Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It must be overcast today…

Scott considered as he woke.

He stared up at the plain gray stone brick far above his head. The tower room was narrow. Circular, with a ceiling at least two stories tall. And at the top edge of the second story, far beyond any ability of Scott’s to crane his neck and see through, was a large barred window.

It was the only source of light, and today when he’d opened his eyes, blue hair messily splayed across his pillow, he’d immediately noticed it was dimmer. Overcast, then. Cloudy day.

He stretched, the sheet and quilt were tossed aside from him, and he’d slept restlessly. When he raised his arms, the clink of chains cut through the sleepy fuzz into cold, harsh reality, and he sighed.

When he sat up the yellow crystals that circled his head in a trio, long, elegant slivers like frozen sun rays, clinked together. They made a sound like wind chimes. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling again.

The chains emerged from two small gaps in the center of the circular tower ceiling, steely gray traveled through the dim rays of light managing through the clouds he assumed were outside the window. They hung all the way down, unbroken links till they fused onto the cuffs locked tightly around his wrists. When he followed the chains to his own hands, he still found the sight his blue eyes landed on to be jarring.

Slender pale wrists caught in bulky, unwieldy cuffs.

It seemed like overkill.

But he’d gotten used to the weight of them on his arms, and didn’t pay them any more attention as he stood up. Bare feet on the cold stone sent a shiver up his spine, and he again looked up at the window.

Is it almost winter? Has it been that long?

Scott wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the tower.

He had no way to track the time, and he’d long since given up on keeping count of the days, far to lost in the miasma of passing hours to pay it any attention till it was already impossible to recall. He tugged at his top, white long sleeve hanging nearly off each shoulder, laced loosely at a deep V over a tight black tank top. Fitted pants, and his boots were abandoned near his bedpost. Wasn’t like he was walking much of anywhere to have use for them, anymore.

Standing up straight, he stretched again, the chains bumped off his shoulders as he extended his arms over his head and felt his back crack. Eyes traced the space again, then finally moved to the door.

The door that hadn’t opened a single time since he’d been put in here. Kicking and screaming, pinned down so the cuffs could be secured on his wrists, and then he’d been left alone.

All alone.

The reason he looked toward the door was to check the drawer built into it. Twice a day, the drawer would be pushed through, and there would be his meal. He got one in the morning, one in the evening. It wasn’t the food he was hoping to find in the drawer through.

He walked the few paces to the door, checking inside the drawer and greedily snatching out the book. After his first few weeks here, whoever brought him meals had also started leaving a book for him. When he finished it, he’d leave it in the drawer alongside his empty plate and cup. A new one would show up in the next day or two. He’d finished the last book and returned it the night before, so he’d been hoping whoever his mysterious delivery person was, they’d find the time to get him another one by the morning. And so they had.

The other perk of the books was that, occasionally, there would be a written note slipped between the pages. Not much more than a few sentences, always in blue ink, in distinctive cursive scrawl. Small updates. The King was growing more unpopular. The adventurers' guild had withdrawn their support of the royal government. There’d been a dungeon outbreak a bit beyond the city walls, but luckily the monsters hadn’t been able to breech them.

These notes were Scott’s only connection to the world beyond the stone bricks all around him.

Ignoring his food entirely, he turned and strode back toward his bed, batting the chains aside no differently than a strand of flyaway hair. He plopped back onto the edge of the bed and flipped through the pages cursorily, checking for any new notes.

His heart sank when he didn’t find one.

Nothing big must’ve happened, then…

Scott considered idly, and another heavy breath eased from his chest. The book looked like a romance novel, which he liked well enough. He’d take anything over the unbearable boredom, staring up at the window and just waiting for the day to pass. Or waiting to suffer. It was one of the two.

So he set the book aside for a moment and fetched his food, picking at it without much interest. He was done with it in short order, and put it back in the drawer, pushing the thing through till the wall on his side slotted into the rest of the door. If he didn’t do that, he wouldn’t get his next meal when the time came. He’d tested that, being uncooperative for the sake of it, but it hadn’t lasted long. Scott would rather not have to think about growing hunger pangs along with the other thoughts that drifted in his brain during all these hours alone.

Such long hours alone.

He dropped back onto his bed again and pulled his new book into his lap. After a few moments spent getting comfortable, he combed his fingers back through his hair. It’d been short when he’d first come here, and now it was passing his shoulders. That was the only true evidence he had that any significant period of time had passed at all.

Then, my hair grows faster than most…

On habit, he checked for the only adorning item he wore, if you could even call it that. A red poppy flower tucked into his blue bangs above one ear.

He thumbed gently over one of the petals and felt the crushing silence landing on his shoulders again. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to burn through.

But what had all the hours he’d spent sobbing been worth?

No one had seen him. No one had heard him wailing against the walls in a fracturing fury. No one cared that he was up here, no one aside from whoever was bringing him food and books, and even then, it was empty mercy.

That person could just as easily open the door. Even just talk to him for a few moments through the door slot.

Because when was the last time he’d talked to someone?

When was the last time he’d talked at all?

Wasn’t much point, talking to yourself in an empty room, and Scott very much preferred to pretend he wasn’t slowly going insane, thank you.

That was the train of thought his mind hummed along for a little while, not even opening his book yet. He’d learned to ration the small portion of entertainment he got. If his mind was occupying itself with something else that wasn’t entirely unbearable, he let it wander. Save the book as a crucial distraction for when the mental gymnastics went stale.

How long has it been?

He wondered again. It was getting colder, he could feel that through the cold of the chains and the stone floor. That meant it’d been months, considering he’d come here in the springtime.

Springtime.

His hand moved slowly to the stem of the poppy flower again.

Yeah. It’d been springtime.

The crystals circling his head bobbed lower, reflecting a rapidly deteriorating mood. They shimmered faintly in his periphery, and he felt warmth card gently through his clothes, and seep into the poppy flower.

Light magic.

He’d been born with it, and for his entire life he’d kept well to himself about the fact. His clothes were kept clean and mended themselves, looking and feeling no different than when they were brand new. His hair grew rather quickly, it’d been short when he’d arrived here, and now it was past his shoulders. The red poppy flower was still vibrant, just as if it’d first been picked.

Picked on a springtime afternoon stroll in the forest near their village, and tucked into his bangs by gentle hands.

“Red, of all things, Jimmy? It clashes!”

“I dunno…I think it suits you.”

Scott drew the book up into his chest and hugged it tight. In lieu of anyone to offer him comfort, the molded corners stabbing against his shoulders and stomach grounded him. Even as inescapable distress drove hot pokers through his lungs, and his eyes went misty and blurred, stinging with tears.

It’d been such a peaceful afternoon. Scott wondered if it was a cruel joke, or perhaps a kind send-off. That his last memories of open sky, and running till his breath grew short, and feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin, had been so idyllic. He and Jimmy off on their own in a flower field in the forest near their village. Sharing kisses, laughing, aiming jabs and staying always an arms length from each other. Scott’s magic had caused the entire field to bloom into vivid life, flowers of all colors, shapes, and sizes emerging from the ground as if they were rushing to meet him.

Out of them all, Jimmy had picked a red poppy.

It was that same red poppy that’d been in his hair when they’d walked back to town, and seen the knights flying the banner of red winter.

Scott remembered the rumors about the king going mad, but that was so far out of his orbit. Their village was nothing but a speck on the map to the royal capital. Unfortunately, that speck had caught the kings notice, when rumors had made it to him that someone born with light magic lived there.

Scott remembered Jimmy spreading his wings wide, forcing Scott behind him, eyes warm as cocoa steeling as the knights moved through the market square. The head of the line had read out the kings orders.

The light magic user was to turn themself in, or the village would burn, along with everyone in it.

He remembered the calls of treasonous rage, the threats and refusals, because their village was so small, everyone knew everyone personally.

It wasn’t just some random guy gifted with light magic. It was Scott, and no one intended to stand idly by as he was forced away for, one could only imagine, rather unkind purposes. The knights had taken the abuse without complaint, but repeated the order of the king.

It was the will of the king. No one defied the king.

Even if he were once known as kind, and it would be impossible to imagine he’d burn a village of his own citizens for any reason at all, now he was different. Somehow, someway, fundamentally changed, like a man possessed.

He remembered.

Remembered seeing the knight at the head of the column draw his sword, the blade singing from it’s scabbard. It lit with fire magic immediately.

“Bring out the light mage, or tell us where we can find them. Or else you burn. This is the will of the king.”

Everyone had cringed away, but no one had stepped forward, nor offered the information. The fireball at the tip of the sword grew larger.

Scott could feel the scream like it had only just shredded his throat.

“Stop!”

Jimmy had looked back at him, eyes filled with so much fear even as they steeled to fight. Scott felt his grip, so tight on his hand, like he’d only just let go.

Stepped forward.

“I’m the light mage. Leave them alone. I’ll go.”

The knight had looked him up and down, eyes particularly lingering on the crystals bobbing about the crown of his head.

“…good choice.”

The fireball vanished, and the knight sheathed his sword.

“Scott, Scott, you can’t…”

Jimmy had latched onto his arm again, and Scott had seen the knights expression hardening. His patience running thin.

So he’d turned, and forced a weak smile. “I’ll be ok, Jimmy.”

He’d pushed up to his toes and pressed a kiss to his lips, then pulled his arm free. Walked across to the knights.

“If I go, you won’t hurt the village, right?”

“The only thing we came out here for was you. Come quietly, and there’s no need for any violence.”

And so he went.

Taken into a carriage brought along with the knights on horseback, putting up a stubbornly brave face as the village, the flower field, and Jimmy had all been left behind him.

Continued putting up that facade till he’d been dragged to this tower, and bound by these chains, and left alone.

Then he’d broken.

But he’d been alone…so had it even really happened?

Scott remembered.

Did that matter to anyone else?

Ok, we’re going to bad places.

He mentally reeled himself in, took a few deep breaths, and cracked his new book open. He read for awhile, as the light grew brighter through the window outside, the clouds must’ve been clearing up.

He recognized the tell-tale clicking of some far-above mechanism in the silence. Tension wound his shoulders, and his stomach knotted, but the paralyzing fear he’d felt at first had long since lost it’s grip.

He’d gotten used to this.

He set his book on the ground beside his bed, out of the way, and looked down at the cuffs with irritation. Then blue eyes moved up, and saw the links beginning to wind up into the ceiling. The slack being drawn in. He remembered when he used to fight it. Try to hold on to the bed, or thrash around as the chains became tighter. That had always been pointless, and only worked him up even worse. Instead, he scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms to make sure his gaze was clear. As tension began to pull into the cuffs he drew a deep breath to quell down the dread. The chains kept reeling in, and within a few seconds he’d been pulled up into the air. As usual, he tried to keep his grip on the chains instead of just letting his weight rest into the harsh edge of the cuffs cutting into his wrists. His shoulders ached as his weight fell into them, and the chains drew him up further and further. All the way up to nearly the ceiling, where they stopped.

He knew he had a handful of minutes, no more than five or six, stuck dangling like this. He could hear the distant clatter of whatever other mechanisms were at play working, but forced himself to ignore them.

He looked ahead instead.

Because from where he was trapped, hanging from his chains, he could see out the window.

And the view was incredible.

He figured he was in one of the tallest towers of the fantastical castle the king called home in the royal capital. Scott could see all the way out to the fortress-like walls that surrounded the city. So many thousands of buildings from noble homes to tightly jammed row houses. Carriages and horses and people all thrummed in the streets like blood pulsing through the veins. Keeping the city alive. Brightly colored roofs mixed with mosaic and artwork over empty walls. His eyes drank in the open sky, the last few of the overcast clouds were drifting away distantly. The sun beamed brightly.

And maybe somewhere out there, looking up at the same sky, maybe even soaring through it, was Jimmy.

Jimmy, with golden wings, and an awkward, charming smile.

Telling Scott for the first time out in the flower field that he loved him.

Tucking a red poppy into his hair.

The clinking of machinery neared, and Scott could sense the build-up of magic lacing in his skin. The crystals bobbing above his head tightened in close, he tried to keep breathing steady, unable to avoid what he knew was coming. Just kept looking at the view through the window and the bars, as his fingers gave out their grip and his weight fell painfully into the cuffs digging into his wrists.

It hit like lightning.

White-hot searing pain that arched his back like a bowstring, and no matter how desperately he tried to stay quiet, each time he wailed high, tossing his head back as raw, unfiltered mana flooded his system.

The crystals whirled, shuddered, pressed in closer to his head as if to somehow protect him from the agony. Sharp and hot as it drew claws over his skin and ripped into his chest, and carried on and on till Scott couldn’t take it anymore, but he didn’t have any choice.

Then in a sensation like getting the wind knocked from his lungs, all the mana was drained out and seeped away through the stone brick, laced now with light magic, ready for use. Scott went limp, dangling from the chains like a puppet. Residual aches scratched beneath his skin, left him feeling torn apart. A few tears had slipped from blurry eyes, streaking down pale cheeks splotchy and red from screaming out.

Did anyone hear him when he screamed?

If they did, did they feel sorry for him?

He felt the slow unwinding of the chains, knew he was being lowered back down to his bed again, and rapidly blinked to clear his vision. Craned his neck enough to see the sky just a few more seconds before the haze of light and the sharp angle made it impossible.

He’d spend the rest of the day reading or dozing. Knowing it’d be a couple days till the chains would drag him up again. Till he’d suffer anew, and in the meantime try to distract himself with a beautiful view.

His legs gave out, knees folding in under him when he was lowered to his bed. The chains continue to feed out for a few more seconds, the slack coiling to either side of him as his arms fell against his sides.

Finally, he bent his head, tearing his gaze down from the once-more distant window.

“…I don’t wanna stay here anymore.”

He said quietly to the walls.

The walls didn’t answer.

Chapter Text

Jimmy heard cheering distantly in the streets as he rushed through the empty halls of the castle, his satchel thumping a rhythm off his back, his sword clattering in it’s scabbard. The now-familiar press of a dagger strapped to his other thigh shifted with every footfall.

He’d never thought of himself as the rebellious sort.

He was rather clumsy, and while being an avian gave him a decently powerful build and wings to boot, he’d never have claimed to be a fighter.

Not until the day he’d stood frozen with fear, unable to do anything as the love of his life was taken away.

The King’s behavior had grown more erratic from there, and Jimmy had joined a group of freedom fighters intent on pulling him down from the throne. Jimmy didn’t care much about the politics of it.

The King had ordered Scott to be taken away.

Jimmy wanted him back.

It was that simple.

But it’d been months of work, and the rebellion had been festering for years now, so all hell broke loose as winter thawed into spring, and it neared a year since Jimmy had watched Scott square his shoulders and put up a brave face as he stepped up to the knights.

Something that’d been brewing for years ended in a single bloody day.

Jimmy couldn’t care for the details of it.

All he wanted to do was find Scott.

He’d given a description to some of his friends in the resistance, and that’d been spread all throughout. But no one with sunshine yellow crystals floating over their head, and blue hair the shade of the sky had yet been found. Jimmy had stumbled his way into being one of the leaders of the group, though he couldn’t have explained to you how. Maybe it was just because he was an avian. He’d flown messages and vital supplies all across the kingdom, avoiding capture by the king's authorities as he went, till golden wings bringing salvation had become a rebel mantra.

Embarrassing at that was, Jimmy as glad for it. He’d been able to help bring about this day, and the capital was in the throes of raucous celebration.

Which left the blonde running through the eerily deserted castle.

“Hello!? Hello!?” He bellowed out as he turned down another hallway.

No one.

Apparently, the entire place had been evacuated when the king had fled.

Jimmy’s heart hammered violently, and tears stung in his eyes, but he forcibly scrubbed them away with the heels of his palms.

He didn’t have time for tears right now. He’d already tried the dungeons, the living quarters, and the knight's barracks, and he’d not yet found Scott. Which meant he couldn’t rest, no matter how his wings ached for a break after he’d fought winged members of the kings guard in the skies above the chaos in the capital streets less than twelve hours ago.

He’d been fighting in hope of seeing blue eyes he loved again.

There was no way he was taking a break till he did.

Not after he'd waited so long.

Jimmy paused briefly at the end of the hallway, looking around. He was trying to parse through where he hadn’t looked yet, and the jitter of anxiety and fear bled through his bones.

What if he isn’t here?

It was like he’d swallowed a cold stone. Sinking like ice in his stomach.

He turned on his heel and started running again.

“Hello!? Anyone!?”

His lungs burned, his boots beat an echo off the empty stone corridors. Jimmy continued searching till he came up to a large wooden door, built into a massive brick archway. He seized the iron ring and wrenched the door open. Inside was dark, only small slitted windows letting through the slowly sinking sun. It was getting late. Jimmy felt panic clawing up his throat and swallowed it.

“Hello!?” He shouted. His voice bounced and echoed. No reply.

Does it lead to one of the towers?

He considered, light brown eyes seeking any movement in the shadows of the stairwell. A few moments he spent panting, catching his breath from how he’d been sprinting around. Then he mounted the stairs.

As much as he wanted to run or fly up the stairs, his body wasn’t willing. He was exhausted. The tension of the day had been fraught to snap, the taking of the capital had been months in the planning and only hours in the execution. It’d been terrifying, and exhilarating, and Jimmy distantly found himself wishing to tell Scott all about it.

And I will.

He reminded himself firmly.

He refused to believe Scott was gone. They’d taken him for his rare gift with light magic, just killing off someone like that wouldn’t make sense.

Then again…the mad king hadn’t made any sense for a while…and Scott had always had a sharp tongue. 

Images from that last afternoon gleamed in his memory, seared there, clung to like he was a drowning man. Yellow crystals in the sun, a red poppy flower in his hair. Hands intertwined, jabs and laughter, Scott teasing him till he was flustered to the ears. It'd been such a beautiful day. It'd been the first time Jimmy had ever told Scott he was in love with him. Then he'd been torn away.

Jimmy sped up his next few steps, but tiredness bore down on his limbs and forced him to ease his pace again.

Slowly, he rounded the last of the spiral stairs and found a narrow slotted window giving light to the landing. There was a peg jammed between the stone bricks, and hanging from it was a thin length of chain with two keys strung onto it. One larger, one smaller.

Next to that was a door.

A large, heavy door that looked to be made fully of metal. It had some sort of drawer sticking from the center of it, and Jimmy furrowed his brow as he came closer.

In the drawer was an empty cup and a plate with the remnants of food, which looked fresh enough to have been from the morning. Also in the drawer was a book, set title down.

Jimmy raised his eyes to the door again.

Between the keys, the meal drawer, and the heavy iron door, he could draw a conclusion.

A prisoner.

His hands quaked, and he firmly fisted them. His tongue darted out to wet cracked lips as he hoped against hope to finally hear an answer to the word he’d been shouting all day.

“Hello?” He didn’t yell, but made sure to be loud enough the word would carry through the door.

Jimmy heard the creak of furniture and the clinking of chains from inside.

A few seconds went by where there was nothing else. But he was sure he’d heard the movement within the tower. His heart raced faster.

“Hello? Is someone in there?” He tried again.

Another few moments, silence held yet again. He heard the drag, click, and shift of chains on stone. 

“Anyone? If…if you can’t speak, then…” Jimmy began trying to grapple with alternatives when a response came through.

“Hello?”

The voice sounded weak. Barely managing any force to carry through the door. Guarded and wary. Didn’t matter. Jimmy knew it in a heartbeat because he'd been hearing it echo in his mind all year. Just those two syllables were enough to trigger a flood of memory. Hot needles pricked at the corners of his eyes, as relief flooded his veins. He was able to release the fear that he’d never again hear that beloved voice.

“Scott!” He exclaimed, and immediately it was like energy surged back into his limbs. Shooting out a hand, he grabbed the keys off the peg.

“Are you…?”

Scott might’ve been trying to say something through the door, but Jimmy had already fit the larger of the two keys in the lock and turned it.

The clunk of the deadbolt releasing echoed in the tower, and Jimmy threw his shoulder into the door and pushed. It swung inward, he nearly tripped in his haste. Eyes landing on the ground at bare feet, moving up a body thinner than when they’d last seen each other, despite wearing the exact same outfit, finally landing on his face.

Scott had taken several frightened steps back when the door had been opened and was staring at Jimmy with blue eyes open wide. His mouth was half agape.

“It’s you!” Jimmy burst out, and when tears blurred his gaze this time, he let them fall, blinking them away in cascades down his cheeks to see clearly again, see Scott standing there.

Scott, meanwhile, jumped backward at his shout. Tension coiled up his shoulders and sent tremors down his spine. He’d brought his hands up to cover his mouth. Jimmy’s stomach twisted at the sight of the heavy cuffs and winding chains hanging from his slender wrists.

“Jimmy…” He murmured the name, his voice still painfully weak.

“Hey. Hey, it’s me. I’m here.” The avian insisted, lowering his voice from the high, shrill tone he’d taken, trying to convince his feet, rooted to the floor, to move.

Scott’s eyes darted from the open door, to Jimmy, then up toward the ceiling, and back around again.

“…it’s not a dream this time?” He mumbled the question almost to himself.

Jimmy finally freed himself from his shock and surged forward. He threw his arms around Scott and folded him close.

“No, not a dream. Not a dream at all. I’m here, it’s all over, I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Scott had ended up with his arms pinned against Jimmy’s chest. The cuffs dug into him, but he didn’t care. Slowly, Scott worked his arms free and wrapped them around Jimmy’s waist, fingers fisting into the back of his shirt.

“…how long?”

Jimmy felt a stab of concern at the question, but he just gathered Scott even closer as he replied.

“Almost a year.”

“Really?”

Jimmy wasn’t sure if Scott was asking him, or asking himself.

“Really. But it’s over now. The King’s been driven out. We’ve taken the capital. It’s all done.”

The avian felt one of the cold chains brush against the root of his wing from Scott’s wrist, and he gently pulled back.

“No!”

Panic flared in blue eyes the one instant Jimmy got sight of them, and Scott pinned himself firmly against his chest again.

“D-Don’t go, please don’t go, I don’t wanna be alone again!”

Jimmy immediately returned the embrace once more, gently stroking a hand over blue hair, grown so much longer since they’d been torn apart.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Scott, I promise. I just want to get these chains off you, so we can leave.”

“…leave?” Scott repeated the word.

Jimmy could tell something was distinctly wrong. He had no idea how Scott had been treated as he’d been a prisoner of the mad king, and he doubted it had been very well. Even if the bed looked neatly made, and the meal in the drawer had seemed sizable judging by the leftovers, that meant precisely nothing. He might’ve already driven away the king, but fury burned in his heart all over again when he heard Scott’s voice quake. The same man he’d seen give himself up to protect them without flinching or faltering on a single word. Never one to keep quiet, stubborn to a fault, and always saying exactly what he pleased.

His voice wasn’t one meant for trembling.

“Yeah, we’re leaving. We’re going home. I told the other freedom fighters from the start that I was done the moment I found you. And now here you are. And I swear I won’t let you out of my sight, not for a good long while.”

Then, slowly, gently, he eased himself back from the desperately tight hug Scott had him in.

“I just want to see your hands long enough to get the chains off. Please?”

For a few seconds, he heard nothing but Scott’s elevating breathing, which again gave him a spike of concern, but at last, he let go of Jimmy.

He straightened back and stared up at him with wide eyes, hazy with tears and clouded in a way the avian couldn’t place. He moved fast, taking ahold of Scott’s arm and turning his palm up so he could find the keyhole for the cuffs. As he’d hoped, the smaller of the two keys fit, and with a clatter, the heavy manacle hit the stone brick floor. Scott jumped when it did, shoulders drawing tighter with more tension and eyes flitting around again.

“Jimmy, I…” His tone was still quaking in panic.

“I know, I know. One more, then we’re leaving. I promise.” Jimmy assured him, already taking his other hand and turning over the cuff.

When he unlocked it, this time the blonde was careful to lower it to the ground softly so it didn’t make the same loud noise.

“There.”

Jimmy then spotted Scott’s boots by the bedpost. He took a breath, about to suggest he put them on before they left, considering the chill of the early spring night descending. Then he looked in his face again.

He’d drawn his arms in, one hand running up and back along his forearm a few times, in disbelief the cuffs were gone. His eyes were clouding more, and his breathing was growing faster and faster still.

So Jimmy darted forward, grabbing the boots and shoving them into his satchel, then moved quickly in front of Scott again.

“Alright. Let’s go.” He offered his hand.

He watched as Scott looked past him at the door, then up at Jimmy again. Then he shot a quick glance back at the bed, and up at the distant window.

“…I’m not gonna wake up, am I?”

The blonde felt a pang of guilt, for as hard as he’d fought, he hadn’t been nearly fast enough. He shook his head, carefully moving forward again to put his hand on Scott’s arm.

“No. You’re not gonna wake up. We’re going home.”

Another few seconds went by where it was like Scott’s mind was churning through all the sudden, overwhelming information.

“…m’kay.” He finally said, raising his hand to grip tightly at Jimmy’s arm.

“I’d like that. I don't wanna stay here anymore.”

Jimmy nodded. “Then let’s go.”

They left the room, with the unlocked manacles, the coiling chains, and the distant window still letting in the orange hues of sunset.

When they stepped over the threshold, Scott made a noise of discomfort in the back of his throat, and Jimmy felt tension on his arm as the man glanced back through the open doorway again.

“You ok?” He asked quietly.

Scott took a moment, then looked up at Jimmy again.

“I spent a year in that room.” He finally said.

The blonde blinked, then steeled his nerve and pulled Scott under his arm, bending to sweep his legs from beneath him. Jimmy was exhausted from the fight, but that didn’t matter. Besides, Scott was worryingly light, and he didn’t put up any fight to getting picked up.

In fact, seemed like it took him a couple seconds, once again, to process it’d even happened. “What’re you…” He half mumbled the words, then blue eyes sharpened, and he flung his arms around Jimmy’s neck and pulled himself close.

“Jimmy!” He exclaimed as if he was realizing all over again who he was looking at.

Jimmy began drumming down the stairs, leaving the tower room behind as he spiraled downward.

“Yeah, it’s me! It’s me, Scott. You know where you are?”

“I’m…in the castle. The tower, how did you…?”

“Joined a rebellion. Overthrew the king. Kind of a long story.”

Scott relaxed his grip around Jimmy’s neck just enough to see his face, and they exited the door archway and headed out into the hallway. Jimmy found the first broken window he could and kicked the frame out, making enough room for himself to fly through.

“Sounds like it. Tell me it sometime?” Scott asked, and Jimmy nodded, smiling at him despite the weight of all left to unpack.

“Of course I will.”

Then he noticed, as his tunnel vision on just getting them out relaxed.

The red poppy still blooming in Scott’s hair.

“You kept the flower I gave you.” He breathed, and Scott’s expression shifted, before he pulled himself closer again, settling his head against Jimmy’s neck. He was still shaking, but in the motions, the avian felt him nod.

“It kept me company.”

Jimmy put one foot up onto the lip of the windows. “Scott, I’m gonna fly us out to the rebel camp outside the walls, ok? From there we can get you some medical attention, and then head home.”

“I don’t get hurt, Jimmy, that’s what these are for,” Scott mumbled, and Jimmy felt one of the floating crystals bump against the side of his head.

It was a clash of worry with giddiness. He never thought he’d be so happy to hear his love complaining.

“I know you don’t, but let them see you anyway, ok?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“For my sake?”

“…fine.”

Jimmy couldn’t help the way his hold went a fraction tighter, and he turned his chin to press a kiss against Scott’s temple.

“Thank you. I’m going to take off now, ok?”

“Get me out of here.” It was a tired murmur. Jimmy felt the tension in Scott’s body beginning to uncoil.

Perhaps he was finally easing into acceptance that this was really happening?

I’ll try and talk to him about it once he’s feeling better.

Jimmy concluded. There was no need to rush, not anymore. He had what he’d been desperately fighting for all these stressful months folded tightly to his chest. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t be letting Scott leave his sight for a while. Beating his wings, he dove out through the window and sailed up high over the capital. He felt Scott stir in his arms, lifting his head to look back at the castle as they flew away from it, sunset turning the sky to watercolor before the cool tones of dusk could seep in.

“…what an incredible view,” Scott said against his ear.

Jimmy gazed out over the cityscape, the sky, and then turned his head enough to see blue hair, and the petals of a red poppy flower.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.”