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“Tell me, runt, how is it that you came to be on the streets?”
Water laps soft and warm against his skin, carrying lavender-tinted bubbles that ebb and flow with every movement. The water is becoming murkier, but the more dirt that he cleans from William’s hair, the more magnificent it proves to be. The strands are flaxen-blonde and wiry with the promise of curls—Stephen is almost envious. Beautiful hair, practically laid to waste before he got his hands into it. He runs his fingers through William’s hair now, flicking off a stray twig to the floor.
William doesn’t answer until Stephen jostles him gently, rousing him from his sleep. He looks up at Stephen from beneath dark brows and dark lashes, blinking away his sleepiness. “m’ sorry, my Lord?”
“I asked you how you came to be on the streets,” Stephen repeats, feeling almost fond and most definitely exasperated. What a handful, William is becoming. Stephen had never before tolerated having to repeat his own words in one conversation, much less multiple times in one day, and yet here he is, making exceptions for pitiful street trash.
William looks back down at his knees, frowning. He presses his back against Stephen’s chest, like a fawn seeking reassurance from its mother—another thing that Stephen must endure. The clinginess ; why, not even an hour before, William had cried only because Stephen had attempted to pass him off to one of the chambermaids to have him cleaned and clothed. The only compromise he could come to with his new charge was simply to bathe together, which he tolerated if only because it meant that he would, personally, be able to ensure that William was scrubbed clean to his personal tastes.
Perhaps he should have taken a human woman with him, or someone who might better be able to help him understand the whims and whines of human adolescents. Another thing I ought to ask him, Stephen thinks to himself. Whether I’ve taken on a child, or a young man.
“Kicked out,” William finally mutters.
“Why?” Stephen asks, simply. He expects that maybe William’s family was poor and couldn’t afford another mouth to feed—it would certainly explain his state and… emotional problems. Even so, he’ll hear it from the runt’s mouth itself.
“My mother died. My father remarried,” William whispers. His fingernails, chipped and uneven, dig white crescents into the skin of his biceps. Stephen sighs and takes hold of the boy’s hands, prying them off of his own arms and holding them firmly out of the way as he brings the wash rag to William’s underarms. “...they had a new heir. He didn’t want me anymore.”
“You must’ve been a terrible one, then,” Stephen says, washing the dirt out of his skin.
“I didn’t mean to.” William’s voice trembles, in an exact mirror as how it had before when Stephen attempted to release him to the care of the chambermaids. “I did my best.”
“Oh, cease your tears, runt,” Stephen sighs. “Come now. How many tears can a human produce in one day? Cease with that sniffling. It is beneath you.”
What a handful! Stephen thinks, shaking his head. Despite his words, William only calms when his hands are released, and he is free to return to the safety of Stephen’s chest. If he didn’t know any better, and if life were just the slightest bit more absurd, he might as well expect the boy to attach to his breast and attempt to feed. A baby fawn, indeed.
“Listen to me, runt,” he begins. He removes William from his chest, just far enough to twist him around and force their eyes to meet. William’s blue eyes are still blurred with just-brimming tears, though it was clear he was at least attempting to hold them back, now. “If you are to become a member of my court, you must carry yourself with some sort of dignity. You aren’t a street orphan anymore. You are William and you belong to me now, and as such, you are a reflection of me. I’ll not have you embarrass me.”
“I don’t know if I can do it,” William whispers, distressed. He trembles in Stephen’s hands. “I- I messed up once, and this is-”
“You won’t ‘mess up’,” Stephen dismisses. “It is very simple. So long as you keep quiet and do as you’re told, then you have no reason to fret. Can you do as you’re told?”
William nods. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Then that is the end of it. Put it to rest at once. I’ll not lead you astray, do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lord,” William says. The tears are fading—Stephen thanks the maker for that—and William settles back into his chest, holding obediently still as Stephen continues to rinse the soap from his skin.
He’s quite clean now, looking more like a boy than a walking collection of dust and dirt. Once his hair is trimmed, and he is fitted with a wardrobe of clothes, then Stephen doubts that he’ll look at all out of place in his court—supposing that one, of course, neglects to look at his teeth or see him walk in the broad daylight. That ends up reminding Stephen of a rather important lesson for William to learn.
“You must retire to bed soon, as will I,” he tells William. “You will not be permitted to be about during the daylight hours. There are no other humans in the court to accompany you, and no one will hear you should you get yourself into some trouble. If you are not able to sleep, you may walk about, so long as you stay within my suite. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lord.” William then cranes his head over his shoulder, peeking up at Stephen. “Can I have some books? Or pen and paper?”
“Not tonight,” he says. “You’ve kept me up and hungry long enough, but after sunset tomorrow, we shall see.”
William nods, but he doesn’t quite take his eyes away from Stephen’s face yet. He looks, chiefly, at Stephen’s eyes, but occasionally, he glances shyly down to Stephen’s mouth, or to his chest. He has half a mind to demand that the boy open his mouth and speak whatever it is that is on his mind when William beats him to it. “...you’re hungry because of me, right? Because you had to take me here?”
“I could have fed had I truly wanted to,” Stephen says, mildly. Cute, that William thinks that Stephen would be swayed by him so soon. Perhaps one day, but certainly not today. He has already broken precedent for himself plenty of times in one day. “You simply interested me more.”
“Could you feed from me?” William asks. He’s so quiet and shy about it that, had Stephen not superior hearing, he might not have heard it at all. “I mean, only if you wanted to, my Lord. Since it’s my fault that you… um.”
Stephen is utterly amused. “You’d let me feed from you, runt?”
William gives a little nod, not quite able to meet Stephen’s eyes this time. His ears are pink, like maybe he grasps the implications of what he’s asking, but Stephen doesn’t think that he truly does. He must not, because he jumps, nervous, when Stephen’s hands slide up his arms, one reaching up to tug the blonde hair away from his neck. His throat is unmarred and pale, though it promises to turn a golden brown if he were to step out into the sun. His skin is decorated with faint freckles—a rarity, in the world of night creatures.
A shiver travels down William’s spine when Stephen’s breath hits the back of his neck, and this time, Stephen does chuckle. The press of his lips makes William go still in his hold, tense like stone, and a gasp falls from his mouth when Stephen’s skin brushes against his.
Cute. Utterly and indecently so. Stephen is almost tempted.
“An idea, to be sure,” Stephen murmurs, the words causing his lips to ghost across William’s skin. Smooth and fragrant now, with the scent of lavender and evergreen; Stephen’s favorite scents. “But not today. You are skinny and underfed. A feeding might kill you.”
“Oh,” William says. He sounds almost disappointed. Stephen laughs again and kisses his skin in farewell, leaning away. He doesn’t miss the way that William’s body follows him for a brief second before he catches himself, shoulders hitching up to his ears. William clearly wants so badly to please, it’s utterly endearing.
“Don’t pout, William. It’s unbecoming.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
When the bath is drained and the chambermaids arrive to begin purging the room of the mess William left behind, Stephen kneels before him and dries him off with a large, thick towel. He leaves William’s curls alone to dry by hand while he helps the boy into some of his old clothes, small enough that they fit him for the most part. In any case, he only needs to last the day, and then Stephen will see about procuring an actual wardrobe for him. For now, he’ll wear Stephen’s too-large pants and the tunic that practically drowns him, and Stephen will pretend not to see it when William holds the clothes to his nose and smiles.
No longer naked, William sits before him again, on a tall stool before Stephen’s vanity. He combs oils and lotions through William’s hair, bringing the curls back to life ever so slowly. They are in dire need of shaping, trimming, and hydration, but this will do for the day. Once he is in order, Stephen shows him to the parlor, where the maids left behind a stack of pillows and blankets for William to use.
“You’ll sleep here for now, until I can find some proper lodging for you,” Stephen instructs. “My bedroom door will be unlocked, so you may retrieve me in the case of emergency, but only in the case of emergency. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lord,” William murmurs. He must be tired, because he hardly seems upset by the idea of being separated from Stephen. He only slips onto the couch as he’s told, pulling up one of the blankets around himself.
Though the curtains are drawn, a stray sliver of light sneaks across the room, streaking across William’s body. It catches in his eyes and illuminates his hair, and the soft flush of his cheeks as he yawns. Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, Stephen feels taken by affection. Perhaps one day, he’ll regret taking William under his wing, but for now, the rose colored glasses settle firmly over his eyes.
“Sleep well,” he says. “Tomorrow, you’ll begin meeting the members of my inner circle. You should prepare yourself.”
“Yes, my Lord.” William’s reply is sleepy and quiet. “Good night. Or, good day?”
“Good day, William,” Stephen chuckles. “I’ll see you in the evening.”
His sleep, thankfully, is uninterrupted and calm. And, if he happens to hear the door creaking open in the middle of noon, and if he happens to feel William tentatively slipping into his bed to curl against his back, well, that’s no one’s business but his own.