Chapter Text
Tim Drake is a strange boy. He’s intelligent and kind but can be ruthless and foolish in equal spades. He expects the best in people despite believing the worst in them. He is lonely, yet surrounded by many people who care about him.
Perhaps this strangeness has something to do with the fact that his parents love him but want nothing to do with him. Leilo can’t relate. The moment she saw his victorious form slumped over and bawling into the dirt, she knew she had to be the one to form the pact with Tim.
No other could be his familiar.
If she had to lock up all her competition in a witch’s cellar to make a statement, well, that just meant she was the one most worthy of such a chaos bringer. Only the strongest could stomach the wild magick surrounding the boy and his allies; why, she practically saved all her kin’s nine lives.
“Leilo, do you want salmon or chicken today?” Tim asks, bleary eyed and barely awake.
Salmon, she meows.
Her warlock scratches underneath his pajamas and lets out a yawn before shuffling over to the refrigerator. Leilo walks across the beams installed to give her a narrow, unblocked path around the house and watches Tim prepare breakfast.
Truly, she has saved her fellow felines from such a horrendous fate.
She watches intently as her warlock prepares her meal then his own. Leilo had to train Tim for nearly a week before he understood that she would only eat if he did so as well. There will be no skipping meals on her watch.
The relationship between familiar and mage is a symbiotic one: they are each other’s strength as well as their weakness. Leilo is determined to make their bond one of legends. She can’t have her warlock dying on her because of a lack of nutrition.
“Here, Leilo,” Tim says. He places her plate of cut up baked salmon on the table before setting his own bowl of oatmeal across from it. Tim flops into his seat and, unwilling to fight against sleep, lays his head down on the table.
Her poor boy. She leaps down onto the table and gives him her thanks.
“Ow, your tongue hurts, Leilo,” Tim tells her, sitting up and rubbing his cheek.
She keeps forgetting about these humans and their sensitive skin. It’s a miracle they get clean at all. Hm, perhaps she can toughen up his skin a bit if she keeps licking in the same spot. Thoughts for another time—the salmon smells divine.
She has to tap his bowl pointedly a few times, but Tim finishes every bite of his oatmeal with minimal fuss.
“One day I will be too big to move, and you will be the one to blame,” he says without much heat to the words.
Should that be, I will roll you to the nearest pool, she tells him.
“So mean to me.” Tim pouts at her.
Leilo cleans her face thoughtfully. The air feels like it’s spiraling in a different direction. Leilo thinks it’s time for “her” to be a “he” now. He taps Tim to get his attention to tell him as much.
“Got it,” Tim says softly, and that’s the end of that conversation.
When his warlock forgoes washing the dishes to instead groom himself for the day, Leilo follows him to supervise. Tim likes to take shortcuts in his routine, but Leilo isn’t afraid to treat him like a dirty kitten: holding him down to lick stray hairs into place. His pointed staring from atop the toilet has done wonders for Tim’s ability to slow down and do things properly.
When Tim tries to leave without cleaning his teeth, all Leilo has to do is stare at the toothbrush threateningly.
“I’m brushing my teeth, I’m brushing my teeth!” Tim shouts, almost diving for the toothbrush and toothpaste.
Leilo’s whiskers twitch in pride. Yes, he has trained his warlock quite well. He hasn’t had to use a petrification spell in days.
After the grooming, Tim grabs the bag containing his night gear. It’s quite early in the day, so he’s going to practice his hunting skills at his other home. Normally Leilo goes with him to the cave to keep an eye on things, but this time he bids a temporary goodbye.
“You’re not coming?” Tim asks, surprised but not alarmed at the fact. It’s not unusual for Leilo to want to stay behind to inspect the house’s wards.
I will guard the house, he tells his warlock.
“Alright, see you in a bit then.”
Leilo watches Tim leave from the window. He waits there until their bond falls into the steady, relaxed feeling of being surrounded by home and loved ones.
Then he sets out to do what needs to be done. He opens a portal to downtown Gotham City. He steps through and finds himself in an alleyway with trash and the scent of the city’s cursed waters overtaking the air.
Technically, Leilo isn’t lying. He is guarding the house. He’s just doing so from outside. Far, far outside. From deep inside Gotham.
He stalks the city’s shadows, hunting for his target. He knew the moment he laid eyes on the creature that they were more than they appeared. This is the first time Leilo has had the chance to do anything about it without his warlock interfering.
His hunt leads him to a restaurant near the docks, and he lies in wait on the roof until the one he’s waiting for appears. A boy comes out of the restaurant with a bag—fish and crab from the bay it smells like. Cursed fish from cursed water that only the desperate or insane would eat.
He leaps down and gives the boy with the dubious food a courteous greeting. This isn’t the one he’s after; there’s no need to be rude.
“Hey, aren’t you Tim’s cat?” The boy blinking down at him is Bernard, the one Leilo’s warlock is infatuated with.
Unfortunately, Bernard is the one person in Gotham who hosts something more powerful than Leilo themselves. Something that even the strongest of familiars could not take on.
In a split second, the air changes, and Bernard’s expression goes from one of confused concern to irritation. There’s a sheen of red to his eyes to anyone who cares to look. Old Magick swells around the boy like angry wasps.
This is Leilo’s true target.
“Ah, yes the lover’s familiar,” the one inhabiting the boy’s body says with disdain. “Can I not go a day without peace from annoyances?”
Chaos Lord, Leilo hisses, keep your attentions off my warlock.
“Peace, familiar. I have no intention of messing with your human. My true form is locked too tightly in this one to do more than influence events.” The Chaos Lord looks put out by the fact, but Leilo isn’t fooled for a second.
That means little to a Chaos Lord, Leilo points out.
No human ritual could fully control a Chaos Lord. Old Magicks were too heavy for an untrained human to contain—especially one who fought being sacrificed every step of the way. No doubt the only reason Bernard still had a cult to run was that it was simply easier to wait out the remaining human years than to bring attention to itself from local deities.
“I am stuck in this body for the foreseeable future, and I do not desire to war with my host over something so trivial,” it says with unexpected honesty.
Do not call Tim trivial, Leilo warns.
“You and the boy both.” The Chaos Lord rolls its eyes. “Fine. You have my word that nothing will befall you or Tim Drake due to my actions.” A swirl of magick binds the oath.
Leilo feels the weight of chaos disappear.
“Aw man, I hate it when he does that,” Bernard says, blinking back into control. “He hasn’t done that since I threatened to go on a diet.”
Unlike the Chaos Lord being held prisoner in the boy’s body, Bernard cannot understand Leilo’s words. Cannot understand Leilo’s deepest sympathy for the horrors happening to his soul. He rubs a comforting scent gland against the boy’s jeans instead.
Ah, Leilo is such a compassionate familiar. He deserves a reward for his goodness.
“Come on, let’s get you back to Tim’s house,” Bernard says. He holds his arms out, and Leilo jumps into them without hesitation. “We should pick up some non-contaminated fish for you and Tim on the way back. What do you say about that, little guy?”
Yes, Leilo purrs with pride, his boy has chosen well.