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Gray eyes stared back at him as he watched himself take a slow, even breath. The reflection before him in the mirror hinted not a trace of doubt or indecision behind his steady gaze. Rather, there was everything he should be—calm, composed, capable, and confident. And yet still, still , he could feel his hands tremble as if the weight of his intentions was too monstrous for him to grip and hold onto. His fingers curled, balling the fabric of his pants into his fists. However, his face showed no betrayal of the anxiety that rose within him. He locked it up, pressed it down, further and further with each deliberate, painstaking breath.
It was only a matter of time until the pressure shattered him, but tonight was going to make all of that disappear. He knew it. He was going to make something happen for himself, for once, just once. He was tired of carrying around this big secret like he had something to hide.
But he had everything to hide. That's how he had made it this far... and that's what was eating him from the inside out.
And he was tired of it.
He was fed up with the question taunting him with every missed opportunity. He could hear it at night as he lay in bed, staring up at the lofty ceilings of his room. His own nagging voice criticizing him for all the moments through the day that he could have asked Kalim, yet didn’t. He went over scenario after scenario about how he would have gone about it if the optimism of his request didn’t die on his tongue the moment he found the courage within himself to speak it into existence.
And yet, every day led to the same results: psyching himself up to finally ask such a simple—impossible—question only for him to be in front of the mirror yet again that night, practicing all over how to just ask Kalim if he could go to Night Raven College and not attend Royal Sword Academy. It was such an easy request; it shouldn’t have rattled him as much as it did. He was ashamed to admit how much apprehension it caused him.
For every failed attempt blemished the impeccable image he had carefully crafted over the years—the image polished by the rules that bound him to his role. He was the object of perfection: refined, cut and set. He was loyal to Kalim, obedient to the Asim family, bound by his name.
Even now, staring at himself in the mirror for probably the hundredth time, there was no possibility to see himself any other way, not as he was now. The eyes staring back at him were those of a servant, not a master of anything or of any sort. And who was he to ask such a favor from someone so far above his own position?
But that didn’t make him want it any less.
Marble had a funny way of biting through even the finest of silks. It was merciless on his legs when he bowed alongside his father, cold and painful to the still growing bones in his body. And yet he held his bow poised, as still as he could. He shifted his weight from one leg to the next, giving the blood a chance to flow until they were all dismissed. His knees ached and calves tingled when he stood. The majestic room around them echoed with each uneasy step he took, guided by his father’s hand gripped around his wrist.
Once out of view and tucked away into the servant quarters, his father peered down at him and snapped his fingers in his face to get his attention.
“I’ve told you, you mustn’t squirm so much when you’re holding an audience with Asim.” His father’s voice was stern but not unkind.
He peered down at his feet. His sandals were loose from the hurried exit and revealed angry bite marks in his skin from the position he had held for the last half an hour while they waited patiently to be dismissed. It was obvious from the start they had been forgotten about as they bowed on the cold, unforgiving floor.
“It hurt to sit that long,” he huffed and rubbed his legs.
“You know that it doesn’t matter. You’re—“
“I know, I know. Don't make a spectacle of yourself, don't complain. Even if I’m uncomfortable.”
A shadow fell over him as his father leaned over him and put his hands on his shoulders. “That’s right; you can endure it. You can endure anything. You’re a Viper. That is our family’s honor.”
It didn't make the marble hurt any less.
Parties seemed like fun, but they were just as deceptive in their nature. Guests always painted smiles on their faces and laughed with such careless ease. But when the music died and guests departed, the mess they left in their wake never seemed worth the fuss. It also meant he had to stay up late, weave in and out of throngs of drunk people and also have his presence be felt but never acknowledged.
On those days, it meant he was the first to wake, the last to sleep. It meant that the next day, he would be exhausted and yet, still, had to behave as if he were not. Another performance, another act to uphold the Viper name.
“Why do we have to clean everything up?” He asked his mother one morning after a particularly late night surveying the large ballroom at the Asim house for broken glass and lost articles of clothing. He picked at the bandages that were wrapped around his fingers, the stinging from his cuts not yet completely healed.
“Don’t ask silly questions you know the answers to, and eat your breakfast.” His mother bit back a yawn, which she must have passed to him. He pushed his food around with his fork, another question eating at him.
“...Why don’t the Asims ever thank us? They thank their guests for coming, but they break their good dishes and stuff. We don’t do that. So, why do they get thanks and we don’t?” He kicked his feet under the table and finally decided to put the now cold piece of toast in his mouth.
His mother sighed and turned to him. “Why would they thank us? That’s our job.”
“Bu-” He started to argue but she placed a finger on his lips.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full. Go, go, you’re going to be late.”
He swallowed the toast with difficulty and wiped the crumbs off on his palm, another thing his mother chided him for as he left to go back to the house he had left not four hours beforehand. He did know the answer to the question: to serve without needing gratitude was just what the Vipers have always done.
It didn’t make the cuts on his hands ache any less.
Poison training had been something he had already endured for a long time when his twelfth birthday rolled around. The more exposure he received, the more he could discern the effects, the quicker he could act should he detect it.
This training, unlike other subjects he had been forced to learn, was never timed, scheduled or discussed beforehand. However, it was always supervised, and he was always cared for by his parents afterwards. And the more it happened to him, the more his immune system became capable of combating the ill effects. The poison that once would have taken him out for a few weeks only took him a few days to recover from after a few months of being subjected to it. It was better him than the Asims... it was better him than Kalim.
Sometimes in his fever-addled mind, he wondered if it was better for someone else to be poisoned besides him.
Another stupid question with a nonsensical answer.
However, when he witnessed one of Asim's wives walk into the kitchen to observe the preparations for the family’s lunch, his training immediately sprang to the forefront of his mind. Something was off. The pleasant tone of her loving voice reminded him of his own mother when she was trying to distract him from what he was doing to lace his food with something. She was trying too hard.
It made him feel nauseous.
The smile on her face as she hovered around talking like nothing sinister was going on behind pleasantly idle conversation sent a shiver down his spine. He, however, minded his own business as she chatted with the other staff in the kitchen, but he kept a watchful eye on her. When he turned his back to her to grab a plate, he intentionally set his sights on her. And that’s when he saw it: a glimpse of a glass vial that she had slipped back in the pouch around her waist. All the more suspect that she then graciously offered to serve Kalim, a boy who was not her son...he knew his suspicions were correct.
If he took it, he could throw it out. Or bring it to someone to test it. He could prevent this from happening. But the woman sweetly denied him, saying that he was far too young to be carrying hot food such a distance. He immediately alerted his parents. But they did not react with any sort of pride in their son, like he had been hoping.
It left him feeling confused… and empty. They had already known her plans and so did Kalim’s father. But Asim wanted to give her a chance to back down from her treachery. Asim was trying to give her another chance. This was confirmed later when Asim asked his wife about the poison before the spoon touched Kalim’s lips.
Before he was going to step in to make sure that nothing happened to his master. Because what else had he been suffering for, if not for him?
“It makes me look bad.” He shook his head. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand any of this.
“It’s my job as a Viper, right? If he got poisoned…” What was all that training for if Kalim was just going to be hurt, anyway? He could feel himself shaking. He didn’t know what to make of this.
“It’s the Asim way; he wants to give everyone a second chance to redeem themselves… you did the right thing telling us. If it had been anyone else, you know what would have had to happen. But family, that’s an Asim affair.”
His pride as a Viper would always be overshadowed by the honor of the Asim name. And that honor was a double standard, for both him and Kalim.
That double standard didn’t make poison burn any less.
"Hey, come here!"
He saw Kalim waving in the crowd at Camel Market. His growth spurt had aided him by making it a bit easier to locate his master when he decided to leave him in the dust and wander off on his own when they went out together. But being taller now meant that it was harder to navigate around people without bumping into them. Luckily, Kalim didn't leave him that far behind this time.
"Kalim, I've told you not to run off-" he said, trying to even out his breath from running to catch up.
"But, look." His master grabbed his arm and tugged him over to a crumpled mess of feathers in the street. His heart sank as Kalim looked over the bird that was laying in the middle of the busy market street.
He sighed and accompanied him, blocking off the area with his body so that they could further inspect the creature. He could see through the mud that caked its dingy red feathers that it was still breathing but the jarring angle of its wings told him that they were broken.
And that meant it was in a lot of pain.
"It's still alive..." Kalim frowned and gently reached out his hands to pick it up. Before he could protest, he recognized a familiar glint in those ruby eyes. Painful optimism. Ignorance. He swallowed hard. He knew exactly what Kalim was going to say before he voiced his idea.
"We should nurse it back to health! You can do it, can't you?" The hope that shone through that smile, it made him sick.
But who was he to refuse to do anything for Kalim's happiness?
He was surprised it was still alive after the trek back to Kalim’s room. And despite the beautiful gilded cage Kalim had put it in so it could heal properly without anyone bothering it or making its injuries worse, he knew it wouldn’t last the night.
He couldn't stand it: the smile that Kalim had etched on his face was for show. He was trying to remain upbeat, as if that kind of thing had any influence on their situation. It was a very Kalim-like approach, but it was grating his nerves. Why did the bird have to suffer because Kalim couldn’t see the reality of the situation? Like if Kalim continued to sing to it, it would sing back?
Yet he stood nearby, bending to every one of Kalim's whims for its recovery–healing magic they were just starting to learn, sugared water for energy, straw for a bed, seed from the greenhouse. His day became caring for the pitable bird until his master's eyes became itchy and tired. He quietly wrapped a shawl around Kalim's shoulders as his breathing evened out, succumbing to sleep.
His gray eyes cast a long glance at the bird in the beautiful cage and he steeled his nerves for what he knew he had to do. It was for the best for that poor bird. Nothing could help it now.
Kalim was still asleep by the time he got back. He had just enough time to clean the dirt from his hands and make himself presentable before going to prepare his master's breakfast. By the time he got back, the other boy was awake and looking at the empty cage.
"Where did it go?" There was panic in his voice. He smiled at Kalim and shook his head before setting the assortment of fruits and grains down on the table. His master wasn’t the only one who was good at presenting a fake smile.
"It flew away about an hour ago." He could see relief ease the tension in Kalim's face.
“Really? You did it!” Kalim bounced up from his spot and wrapped his arms around him.
“You did it; I did nothing.” He deflected, giving his master a pat on the back. He wondered if Kalim actually believed his lies that easily. But this was all for him, right? Everything was for him.
He would never tell Kalim where he buried the bird and they never brought it up again. Sometimes he wondered if that would be his fate as well, to be buried somewhere on the Asim property and forgotten about—his ability to fly towards his own freedom being the very reason for his demise…
But that didn’t make him want it any less.
That didn’t make Jamil want it any less .
The desire to go to Night Raven College had not wavered, despite all these things that plagued him every time he looked in the mirror, every time he stared at his ceiling late into the morning hours. He had turned in his application quietly months beforehand and had done everything in his power not to dance for joy when he got his acceptance letter. The day was nearing and one way or another; he was determined to reason his way into getting permission to attend. He hoped.
He pushed the desk mirror down and let out a frustrated groan. This was all so pointless. Convincing Kalim of anything was next to impossible unless it aligned with whatever sentimental drivel he had already concocted in his head. And if he knew one thing, it was that Kalim already had plans for their time at Royal Sword Academy… together—inseparable. He would find himself stifled as always, a bird with wings clipped too short to fly, a stone set in a metal casing to be worn as a trophy, a symbol of status. And nothing more.
Just like he had been his entire life.
But still there was a chance to reason with him, a way of making Kalim see just how much he wanted this. How much he needed this.
Not that that ever mattered before and it wouldn’t now. But it wasn’t going to stop him from trying. Maybe if he was born any other person but a Viper he'd have a chance at living a normal life. But being a Viper meant living by three stupid, suffocating rules. By doing so, he’d be a cut above the rest, yet never rise too far, never fall too low. He’d be right where he needed to be–where he was destined to be.
But he was tired of that, too. He was tired of being a Viper.
He got up from his desk in his room and stretched, inhaling as he did so. He could feel his courage seizing him yet again, and he took another calming breath to convince himself the anxiety he was feeling was nothing more than excited energy at the possibility of his future. It wasn't like Kalim was heartless. He would let him go, he was sure of it. There was no backing out of it now, even if he had to lie to himself to get himself through the night. There really wasn't any time to second guess himself.
He walked over to his bathroom, neatening himself up in the mirror, and stared yet again at his face. He was the master tonight. He was going to say what he wanted out of his life and Kalim was going to listen to him... even if his last name wasn't Asim.
Nausea gnawed away at his stomach as he tread the familiar steps to the Asim household. It wasn't that late in the evening yet so the chill that ghosted his skin was all his own making. Before he set foot into Kalim's room, he could hear him laughing about something.
He cleared his throat, doubting such a sound would alert Kalim to his presence, but he made his way into the room regardless. He could already feel his newfound courage faltering with each step, a weight holding him back. But he persevered.
"Ah, Jamil! You're just in time!" Kalim's bright smile blinded him, causing him to stop in his tracks and break his eye contact with his master. A package caught his attention, the contents of which had spilled out of their royal blue paper. Periwinkle robes embroidered with silver swords and crests lay on Kalim's chair. His stomach twisted. Royal Sword Academy Robes.
"They came in today. You should try them on with me!" Kalim pulled up the garment and put it in Jamil's face, too close for him. "It'll be fun!"
"Oh... they really need to be ironed and aired out first," he remarked, noting the wrinkles and pushing Kalim's hands down with his own. "Can we talk?" It was now or never.
Kalim didn't seem phased by his inquiry. The excitement of the robes was evident that he wasn't really listening. "Yeah! Of course!" And just like that, he began to take off his shirt to try on his outfit that had just arrived. Typical.
He steeled his nerves, pushed aside everything that he had ever been taught. He imagined Kalim a mirror, another practice pep talk.
"I want to go to Night Raven College." Not even a moment hung between them before Kalim turned to him, that smile still solidly planted on his face.
"But we're going to Royal Sword together! What are you talking about?"
Jamil's fingers were trembling again but he balled his fists to keep himself from backing down. It was far too late now. "Well, I think it would be beneficial for your future that you have someone beside you who learned things differently than you did, Kalim. If you think about it, we'd be learning the exact same magic from the same instructors. But if we learn at different establishments, perhaps our different experiences will bring more—"
He was cut off by Kalim laughing and waving his hand in the air like he was being bothered by a fly.
"Different experiences? Where's the fun in that? I want to go to school with you, Jamil. You’re my best friend!"
"But if we—"
"It's because of the robe color isn't it? You hate it?" Kalim sighed and put his hand on Jamil's shoulder in sympathy.
Pain shot through his jaw as he clenched his teeth together and said, firmly, "No." He took in a staggered breath. He wasn't going to just let this go, he had to keep trying to make him understand. He had to understand.
"Really? Hm, it doesn't really seem like your color but we'll get used to it." Kalim turned back to slide the undershirt on and button it up.
He took in another deep breath. "Kalim, I already put in my application and got accepted to Night Raven College." His master looked back at him, eyes wide in surprise, his eyebrows raised.
"Wait, why would you do that? We already talked about—"
"No, you talked about it. This is what I've been wanting to do, Kalim." He didn't want to sound desperate but he could hear his resolve crumbling the way his voice cracked.
"You don't want to go to school with me? What do you mean, Jamil?" Kalim's laugh was setting his nerves on fire. He really was just a servant, someone who would always be there for Kalim no matter what. There was no room for him in his own life. Jamil would always be second-rate, an average, uninspired, unfulfilled, unsatisfied retainer. He was going to live and die being at the whims of someone else.
He hated it.
His heart was hammering against his ribcage as Kalim once again put a comforting, patronizing , hand on his shoulder. "You can always write Night Raven and tell them it was a mistake. No big deal." He smiled at him, a comforting, patronizing , smile.
And something inside him snapped. Heat rose from his stomach, like bile clawing up his throat. A familiar sensation... Everything he had been taught about his life latched onto him to drag him down into a role he didn’t want. The frustrating smile on Kalim's face taunted his pride. That smile reminded him that his place was always beneath him, no matter the situation.
He was done with this. The warmth that spread over his body intensified, the sting of anger coursing through his veins.
"Jamil, are you alright?" Kalim's concerned voice cut him down even more. He noticed now that he was angry? Of course now he would pay attention… He looked up into those ruby eyes, his truth dying on his tongue as he tried to remain calm.
But he could hear his own voice very clearly, echoing in his head,
The person reflected in your eyes shall be your Master. You shall answer when you are asked, and you shall obey when you are ordered.
Two words struggled out of his mouth. " Snake Whisper. " Kalim's hand fell from his shoulder, his eyes dimmed and lifeless. He stood still, quiet.
The urge to vomit was back. He fought it down. What the hell did he just do? He reached his hand out to his master.
"Kalim?" He whispered.
"Yes, Master Jamil? What is it you wish me to do?" His voice was as lifeless as his eyes. Was this some sort of sick joke? Had he just developed—?
What he wished for? Really? How cruel. He was starting to get dizzy. He couldn't hold this for long. He looked Kalim in the eye and cleared his throat. He took a deep breath and, just as he rehearsed in the mirror so many times, Jamil spoke from his heart to someone who would finally listen to him.
"I want to go to Night Raven College. Allow me to go."
"Of course."
The sickening feeling that washed over him dissipated as quickly as it had come. Kalim blinked and tilted his head at him. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked, his voice back to its usual upbeat tone. "You look sick. And here I thought you'd be happy." He sighed deeply. "You're a weird guy, Jamil."
Jamil clapped a hand over his mouth and swallowed thickly. "What do you mean?"
"About going to Night Raven College, duh. I mean…” Kalim tilted his head and thought for a moment. Jamil held his breath until Kalim continued to talk. “I’m going to miss you, buddy, but it’s okay; we can still see each other on holidays.”
Jamil shook his head. "Y-yeah..." Was this really happening? "Wait, so I can go?"
"Yeah, duh, you made some good points. I'm convinced. At least help me try these robes on to make sure they fit? I know they need to be ironed or whatever.” Kalim let out an exasperated sigh at the prospect of anything keeping him from gauging how his new outfit suited him. Jamil quietly obliged, his fingers shaking now from something entirely new.
Nervous excitement.
Still, guilt gripped his chest as he walked home. He had done something unspeakable, even if it was an accident. He had deceived Kalim… but he couldn’t stop smiling; the entire way back home, he had never felt lighter. All the wants and desires he had ever had were now only a few weeks away. He was so close he could almost taste it.
He looked at himself in the small desk mirror he had been using to practice and couldn’t help but finally see it… Him, Jamil, staring back at him; the smile on his face was beginning to hurt his cheeks but he couldn’t help it. He made it happen for himself. And although the guilt of what he had just done had already begun to wear at the happiness he felt in that moment, he couldn’t help the joy he was feeling.
No longer just a Viper, a servant, a being bound by destiny to someone… he was free. If only for just a little while. The thought of being away from his obligations to enjoy his life like any normal person would at his age coaxed him into bed early that night. No longer did he hear his own voice nagging at him to take control of his life. And, yet, he could hear the incantation that entered his mind moments before his master granted him his wish.
“Snake whisper, huh?” He mused, thinking back to the stories he had heard about the Sorcerer of Sands. He had some kind of power like that, right? He didn’t know for sure the extent to his own power, but he had time to figure that out. He would have to tell Kalim too… eventually. But he decided to cross that bridge when he got to it.
How little did he know then that his freedom would be taken away so swiftly and bitterness would seep into his soul anew.
For now, his happiness was not worth any less than anyone else's. And, for now, that was enough.