist me in,” he recovered. It was technically true. Those blood vines littering the basement needed to be taken care of. He found that their presence was becoming unwelcoming and he wanted them gone. “The basement is in need of cleaning and I figure we could start on that.”
Recognition flashed in Butler’s eyes and he quickly glanced at Betty before he was nodding, muttering a “At once sir” and retreating from the room.
Betty’s chuckle sounded just as Billiam moved to follow as soon as Butler was out of sight.
-Several Days Later-
It’s the middle of the night when Butler is startled awake. Instantly alert, he sat up. Something had pulled him from the depths of sleep but he didn’t know what. The very mansion seemed to be holding still, staying quiet so as to not disturb whatever was afoot. Butler slowly pushed himself up, his hand instantly closing around the hilt of the dagger Sir Billiam had given and instructed him to keep close at all times and also who’d trained him to use it with lethal accuracy.
There was a faint thud, loud in the tense silence that had settled over the mansion, at his door. Butler tensed just as a muffled grunt of annoyance sounded from just on the other side followed by louder, harder thud. As if something or someone was attempting to get in.
Slowly, Butler eased from his bed, his bare feet silently touching the floor. He moved to the shadows just as another muffled noise sounds along with what sounded like blunt nails scraping against his door. His door handle, an ornate golden handle, jarred as something hit it. There was a muffled grunt and then the handle started to move down. The latch released and his door creaked open. A sliver of light spilled in the room chasing the darkness away slightly for a few moments before it was blocked by a shadow.
He tensed, bracing himself to attack the intruder as his door swings open slowly and in the faint light he’s able to see the figure that steps over the threshold and into his room. The tension drained from his frame instantly and the dagger lowered.
Butler straightened himself from his crouch. He watched as Billiam cautiously eased into his space, his eyes were darting around and his snout twitching, as if he was scenting for something. Something was off about his master. Butler couldn’t quite put his finger on what that was. He took a step, asking politely, “Sir Billiam? Is there something wrong?”
Red eyes snapped to him and Butler froze. There was a wildness in his master’s gaze, something animalistic that he’d never seen before. He’d heard stories, back when he was a child and living in the dust bowl town, of people entering the Nether dimension and getting killed and eaten by feral piglins. He thought they were just tales, stories that the drunken fools thought up to get a rise out of each other. He’d lived at the manor for nearly nine years now and never had he witnessed Billiam being anything other than civil and proper. Yet there was something very wrong about his master now and it scared him. Billiam made a questioning noise and took a step forward.
Butler couldn’t stop himself from taking a small step back and the little voice in the back of his head warned him to be wary. His eyes darted around the room, taking in all of his possible escape routes. He didn’t know what his feral lord was going to do but he needed to be ready to get away.
Luckily Billiam stopped but he stood to his full height. His nostrils flared and his eyes looked around the room again. Seeming to find nothing again, his gaze swung back to Butler. Billiam tilted his head slightly to the side, huffing curiously and almost questioningly.
At the display, Butler’s initial fear started to lessen. He was still wary but it seemed as though there was still some form of comprehension. With the adrenaline wearing off, exhaustion started to creep back in reminding him that it was very late at night. Sagging, Butler tried asking again, “Sir, is there something you need? It is very late.”
Billiam seems to study him for a moment as if processing his words. Eventually his master makes another noise that sounds like affirmation and nods his head. Before Butler can even ask what he needs, he is caught completely off guard as his master strolls the rest of the way into the room and starts to herd him toward the bed. Butler goes easily, baffled, and let’s his master push him down onto the soft bedding. He’s even more shocked when moments later the bed dips as Billiam climbs in behind him. He doesn’t say a word - can’t - as Billiam maneuvers them until he’s lying on his side, his back pressed to Billiam’s front and he’s caged within Billiam’s arms.
He fidgets, just once, a small and uncertain “Sir?” falling from his lips as Billiam nuzzled against his hair with a sigh of what sounded like contentment.
“Sleep.” Came the grunted word, the only word that Billiam had spoken and it sounded enough like an order that Butler kept all the questions he had floating in his mind to himself. He closed his eyes. He didn’t expect sleep to come so easily but wrapped in the safety and warmth of his master, Butler was out in no time.
-
Billiam gradually rises from the grasps of sleep. It’s a slow rise, one he makes with great reluctance. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt this content or well rested. ‘Must’ve been a very good dream,’ he muses sleepily as he tightens his arms and buries his snout further into the soft curls of hair, drawing in the familiar and unique scent.
Wait.
Billiam’s eyes snap open and in a flurry of movement, shoves Butler away from him and sits up sharply. Jolted awake by the action, Butler’s dark eyes fly open in sleep filled confusion at being so roughly awoken.
“Butler.” Billiam’s voice is rough from sleep, yet tinged with his rising anger as he glared down at his servant, “why are you in my bed?”
The tone of his voice, the harshness of his question, he sees sleep flee his servant. He watches, waiting expectantly for Butler to answer him but all he gets is a confused, “Sir?”
“My bed, Butler. Why are you here?” He demanded, his patience growing thinner by the minute. With his rut on the rise, the last thing he needed was this right now. Already he could feel his instincts bubbling up, taking an immediate interest in the human lying beside him. He gritted his teeth and pushed it down.
Butler blinked up at him, hesitantly before muttering softly, “Sir this is my room.”
Billiam paused and looked around, eyes widening as he realized that he was indeed no longer in his room. That this was very much Butler’s room. He groaned, reaching up to scrub his hands down his face. This was not good. Not good at all.
“Fuck!” His exclamation startled his servant even more. He saw him flinch slightly from the corner of his eye. His instincts didn’t like that, telling him to soothe the other. To wrap him back in his arms until he smelled like he had before. Billiam ignored it and threw the covers back. Without another word he stomped from the room, calling for Betty when he got back to his room. She seemed to materialize from nowhere, gaze knowing.
“It would seem,” He sighed, keeping his eyes trained on the wall, “that my instincts have no interest in fighting Butler.” Even now, he could feel the faint urge to return to Butler’s room, to bask in the warm, welcoming scent.
Betty makes a noise of agreement, “Just as I thought. The crimson blocked your ruts, possibly because your instincts would’ve considered it a threat, and now your instincts are coming back stronger than ever.” She tilts her head, “And it would appear that your instincts have an attachment to the boy, or it’s trying to form one.”
Billiam shook his head because he refused to believe it even though he felt the truth of Betty’s words to his very core.
~~~
Butler waited a half hour before he dared to venture from his room and go in search of his lord. He had many questions but overall, given his lord’s anger, he wanted to understand what had happened and if he had done something wrong.
His footsteps were silent as he ascended the steps that led to the upper levels of the mansion, years of traversing the halls of the place gave him the knowledge to move around silently as he knew the location of every noisy board. He was headed for his lord’s study. The door he’d heard slam not long after Billiam had left his room had come from here and he knew his lord prefered his study when he needed to think. He neared the room, finding the door cracked. He stopped just outside the door as the semi muffled voices reached his ears. His lord was speaking.
“Betty, I’m afraid you were right.” Billiam was saying, frustration still very much evident in his voice. “I thought I would be able to keep it under control but this-” his words trailed off with a deep sigh. It was a sound of defeat that Butler had never heard come from his lord before. His heart started to pound as the clinking of glass sounded. Butler pictured his lord at the small bar that was in the study, pouring himself a drink.
“So what are you going to do?” Betty’s voice spoke. She sounded pensive, almost sympathetic and Butler wondered why. Betty had been almost like his nanny whilst he was growing up. She always made sure he had eaten and that he’d bathed. She was also the one to help him with his studies when he was struggling yet was still too afraid of his lord to ask him for help on something.
“I have no choice,” Billiam sounded grim but he fell silent, as if he was hesitant to finish the sentence or couldn’t. Butler’s heart pounded in his chest. He waited with baited breath as a feeling of absolute dread washed over him. Eventually, after a hefty pause, Billiam continued, “I’ll send word to a good friend of mine to make the arrangements and then I will send Butler away.”
Butler’s breath caught in his throat as his lord’s words washed over him, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stumbled back, the railing the only thing catching him and preventing him from falling over completely as his heart ached and the very world that he knew shattered into millions of pieces. His lord was going to send him away to some stranger. He was going to give him away.
Tears welled in his eyes and were just starting to run down his face when the door to the study was suddenly yanked open. Startled, Butler’s gaze snapped to the open door only to find Sir Billiam standing in the doorway with a ferocious snarl twisting his face. His tusks were on full display and his eyes blazed red with fury. Fear twisted with the pain and Butler couldn’t stop the whimper that fell from his lips as that crimson gaze zeroed in on him.
Everything was too much. The pain. His lord’s angry presence. The realization that he was going to be discarded. Butler couldn’t take it so he did the only thing he could think to do at the moment. He turned away and he fled.
“Butler!” The bellow of his name, every bit of an order, rang out after him but he did not stop. For once in his life, he did not heed his lord’s command. He sprinted through the mansion, tears rolling down his face. He didn’t stop until he was back in the safety of his room. There he collapsed onto his bed and sobbed into the duvet as his heart broke. His lord, the man who saved his very life and had in turn given him a purpose to live, was going to toss him aside and give him away to someone else.
Gradually, his pain numbed and anger started to ignite in its place. He pushed himself up, glaring down at nothing. It wasn’t fair. He had done everything his lord had ever asked of him. He’d followed every command without question and without fail. He’d even lured countless people to their death, slit their throats, to feel the Egg because his lord had asked him to. What had he done to suddenly make Billiam change his mind?
Butler racked his brain but he couldn’t come up with anything that could’ve drawn his lord’s ire. He thinks back to the night before, on how his lord had seemed off. He then thought of his lord’s anger the following morning. Whatever was going on, Butler didn’t think it had anything to do with him but rather his lord. Something was happening and Billiam’s solution was to send him away.
His brows furrowed. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to serve a new lord. He didn’t want to leave the mansion. It was his home. It was his safe haven.
He pushed himself to his feet. His hands balled into fists. He wouldn’t serve a new lord. He’d rather die. His eyes landed on his window latch. He thought of Hubert, the butler that served the mansion before him. Billiam had been hunting him down because he’d tried to run away from the mansion. Billiam had every intention of killing the man when he came to the town. Billiam would have had the cannibal not beaten him to it. If Butler were to run away, Billiam would come after him too.
Decision made, Butler unlatched the window and pulled it open.
~~~
The door splintered in Billiam’s hand as he watched Butler run from him with tears streaming down his face. His instincts surged to the surface, pulling him under. He took a step to follow but something wrapped around him and pulled him physically back, causing him to stumble back into the room as the door swung shut.
With a snarl, Billiam whirled on Betty as she lowered her hand. The sour scent of Butler’s fear and pain burned his nose and was driving him insane. He needed to go. Needed to find him. Needed to soothe it.
“Señor please get a hold of yourself.” Betty’s voice, calm yet stern, cut through the fog that had clouded his mind. Billiam blinked, forcing his instincts down with greater difficulty. It was getting harder and harder to control it. His rut was getting closer.
“Sorry Betty,” He gritted out, bringing a hand up to scrub over his head. He could still smell Butler’s hurt. He hated it.
“I understand señor,” Betty’s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Her tone was awed when she spoke, “Even I didn’t know he was standing just outside the door. The mansion, it aids him you know.”
“Yeah,” Butler sighed, “and now I suppose he thinks I’m about to toss him aside.” His words sounded absurd to his own ears. As if he would ever part ways with his most loyal servant. Not even all the riches of the world could sway him.
After talking with Sir Skepton, Billiam was going to come up with some excuse to send Butler to the other’s mansion for a few weeks. Perhaps to collect a debt that would take a couple weeks to collect, just long enough for Billiam to go through his rut and then Butler would be back home and none the wiser. But that won’t work now, not with Butler knowing and thinking that he wasn’t wanted any longer.
Billiam turned again for the door.
“Señor.” It was a warning.
“I need to go find him Betty,” Billiam paused, hand on the door handle. He turned to fix the old maid with a stare, “I need to explain what’s going on and why. As I should have done to start with.”
There was a click as the lock retracted and Billiam was able to pull open the door. “He should be in his room” Betty called after him as he stepped into the hall, “Good luck, Billiam.”
Pride alone was the only thing that kept Billiam from sprinting through the halls of his manor but even it couldn’t stop his brisk walk as he followed the faint stench of Butler’s scent. Butler’s door was shut. Billiam knocked.
“Butler?” He called out gently. He expected to hear shuffling and soft foot falls as Butler came to the door. He was met with silence instead. There was no noise coming from the room. His instinct rumbled unhappily, not liking this one bit and Billiam agreed. He knocked again, harder.
“Butler, open the door.” He called again, louder, this time making it an order. Concern rose as once again there was no sound from the room. Billiam reached for the handle, it twisted easily in his hand.
He pushed his way in the room, finding it completely empty. He breathed deeply, the sour stench of hurt hung in the room along with the slightest tinge of anger. His eyes fell to the open window. He stood frozen as the realization set in. Once it did, it crashed over him like a wave.
Butler was gone.
~~~
Butler was miles from the mansion and he was exhausted. Traversing the rough ground of the giant spruce forest on foot was no easy feat. He’d hiked most of the time but luckily found what appeared to be a well used animal trail not too long ago and had been following that. The day was starting to fade though and that presented a new problem.
He was looking around for somewhere he could take shelter during the night as he walked down the trail. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going so he didn’t notice the glint of steel of the trap. The cold metal spikes snapped closed around his leg.
Butler went down with a cry of agony. White hot agony burned up his leg and blood dripped on the ground in a steady stream from where the teeth of the trap cut into his skin. Butler struggled to a sitting position, reaching down to claw at the trap. He attempted to pry the trap open to free himself but he couldn’t budge it and every movement sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through him.
Tears were streaming down his face.Dirt and dead leaves clung to him where he’d fallen. Butler laughed wetly, humorless, at his luck. His lord was going to send him away, he made the foolish decision to run away, and now he was miles from safety with night closing in and his foot caught in a hunter’s trap. Could it get worse?
A bush rustled farther down the trail and Butler’s head snapped up, his whole body freezing at the sight that greeted him. The largest wolf he’d ever seen had just stepped from the forest. The animal sniffed the air before its huge head slowly turned toward him. Its lips pulled back in a snarl and its amber eyes zeroed in on him. The wolf looked thin and hungry. Butler held very still, not even daring to breathe as the wolf stalked toward him.
This was it, he realized as the wolf closed in, this was how he was going to die. His lord, if he came looking for him, would find his mangled eaten body. The wolf started trotting toward him and Butler closed his eyes, muttering out brokenly, “Goodbye Sir Billiam.” as he waited for the feel of teeth and claws.
The thunder of pawsteps grew louder before they abruptly stopped. He could feel the heat coming from the wolf and he could hear its growl rumbling in its chest. Why wasn’t it attacking? Butler cracked open his eyes. The wolf was standing just in front of him but its attention was no longer on him. It was looking at something behind him. Butler was confused but that confusion turned to spine chilling fear when a noise like none he’d ever heard before suddenly roared behind him. It was a noise of pure rage. The wolf suddenly took a step back. Its ears flattened to its head and its growl switched to a whine as its tail sagged.
Slowly, Butler turned his head to see what had spooked the wolf. Standing just off to the side behind him, right in the middle of the trail, was Sir Billiam. Butler’s eyes widened as he noticed that his lord wore the same look he had when he invaded his room the previous night. It was a pure untamed, animalistic look. His eyes glowed crimson, his tusks were on full display. There was a constant rumble coming from him and it took Butler to realize that the angry noise was meant to be a growl.
The wolf shifted and Billiam attacked. In a blur of movement, Billiam was upon the wolf with a snarl. The two fought briefly but the wolf tried but he was no match for the enraged piglin. With one well calculated gore of his tusks, Billiam sent the wolf flying. It landed on the ground with a heavy thud. The wolf lay there for moments before slowly pushing itself to its feet and limping away, leaving a trail of blood behind it.
Butler didn’t think it would live from its wounds but the animal was put out of his mind at the sound of grunt. His gaze fell to his lord, breath catching at the sight of the blood that was now coating the front of Billiam’s pristine clothing. The outfit was ruined but luckily Billiam appeared unharmed. The piglin had straightened from his defensive crouch and was sniffing the air intently as he paced and watched the wolf until it disappeared.
Butler hung his head when Billiam finally turned toward him. In truth, he hadn’t been expecting his lord to hunt him down quite so quickly and while he was grateful that Billiam did save his life, a small part of him wondered why his lord even bothered considering he had broken the most important rule of the mansion; never try to leave servitude. He let out a shaky breath as the tension drained from his body. Acceptance washed over him as he heard the thud of Billiam’s boots as he got closer.
“Sir Billiam,” Butler sobbed, fresh tears staining his cheeks, “If you’re going to kill me then please make it quick.”
He heard the shuffle, saw Billiam’s boots appear in his vision. He expected to hear the sound of a sword leaving the sheath or feel the bite of tusks as he was gored but once again he’s caught off guard when his lord falls to his knees. Butler doesn’t have time to do anything but make a strangled noise when he suddenly finds himself wrapped in Billiam’s arms. Billiam rumbled softly, starting to pull Butler toward him, the movement jostled his trapped ankle and Butler whimpered in pain.
Instantly alert, Billiam pulled back sharply. The piglin looked down, seeming to just notice the steel trap. A displeased noise rumbled in the back of Billiam’s throat. He reached down and with ease pulled the steel trap apart, breaking it and rendering it useless.
Butler sagged in relief as the pressure disappeared. He moved his foot experimentally, pleased to find that it wasn’t broken but he certainly wouldn’t be able to walk on it. He glanced down to get a better look at the wound. It was ugly. Multiple jagged cuts that looked deep were cut into his leg and it was bleeding steadily. It needed medical attention as soon as possible.
Before he could even open his mouth to attempt to voice this to his feral lore, Butler found himself gathered effortlessly in Billiam’s arms and his lord started carrying him through the darkening forest. Just when he was wondering if his lord intended to carry him all the way back to the mansion, Billiam called out with a high-pitched piglin noise. Moments later a soft whinney sounded in answer and Carl trotted from a nearby treeline. The stallion came right up to them and practically shoved his nose against Butler’s chest with a very happy snort.
Butler laughed, reaching up to scratch the stallion’s head. “Hello to you too Carl.” He said warmly as Billiam snorted in what sounded like amusement. It was when Billiam moved them around to mount the stallion that Butler noticed that Carl didn’t have a saddle. He is effortlessly put on the back of Carl’s back with Billiam climbing up behind him seconds later. Billiam wraps his arms around Butler and issues a series of grunts, a sound Butler does not understand but Carl apparently did. Slowly, the stallion turns and starts to walk back in the direction of the mansion.
Butler slumped back against Billiam with a tired sigh. A content rumble rolled through his lord’s chest as Billiam leaned down to nuzzle against his hair. Butler was reminded of the last time he and Billiam were on Carl’s back. When Billiam had rescued him from the town when he was a child.
“Thank you,” He whispered quietly, sincerely, “Thank you so much for saving my life.”
Billiam’s response was to hug him tighter.
~~~
Betty paced the length of the balcony. Her old eyes were transfixed on the treeline, darting back and forth. She was worried, deeply. Shortly after finding the boy gone, escaped through his window and for all purposes appeared to have run away from the mansion, Billiam’s rut overtook him. His frantic words of finding the boy dissolved into frustrated grunts and snorts.
Just as Betty suspected, this rut was strong and Billiam’s animal side rose to the forefront completely. She had expected the animal’s attention to sway from the runaway boy yet she was surprised when he seemed just as determined to go in search of Butler.
Betty had tried to dissuade the wild piglin but her efforts had been in vain. The front door would not close fully now and sat crooked on its hinges. It had been no match for a determined piglin and Betty watched with a gaze filled with worry as the lord of the manor retrieved his prized stallion and rode, bareback, away from the grounds of the mansion and into the trees.
There was a flash of brown in the trees and Betty froze, her attention snapping to it. Relief washed over her as Carl materialized from the darkness, Butler and Billiam on his back. She walked briskly from the balcony, seeming to melt into the shadows stretching.
She opened the door to the mansion just as Carl approached. Her eyes widened in alarm as she caught sight of the blood.
“Butler!” Her voice was laced with concern, even if the boy smiled happily at her from his position on the stallion’s back. She ran to him, paying no mind to Billiam’s warning call or glare. “Butler sweet boy, what has happened? You’re hurt!”
“It’s nothing major Betty,” Butler answered as Billiam dismounted from the stallion’s back and reached up to help him down, “I stepped in a steel trap and would’ve been wolf chow if it hadn’t been for Sir Billiam saving me. Ow,” Butler winced as he accidently put pressure on his injured leg. Betty reached out to offer a steadying hand, even as Billiam snarled.
“Señor,” Betty reprimanded, fixing the lord of the manor with a stern look, “while I certainly understand the need to be territorial, Butler is hurt and needs medical attention.” Billiam regarded her and seemed to at least be understanding some of her words. His tusks slowly retracted and the tension ebbed some. Nodding sharply, Betty turned her attention back to Butler, offering gently, “Come sweet boy, let’s get you inside and get that wound taken care of. Marie dear, go fetch the potions,” the young maid that was addressed nodded and hurried away.
Butler started to attempt to hobble inside but Billiam simply huffed and picked him up again and disappeared inside. Betty ordered the stable boy to bed Carl back down for the night before she turned to follow, smiling with a hint of amusement as Billiam ascended the stairs and headed for his quarters while Butler issued a squeak of protest.
~~~
Butler woke up surrounded by warmth. He yawned and stretched leisurely, arching his back like a cat and rolling to sit up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Billiam was stretched out beside him, soft snores coming from him. Butler couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful his lord looked while sleeping.
His thoughts strayed to the last couple of days. Betty had dressed his wound and given him a potion to ease the pain. He had intended to go back to his room for the night but Billiam had all but blocked the doorway to prevent him leaving before herding him toward the huge four poster bed that sat in the center of the room.
He had sputtered and protested weakly but Billiam had merely fixed him with an unblinking look and kept grunting at him as if in encouragement. Betty eventually took pity on him as she finished gathering up the medical supplies and made her leave, “Might as well get comfortable sweet boy,” She had thrown over her shoulder, “He won’t be letting you out of his sight anytime soon.”
The old maid had been right. Billiam had become his shadow, following him around the mansion with the same enthusiasm as an overgrown puppy. It was awkward at first, especially when he received a mix of curious and amused looks from the other servants, but Butler learned to deal with the fact that his lord was always two steps behind him at all times. The first night after he’d returned to the manor he attempted to return to his room but Billiam had immediately stopped him and practically carried him upstairs back to the master bedroom. It was perhaps the most embarrassing moment of his life. He didn’t dare try again, not while his lord was like this.
He wasn’t even really sure what “this” was. He’d overheard one of the old servants saying something about it being a piglin thing but hadn’t happened in a long long time. He wondered why it had never happened while he had been at the manor or perhaps it had and he had not known about it?
His stomach rumbled, cutting off his thoughts. He was hungry and he knew that Betty would have breakfast ready by now. He glanced at his still sleeping lord, wondering if he should wake him but ultimately deciding against it. His lord needed his rest.
Slowly, Butler eased himself from the bed and headed downstairs.
Betty greeted him with a warm smile. “Ah Butler, buenos días! Come come and have a seat.”
Butler slipped onto one of the barstools that sat around the island in the kitchen as Betty turned around and opened the oven.
“I prepared a plate just for you sweet boy because I knew you’d be starving when you woke,” A heaping plate of waffles is sat before him and Butler’s eyes light up.
“Betty, you're the best!” Butler grinned happily as he reached for the butter and the syrup. Betty watched, pride twinkling in her eyes and a broad smile on her face as he doused his waffles and eagerly cut into them.
He groaned after the first bite. “You make the best waffles in the world,” He complimented before shoving another fork full into his mouth.
Betty chuckled, propping a hand on the counter. “So how is our lord doing? Is he still in rut or has he started returning to normal?”
“Still feral,” Butler muttered before he fully processed the rest of Betty’s words. He paused, looking up at the old maid, “Wait, rut?”
“Oh,” Betty sighed, “I forget you haven’t experienced this yet. You see every year a mature piglin goes into a period where they resort back to their more basic instinct driven animal selves. During this time piglins become extremely territorial and they defend their territory and their possessions from threats, most of the time other piglins, among other things. It usually only lasts a couple of days but Sir Billiam hasn’t had one in roughly eight years so this one is lasting a lot longer.”
Butler listened to Betty’s words, asking curiously, “But why hadn’t he had one in so long?” He tilted his head to the side.
Betty glanced at the young servants in the room before shuffling closer to where Butler sat and dropping her voice as she explained, “Eight years ago is when the Egg made its appearance in the basement.” Butler’s eyes widened as he gaped at her. She smiled briefly, “Yes sweet boy I knew about it. I believe that the Egg blocked our lord’s rut because the piglin side would’ve seen the Egg as a threat.”
“That makes sense,” Butler muttered, nodding. He opened his mouth to say more but a loud crash from upstairs made the words die in his throat.
“Seems our lord is finally awake,” Betty hummed before raising her voice, calling just as the sound of hurried footsteps came thundering down the stairs, “In the kitchen Señor!”
Billiam stormed into the kitchen, grunting frantically. He immediately crowded into Butler’s personal space, nose twitching as he scented the air. Butler blinked at his lord, keeping himself relaxed and calm. After having been convinced that he was alright, Billiam calmed and moved away to take a seat on another of the barstools.
“You say he’s more territorial,” Butler mumbled as he picked up his fork to start digging back into his waffles, “but he seems to only want to hang around me.”
Betty hummed, turning away as she began to reach for a plate she had stashed for Billiam as well. “That is quite easy to explain, dear Butler. It is because the piglin side recognizes you as his most valuable possession”