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It is rare for Morax to be able to gather his Yaksha generals at the same table at the same time. He would like to more often if he could, but it is times of war; such luxuries were simply not worth the risk.
So days like today, where so many of them can come together for a meal, are as rare as can be. Only Xiao was the one out on border patrol and thus absent. It was unfortunate because Morax had not yet had the chance to properly sit at a table and dine with the young Yaksha.
As though following his line of thought, Bonanus glances around the table and sighs. “It is unfortunate we cannot all be here.”
Indarias huffs into her tea. “Alatus would not have joined us regardless,” she says, a mere statement and nothing mean-spirited about it.
“He would have if Lord Morax had asked,” Bonanus insists, though Indarias simply shrugs.
“Does Xiao not eat with you?” Morax asks carefully. The Yaksha have all been warily welcoming of the young Adeptus at first. Still, he had been under the impression that any animosity that may have existed between them had already faded in the months they had been working together.
His Generals, who all understood that the cruel nature of war did not discriminate against its victims, had not held circumstances against Xiao, who had been desperate to be accepted so as not to be shunned at best, and exiled at worst. Morax thinks the battles they had experienced together had also helped with the gradual acceptance of their kin into their flanks.
“He does not,” Bosacius confirms. “He appeared uncomfortable, and we decided it best to not force him.”
Morax nods, relieved that Xiao’s usual absence is a consideration of his well-being and nothing of cruel intention. “I see.” He gestures towards the table. “Shall we begin?”
The Yaksha dig in eagerly, the previous topic forgotten.
Something awakens Morax from his slumber that night. In times of war, the possibility of it being a foreign presence nearby instantly has him sitting up. A quick scan of the area, however, tells him that nothing is immediately wrong.
And yet…
Now that he is wide awake, he will be unable to go right back to sleep. Morax slips out of bed and quietly exits the building.
It is quiet at night. He spies guards in the distance, keeping watch as everyone else rests. A few that spot him bow their heads in his direction in greeting but none approach him lest they leave their post. Morax nods back before heading in the opposite direction, trusting his men and wanting to find someplace isolated.
He does not get far. He hears what he thinks is ragged coughing, though if anyone were to tell him that someone was choking Morax would be inclined to believe them. This time, when he reaches out to gauge the identity of the presence, he instantly knows.
Xiao.
He tracks the sound to the shadows of a storage building where he finds the young Adeptus sitting back on his haunches, curled in on himself with both hands over his mouth.
For a moment, Morax thinks Xiao is hiding an illness.
Xiao shakes out his hands and, as Morax watches, small white specks float to the ground. He wipes at his mouth with a shaking arm before he scrapes at the snow by his knees and cups at the mound of snow with shaking hands. He brings it up to his mouth as though it is water from a stream he means to drink.
“Xiao!” Morax is calling the Adeptus’ name before he realises and Xiao freezes, his hands halfway raised. Morax rushes to his side and swipes the snow away before urgently tugging off his gloves and cupping Xiao’s freezing hands, wrapping his own around them in an attempt to warm them up. “What are you doing?”
This close, Morax can hear the faint chattering of teeth. He throws up a shield around them, though there is nothing he can do about the cold already embedded deep within Xiao’s bones and pulls the Adeptus up to his feet. He keeps a hand around Xiao’s, blankly noting that they are small enough for him to grasp even then and wraps his other arm around small shoulders to both support him and attempt to share some of his own body heat.
Xiao keeps his eyes fixed on the ground and does not reply. He is still shaking, though Morax is beginning to suspect that it is not entirely due to the cold.
“Let us go back inside,” he suggests softly.
Xiao does not protest, though he rarely ever does when it comes to himself and Morax knows it is to be expected. He helps Xiao to his feet, but when it becomes obvious the Adeptus is struggling to even stand he crouches once again and gathers the cold, shivering frame into his arms.
Xiao is so… small. Small in a way that is not obvious at all on the battlefield, where the Adeptus soars above them all with the grace of a bird and the blessings of the wind, dancing just out of reach to a deadly, threatening tune that sings the promise of one’s inevitable demise. Small in a way that would not at all hint at the destructive damage a single plunge from the sky can deliver to his enemies.
Morax shakes off his thoughts.
The buildings of the camp are all protected from the winter cold by a variety of spells, and Morax immediately feels the difference when he steps inside. He just hopes Xiao can feel it too.
It is well into the night, and no one is awake. His Generals all have duties that require attending to from early morning and he does not have the heart to wake them up. Morax sits Xiao down at the table, the very same one he had dined at with the other Yaksha just earlier, then grabs the closest article of clothing he finds, a robe of his, and wraps it as tightly around Xiao as he can.
“Wait here,” he orders and moves into the kitchen. The stove fire has been dosed for the night, but he lights it anew and quickly sets the soup from last night to be heated. Instead of waiting around, he moves back to the dining table, where Xiao has not moved a hair. He crouches in front of the Adeptus, gently shushing the immediate protest that it elicits from him, and wraps his hands around his smaller ones once again in an attempt to help them warm up faster.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
Xiao opens his mouth but the sound that leaves it is a rough rasp. Morax rubs his fingers into Xiao’s palms a little more desperately as the Adeptus coughs drily a few times. “I am fine, my lord.”
Morax finds himself unable to trust Xiao when it comes to questions of its wellbeing. “What were you doing out in the cold?” he asks instead.
Xiao clams down; Morax sees it as it happens. He suppressed the urge to sigh, lest Xiao think this annoyance is aimed at him.
“If there is something out there, I must know.”
Xiao sits up, alarmed, and Morax finds himself leaning forward to stop the Adeptus from throwing himself onto the ground at his feet. “I would not hide such things, my Lord,” Xiao says, tone bordering on pleading. “I—I am loyal, my Lord—”
“I did not mean it like that,” Morax is quick to reassure. “I apologise, I was not—I know you are loyal, Xiao.”
He squeezes Xiao’s shoulder and thankfully the Adeptus allows himself to sink back into his chair.
“I am, my Lord…” Xiao murmurs. His gaze drops once more to settle on the floor. “I—I am.”
“You are,” Morax says firmly.
From the kitchen, he can hear the faint sounds of a liquid just about reaching boiling point. Morax hesitates as Xiao continues to shake but finally decides that something warm might calm down the Adeptus. He releases Xiao’s hands and slowly stands. “Stay,” he reminds him, then hurries back into the kitchen.
Xiao had raised his head to watch him leave, but he just as quickly drops his gaze back onto his hands lying limply on his lap when Morax returns. Morax places the warm bowl and a spoon on the table and then takes Xiao’s hands in his once more, lest the sudden warmth does more damage to the thin, frail fingers than good.
At least the shaking has lessened, and they no longer feel cold. Morax carefully hands the bowl and spoon to Xiao, who stares at it like he has never seen anything like it before. Morax watches the Adeptus gently swirl the bowl and stare as the liquid inside moves with it, watches him grip the spoon in a fist and peer at it curiously.
“Go on,” Morax prompts and Xiao’s fingers begin to shake again. He reaches out to hold the bowl, lest it slips right out of his hands. “Do you not like soup?"
"I...I do not know, my Lord."
"Hm." Morax takes the spoon from his hand and scoops a small amount of soup. He gently blows over it, all under Xiao's confused, watchful gaze, then holds out the mouthful. "It will warm you up," he says.
Morax does not want to order Xiao to do anything, but he is beginning to worry that he might have to. “What is wrong?” he asks softly. “You can tell me anything.”
“I—yes, my lord.” Xiao goes silent and Morax wills himself to wait. Several heartbeats later, Xiao raises his head to peer hesitantly at him. “I—I apologise for my ignorance, my Lord.” His voice is but a whisper. “I do not understand.”
“What do you not understand?” Morax has a feeling he knows what this is about, but he asks because he has to know. He has to hear Xiao say it, so that—
“This is food, my Lord."
"It is."
"Weapons do not eat food, my Lord,” Xiao says, with more confidence than he has anything else that night.
Like he is affirming some sort of sick lesson he believes Morax is attempting to test him on.
“Did your former master tell you that?” Morax asks, and it takes a moment for Xiao to nod but he does. Morax wants to ask more but he does not because it is all in the past now and he does not want Xiao to remember the then when he is here, now, where Morax can protect him.
Morax takes a slow, deep breath. “Why were you eating snow, Xiao?” he asks.
Xiao is quiet for so long that Morax begins to wonder if he had asked his question at all. Before he can ask again, however, Xiao says, “I was hungry, my lord,” and Morax has to fight back a surge of rage he feels welling up deep within his stomach because he is not angry with Xiao, and he does not want the Adeptus to think so for even a heartbeat.
Morax nods. “Your former master was wrong, Xiao.”
“My lord—”
“No,” Morax cuts him off, perhaps more harshly than he had wanted to sound, but he cannot bring himself to care. “No, Xiao. You were hungry because you are alive. Weapons are not. You are—” an Adeptus, a Yaksha, Morax’s to protect—
Xiao looks at him like he does not quite understand what he is being told. Still, he has never been one to contradict Morax. "Yes, my Lord," he all he says, and Morax instantly knows he has lost him somewhere in the conversation.
It is okay. He will come to understand this, one day.
He finally settles with, "You are Xiao," because everything else that comes after, Xiao can take his time figuring out; Morax will make sure of this.
For now, he lifts the spoon once again and finally, finally, Xiao opens his mouth and accepts the spoon past his lips. It is awkward. Xiao does not seem to know when to close his mouth, and Morax has to nudge his jaw upwards so that nothing dribbles out when he pulls the spoon away.
“Go on,” he prompts softly. “Swallow.”
Xiao does so, slow and hesitant.
“How is it?” he asks. “Do you like it?”
“I—I do not know, my Lord.”
That is understandable. “Do you dislike it?” he asks instead. “Can you keep it down?”
Xiao swallows a second time and slowly nods. “I do not think I dislike it, my Lord.”
“I see,” Morax scoops a second mouthful and blows on it lightly before holding it out again. “Take your time.”
Slowly but surely, one small mouthful at a time, the soup vanishes. Morax glances down when the spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, and he immediately puts it down.
"Are you still hungry?" he asks. "How do you feel?"
Xiao places a hand on his own stomach and frowns. “I am not hungry, my Lord. I feel…I feel warm.”
"Good." Morax raises a hand to Xiao’s face, cupping it gently and feeling pleased with how warm it feels. He rubs a thumb over smooth skin before pulling back. “That is good.”
Xiao ducks his head。
Morax gives him a gentle pat on the head, then begins running his fingers through green locks. “Everyone gathers here during dinner to eat together,” he says softly. “Do not force yourself, but I would love it if you were to join us, and your fellow Yaksha would enjoy sharing a meal with you as well.”
Xiao is silent for a while. When he does nod, the movement is so small Morax has a feeling he would have missed it had he not felt the shift beneath his fingers.
Morax keeps his voice calm; he does not want to scare Xiao away and he worries the Adeptus might take it all back and bolt still. "Then perhaps we should prepare foods you like," he says gently. "What would you like to eat?"
Xiao looks up, eyes wide and lost. "I do not know, my Lord."
He had expected that, to an extent, but it still hurts to hear. "That is okay," he quickly says. "Perhaps we can ask for a wide range of foods made tomorrow for you to try. I am sure we will find something you like."
Xiao nods and ducks his head again. A rare moment of calm silence, so unlike the war waging right outside their protective shields, settles over them. Morax imagines the Adeptus looking up once again, this time with bright gold eyes and a smile on his face, stomach comfortably full and an empty bowl of whatever his favourite food may come to be in front of him. He wordlessly promises Xiao to make this a reality one day.