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As Tavros Nitram watches another burgundy-dripping chunk of his predecessor being hauled out of the Chamber of the Grand Highblood, it occurs to him once again that his life might, in fact, uh, suck.
He's usually a relatively upbeat sort of troll, especially considering he's a bronze blooded boy that has only known the harsh existence of slavery for his 8.3 sweeps of life, but sometimes reality comes along and smacks even the sunniest sort of sap in the shame globes.
This appears to be one of those times.
A piece of…person hits the floor with a sick sort of squelch, and Tavros winces, twisting one of the heavy bronze bands around his wrists in nervousness. He briefly wonders how exactly the poor sod came to be in so many messy bits. He's pretty sure that Subjugglators use, well, juggling implements, which he had thought was limited to clubs, but, maybe, uh, not so much.
Then he decides not to think about it anymore.
Instead he thinks of his last, well, not home exactly, but maybe place of residence? Either way, he'd liked it a lot better than he likes it here so far. Marquise Spinneret Mindfang had not been the gentlest mistress (and she certainly had not had the simplest name), but she had mostly left Tavros to the devices of the groundskeeper, Tinkerbull.
Tinkerbull had been the reason Tavros had been so happy at the Marquise's. The sprite had taken Tavros under his wing (no pun intended) and taught him all about the plants and animals on the property. He'd taught him to read and write too (a real feat considering his own, uh, hoofiness), and he'd constantly tell Tavros that he was worth something, which was a nice change from the usual 'rustblood' and 'shitblood' commentary that followed him everywhere else.
He misses Tinkerbull.
"Get moving, shitblood." A rough hand pushes him forward and Tavros stumbles briefly. He doesn't want to go in there. He really, really would prefer not to…
Another jab, harder than the last, and Tavros shuffles into the room. The heavy door slams shut behind him.
The room is bigger than the entire slaves' quarters back at the Marquise's house, and she wasn't bad off by any stretch of the imagination. There is a huge bed, an exotic luxury of the richer trolls imported from gog knows where, with a royal purple canopy and sheets that could clothe a nation if that nation really dug purple.
There is a table in the corner with a carved wooden chair knocked on its side nearby, an unlit fireplace with a single plush armchair, a cavernous-looking closet that appears to contain many, many clown-related items (Tavros winces at the clubs), and another door that probably leads to a washroom of some sort.
It looks lonely.
It still smells like blood.
"So you're the new motherfucker. Got some big motherfucking shoes to fill."
Tavros yelps as a shadow detaches itself from a dark corner near the window and slinks closer. The stench of blood gets stronger. And Tavros meets the Grand Highblood, his new master, for the first time.
He's tall, really, really tall. Tavros doubts he'd even reach his shoulders if he was dumb enough to want to get close enough and measure. He can't be more than two or three sweeps older than Tavros, which makes their size difference all the more disheartening. He looks skinny, but also wiry, strong—well, he must be, to have done what he did to the, uh, other guy. His horns are elegantly twisted and crown a mop of the craziest curls that Tavros has ever seen. His eyes are even crazier than his hair and not nearly as benign, purple irises glinting with a sort of chaotic temper that is really very frightening, sort of. His face is covered in greasepaint, but there's also a new layer of red that speckles the smooth skin—blood, right. Um.
And he's smiling. At Tavros. Which is really scary.
"What's with the staring? Got something on my face?" His voice gets louder and deeper at the end, like a growl, and Tavros squeaks.
"Well, uh… uh, yes, actually?" He feels like this is a trick question, because the Highblood must have put on the face paint himself and so he must know about it. The blood, well…
It is a trick question.
Immediately there is a clawed hand gripping his floppy mohawk (the result of a haircut gone wrong and the lesson that drove home that hooved sprites should not handle sharp objects, and that Tavros had kept because he thought it was sort of cool) and yanking his head back, and he holds his breath as the Highblood leans in close.
"I think red suits me, motherfucker, don't you?" A claw from his other hand dances across the sensitive skin of Tavros's throat, pressing lightly enough not to break through but hard enough to cause pain. "I wonder how brown would look."
Tavros struggles not to swallow against the claw's pressure. It's hard.
"Motherfucker got a name?" The cold finger slides away, tapping idly at the cloth of his shoulder to give him a chance to answer. This is probably another trick question. Gamzee's eyes are impossible to read, ever-changing like roulette wheels.
"Tavros." He whispers. The Highblood's grin widens a manic amount, revealing way too many sharp teeth even by troll standards.
"Tav, huh? Motherfucking pleasure, Tav." Tavros's lips twitch in a weak attempt at a answering smile, because he doesn't want to make this guy mad(der), but he can't really say the sentiment is returned, in truth. "You all up and know some games, Tav?" He murmurs, still not removing either of his hands. Tavros blinks.
"Uh."
"See, that other rustblooded motherfucker? He didn't like games too much. Especially not the last one, ya dig?" Last one being… oh, gog.
"Um, well, uh, how about, uhhh, charades?" It's one of Tavros's favorites, and it's also easy to rig it so a certain Highblood wins and doesn't want to kill the other player. Hopefully. Assuming the Highblood plays anything that doesn't involve sharp implements and poking other people with them.
"Mmmmm, motherfucking mystery to me. Never heard of it." He leans in so that Tavros can feel his cool breath across his face. It smells fruity and pleasant, a sharp contrast to the sour tang of blood in the air. "Care to share, motherfucker?"
Tavros blinks at him. He still looks like a blood-splattered psychopathic clown king, but he also does not appear to be actively killing Tavros. This is not an unpleasant development. He'd like to see it continue.
"Uh, well…"
Time flies when you're fighting for your life, even if said fighting consists of desperately trying to guess what a chaotically wriggling Highblood balancing on one foot while swiping his dark, pointed tongue from side to side is supposed to represent in a game of charades.
By the time there is a soft knock on the door, Tavros is unsure how long he has been here, but judging by the setting sun outside the window, it's been a while. He hasn't really noticed; he's been too immersed in their game. He can't say that it's fun, exactly, because his eyes keep straying to that dark maroon stain on the carpet across the room, but it's almost-fun. U-N, maybe, or F-U.
…U-N, on second thought.
He's so immersed, in fact, that he misses the first knock. He is chewing his lower lip, lost in thought. Finally he is forced to admit defeat.
"I'm, uh, stumped." The clown laughs, a loud and honking hoarse sort of sound that doesn't match his soft voice at all (except when he's yelling and it really, really does). He does this for a bit longer than totally necessary, and then relaxes onto both feet, still chuckling.
"Aw, man, that was an easy one." Oh? Tavros blinks, feeling a bit embarrassed that he couldn't even guess a simple one. "I was that other rustblooded motherfucker—after I cut off the first leg and before I'd finished strangling him. Get it?" He beams.
Eep.
In the dead silence that follows, the knock comes again. This time they hear it. The Highblood's smile slips into a scowl.
"Kind of rude, motherfuckers, interrupting us like this." He stalks to the door and rips it open. "Better be good, motherfucker." Tavros is surprised the person on the other side doesn't drop dead from fright. Instead, a slim girl troll enters the room, bringing in a tray with a gold goblet balanced carefully on top. Amethysts glitter in the dying light of the sun.
The girl glances at Tavros as she enters, and he freezes, unsure whether waving or even smiling is inappropriate. She doesn't greet him either, so he thinks probably, maybe, yes.
So he remains standing, twiddling his thumbs and trying to look inconspicuous, as she sets the tray down on the table, bows to the Highblood, and slips back out, silent as a ghost the entire time. Her shackles shine dully when the lights hit them as she passes the threshold.
The Highblood slams the door after her, still frowning. His lavender eyes turn towards Tavros again, and the boy smiles, awkward, trying to regain the man's earlier good mood.
His master's lips turn upwards, which Tavros is, as of yet, reluctant to chalk up as a win.
"My wicked elixir, you feel?" He drawls, gesturing to the goblet and waving Tavros over. He himself collapses into the chair (up righted for use as a prop during their intense charades game) with a sort of boneless grace that Tavros envies. Well, he envies any sort of grace, really, but this one is particularly nice, he thinks. Hesitantly, he approaches, unwilling to refuse an order.
The older troll grins at him with sharp fangs peeking out, toasting Tavros with the goblet before taking a deep swallow. Tavros watches his throat work as he drinks, and feels his own swallow in response—it feels dry, suddenly. Dark eyes never leave his.
"Uh, what's in the, um, 'elixir'?" He asks, curious despite himself. Tinkerbull always said it was his worst flaw, but he was always snuffling fondly when he said it. The Highblood's smile, stained purple, widens.
"Excellent question, motherfucker." Which appears to not be an expletive with him, or at least not an unusual one meant to convey mental or emotional distress. Unless he is always in mental or emotional distress, which seems… possible. Likely, even. "This, my bovine-based bud, is Faygo. Made of motherfucking miracles." He takes another swig.
Tavros has heard of the drink from when the Marquise and her daughter had come back pleasantly buzzed from the beverage from a party. It was a pretty pricy drink, Tavros thought. It made sense that it was the Highblood's favorite.
"Oh, uh, okay?" He tries, unsure of how to respond. The highblood honks again, and Tavros feels his lips twitching against a (possibly insubordinate) smile. That laugh makes the highblood almost impossible to be scared of. Almost.
"You ever partook?" The curly-haired troll asks. Tavros mutely shakes his head. The other troll tuts. "Now that is a motherfucking crime. Here, taste." He holds out the goblet that is enough to buy a village. Tavros flushes, shaking his head rapidly.
"N-no, I couldn't, uh, r-really."
The Highblood's eyes narrow and his smile sharpens. "You up and refusing an order, motherfucker?" Tavros gulps.
"N-no, no!" He takes the proffered goblet and takes a quick, tentative sip. His eyes widen as the fizzy, cool sweetness explodes on his tongue. He can't help a small sound of pleasure. "It's delicious!" He tells the highblood, whose smile has blunted again. The Grand nods sagely.
"I know it, motherfucker. Get a cup every night as my sweet miraculous lullaby." Tavros can see why. He tries to hand the cup back, but the Grand waves him off.
"Nah, gotta share the miracles, ya feel? You finish it on up, motherfucker."
If this is a trick, Tavros is willing to fall for it. He sips delicately at the sweet brew, unwilling to waste a single drop. He can't remember ever drinking anything so yummy before, and he doubts he'll be adding any better memories soon, so he wants to make it last. The highblood nods absently as he drinks, smile never waning.
Finally Tavros places the empty cup on the table with a little sigh.
"T-thank you, uh, very much. That was, very, ah,-" He's already said delicious, hasn't he? "Ah, wonderful and tasty." What a dork.
The Highblood doesn't seem to mind though, still smiling that serene smile that looks so different from that of before. Maybe he just has episodic tempers, and Tavros can learn to avoid them by never, ever pissing him off? Ever?
"All motherfucking done? Sweet. Time to hit the proverbial hay then, motherfucker." He glides over to his own mammoth bed and, without bothering to change, kicks off his rather large shoes and flops down—once again, somehow impossibly gracefully.
Tavros shuffles his feet awkwardly.
"Ah, should I g-go to the, uh, slaves' quarters n-now, then?"
The Highblood's head lifts to regard him with heavy lidded eyes.
"Not in a hurry to up and leave a motherfucker, are you?" He asked, soft but dangerous, like a knife covered in velvet. "I feel a little hurt."
Tavros shakes his head at an alarming rate. Although yes, he'd really like to leave, he's slightly less terrified than he was when he came in of the Highblood, and still just as scared of the green and blue blooded guards that he knows roam the halls and he also knows would cull him if given half a chance. The Highblood might, maybe, need to be given a whole one? In his current mood at least.
"N-no! It's just that there's, uh, not really anywhere here for me to, uh…sleep?"
The Highblood honks.
"Should have said so, motherfucker." Tavros sees him shift around, and then there is a dull thunk as an overstuffed pillow and a thick quilt hit the floor. The bed's other decoration seem to ooze to accommodate the gap, and Tavros can't even see the difference.
He looks at the pillow and quilt, right next to the bed of the Highblood. It looks a little awkward.
Awkward was better than dead. "Uh, thank you." He mumbles, shuffling forward timidly in case the highblood lashes out. He doesn't, and Tavros settles carefully on the floor beside him, pulling the quilt up and around his shoulders like a warm hug. He could use a hug, right now.
The pillow would feel like a kiss if those didn't make Tavros flustered, but they sort of do, so maybe it feels like, uh, a mini-hug for his face? …Um, still awkward.
"Chill time, Tav. Get some motherfucking Z's. Got a big day tomorrow." The Highblood murmurs. Tavros nods, even though the other troll can't see it. It seems rude not to.
"Um, y-yes, okay. Sweet, ah, dreams? Lord Grand Highblood, sir."
A hoarse exhalation of breath.
"I fucking hate that name." Uh oh.
"Um, okay, but well, it's uh… not? Your n-name, I mean. Right? Because there was a Grand Highblood before you and before him and, uh, I s-sort of thought it was, ah, a title? Rather than a name. B-but I don't actually k-know, uh, what else to call you?"
The longest silence in history, and Tavros wonders if the Subjugglator is readying his strife specibus to kill him for his insolence, and then…
"…Gamzee. Call me Gamzee, motherfucker." Despite his lingering fear, Tavros feels a small smile light up his face; the name suits him, he thinks. He hears the smile leaking into his voice as well, when he speaks. He's not sure if the other troll hearing it too would be a good thing or a bad thing.
"A-alright then. Sweet dreams, Gamzee."
Much later, when he toes the line between reality and dreams, he thinks he hears, softly, "Always are, motherfucker."
The next few weeks are not bad, exactly. Tavros hesitates to say that they are good, because he knows that will jinx him and because it is hard to fully relax around Gamzee while knowing that he could break Tavros's neck at any moment and no one would care.
But they're not bad.
"So I said fuck, that motherfucker is actually motherfucking fucking his motherfucking mother." Despite the inappropriateness of the anecdote, Tavros cannot smother a small snort of laughter at the absurdity of it. Even through the hoarse honking of Gamzee's own mirth, the troll notices and the paint around his eyes crinkles.
He puts another poached egg on Tavros's plate (his main breakfast food after it had been established that he was a vegetarian and Gamzee had listened rather than laughed at him), almost like a reward, and Tavros can almost say that he's happy.
"So what are we doing today, Gamzee?" The taller troll seems to like it when Tavros says his given name, so he tries to as often as possible. It's partly to keep the capricious troll's temper even, and partly because, well, he has a very nice smile that Tavros appreciates when he isn't busy being actively terrified of it.
This time, however, he sobers. Sober Gamzee is… not so fun, usually.
"Got a meeting, motherfucker. Not so miraculous. You'll have to chill solo today, Tavbro."
That's sort of exciting, actually, because he hasn't left this room in about two weeks, having meals and new clothes (still of poorer quality than Gamzee's, but a million times nicer than anything Tavros has ever worn, and somehow they got his size… exactly right. Even the inseam. Exactly.) brought to him, and it might be nice to go out and stretch his legs.
Still, Gamzee has been much kinder than he had to, and Tavros has grown to be almost not terrified in his presence. So he smiles sympathetically at the drooping troll instead of jumping for joy.
"Maybe it, uh, won't be so bad?" He tries. He's never really been to a meeting, unless attending his own slave auction counts, so he really can't offer any useful advice. "And we can chill after? Maybe?" This seems to perk Gamzee right up.
"You know it, motherfucker. I will bring all the chill." Tavros giggles despite himself. Every time he does this, he worries that he'll be seen as insolent and punished, but it hasn't happened yet. It doesn't this time, either, and Tavros relaxes. He never thought giggling would be something he'd have to worry about, considering he was sure he'd be dead by now. It's a surreal feeling.
"We'll be, like, ice cubes with all the chilliness." He ventures timidly, but with genuine good humor. Gamzee grins lazily at him.
"It'll be a motherfucking igloo up in here." Tavros nods agreeably, focusing on his eggs and not noticing when Gamzee's eyes narrow at a point near his mouth.
"Got something there, Tav… Wait a motherfucking minute." Tavros freezes as a cool thumb brushes against the corner of his lips, the claw leaving a tickling line across the bow of his upper lip. He has to fight not to lick the sensation away as the hand recedes. Gamzee presents the smear of egg yolk to Tavros for inspection, and then licks his own finger clean with his dusky tongue.
Tavros is rather proud that he makes a little squeak, rather than screaming bloody murder and falling backwards out of his chair. It is a close call.
"T-t-thanks." He offers meekly. Gamzee gives his fanged smile back.
"Good enough breakfast for me." He declares, pushing back from the table. He'd had a small chair brought in for Tavros when they'd decided to play extreme sudden-death (the name still made Tavros nervous) musical chairs, and the boy rises from it when Gamzee does. "Gotta get on that motherfucking powwow, ya know?"
Tavros nods, but his tummy feels a little squirmy as he considers that the only food that Gamzee touched was the egg on Tavros's lips. It's mostly a maternal sort of worry that he never could squelch—the highblood troll doesn't eat enough, and it shows in his thin frame—but there might be, maybe, some other things causing the squirmies. Tavros chooses to ignore these other things.
"Um, okay. Uh, have a good day?" The Highblood honks.
"Whoa, slow down there, motherfucker. Gotta drop you off with a safe sister first. Can't leave a rustblooded motherfucker like yourself all up and unprotected 'round here, ya feel? Some trolls might get ideas. Some motherfucking unmiraculous ideas." Mixed with the usual surge of panic that Tavros gets whenever that grating edge enters the highblood's voice, there is a not-insubstantial measure of relief. To be honest, he has some inkling of what a few of those 'unmiraculous ideas' might be, and he's not so eager to experience them.
They're already dressed, so when Gamzee strides out the door, Tavros scampers to catch up.
"I didn't know you, uh, had a sister." He wonders if she's as scary and nice. Gamzee chuckles.
"Nah, soul sister only. Like you're my Tavbro, right? We're all the motherfucking children of the great mirthful messiahs." There are a lot of stairs leading down from Gamzee's tower. Tavros imagines falling (being pushed) down them.
He lets Gamzee go first.
"Oh. That's… good." He hopes. He thinks about asking more, but he doesn't really want to risk a bad reaction on the stairs, so he bites his lip and stays silent.
Gamzee leaves Tavros with a very pretty troll with jade-colored eyes named Kanaya in the medical office. The lady is mild and polite, but once she discovers that Tavros knows, uh, a little bit about herb lore, she sets him to work with a firm hand. Tavros doesn't mind. The strong herbs tickle his nose and remind him of days in the forest with Tinkerbull.
He bites his lip and grinds harder into the pestle.
"So, Tavros, are you… well?" He blinks up at the troll lady where she is elegantly clipping an irate chili chokehold bush. The bush snaps angrily at the involuntary trim but Kanaya's slender fingers dance out of reach.
"Um, I'm okay, I suppose. Do I not, look, well?" He pokes self-consciously at his face. Gamzee hadn't said anything…
"Actually, you look rather healthy." Kanaya prods, as if this should enlighten Tavros. It does not. "Untouched, even."
"Oh, well, uh… thank you?" He can't really see that as a negative.
"I simply mean that you do not need to present a certain type of face to me in order to placate my perceived delicate nature. If you were in some way in need of assistance, I can think of no better place to request aid."
Tavros smiles uncertainly. "Wow, Miss Kanaya—" "Just Kanaya, please. There is no need for formalities." "K-Kanaya then. Um, that's really nice of you to offer to help." Although he isn't really sure what she's offering help for exactly.
The woman looks a curious mix of disappointed and triumphant. "So you are in need of medical council?" Tavros bites his lip, unsure, but then decides to go for it. Kanaya is asking after all, and Gamzee really hasn't been eating enough.
"What would you advise for someone who doesn't really seem to have much of an appetite lately? Hypothetically, I mean. It's not that he doesn't like food, exactly, but that he sort of just… doesn't feel up to eating? Hypothetically?" Kanaya nods wisely.
"A very common problem among new arrivals." She muses. "Well, first and foremost I suppose I would ask what this someone usually eats when they do feel like eating." Tavros considers. What does he like most to eat when he's sick or sad?
"Um, mostly sweet things. Like fruit and pastries maybe? But those are hard to get, and so expensive." Kanaya eyes him silently for a moment, and her eyes soften as she smiles. She has a very pretty smile, Tavros thinks.
"Follow me please." Tavros does, as the tall, slender troll leads him through the castle. He's a little worried that Gamzee will get out of his meeting and find them gone, but he can't really refuse an important person like Kanaya, if he even wanted to. Which he doesn't because she is very nice, he thinks.
Soon there are mouthwatering scents that are wafting through the air, and Tavros is remembering that it's been several hours since he last ate. His stomach agrees… loudly. Kanaya chuckles and pushes open the door that leads to the wonderful aromas.
It is a very, very large kitchen. Tavros supposes that, being royalty, Gamzee can probably afford to have a kitchen the size of a medium village, and that he really can't fault the highblood for the luxury when these smells are what are coming out.
Even better, attached to the scents is food like Tavros has never seen. There are mounds of cooked meat, delicate-looking jellies and pastes, fresh vegetables covered in fragrant sauces, and several large punch bowls filled to the brim with different colored liquid. Recognizing the purple one as Faygo, Tavros is willing to bet that the others contain new flavors.
It is amazing. It is fantastic. It makes Tavros miss, just a little, the tasteless gruel that Tinkerbull used to make him and that, at the time, Tavros had not been overly enthusiastic about, despite his best efforts. That was home, this, as wonderful as it is... isn't.
"Oooh, what a purrfectly adorable little fur-iend you've brought meow!" Tavros yelps as a warm body glomps onto his back, purring.
"Uhh, uhh…" He stutters, unsure of how to react. He hears Kanaya sigh. "Nepeta, please release young Tavros from your clingy claws."
"Awwwww, don't wanna! Hiss so cute!" Despite her words, the girl with the penchant for cat puns steps back and allows Tavros to actually see her.
She is much more adorable than he is, in Tavros's opinion. She has black tousled hair and fangs that stuck out just a little at two points, just like a cat's canines. Her green eyes, a lighter shade than Kanaya's, are sparkling and lively, just like her smile. She is petite—on second thought, Tavros thinks, noticing that she is up to his eyeballs in height, she is a perfectly acceptable and respectable height.
She is also wearing a lime green apron that is printed with little paw prints and a happy waving kitty. Tavros has a sneaking feeling that the cat theme is not restricted to wordplay.
"He is also in need of sustenance, Nepeta, but finds himself lacking appetite. It is our job to tantalize his taste buds enough to entice him into breaking his fast."
Tavros flushes, embarrassed, and is about to sheepishly point out that he is not such a glutton that a few hours count as a fast, when Nepeta cuts in again.
"How pawful!" The tiny troll gasps. "Poor Tavvy!" She clings to him again. "Don't worry, Nepeta will save you!"
Kanaya smiles pleasantly at him over Nepeta's head. "Nepeta is our head cook. She is a witch in the kitchen." The younger girl preened. "However, I am afraid that in this case, a sweeter touch might be necessary. Is your companion Equius present?"
Tavros winces, expecting to be tackled by another hyperactive troll—maybe this time with a fetish for…ponies?—but after a moment, there appear to be none forthcoming. Nepeta pouts.
"Those purrickly emeowssaries didn't want any dessert, the sourpusses! So Equius isn't here today." Kanaya nodded, frowning slightly.
"I apologize, Tavros. Sometimes among the highest castes pastry is associated with more delicate dispositions, and also with a certain image that our visitors wish to eschew." A lowblood image, Tavros thinks darkly. He's certainly eaten it enough to know. It was soft and sweet and childish and fragile—all things that "true trolls" avoided.
But still…
"I can bake, if you wouldn't mind." Both Nepeta and Kanaya blink at him and he shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, embarrassed. How rude he is! They've both been so nice to him and now he's giving orders like he's some sort of hotshot and—
"That would be supurrb!" Nepeta crows. Kanaya smiles softly at him.
"I had no idea that you were versed in the art of cooking as well as herb lore, Tavros." This is a natural assumption because usually slaves are trained to complete one kind of task, and are ignorant to all other craft knowledge. "That is very impressive." The boy blushes bronze self-consciously. Nepeta only worsens this by clamping on to him again.
"Oooh, whatcha going to make? Cake? Cookies? Meow-ffins?"
But Tavros isn't listening. Inspiration has already struck.
He stares at the Faygo and smiles.
Two hours later, Tavros slips outside of the kitchen with Kanaya, waving goodbye to Nepeta and promising to visit her as soon as possible. Tavros clutches a box to his chest as he follows the older female through the halls.
A few times a guard sneers threateningly at Tavros, causing him to bite his lip and cling tighter to his box, but each time Kanaya intercepts the looks with an uncanny accuracy and a chilly look that promises pain (or at least purposefully subpar medical care) in the near future.
He huffs while braving the stairs, which are much more grueling going up than going down, but when he turns down the short hallway that leads to Gamzee's room, Kanaya stops him with a gentle touch.
Tavros turns back towards her curiously. She looks… conflicted.
"Tavros, you realize… you realize that there are certain misfortunes that should not befall anyone, but too often do." Like being sold into slavery, Tavros agrees with surprising bitterness that he berates himself for a moment later. His situation is not Kanaya's fault. "However, that does not mean that these trials should be faced alone and unaided. It's alright to ask for help Tavros, you know." The troll blinks, bemused.
"But I thought that was what we just did…" He says hesitantly. "And you've been so helpful and kind. I really couldn't ask for anything else." Kanaya's jade eyes remain perturbed.
"I see. I hope that, within time, you will learn to request aid when it is necessary. You are not alone, Tavros."
"But you are late." A voice purrs, much deeper and darker than Nepeta's. Tavros jumps while Kanaya tenses. "You trying to insinuate anything to my tardy Tav, motherfucker?"
Gamzee seems to have a thing for shadowy corners, because he emerges from yet another one. Tavros wonders if he was just waiting there for a chance to surprise some unsuspecting bystander. He imagines him doing it to one of the mean guards on the way here and nearly giggles. They'd deserve it too.
"Gamzee!" He squeaks, torn between residual terror from being snuck up on and a sense of genuine happiness to see the man who was the first here to show him kindness, no matter how double-edged. He fails to notice Kanaya's sharp gasp, but he does catch the sharp nails that are suddenly digging into his arm.
Kanaya squeezes once, then releases.
He looks at her, whose color has turned from ash to parchment, and frowns in confusion. Gamzee's wine-colored eyes slide languorously from his own form to that of Kanaya only when she speaks, but not before.
"He meant no offense, Lord Highblood. He is new to your court, unschooled. I will teach him. Such impertinence will not occur again."
Tavros's stomach sinks. He did something stupid again, didn't he? He can never do anything right! He bites his lip, scuffling his feet and trying to look as small and inoffensive as possible, even though he doesn't know what he's trying to be inoffensive about.
Kanaya sweeps into a deep bow, pushing Tavros sharply with her into the motion—or at least she tries to. He does not have her poise, and he sort of lurches forward at Gamzee like some sort of missile.
The highblood doesn't miss a beat, catching him with wiry arms before he can faceplant. Tavros is amazed and proud to discover that somehow his box was spared from his inelegant maneuver, still held safely in his arms between his and Gamzee's chests.
He smiles toothily up at Gamzee in thanks. The troll isn't looking at him, however. His eyes are fixed on Kanaya, and there is something in them that rings an urgent bell in Tavros's head.
"Tavros isn't the one doing the offending, motherfucker." He says, his voice that rusty nails rasping together sound that Tavros recognizes immediately as DANGEROUS. He swallows, and tries instinctively to pull away, but the arms that were steadying him before are now iron bands around his waist, pinning him in place. He swallows again, hard.
"Lord Grand High—"
"Did I give you permission to speak?"
Tavros shivers, and out of the corner of his eye he sees a double whir of movement that he thinks is Kanaya bowing again sharply and then shaking her head mutely.
"See, sister, I must be out of my motherfucking mind here, because I thought that I told you that Tavros was to be brought to me a hour ago. But I must have been imagining it or some shit, because there is not a fucking chance that you would disobey a direct order from your Lord, is there?" His voice is fluctuating wildly again, and the last time that happened, there was a fair amount of Tavros's predecessor missing by the end. He whimpers. He's terrified, and he doesn't want those violet eyes to focus on him, but Kanaya is his friend (?), and he doesn't want her to be on the receiving end of that rage either.
When Kanaya gives no response, Gamzee growls, "I'M TALKING TO YOU, BILEBLOOD."
"You did tell me to bring Tavros back an hour ago, Grand Highblood. However—"
"See, I've got a feeling that I'm not going to be happy, no matter how you finish that motherfucking sentence." A fang pokes out from his grin, more warning than warmth. "So how about instead you get the fuck out of my sight before I get real unhappy?"
He sees her hesitate, but even though she likes him well enough, he supposes, they barely know each other and no self-respecting troll would put their neck on the line (literally as the case may be) for a rustblood—not even other rustbloods, probably.
It takes her a good few seconds, which is impressive given the circumstances, and Tavros is touched at her effort, but eventually she says quietly, "Yes, Lord." There is the whisper of cloth as she curtsies, a more formal maneuver than her rushed bows of before, and then she is gone.
And Gamzee is looking at him.
The door is open, which Tavros is unsure whether to be grateful for. He doesn't slam against the wood when Gamzee throws him, but he does instead tumble directly into the room, scrambling to regain his footing. He hears the door slam behind him, and then the snick as the lock slides into place… from the inside.
"Don't want any motherfucking interruptions, do we?" Yes, actually, he really, really does. "So, why don't you tell me why you took so long, motherfucker. Did you get lost?" His grin is deceptively lazy, but his eyes are like stained glass shards. Tavros shakes his head, too scared to speak. Gamzee steps forward and he steps back reflexively. "Did you stop to smell the roses?" Another shake, another one-two step. The grin has thinned to a sharp sliver. "Don't tell me you tried to run."
"N-no!" Tavros says, because it hadn't even occurred to him and how pathetic is that? Gamzee gives this low, short growl, hand snapping forward to grip Tavros's mohawk. He really seems to like the mohawk as a handhold.
"See, I think you're lying, motherfucker." He leans forward, eyes wild. "And I don't like liars." As he speaks, leaning far enough that Tavros can feel his breath fanning his face, his torso brushes against the box. His eyes flick towards it just for a moment, annoyed at the barrier, but Tavros seizes the chance.
"I-it's for you." He stutters, raising the box slightly to demonstrate. "It's why I wasn't here an hour ago—although, uh, I didn't know you said I had to be, so I'm sorry. I just wanted… I w-wanted…"
Gamzee, without releasing his mohawk, uses a delicate claw on his free hand to flip open the lid. His face goes abruptly blank, and Tavros rushes to explain before he slits his throat. "It's j-just that you don't really eat, uh, much at all, and you n-need to keep up your strength, and you seemed so upset this m-morning, and Kanaya said that eating c-comfort foods helps, and it's the only thing I've actually seen you, um, eat, but I like pastries and sweet stuff and they always make me h-happy, s-so, so, I thought that, um, maybe, you might, that is—"
"Tavros."
He eeps, mouth snapping shut. He feels his own eyes following Gamzee's, down to the open box. There are a dozen little cakes there, iced in a rainbow of festive colors. The icing job is a bit sloppy, but Kanaya had rushed him in the end—now he knows why. Still, he'd thought they weren't awful. Apparently Gamzee disagrees.
"Breathe." He does so, as deeply as he can so that Gamzee can see him obeying the order. "Now, what are these?"
"They, they, they're F-Faygo cakes." He bites his lip hard enough to sting. "I made one in each flavor they had, because I didn't know, uh, which one you liked b-best."
Gamzee's gaze snaps to his, and Tavros forgets his orders and stops breathing again. His eyes are still sharp, but now there's something defensive there as well as offensive. Tavros wonders if the highblood would kill an unconscious troll, which is a swiftly approaching scenario that Tavros might facilitate if the answer is 'no', even if it means holding his breath until he passes out. By his current rate, he's already halfway there.
And then Gamzee gathers a stripe of pinkish frosting and lifts it to his lips. His wicked, pointed tongue guides the digit into his mouth. The smile that breaks over his face is like watching the sun rise.
"Motherfucking miracle."
Much later, Gamzee is licking the last bit of frosting from the last bit of cupcake off his claw like a languid predator, and Tavros is sucking frosting from between his fingers with significantly less refinement. The highblood is lounging in the overstuffed armchair while Tavros has been placed by his feet on the floor. He'd be a bit more uncomfortable about this position if he weren't sedated with sugar coma.
There is, however, not enough sugar in the world to keep him from jolting when a (newly cleaned) clawed hand cards through his hair. He stiffens, carefully remaining as still as possible rather than bolting.
"Gamzee?"
"Yes, motherfucker?" The voice seems serene enough, but without seeing his face it's hard to tell. The hand continues its petting motions.
"Uh, why are you…" The hand stills, fingers still buried in his black locks. In fact, they seem to tighten rather than let go.
"Problem, motherfucker?"
"N-no! No. Nope." He says, forcing himself to relax as the fingers continue their path. It's not so hard, relaxing; the motion is actually rather soothing. Tavros can see why cats purr now. Although he's not sure if they'd be purring in Tavros's place if they understood the current situation. Then again, cats are sneaky, wily creatures. They'd probably have a plan. Tavros makes a mental note to ask Nepeta what she would do in this situation.
Hypothetically, of course.
"So you, uh, liked them?" He hopes that Gamzee didn't eat them to be polite, although it's hard to imagine the troll doing anything just to be polite.
"Tav, you are a motherfucking genius. Best meal of my life." Tavros giggles slightly at the hyperbole.
"Cake isn't a meal, Gamzee!" He chides. The highblood honks, ruffling his hair briefly before returning to his stroking motion.
"It is now. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are all going to be Tavcakes." Tavros snorts in laughter rather inelegantly at the name.
"You'll get sick of them."
Gamzee hums noncommittally. There is silence for a few minutes, and Tavros drifts. He's warm and he's full, and he's being shown the first physical affection he's had in months—even before, hooves do not gentle finger combs make, so it's a novel sensation. Even the edge of terror that Gamzee brings is dulled, and he finds his eyes slipping shut against his will.
He reaches up to rub them awake (Tinkerbull had said that when you got sleepy, it was because the sleepsand sprites were sprinkling their fairy dust in your eyes, just like in Pupa Pan), only to bump his nose painfully on his copper shackles. He makes an involuntary noise of pain, only to make another one moments later of surprise when he finds the offending appendage being pulled above his head.
"Looks like a motherfucking pain, Tav. These must be a bitch, getting in the way all kinds of ways."
Tavros has to admit, the minor day-to-day annoyances of shackles had never really been the part that bothered him. Still…
"They're, uh, a little bit, yeah. My horns get in the way a lot more with shirts—thanks for the buttoned ones, by the way—but they—the shackles, I mean—they tend to get caught on a lot more things, I'm sort of clumsy, uh, a bit, so…" A thought strikes him. "Oh! But I'm not, um, complaining, because these were given to me by Tin—by my last sort-of master, and he was really really nice, so I can sort of remember him, uh, when I look at them? Even though they're uncomfortable." He only notices after his babbling has wound down that the hands has gone very, very still in his hair and on his wrist, but that they are both tightened rather painfully.
"Am I not 'nice', motherfucker?"
…Definitely a trick question. Tavros is getting better at this.
"Y-you're nice too, Gamzee! Really nice!" The hand on his wrist twists the metal musingly, scraping it against Tavros's skin and inciting a flinch.
"Nicer than this motherfucker?" Tavros really wants to protest this dubbing of Tinkerbull, but Gamzee has a habit of saying really things that Tavros wants to protest while in prime position to snap his neck. He does not protest, but it's difficult to demean Tinkerbull's memory by saying that he wasn't as nice as a psychotic highblood.
Who shares his dessert and plays games and strokes Tavros's hair.
"You're, uh, different. But, sort of, a good different, maybe?" There. Not 'nicer', but not a lie. He does like Gamzee when the highblood isn't on the warpath.
The hand resumes stroking, but its twin is still turning the bracelet with a belying force.
"Well then, you should wear something different for your different master."
"Oh, uh—"
"See, normally I don't really bother. Too much motherfucking trouble, 'cause most of the fucking shitbloods don't last the week. They just get on my nerves, ya feel?"
"I-I-I feel." Except that he really hopes he doesn't, in the future.
"But you and me, Tavros, we fit like a fucking puzzle. Motherfucking miracle, right?"
Tavros can safely say, considering he has lasted as long as he has with only hair-pulling levels of violence, "It is a miracle."
Gamzee honks happily. "Yup. You 'n' me are going to be together for a long time." He taps the shackle idly. "Might as well make it official, right?"
"Um, well, I, uh… okay?" Alive and enslaved is better than dead and murdered.
"So tell me motherfucker, how do you feel about piercings?"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhh…."
It is only later, when Gamzee is sprawled out above him—on the bed versus the floor, not, uh, other ways—and Tavros is curling into his blankets, teetering between sleep and wakefulness, that he hears Gamzee talking again. He's a little confused, because he tends to hear Gamzee talk a lot around this twilight of dreams, and why talk when Tavros is too tired to answer?
This time is a little scary though, because the voice that talks to him isn't mellow and soft, like it has been these past few hours. This time it is the sound of a knife screeching against cold glass, thunder and lightning and snowstorms and hurricanes all rolled into one.
This is the voice of the other Gamzee, and it says to him,
"You aren't EVER going to leave me, motherfucker."
And there really isn't a reason to, for the next quarter-sweep.
Gamzee is a difficult master at times. He'll get into a funk and not eat or sleep for days, and he'll snap at anyone who tries to stop him. The only reason Tavros knows this is because the other thing that makes him snap during these times is Tavros trying to leave, which means that Tavros often doesn't sleep or eat for days either. Eventually he comes out of it, usually when he collapses from lack of sleep and Tavros is jolted by an unconscious Grand Highblood falling on him.
He is violent too. Although the most Tavros has gotten is the hair-pulling and occasional pinching or (what he hopes is playful) shoulder smacking, he has no illusions on this point. Once he came back from visiting Nepeta and Equius (a very strange and sweaty man who seemed to tolerate Tavros on the premise that he was a friend of Nepeta's, even if he was a lowblood) only to find an ochre stain on the floor that definitely was not Faygo. Gamzee had been whistling, in the best spirits he'd been in a while, and Tavros had said a quiet prayer for the yellow-blooded troll and not said anything or sat near that corner since. Another time Tavros had gone to visit Gamzee at the training grounds to watch him spar with some of the lower-blooded trolls.
…Needless to say that had been the first and last time he had visited him at the training grounds.
Still, despite his capricious character, Tavros sort of, well, likes him. Gamzee is funny and smart and he is nice to Tavros. After that first day he's never called Tavros any mean names, which is weird because he still calls other trolls by them, but sort of pleasant on Tavros's end. His shackles are removed, and he is instead fitted with earrings of gold with purple gems the exact color of Gamzee's eyes, and a matching nose ring that he has to wear on special occasions. He thinks it makes him look silly, but Gamzee seems to like it. It does get caught on fewer things than his shackles, but when it does it hurts.
He tells Gamzee about Tinkerbull, and his love of theater—especially the masterpiece of Pupa Pan and other Diseaseney plays. Gamzee in turn attempts to teach him to juggle, but Tavros is so nervous holding the well-worn clubs that they soon give up the attempt.
And he makes Gamzee Faygo cakes after his episodes, because he needs his strength, and Gamzee ruffles Tavros's hair absently and smiles at him and eats them all even when he won't eat anything else.
He is as close to happy as he has been since Tinkerbull's death.
Of course, this is when everything goes to hell, because on the quarter sweep anniversary of the day Tavros met Gamzee, the Sea Dweller Delegation comes to court.
Gamzee does not seem to like the Sea Dweller Delegation very much, Tavros thinks.
He winces as another goblet meets the wall, once again appreciating the fact that Gamzee's meals are always served on dishware that can take a beating. He is also glad that Gamzee opts to bestow the beating on the hearty dishware, rather than… other articles in the vicinity. Tavros-shaped articles, if you're talking specifics here.
"Motherfucking sandsuckers." The tall man growls, hands clenching at his sides. "They really get on my motherfucking nerves."
He's just come back from the welcoming ceremony, which of course no lowbloods were allowed to witness. Tavros isn't terribly put out by the lost opportunity, considering.
When a good thirty seconds goes by without another miscellaneous piece of cutlery or tableware hitting stone, Tavros decides it's safe and clears his throat.
"Massage?"
Gamzee turns sharp purple eyes on him—a little too sharp, not quite back to his safe and silly Gamzee yet, but close.
"You know it, motherfucker."
Tavros doesn't think he's so good at giving a massage, really, but Gamzee seems to calm down when Tavros is touching him and the idea of touching the other troll without a reason is… well, it just is. Not good, that, uh, is.
Since the last night of his shackles, Gamzee has frequently sat in his chair by the fireplace and played with Tavros's hair. It's always made him a little nervous, having those long claws so close to his neck and horns and eyes and—it just makes him nervous, okay? Recently however the older troll has allowed him to return the favor.
And when he's the one sitting in the comfy chair with Gamzee sitting on the floor in front of him and Tavros's hands carding timidly through his hair—careful to avoid the horns of course—he feels almost as relaxed as Gamzee seems. Not having the razor-likes claws an inch away from his jugular helps.
He wonders if Gamzee is worried about Tavros's claws near his neck, ears, horns. He doesn't think so, somehow, considering a butter knife is probably sharper than Tavros's filed claws at this point.
"So, uh, feel any better?" And less homicidal to goblets?
"You're a motherfucking miracle, Tav." Tavros flushes happily, glad that Gamzee can't see his face. "Wish you'd been there when I was dealing with those fishfuckers."
Tavros really, really doesn't, because Gamzee at the height of his temper is something that still terrifies him, as much as he likes the troll normally. But instead of saying that he just hums something noncommittal and continuing stroking. Gamzee's curls are cool and smooth, gliding through Tavros's filed claws like moonbeams.
The highblood leans back and looks up at Tavros with dark, heavy-lidded eyes. Tavros thinks he looks a little like a kitty that's being petted, which makes him smile a little bit. Gamzee's lips quirk.
"You don't go near those fuckers, understand?" Tavros blinks down at him.
"I thought you said—"
"Don't. Go. Near. Them. Understand?" He's still smiling, but there's more teeth now. Much more teeth than Tavros is comfortable with. He thinks about getting his fingers away from those teeth, but figures that Gamzee will probably get even angrier then.
"O-okay!" He nods frantically. "I don't, uh, think they'd even want to see someone like, um… me." It's true. The only reason that he could imagine a sea dweller would want him is to order him about, and from what he's heard from Nepeta the delegation brought along their own slaves.
"Good. Keep it that way. I don't like to share." The voice, like silk over sandpaper, makes Tavros shiver even though he's not in any immediate danger.
"Okay." He reiterates meekly. Gamzee's smile widens and he leans back, allowing a shaky Tavros to continue his task.
"I spy with my little eye something… purple." For most people it would be a suspicious and bizarre topic change, but for Gamzee it is as natural as breathing. The troll can easily talk about decapitation and dominoes (and there's an conversation Tavros never wants to revisit) in the same breath. Tavros answers without even looking around.
"My earrings."
"How'd you know?" Gamzee asked, innocently awed. Tavros giggles.
"You always pick my earrings as something purple." Which is a little weird, since he has a purple tapestry and bedspread and shirt and several pairs of shoes, not to mention his own eyes. But then again, can you really spy your own eye?
"I like them." Gamzee says easily. "They motherfucking suit you."
Tavros blushes a little, resisting the urge to toy with them self-consciously. They certainly earned him some interesting looks when he started wearing them around the castle. He'd been a little worried that they looked bad, but both Kanaya and Nepeta had assured him they were 'fine, Tavros, fine', with equally dazed expressions on their faces.
He's glad that Gamzee thinks they look okay too, though. It means a lot.
"T-thank you. They're, uh, very nice. So, ah, thank you. For them. And for, um, liking them." He babbles.
The purple-blooded troll grins lazily at him.
"Anything for you."
Gamzee has to go another conference thingy soon enough, and he is not best pleased about this, so Tavros slips down to pick him some flowers to cheer him up. He also might, maybe, be sneaking some lavender in the bouquet due its calming scent. Although if Gamzee asks, it's because it's purple. Really.
The garden is awash with fragrance, and Tavros tarries a bit longer than maybe he should. The songbirds are so full of gossip though, and in a particularly sharing mood after Tavros shares some crumbs from his breakfast. And it's so warm and peaceful here; no self-respecting troll would dawdle in a garden this sweet and sunny. The main purposes of it seems to be to flaunt the Grand Highblood's wealth to outsiders and to intimidate unruly courtiers by making them sit in among the delicate blooms until they are quite cowed… and more than a little ill.
Tavros quite likes it. He's not sure what that says about him. Maybe he's just really tough? Maybe. He hopes.
After learning about the shaky will-they-won't-they romance of Mr. and Ms. Robin, and giving a polite hello to all six of Mrs. Cardinal's chicks, Tavros finally heads back to the castle with a full bouquet of flowers nestled in his arms. The birds mentioned some interesting newcomers in the stables as well—horses that smell like salt and seaweed. Tavros ducks his head in as he passes.
Sollux, head groom of the stables, looks up as he enters. He appears to be in deep conversation with a short troll that Tavros has never seen before with, well, not to be disrespectful, but sort of rather nubby horns. There's really no other word for them.
Tavros rather likes Sollux. The stablemaster is only one shade of blood above Tavros's own umber hue, but he still retains his freeman status and receives wages for his service. Tavros sort of thinks he's amazing, to be honest. He's so confident and good at what he does.
His bicolored eyes are interesting too, and a tiny bit unnerving, maybe. They don't match his blood color at all, and they seem to see more than other people's do. Maybe Tavros is just imagining things though.
Realizing he was just reminiscing in front of an audience, he blushes fiercely.
"H-hi, Sollux. I was just, that is, I wanted to see the horses, but if you're, uh, busy, I can come back later—or not at all, if you don't, uh, want me too? Because I don't want to seem overbearing or something like that, I just—"
"Who the fuck is this sadsack?" The stranger asks, staring/glaring at him like he is both insane and offensive. Tavros must look like a copper caegar right now.
"I, I, uh…"
"Ignore him. KK is justh a lithle grumpy."
A little…?
"Oh, okay, but that doesn't really, uh, answer my question. Um, that is, whether I should go or stay or—"
"Go!" The stranger, 'KK', shouts at the same time that Sollux says, "Sthay."
"Um…"
"Sthay." Sollux repeats. "The horses will be happy tho see you. KK and I were done thalking anyway." The stranger does not appear to agree with this statement, judging by his glare, but he remains silent.
"Um, okay. I-if you're sure." He feels incredibly pushy, but he really wants to see the horses. He can hear whinnying in the stalls further down and he heads that way, stepping carefully past Sollux and his grumpy friends.
Just not carefully enough.
"You're a brownblood?" The grumpy KK asks him, snatching his arm to keep him in place. "Jegus."
Tavros both cowers and swells.
"I-I-I… yes." He says, trying to sound confident. "And you're…" He's never seen eyes that color before. They're not burgundy. They're like those candy apples that show up at carnivals. They're… they're… "Who are you?" He whispers even though he knows it's rude.
KK flinches at the scrutiny, releasing his arm and looking away.
"KK is a personal slave of one of the sea dweller lords." Sollux tells him. "He and I knew each other before—before." It is no rarity that a free lowblooded troll will encounter a friend in shackles, but Tavros still aches for Sollux and KK's situation.
"Oh." He says. "Um, I'm sorry."
"Gee, thanks a lot, dumbfuck. That sure makes the hell that's my life all better."
"O-oh. S-sorry for saying sorry, then?"
"KK!" Sollux snaps at his friend. When KK just looks away, he turns to Tavros with a sigh. "Why don'th you go see the horses, Thavros? KK and I will just go for a walk."
Tavros nods, afraid that a verbal response will incite another tongue lashing from KK.
He heads back to the horses as he hears the two leave. He thinks that he hears Gamzee's title, 'Grand Highblood', but he can't make out anything else over the welcoming whickering of the most beautiful royal purple sea horses ever.
Tavros opens his mind and smiles.
When he stumbles out of the barn, the sun is already low in the sky and his flowers are looking sort of droopy, so he makes a quick trip back to the garden to refresh them before heading back to Gamzee. He certainly doesn't want to make the highblood's temper and worse with subpar décor.
The horses are quite nice. They were a little snooty and snorty at first, like Tavros imagines their riders are, but once they warmed up to Tavros they talked about all manner of fantastic and impossible things under the sea. Tavros wonders what a peanut butter and jellyfish sandwich tastes like. Sting-y, maybe.
The butterflies are very helpful in informing Tavros which ones smell and taste the best. As he's picking the choice blossoms, a few of the butterflies alight upon his horns and hair and one precocious thing lands on his nose and will not abandon the post.
He giggles, blowing at the little creature gently in an attempt to dislodge it. It tickles rather a lot.
"Come on, silly." He chides, crossing his eyes in a failed attempt to look sternly at his peskiest passenger. "Gamzee will be worried." When the creature does not budge, Tavros huffs, "Fine. You can explain to him."
He turns back towards the garden gate and sees Gamzee staring at him with the strangest expression on his face. It's sort of, not upset exactly, but… really, really, really intense? Like he's trying to stare through Tavros's skin and see inside of him. It makes Tavros feel all tingly and shivery.
"G-Gamzee!" The butterflies apparently sense the change in the atmosphere, because they disperse in a cloud of rainbow fluttering wings. Tavros's breath catches at the beauty and he watches them in awe for a few moments. When he looks back towards his master, Gamzee is much closer than he was a few seconds ago.
Like, very much closer. Very.
And still staring.
"F-flowers. For you." Tavros says, shoving them at him in a desperate hope that the offer will make Gamzee take the gift and step away so that Tavros's heartbeat can go back down to normal. It doesn't. Make him step away that is.
The tall troll takes the flowers in one hand but seems to lean even closer, and oh gog why is he standing that close and has it always been that hard to breathe?
"That's awful sweet of a motherfucker." The troll purrs lowly. But there's something a little off, Tavros thinks, now that Gamzee's close enough to tell. There's something… Mixed with the smell of flowers there's something…
Blood.
"G-Gamzee… are you, uh, okay?" The troll blinks and grins at him lazily.
"Motherfucking marvelous, Tav."
Huh. Maybe he's just paranoid. Gamzee actually smells like blood a lot (much to Tavros's discomfort), it's just that this seems sharper than usual. Fresher?
Gamzee lifts the blossoms to his nose to inhale and Tavros see it; the splash of purple against the stark gray of Gamzee's wrist.
"You're hurt!" Without even thinking he grabs at the hand, sending the flowers tumbling to the ground and tugging Gamzee even closer. "Oh, Gamzee, what happened?"
It is next to impossible, imagining someone crazy enough to attack Gamzee, but maybe the sea dwellers… Tavros, for the first time in his life, actually wants to hurt someone—or at least scold him or her extremely firmly.
"Tavros. Tavros?" He only realizes that he's shaking when Gamzee touches his cheek with his free hand.
"Who did this?" Tavros whispers, because he needs a face so that he can get to the scolding of the century. Gamzee chuckles.
"I appreciate the concern, motherfucker, but the perpetrator of this here deed is yours truly. No need to get all worked up."
That is, in fact, a very good reason to get all worked up! Gamzee has progressed to attacking himself instead of others! What is not worth getting worked up over in that? Nothing, that's what.
"I-you-but—"
"Needed to be done, Tav. That motherfucker Eridan—it was either my arm or his face."
Now that Tavros looks, there are five perfect little punctures from each of Gamzee's claws in the soft palm of his hand. He's guessing the other one matches.
"Sit down." He's sure he'll be horrified about commanding his master later, but for now he is just happy and proud that Gamzee listens to him, settling in on one of the benches nearby. Tavros's cheek feels cold without Gamzee's hand there, which is ridiculous because Gamzee's hand is colder than Tavros's cheek.
Focus.
He kneels next to Gamzee and rips a section of his tunic into strips. He feels bad, because he knows that Gamzee had these clothes made for him, but he knows that that they're relatively clean and although Gamzee's are cleaner there is no way in hell that he's going to tear the highblood's clothes off of him.
Uh.
He bites his lip and focuses as much of his treacherous mind as he can on the bandaging instead of thinking about Gamzee and his clothes. This turns out to be a mistake, because in order to bandage the wounds he has to cradle Gamzee's hand in his own and the skin is cool and slightly coarse but mostly so smooth and now he's thinking about Gamzee's skin instead of his clothes and… and…
And he would have been better off thinking about the clothes, is all.
He ties a swift knot in each, securing them in place and nodding in satisfaction at the neat job. Having dulled claws appears to have some benefits, like being able to tie things without cutting them apart.
"So, uh, this is only to put some pressure on them, and, um, to make sure that nothing bad gets inside the cuts, but you should probably go see Ka—L-lady Kanaya, just to be sure? And she'll be able to do, ah, a better job?"
"I think you already did a motherfucking miraculous job, Tav. I feel better already."
'Better'…
"Oh!" Without even thinking about it (WHY didn't he think about it?) he leans over and presses a kiss to the hand that he's still holding.
Gamzee freezes, and Tavros is a millisecond behind him.
"I-I-I-I—" He takes a deep gulping breath and tries not to choke on it. "I'm sorry! I've heard that a, uh, a kiss can make it better? And I just wanted to help because that looks like it hurts. A lot. But I think, um, judging by your reaction that that might be a lowblood custom? Maybe? I'm so sorry."
He doesn't dare to look up at his master, tears welling up in his eyes as his face burns. He's so stupid! And kissing a highblood is probably a death sentence, and Gamzee's going to kill him, and Tavros is so stupid!
"The other hand still stings like a motherfucker." Gamzee says, as casually as if Tavros isn't currently falling apart at his feet.
"Huh?" Tavros has to look up now. Gamzee is looking at him with that same weird look he had when he entered the garden, but it's about ten times worse when he's this close and touching Tavros. And it might just be because of the closeness, but Tavros thinks that he sees a darkness in Gamzee's eyes that wasn't there before.
He really hopes that he's not making Gamzee mad.
"Um, what?" He tunes back into the conversation, because it seems like Gamzee was implying that he wants Tavros to kiss his other hand. Which is crazy. Obviously.
"Make it better?" And that is the scary angry voice, but it doesn't seem… angry, which doesn't make any sense. And Gamzee is still looking at him with the dark eyes, but they aren't wrathful, just… watchful. Waiting for Tavros to react.
He's never met Sober Gamzee when the troll didn't want to kill someone. He vastly prefers this Sober Gamzee to the other one. This one seems more like his Soft Gamzee, except more jagged and roughened, an unpolished diamond. But still Gamzee. All three of them are still Gamzee, of course, no matter how daunting Tavros finds that thought.
And if he cares for one, he cares for all of them. Even if the other two scare him. A lot.
He leans down again, before he can think about it-on purpose this time-and presses a soft kiss to the other hand. It is as still as stone, but he thinks he feels a muscle jump under his lips when they touch the rough fabric of the bandage.
"Okay?" He asks, softly. If this were Soft Gamzee he'd make a joke, try to make the highblood laugh and shatter the tense atmosphere, step away, but this Gamzee is hard and cold as stone. He's felt it in the hands.
"Perfect." Stone-Cold Sober Gamzee tells him. He can't help but smile, even if it's just a little one, because he loves when he can help Gamzee, no matter what mood he's in. It always makes that warm, sunny place in his chest glow brighter.
"I'm glad." He says, honestly. He wonders if he can stand up. His knees are starting to ache, but he's not sure how strict with traditions and slave law this Gamzee is. He might have to risk it.
Luckily he needs not tempt the fates, because Gamzee pats the spot on the bench next to him in what Tavros is completely willing to assume is an invitation rather than an appraisal of the fine woodwork. He scrambles up with his usual lack of grace and plops down next to the highblood on the bench. It is, apparently, not a very big bench; their thighs are brushing and Tavros tries not to breathe so that nothing else touches too.
They sit in what on Tavros's end is a very awkward silence. Glancing at his companion, he sees that Gamzee is looking at him out of the corner of his eye and his lips are twitching up. At Tavros's look, the twitch widens to an outright smirk. It is spookier than his usual smile, edged with a sort of black humor that is very unnerving.
Tavros looks away quickly.
"Flowers and kisses. People might get ideas." Tavros sucks in a tight breath. He hasn't considered others. He's been so sure that Gamzee was going to kill him, fullstop.
"O-Oh. I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" Gamzee chuckles.
"Never said they were bad ideas, Tavros." Oh. Okay. That means that they're good ideas? Tavros doesn't really want anyone getting any ideas, good or bad. "Have you ever done that to any other motherfucker?" His voice is soft and offhandedly inquisitive, a tone that seems to jar with the gravelly rumble of his speech.
"That…?" Gamzee lifts a hand lazily. "You mean the kisses? N-no! I… that is… ah… I've never…" To be honest, he had never really had anyone he was close enough to other than Tinkerbull, which would have lead to a mouth full of hair.
"Good. Don't do this with anyone else." Tavros glances at him again and sees that Gamzee is smiling at the canopy of a tree in what could almost pass as his normal happy grin.
Tavros feels rather touched despite his fear.
"That's really nice of you, to watch out for me." When the other troll says nothing, Tavros clarifies awkwardly, "To keep people from getting ideas, so I don't get in trouble."
Now the lilac eyes flick towards him and stay there.
"...Right." The troll shifts so that he's straddling the bench and facing towards Tavros.
Maybe this Gamzee isn't so bad, if he's worried about Tavros's safety. He's still not sure what 'ideas' people might get, but from Gamzee is saying, they're ideas that he definitely doesn't want them to have. Probably. But then again Gamzee had said that they weren't bad ideas? Oh, but he'd never really said that they were good ideas either.
He turns as well so that they are face to face once again.
"Thank you." He says, as heartfelt as he can. It's nice to know that both Stone and Soft Gamzee have his interests in mind. He feels like he really doesn't deserve it, but he's grateful nonetheless.
Heavy arms fall across his shoulders and Tavros squeaks. He feels Gamzee shift towards him so that much more than their thighs are touching.
"I'll always keep you safe, Tavros."
Tavros blinks up at him. Gamzee is looking down at him with a fierce but earnest gleam in his eyes. There is still an underlying coldness there, but the surface seems warm, like it's thawing.
Tavros feels warm too. He wonders if he's allowed to hug back.
"I… thank you. I'll, um, try to keep you safe too." Like a pathetic little rustblood like him can protect someone like Gamzee. He expects Gamzee to say something to this effect, because although Soft Gamzee has toned down on the lowblood insults, Sober Gamzee seems to revel in them.
Gamzee just hums though, and pulls him closer, tucking Tavros's face under his chin. Highbloods have lower body temperatures, so leaning against Gamzee is rather cold, but Tavros finds that the sensation feels nice against the burning brown blush on his whole body.
He's too nervous to say anything for a while, and the sun finishes setting. Soon they are staring up at the glittering stars as they fade into life. Gamzee still hasn't let go.
Tavros thinks about letting go first, but he'd felt as the taller troll slowly relaxed into the embrace, folding in on Tavros as the tension left his body. He may not be able to protect Gamzee, but he can make him feel better.
"I can't." It's the first time that he's spoken since they've embraced. Tavros shifts to show that he's listening, but dares not do more. "Things are changing, and I can't…
There is a dark sound that vibrates against him. In most people it would be called laughter.
"You belong with me. Nothing those fuckers say can change that." Gamzee growls. Tavros winces as his claws dig into Tavros's back. "You like being with me, don't you? You're happy?"
That's a loaded question. He knows what he's going to say, because there is no other safe answer, but he thinks about what he would whisper if only his mind could hear his answer.
At the moment he's scared and his back hurts from the claws digging in, but he doesn't think that Gamzee's asking about the moment. Gamzee is frightening. His moods are mercurial and his temper is like a powder keg, volatile and dangerous. Gamzee hurts people. Tavros has seen this, and he's feeling it firsthand right now.
But Gamzee is so kind too, to Tavros. He's like a child, spoiled and moody but still so full of laughter and life. Tavros has always liked Soft Gamzee, who plays with him and tells him stories and tries to teach him to juggle. But it is not Soft Gamzee asking the question.
He listens to the beat of Gamzee's heart under his ear, so steady and sure before but now racing just a little as he waits for Tavros's answer. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Nervous.
"I'm happy." He says, both to Gamzee and in his head, a small but sure whisper. "I'm happy." He repeats, almost defiantly. Because he is.
The pulse steadies beneath his ear. Gamzee holds him tighter with his arms, but his claws have relaxed.
"I'm happy too."
Stone Gamzee is gone by the time they sneak back into the castle. The Grand Highblood is full of soft honks and smiles and bad jokes that really shouldn't be uttered while they're attempting subterfuge, but Tavros is so happy that Gamzee is in a good mood that he giggles at them anyway.
And besides, even if they are caught, he doubts that anyone is going to attempt to discipline Gamzee.
Gamzee refuses to go to Kanaya the next morning, or even to take off the makeshift bandages that Tavros made him. Finally Tavros, exasperated, has some medical supplies brought up by a girl who gives him a sympathetic smile when he takes them from her at the door and asks if he needs any help applying them. She says 'applying' weird, sort of drawing it out and blinking rapidly at him, fluttering her eyelashes. Maybe she has something stuck in her eye? Does she need first aid too, and that's why she's offering so he'll offer back?
Then she hears Gamzee's voice asking who's at the motherfucking door, pales to a rather spectacularly white color, and absconds as if someone has lit fire to her hair.
Huh. He blinks after her before Gamzee pulls him back into the room.
"What do you have there, motherfucker?"
Right! He turns his rather unominous glare on the highblood, puffing out his cheeks in what he hopes is a menacing manner. "You, sit and let me redo your bandages. If you can be stubborn, so can I!"
Gamzee is not stubborn. "Does this mean I get more kisses?" He asks cheerfully, docile as a lamb as he sits. Tavros sort of wishes that Gamzee would be stubborn instead. As it is he might need first aid when he chokes on his babbling tongue.
"S-sit!"
"I already am, Tav."
"…O-oh. Right. Then just… keep sitting."
Once Tavros has bandaged Gamzee to his satisfaction, complete with two very quick and shaky palm kisses, the highblood has to go to yet another meeting, and then a banquet. Apparently the queen, Her Imperial Condescendence, is going to be in attendance this time around, which makes Gamzee even more edgy. It's weird, because everything Tavros has heard about the queen has been glowing praise of her kindness and progressive nature. She's even kind to lowbloods, the rumors whisper.
Still, Gamzee must know her better than Tavros does.
He decides to stop in with Kanaya, who is deep in conversation with Terezi.
Tavros is… not quite sure what to think of Terezi. She cackles a lot and she does a sort of messy job, heading the judicial branch of troll society, but she also hasn't attacked Tavros beyond sniffing him rather awkwardly and licking him once. She also says that he smells like zesty chocolate-covered orange slices, which is… good? Better than being called a shitblood anyway.
"Hey there Tavros. You smell wonderful today. So sweet and tasty!"
"Uh, h-hi, Terezi. Hi Kanaya." He says, smiling in greeting to both trolls even though only one of them can see it. It's the thought that counts, Tavros believes.
"Tavros, would you mind coming back a little later? There's something that—"
"Nah, this is perfect! Zest might have heard something." Terezi turns opaque red shades to him, her smile sharp. "You planning any assassination attempts recently, kid?"
She can't see Tavros's face, but somehow she still gathers that it's worth laughing at, which she proceeds to do. Loudly.
"Guess we know one lowblood who's not in on it." She cackles. Tavros pales, looking to Kanaya.
"Assassination?" He repeats weakly.
Kanaya tuts but beckons him inside. Tavros sits, numb.
"There have been reports." She says haltingly. "Of course I know you have nothing to do with it, Tavros. Which is why I wanted to keep you out of it." She adds, shooting her blind companion a reproving glance.
Terezi smirks, obviously hearing the disdain in her voice. "Oh, get over it doll. Tavros would be in it whether you wanted it or not. He's in constant contact with one of the top three assassination targets every hour of the day—I'm surprised that he hasn't killed the Highblood already, assassination plot or not."
Tavros shivers at the very thought, which makes the omniscient Terezi snort. "Yeah, yeah, we know. You and the GHB are bestest friends with a borderline illegal amount of UST and neither of you would ever do anything that would make the other go boo-hoo, including killing each other."
Okay, so 'GHB' is probably Grand Highblood, probably, but 'UST'…?
"In any event, Tavros, you aren't involved, so why don't you go see Nepeta until we're finished? I'm sure she'd love the company." Kanaya cuts in quickly, as though she realizes that Tavros is about to ask a question that she really doesn't want to answer.
Tavros struggles, his ingrained urge to follow orders and not make a fuss warring with his worry for Gamzee. In the end, it is obvious which one wins.
"Is someone trying to hurt Gamzee?" He asks tremulously. Kanaya sighs while Terezi cackles again.
"Welcome to the fold."
'Reports' seems like a strong word for what they have, if Tavros is being brutally honest. All they seem to know is that, at some point, some lowblood assassin is planning to kill one of three people who serve as figureheads of the current regime: Her Imperial Condescension, Lord Duelscar—Eridan, as Gamzee calls him—or the Grand Highblood.
Gamzee.
"B-But why?" Tavros asks when they are done. "Why Gamzee?"
The two women share a significant look that Tavros doesn't understand. He also doesn't understand how Terezi can exchange looks at all, not to be rude.
"Gamzee has you, Tavros. And about a hundred dead lowblood slaves before you." Terezi says in her usual blunt manner. "Even the sea dwellers don't go through them that fast."
Tavros swallows. Terezi is making it sound like they're used tissues. They were real, valuable lives.
...That Gamzee snuffed out. The tissue angle might actually be less upsetting in the long run.
"He's not—" like that, he wants to say, but he knows it's a lie and so do they. "He's more than that." This is not a lie.
Another shared look. He wishes they wouldn't do that.
"We're not sure that the Lord Grand Highblood is the target, Tavros." Kanaya reminds him gently. "The queen and her chief advisor are just as likely, if not more so."
But just the thought is enough to give Tavros chills. Gamzee…
"Is there anything I can do? To, um, to keep him safe?" He must sound like a moron. But he promised Gamzee that he would try to protect him, so he's going to. He just didn't think he'd get a chance this soon.
"Well, we could use an extra pair of eyes. We're a bit short in that department." Tavros wonders if it's polite to laugh at a blind person's joke about her own blindness. Terezi seems to think it's hilarious anyway.
"Just watch for anything that seems suspicious or abnormal and tell either myself or our ebullient acquaintance Terezi of your observations." Kanaya requests. "We can ask for no more from you."
Except to actually puzzle out what she is asking, apparently. Tavros nods once he thinks he gets the gist.
"Got it. Um, should I still leave?"
Terezi grabs him in a headlock. "Nah. Come hang with your wicked sister. Want to hear what the punishment is for a confirmed assassin?"
"N-Not really…"
Much later, a pale Tavros stumbles out of Kanaya's chamber. He never knew that that was even possible. And then the chains…
He shakes his head. He does not want to think about this.
Gamzee is there when he returns, waiting to be dressed for dinner. He ruffles Tavros's hair when he's trying to lace up his shirt, making things very difficult, and just smiles when Tavros pouts at him.
He can't believe that anyone would want to kill this man.
"You seem to, uh, be a little happier. The meeting was, um, good?"
Gamzee shrugs against Tavros's hands as they smooth down his collar.
"Eridan's still a scum-sucking toady motherfucker, but he didn't piss me off as much. These helped." He flexes his bandaged hands. "Maybe we should start a ritual?"
Tavros blushes to the roots of his hair and tries not to take that to heart. Gamzee's sense of humor confuses him sometimes.
"Um." He steps back and smiles as bravely as he can at Gamzee. "You look perfect."
"Aw, you too motherfucker." Gamzee says, grinning at him with a sharp-toothed smile. Tavros feels his face heat further.
"I-I meant the clothes." When Gamzee raises an eyebrow, he hurries to add, "Not that you, uh, don't look good without the clothes—Gah! I mean, not like that, I mean—"
"Tavros. I get it." He's still smiling at Tavros and there's nothing mean in it, which makes Tavros calm a little. Gamzee always gets it. "Thank you."
"No p-problem." Tavros gets out. "Are you ready?"
Gamzee's smile dims a little. "It's just one motherfucking meal, right? And then it's done." It's not, actually, because there are still a few days' worth of meetings to get through, but Gamzee seems so perturbed at the thought of spending time with the sea dwellers that he nods encouragingly.
Gamzee leans in and gives him a swift hug. "I'll see you soon, Tavros. Stay out of trouble."
After Gamzee is gone Tavros heads down to the kitchen to see Nepeta. The girl troll had invited him to be her official taste-tester for the feast, which is too great an opportunity to pass up.
Nepeta is thrilled to see him. Equius seems a little put out, but when an awkward Tavros mentions that Gamzee told him stay out of trouble, and the safest thing he could think of to do was to come here, the man backs down with alarming alacrity. Tavros thinks it is the 'Gamzee' part that does it.
"This is purrfect!" Nepeta squeals happily, rubbing her cheek against Tavros's. "You can tell me how ameowzing my cooking is!"
Her cooking is fantastic. The kitchen is full to bursting with unfamiliar faces, but Nepeta keeps Tavros close to her side in order to shove spoons into his mouth, so he doesn't get too lost.
At one point he even encounters KK again. The troll is sticking as close to the shadows as he can, obviously uncomfortable with the crowds. He is also looking at the food with a hungry expression, but he does not enter the fray surrounding it.
Tavros knows the feeling, so he grabs a meat bun and scuttles through the mayhem towards the man after a quick 'be right back' to Nepeta.
KK looks up, startled at his approach.
"Hi." Tavros says, his voice almost lost in the din.
KK says nothing, still staring at him and starting to edge away.
"No, no! I'll, uh, leave you alone." He can understand that he's not great company. He's a little puzzled as to why Gamzee seems to enjoy being with him. "I just thought, uh, that you looked a little hungry?"
He holds out the meat bun as an offering. Karkat looks at it as though it is a venomous scorpion.
"Um, unless you're a vegetarian?" He avoids meat himself, but he's never met another troll who shares the aversion, even among lowbloods. "I can—"
"Idiot." KK snatches the roll from his hand before he can take it back. "You shouldn't get involved with strangers."
Tavros smiles at him. "But you're not a, um, stranger. You're Sollux's friend, so you must be nice." Even if he yells and swears a lot. Tavros lives with Gamzee; he's used to a little bad language.
KK snorts but rips into the roll with great voraciousness. "Maybe you don't know Sollux as well as you think, nookstain."
"I…know that he's always been nice to me, even when he didn't have to." Tavros says slowly. KK stares at him for a moment before looking away, down at his roll.
"You're so naïve. It's pathetic." Tavros hears that a lot, so he remains silent and does not contradict KK's comment. "I suppose that highblood bastard is 'nice' too?"
Nice is not the first word that springs to mind when he thinks of Gamzee, but it is probably in the top five when the highblood is in a good mood.
"Y-Yes. He is." He says defiantly, because KK was speaking with derision. The troll blinks at him.
"You… you actually like him, don't you? Jegus, that is so fucked up. You do remember that you're his property, right? You're like a fucking toy to him."
Tavros recoils from the anger and bitterness deep in the spat words.
"T-That's…" He can't think of a way to express how wrong that is.
"It's true. Are you really that fucked up in the head, that you don't want to be free from someone like him?"
Tavros can't help but glance around as those treasonous words are uttered. No one is looking at them and Tavros isn't the one saying the words, but he still feels guilty.
He also feels ashamed. His head is just fine, isn't it?
"I, I do want to be f-free. Of course I do. But it's never going to happen, and I'm grateful, for, for what I have." He says haltingly. He is grateful, or at least he was before this. Gamzee makes him content. Is that wrong, just because he's a slave?
"Which one would you choose? If you had a choice?"
KK's eyes are strangely intense. Tavros licks his lips. To be free. To be able to curl in the woods with his friends' warm fur around him, to fly through the sky and taste the clouds.
To lose Gamzee.
"I'd choose to be happy." He says. KK's lips curl in a triumphant grin.
"Good."
Tavros thinks there might be a disconnect here, because he's pretty sure that his answer should have made KK spit and swear rather than smile. But hey, he's willing to roll with it. He likes smiling KK better than swearing KK.
"Could you get me another one of these?" KK asks him carefully. Tavros beams.
"Y-Yeah! Of course!" As he turns to go, KK grabs his arm.
"…Good luck, kid."
"I should be fine. I can duck most of the elbows pretty easily, even with my horns." Tavros reassures him. KK snorts again, but lets him go.
He gets through the crowd easily enough and turns back around, but KK is gone.
"Tavros! Do you think the soup needs more salt?" The blinking troll is accosted by a frantic Nepeta and turns away from the empty corner. KK must have had to do something.
He sips the offered ladle.
"Ummmm… maybe some pepper?"
"Pepper! Of course!" Nepeta whirls away, pulling him with her. "And what about the stew?"
KK is thoroughly out of his mind by the time Gamzee slips into the kitchen to see him. The clamor and chaos of the room seems to diminish somewhat in the presence of the highblood, which Tavros appreciates.
Gamzee seems quite tense and bemused at first, seeing Tavros. He's a little confused himself, because hadn't Gamzee come to visit him? Gamzee's face is wiped blank for the briefest of moments, and then he grins at him, says that of course he is here to visit Tavros, and asks what his favorite course has been so far.
Gamzee can't stay long while the feast is in session, but his brief appearance still makes Tavros smile. He doesn't care what KK says; it may not be perfect, but this makes him happy.
All too soon the courses are done going out. People are starting to empty out of the kitchen as the wine and cheese plates are served. Nepeta turns to Tavros with a twinkle in her eye, her hands behind her back.
"I got you something special for helping out." She purrs, revealing her prize.
Tavros gasps. "Is that some Gamzee's mulled Faygo?" Nepeta giggles at his gob smacked expression.
"The very sameow that they're serving at the head table. I might have nicked a bit from the Grand Highblood's batch. He had three bottles; I'm sure he won't miss just one."
Equius puffs up disapprovingly.
"Nepeta, I hardly think that this is appropriate." She waves a hand at him.
"Oh hush. The Lord Grand Highblood always shares his Faygo with Tavros in the end anyway. And I know Tavros wouldn't mind sharing." Tavros nods eagerly. When he still glowers, she adds enticingly, "You can get the first glass."
"…I suppose if we are sampling what would have come to us in due course anyway."
Nepeta giggles at him and Tavros stifles a laugh because he doesn't think Equius would appreciate it from him.
She grabs three clay mugs from the counter and pours with a showy flourish before distributing the cups. She does, true to her word, offer the first one to Equius.
He takes a measured sip. "I do not see the preoccupation with this mediocre beverage. It is hardly befitting of high society." He takes another sip anyway.
Nepeta hands Tavros his cup and takes a long sip of her own. "Mmmm, yummy! It's so spicy and sweet!"
Tavros smiles at her in thanks and takes a small sip. He's never tasted mulled Faygo before. The familiar taste of berries explodes on his tongue, chased by a strong medley of spices. It is very—
He spits out the entirety of his mouthful. Nepeta squawks and leans away from the spray.
Equius shoots him an icy look.
"How dare you act so rudely in the presence of a lady?" He growls. Tavros isn't listening, or else he might be quite afraid of the strong man.
"Nepeta! This was supposed to go out to the high table? To Gamzee?" He asks her desperately, grabbing at her arm. "Are you sure?"
She looks at him with wide eyes, spooked. "Yes. Pawsitive. Tavros, what-"
Tavros is up and running before she finishes.
"Don't drink anymore!" He yells over his shoulder, and then he's pushing open the door that leads into the great hall.
The door hits the wall with a bang, and suddenly every face in the hall is turned towards him.
Gamzee, seated at the high table, regards him with wide eyes. There are two trolls with fins on either side of him, one a man with a purple streak in his hair, a set sneer and rather large glasses, and a younger girl with a diadem and kind eyes.
Tavros, well aware of the scene he is making, hurries up the dais.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Gamzee hisses, grabbing him as soon as he's within grabbing distance and tugging him as close as he can. Tavros bites his lip, because Gamzee looks really upset, but he has to do this.
"The F-Faygo." He whimpers, because Gamzee's claws are digging into his arm.
"This is highly inappropriate, Grand Highblood. Surely you do not allow your slaves such free reign." The sneering male on Gamzee's left… well, sneers. This must be Eridan.
"What's wrong?" Gamzee asks Tavros, blatantly ignoring his royal guest. That's probably not a very good thing to do, politically speaking, but it makes Tavros feel immeasurably better. He leans in so that no one else can hear, because he feels exposed enough as is.
"Y-Yours i-is poisoned." When Gamzee's eyes dart to his, he murmurs, "Iocane."
"You impudent lowblood. How dare you touch your master so casually?!" Eridan really does seem as off-putting as Gamzee said. Tavros really, sort of, doesn't like him. Besides, Gamzee is the one touching him.
"I'm telling the truth." Tavros says, to Gamzee alone. The troll watches him, an unreadable expression on his face. Tavros knows that he has no reason to believe that Tavros is telling the truth. If there isn't poison, Gamzee will be humiliated in front of the sea dweller delegation for deferring to his slave. But if he drinks... He has to try.
"Please." Tavros whispers.
Gamzee's gaze moves slowly to where the goblets lie untouched—or so Tavros hopes.
"You motherfuckers may want to skip the Faygo."
The queen retires to her rooms, looking pale and shaken. She does manage a smile at Tavros before she goes, which makes him feel very special and important.
Eridan however is furious, calling for Tavros to be clapped in irons (again) and taken into his custody for his heinous lies… at least until Kanaya emerges from her lab and confirms grimly that there is indeed iocane powder in all of the Faygo that was served at the high table. A lot of it.
Of course, then the sea dweller wants Tavros to be clapped in irons and taken into his custody for attempting to assassinate him. Gamzee is not pleased with this stance.
"You'd think, if he was trying to kill you, he'd have let you drink the motherfucking poison. I know I would have." He's still maintaining a tight hold of Tavros's wrist, but at least he's not digging his claws in anymore. Indeed, Tavros finds the contact rather comforting, considering Gamzee's good graces are all that's keeping him from certain death at the hands of an irate highblood.
It appears even Eridan is a little unnerved by Sober Gamzee, because he quiets somewhat in the wake of that grating voice.
Kanaya looks at him curiously. "How did you know about the poison, Tavros? Iocane is tasteless and odorless."
Tavros shuffles awkwardly when everyone looks at him. "Um, well… only if it's made right? If you don't distill it, uh, properly, then it has a slightly bitter aftertaste? Like burnt chocolate." Vriska, the Marquise's daughter with a preoccupation with both murder methods and Tavros, had actually described it as 'like roasty toasty Tavros', but he's not about to share that particular tidbit.
"Ah ha! Only the one who brewed the poison in the first place would know so much about its properties." Eridan crows. Both Gamzee and Kanaya shoot him unimpressed looks. Terezi chortles.
"Knowing about poison isn't a crime, Duelscar. Even I know that much about iocane—it's a great tidbit for the courtroom if you're trying to crack a tough nut." She grins somewhat cruelly. "You accusing me too?"
Eridan pales. "Of course not, Lady Legislacerator. Your moral fiber is without compare." Tavros, watching her widening grin, really really doubts this. "But the lowblood's…"
"Puh-lease. Zest is the only person in this castle who hasn't thought about killing you, probably because he's never met you." Eridan splutters indignantly. "And there's no way that he'd try to poison you if he thought GHB might be caught in the crossfire. Little guy's loyal as a puppy—and about as harmful."
Tavros flushes awkwardly, but can't really deny it. Gamzee's lip curls upward just a little, which makes him blush even deeper.
Eridan is not happy. His eyes burn into Tavros's before he whirls on the others.
"If not him, then who? Another lowblood! They're all the same! The same disgusting blood runs through—"
"You're gonna want to stop right there, motherfucker, before I rip your throat out." Gamzee says pleasantly.
Eridan gapes at him, rather like a fish.
"You—you—" His eyes catch on Tavros, and there's something in them that Tavros really doesn't like. He unconsciously leans farther into Gamzee. "At least allow me to question the lowblood. I'm sure that I can get him to… cooperate, if he's given the proper incentive."
His smile makes Tavros want to hide somewhere and scrub his skin clean. Gamzee growls and his hand convulses on Tavros's arm, releasing. Kanaya intervenes.
"I am certain that His Lord Grand Highblood's capabilities are equivalent to your own in such a department. There is no need for you to encumber yourself."
"It's really no trouble." Eridan says, smirking nastily. "Serving my kingdom is always a pleasure."
This time Gamzee lurches forward before Kanaya can intervene. His hand is raised and Tavros recognizes the look in his eye. It's the same look he had the first day that Tavros met him. It means that someone is about to bleed.
Eridan hits the floor with a crash and a scream. He clutches at his face, purple blood gushing from between his webbed fingers.
Gamzee towers over him, hand raised and claws dripping with blood. He is still smiling.
"My Lord!"
"Whoa!"
"Gamzee!"
He grabs at the arm, trying to pull it back. Gamzee turns to him with eyes that burn and chill. "Gamzee, don't." Tavros whispers.
The highblood's lips curl back, revealing bared teeth. Tavros thinks he's going to hit him instead, but then his hand twists and grips Tavros's impeding arm. Hard.
"Let me know when we catch the motherfucker. I'd love to play with him before the trial." Even Terezi looks a little pale at that thought. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think my slave and I need to have a little talk. Night night, motherfuckers."
He leaves the room, pulling a wide-eyed Tavros with him.
He expects to be menaced and possibly injured, but instead as soon as they enter Gamzee's room the highblood turns and strides out, slamming the door behind him.
Tavros tries the handle, but the door is locked from the outside.
"Gamzee?" He calls out hesitantly.
There is no answer. Tavros curls up in his blankets and tries not to cry.
After a few minutes of trying not to cry, it strikes him that two of his friends have, in fact, ingested poison. A miniscule amount, yes, but iocane is potent. They're probably in a lot of pain waiting for the poison to work its way through their bodies.
Tavros can help them.
He struggles to his feet and looks at the door. Gamzee locked him in this room. Gamzee probably meant this gesture to convey the sentiment that Tavros should stay in this room. Tavros has never disobeyed a direct order from Gamzee before tonight, but he's already broke one promise by interacting with the sea dwellers. Might as well make a night of it.
And besides, Gamzee had never said that Tavros had to stay. He'd just… implied it.
Or so Tavros tells himself as he grabs a butter knife from the table and sets to work on the lock.
Barely a half hour later he's in Kanaya's lab. Equius and Nepeta are in the feverish phase, tossing and turning and shucking off even the lightest blankets in their quest for relief.
Kanaya seems surprised to see him—she was probably expecting Gamzee to have a bit more to say too—but she welcomes his aid. Together they wet rags with cool water to battle the fever and mix poultices and herbal teas. At one point Tavros rocks a shivering Nepeta until she settles and stops crying. Equius remains stoic, but Tavros can see his clenched jaw and gives him a stronger dose of the analgesic.
By morning Tavros is exhausted, but delighted to see that the patients have quieted. Now they are asleep, the fever broken and their rest peaceful. Kanaya pulls Tavros away from where he is adding mint to the tea pot to steep.
"Are you well, Tavros? When you left… Do you require any aid?"
He shakes his head, smiling at her.
"Gamzee was very calm about the whole thing, Really." He adds, when her eyebrow inches towards her hairline. "But I should probably get back before he gets worried." Or realizes I'm missing, he adds guiltily.
She nods and promises to inform him when Nepeta and Equius awake. Safe in the knowledge that his friends are safe, Tavros slips into the hall and tries to get back to his room unmolested.
This does not go as well as he'd hoped.
"—Imbecile. I gave you a simple task."
"Look, nookstain, I did what you asked. It's not my fault that your idea was so popular."
Tavros freezes behind the corner of the hallway. The voice sounds like… KK? And Eridan.
Sollux had said that KK was a slave to a visiting highblood, but he'd never have guessed that his master was Eridan. KK seemed so wild, and Eridan so… not.
Tavros swallows. This sounds like a private conversation. He takes a step back, planning to take an alternate route to Gamzee's room.
"How dare you?"
There is the dull thud of an impact and a hiss of pain from KK.
"Stop!"
…Or he could reveal his presence by shouting an order at a highblood and running into sight. Good alternative.
KK and Eridan are looking at him, one with dawning horror and the other with narrow, venomous anger. Four long bandages mar the highblood's face, covering the scratches courtesy of Gamzee last night. His eyes burn among the white swaths.
"Well if it isn't the Grand Highblood's little bitch." Eridan says, smirking at him. He thinks that KK mouths something like 'Run, moron', but he's too scared to move as Eridan steps towards him. "What were you saying?"
Tavros looks at KK, whose ear is red and swelling.
"I-I said that you should, uh, stop. Hurting him." He says, as bravely as he can with his knees knocking together.
Eridan actually looks surprised for a moment, probably at the fact that Tavros really answered him. Tavros is a little surprised himself.
Then the nonplussed expression fades into that same look he had last night. The one that makes Tavros's skin crawl.
"Oh? You must be volunteering to take his place then."
"What? No, uh, no—"
"Eridan you sick fuck don't you dare—" KK says, watching the proceedings with growing dread.
"Nonsense. We're going to have lots of fun together." Eridan's hand snaps out and
Grabs
Tavros's
Horn.
Tavros shrieks and KK is shouting something but he can't hear because oh gog he is touching Tavros's horn and he can't breathethinkmove except he is moving because he's being dragged up the stairs two at a time and then he's being shoved into an unfamiliar room and the door is locking behind him.
He does not see any convenient butter knives. He does see Eridan advancing towards him.
"Alone at last. No slaves or disgraceful Grand Highbloods to get in the way."
Tavros shudders, still recovering from the abuse of his horn. When Eridan gets even closer though he recovers his faculties enough to scurry away.
"Aw, don't be like that. I just want to get to know you better."
"Well, uh, I'd really prefer not to get to know you better, um, to be blunt. Sorry." He continues his retreat, but it's not that big a room.
"How rude. Do you talk to your master that way?" Eridan asks him idly. "Probably not much talking going on there anyway, hmm?"
"Huh?" He and Gamzee talk a lot, actually. He finds that his stutter diminishes slightly around his friend, which is quite empowering.
"Oh, come on. He's probably too busy thinking about what that pretty little mouth of yours can do to even listen to what's coming out of it."
Tavros's hands fly to cover his mouth from view. Eridan laughs.
"And the others too. 'Oh, the brownblood couldn't have done anything bad, he's just so sweet and wonderful and perfect'." Tavros wonders if Eridan's assumed falsetto is supposed to be imitating Terezi or Kanaya. He feels like both would skin Eridan if they heard it. "You have been a busy boy, making them all so… congenial."
"I don't know…"
"So I was thinking, if you can't beat them, join them." Tavros's back hits the wall. Eridan springs forward, webbed hands caging Tavros on either side and dangerously close to his horns again. He leans in so that they're less than a breath away. Tavros struggles not to take that breath.
"So go ahead, lowblood. Convince me."
His face is getting closer, and all Tavros can think of is Gamzee ("Don't do this with anyone else") and before he knows it, his knee is up, up, up—and it connects.
"Agh!" Eridan yells, clutching at his, uh, private parts and stumbling away. Tavros makes for the door, because he's pretty sure that when Eridan recovers…
"I'm going to snap that leg, you filthy brownblood!" The man screeches, and he's already unfurling from his protective crouch. "And then I'm going to snap every other bone in your body so that every touch will make you beg for death!"
That does not sound very agreeable. Tavros tries the handle, but it's stuck fast. Eridan's room has no windows, perhaps to simulate being underwater. In any event, defenestration is not an option.
"Of course, you attacked me first. It's Prospit law that I may punish such a transgression on my own terms." Tavros pales. "And I'm going to take my time with you, long and slow." He's smiling again, and wow, points for resilience, but Tavros would really rather he wasn't so ready to bounce back from what would normally be a KO shot for a male troll. "You can show me all the tricks that you shared with your master."
Somehow Tavros doubts he's talking about charades.
He edges back towards the closet, wondering if he can barricade himself inside until someone comes. Eridan catches him before he gets there.
Gamzee is given to touching Tavros's neck—in a totally innocent way—and he can be rather threatening with his motions, but he's never actually choked him. Tavros finds he has no prior experience to aid him.
He thinks about kicking him again, but Eridan is taller and is currently holding him in the air by his neck, and he finds that his legs are better served scrambling for solid ground.
Eridan is smiling at him through the bandages, looking more frightening than Gamzee ever has, and Tavros is even more scared because he knows that Eridan isn't going to kill him. Yet. This is just the beginning.
He wonders if Gamzee will miss him. He knows that legally there's nothing the highblood can do, but he still hopes that personally he might be a little upset. Or at least forgive Tavros for disobeying him.
There's a growing roaring in his ears. He sees blackness encroaching on his vision and tries vainly to blink it away. His legs have stopped struggling, and he hangs limply from Eridan's hands.
Eridan's lips are moving, but Tavros can't tell what he's saying. He wishes the rising blackness would take that horrible smile away.
The world seems to shudder, and he's falling. Maybe he's dying anyway?
There's purple on the black now, but not the livid bruise purple of Eridan. A warm, vibrant purple, like a tinted sunrise or Gamzee's grape Faygo.
Gamzee.
There's no air to say the words, but he mouths them silently as his eyes slip shut.
The purple swallows the black, and then there is nothing.
When he wakes he is somewhere warm and dark, and his throat feels like he's been swallowing razorblades.
He swallows against the pain.
"Owwwww…" He whispers hoarsely, just a sliver of sound but it's enough to draw attention.
This may be because Gamzee is lying next to him. On Gamzee's bed.
Oh gog.
"Welcome back." Gamzee's eyes glow in the dim light. Tavros swallows again before he can remember that that's a bad idea.
"Ga… zee." Tavros's voice cuts out in parts. "Wha…?"
He struggles to sit up, but Gamzee rolls smoothly on top of him, arms boxing Tavros in and eyes scant inches from Tavros's own.
They're so dark. Almost black.
"Ga…Gamzee, I—"
"You aren't leaving, Tav. Not 'til I get some motherfucking answers."
Tavros nods carefully, because he doesn't really have much of a choice, does he?
"What were you doing with that fucking sandsucker?" Gamzee snarls lowly.
Tavros cannot help but think this is very unfair. He wasn't exactly searching Eridan's company out.
"I didn't—"
"Did you want him to take you away?" When Tavros only gapes at him, he growls, "You'd rather be under Eridan like this?"
"Wha-What? No!" Where did that come from? In what world is strangling considered a desirable event? Gamzee glares at him, unconvinced. "I… I don't… like him… very much." He has to space his words, laboring with his breathing and with saying something unkind about anyone, even Eridan. But slightly more with the breathing, if he's being perfectly honest.
Gamzee is silent, looming over him. Tavros feels every place where Gamzee's body covers his own, even though they're not touching. His shadow feels heavy on Tavros's skin.
"Liar."
"I-I'm not! I… I was so scared." He feels the tears prick his eyes as the feeling returns, of being so helpless and desperate.
Gamzee's breath seems to stutter and halt. His eyes dart wildly, searching Tavros's face for something. Tavros doesn't know what he could be looking for. A tear rolls down his face.
Gamzee must find what he's looking for by that point though, because all of the tension abruptly disappears. Gamzee's lanky build collapses on top of Tavros's slight one. He squeaks.
"Ummmmm… Uhhhh…"
"You weren't breathing." Gamzee whispers against the skin of his neck, his voice low and heavy with… something. Tavros inhales sharply, partly from surprise and partly to reassure himself that he still can. "You weren't breathing." He repeats. His claws are flexing and they scrape against Tavros's shoulders. He tries not to cry out. Gamzee doesn't even seem to notice. "I would have killed that motherfucker. I'd have skinned him, inch by inch, and burned what was left alive."
Gamzee and Eridan should really have a murderous ideation contest. Still, Tavros finds that when Gamzee says it it's not nearly as jarring. Maybe he's become desensitized to it from the highblood?
"…I'm sorry." Tavros whispers. Gamzee raises his head so that they are eye-to-eye, eyes blinking at him like shuttered lanterns. "I… d-disobeyed you. I had to… for Equius and Nepeta… but I… still did it. And… if I hadn't… Eridan wouldn't have… done any of… this."
Gamzee looks down at him, expression remote as stone.
"Sometimes I wish that I'd just kept you in this fucking room and never let you see anyone else, so that your world would be only me." He says, very lightly for such a heavy statement. "But if I'd done that, you'd hate me, and I'd be dead from fucking iocane."
Tavros flinches from even the thought of this.
"D-Don't say things like that." He's not sure which statement he's referring to, honestly; they're both quite frightening. One hand hovers above the blankets unsurely. When Gamzee makes no move to stop him, the hand timidly goes to stroke Gamzee's hair, knowing that contact soothes him. "I don't think I would, or maybe even could, really hate you. So…" Yeah. Smooth.
Gamzee huffs, a ghosting breeze of pale breath. His head falls back on Tavros's shoulder.
"…You're so warm." The highblood's arms move away from Tavros's shoulders, which is nice, but they instead go to wrap around Tavros's torso and pull him closer which… okay, admittedly is also sort of nice. A little.
"Uh, thank you?" He can't really say that Gamzee is warm too, but then again since warm blood is a lowblood trait he's never really heard it intended as a compliment. Judging by the way Gamzee is, well, he really doesn't want to say snuggling because this is a very serious situation and Tavros really doesn't want to freak out right now, but well… snuggling it is, it is meant as a good thing this time.
Gamzee doesn't say anything for a long time, which Tavros isn't eager to change. He lies as inoffensively as possible and tries not to make any sudden movements, feeling rather like an opossum.
It's actually sort of nice. Gamzee isn't warm or soft, really, which Tavros generally considers good things, but his breathing is sort of relaxing, like listening to a lullaby, and Tavros does feel rather safe despite himself because there is really nothing he can conceive that would attempt to attack him while he's attached to a Gamzee.
"I hate the way he looked at you." Gamzee shudders against him. "I want to carve his eyes out."
Tavros hopes that that is hyperbole. He doubts it.
"Uh, well… that's probably not the best idea." He says, assuming that Gamzee is referring to Eridan, since Tavros only recently wished bodily harm on the troll himself and can understand the urge. "And I'm okay." He can even speak and breathe relatively normally, as long as he doesn't raise his voice or swallow.
"He won't stop. He's like me. We want to ownhurtTAKE…"
His voice degenerates into a rumbling growl. Tavros remembers not to swallow nervously this time.
"B-But you don't. Hurt me." He does technically own him, so no arguing there. And the hurting is a point of contention, but he's pretty sure that Gamzee doesn't do it on purpose…
"Pathetic. I don't hurt. I KILL." There is no remorse in the voice, instead a sort of deep, indolent satisfaction like a cat licking clean a bloody claw.
Okay. That's… okay. Not good, but okay. If you're going to do a job, you might as well be thorough, Tavros thinks bleakly.
"You're different." He is, on some deeper level. Gamzee hurts people, but it's a simple, animal drive. For Eridan the hurting is just a perk in his larger ambitions.
There's something viscous and vicious in Gamzee's voice when he speaks. "I've done things to slaves that would make that motherfucker Eridan's hair curl. If I'd been in his place, you wouldn't be able to walk."
He's holding Tavros so gently, like a piece of delicate china. How can he hold him like this and still say these things?
"Gamzee…" I'm scared, he wants to say. You're scaring me. Let me go. Instead of saying any of this, he presses closer. He's not sure why.
"I've never regretted what I've done. I still don't. But when I think that it might have been you, I—"
Tavros doesn't see him move. One moment his lips are somewhere in the vague vicinity of Tavros's heart and not touching him, and the next they are crushing against Tavros's mouth with bruising force.
"Mmmph!?" He manages, but he can't get much more out as Gamzee's hand is gripping in his hair and pulling, hard, and Tavros is gasping in pain and oh gog there is a tongue in his mouth that is not his own, ohgogohgogohgog.
It takes him several moments to realize that Gamzee is not, in fact, eating him.
This realization prompts another "Mmmmmph?!" sound that unfortunately sounds rather like a moan and causes Gamzee to purr, his very grabby hand running along the back of Tavros's head and tilting it to a more satisfactory angle. His other hand drifts up to Tavros's face and strokes along his cheek in what he thinks would be a soothing gesture if there wasn't a long, sharp, moving talon inches away from his eye socket.
As it is he sort of lies there and quivers, because the only person who's ever kissed him before was Vriska and it was nothing like this. Come to think of it, she hadn't asked his permission either…
There is a razorblade fang nipping at his lip and Tavros squeaks and squirms again, hands flying up and gripping at Gamzee's shoulders, pushing him weakly away. Gamzee ignores him. His tongue flicks out and licks at the blood leaking from the new wound, and the motion stings but it also sort of… tingles? In any case, it makes Tavros very very warm.
He is honestly very very confused about how Point A led to Point B in this situation.
Should he kiss back? It's probably very rude not to, but then again Tavros personally thinks that kissing someone without warning or explanation is pretty rude too. No offense. Does he want to kiss back? He's never thought about kissing Gamzee before. The highblood has always been a great friend and a good master, but neither of those includes kissing so he's never really had to consider it. Now that he has reason to, though... Well... If he's being 100% honest with himself...
Luckily he doesn't have to choose what to do, because Gamzee pulls away suddenly, breathing hard. He stares wild-eyed at Tavros for a moment, and Tavros feels the warm wet trickle of blood from his sliced lip dripping down his chin. Gamzee notices it too, eyes tracking it with scorching intensity. Despite himself Tavros licks at the stinging cut to clean some of the blood, wincing at the metallic taste. Gamzee licks his own lips and shudders.
He leans in lightning fast and licks a clean swipe across the line of blood before jolting back as though he's been burned. If Tavros didn't know any better, he'd say the highblood looks… spooked.
Gamzee turns away and presses his face hard against the bone of Tavros's shoulder. Something wet and cool seeps into the cloth of the slave's shirt. Drip. Drip. Drip. He is not the one bleeding
"What have you done to me ?"
He sounds so lost. Tavros is wrapping his arms around him before he can think about it. He's a little put out, because he hadn't thought that kissing him was bad enough to make someone cry. He knew he should have kissed back!
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do anything." He whispers.
Gamzee laughs hoarsely as Tavros's shirt soaks with tears. He does not seem to hear.
"What have you done?"
"Gamzee…" Tavros says. He doesn't know why he says it; he has no idea what he should be asking in this situation. He just knows that he almost died, and Gamzee kissed him, and now he's crying and Tavros has never seen the man cry before and it's really sort of terrifying. "Gamzee?"
"Don't." The troll murmurs against his skin. "Please, just… don't." He sounds so tired, his voice wet and rough.
Don't what, Tavros wants to ask, but refrains because that's the sort of question that can get you into trouble.
"Okay." He offers meekly, deciding to not do anything at all just to be safe.
"Just stay like this for a while. Just like this." Gamzee sighs. Tavros nods, more animatedly than absolutely necessary. Gamzee's bed is extraordinarily comfortable, and while the highblood is bony, he's also a comforting weight on Tavros's chest. Not a heavy one, which makes Tavros worry that the troll hasn't been eating properly, but a comforting one nonetheless.
The only real downside here is that Tavros's lip and throat hurt, and Gamzee is crying, but the latter issue seems to be abating. A lack of tears does not, however, indicate Tavros's freedom; Gamzee's arms have returned to their vice-like state on Tavros's torso and show no signs of letting go. He's not as worried as he could be.
He'll worry about Eridan, and Gamzee's tears, and the kiss, and everything else when the sun is up.
For now, the bed is so very comfy, and maybe with a good night's rest he'll awake to a sharper… mind…
He awakes instead to a rather sharp knife pressing into his neck.
"Wakey wakey, little lowblood."
Tavros very carefully does not move anything but his eyes. Eridan is standing next to the bed, smiling down at him. One hand is holding the knife with a steady grip, but the other is being used to wave cheerfully at him. His bandages are nearly bled through, stark reminders of Gamzee's attack.
Gamzee.
He shifts his eyes to the right and sees luminous violet eyes staring unblinkingly at where the metal of the knife point meets the dusky skin of Tavros's throat. Gamzee's face is curiously blank of expression.
"Sorry to interrupt your regularly scheduled nocturnal activities, but I have got a insurgency to orchestrate and none of us are getting any younger. Deader, maybe." He chuckles at his own joke and jiggles the knife just a sliver. A low rumble erupts from Gamzee, but he still doesn't take his eyes from the blade or move.
Eridan grins at him. "You know, I was actually a bit concerned about you. I mean, you're great when you need to get a murder done, but you do tend to be a bit of a wild card. Hard to control. I was a wee bit perplexed as to why you were so eager to see me on the throne, because I know our interactions have been, ah, tense in the past. But then I see this little treat, and that wasn't why you helped at all, was it? You didn't want to see me succeed, you just wanted Queen Feferi dead."
Tavros's eyes snap to Gamzee at this insane accusation, but the highblood's only reaction is just a slight narrowing of his eyes and set to his jaw. No shock, no denial, nothing.
His Gamzee had really tried to kill that sweet, bubbly troll girl.
He can't help the slight wounded sound that escapes his throat at the thought. Gamzee's eyes finally move, snapping to his and there's something wary there, almost resigned but also anticipatory, like he can see where this is going and he isn't particularly looking forward to the journey.
Eridan lets out a sharp laugh. "I owe you an apology, scumblood. I admit I thought that you were in on the plot, and that's why your master was so eager to jump to your defense. But you don't have a clue, do you? Poor dumb slave." He leans in and coos directly in Tavros's face, patting at it with his free hand. He flinches away from the words and the cold touch. "Tell me, would you like to know why your master attempted to assassinate the ruler of the High Court of Alternia? It's a real rib-tickler."
Gamzee lurches forward, but a nonchalant flick of Eridan's wrist stills him from moving any closer. Eridan moves his sharp smile to Gamzee.
"Oh come now, your pet at least deserves to know what he's dying for." Tavros does not like the sound of that. Eridan turns back to Tavros, smiling in a patronizing way. "The real reason that he wants her dead and gone? The reason that he snuck that iocane into her goblet at the feast?" Eridan leans in until Tavros can see his own terrified eyes staring back at him in the reflection of Eridan's manic eyes.
"She was going to set you free."
For a moment, Tavros thinks he's already been stabbed. He can't breathe, and the lightning pain in his chest can only be the feeling of his lifeblood leaving him. Then he hears the shaky inhale of Gamzee from beside him.
"You motherfucking bastard."
Eridan snorts. "Seriously? This coming from a troll that attempted to murder the monarch that he swore fealty to in order to make certain that his little puppy wouldn't slip its leash? And they say I'm cold." He gives the numb Tavros an appraising glance. "I don't get why you're so taken with him. He's easy enough on the eyes, I suppose, but he's hardly the sharpest sword in the armory, is he? He must be fantastic in bed."
"I am going to rip your motherfucking tongue out."
"Over his dead body, I'm afraid, although feel free to try anyway. On that note, stand up please." Eridan says easily. When Gamzee doesn't move, Eridan presses the knife a little harder in. Tavros feels it prick through the skin, and the warm trickle of blood welling around the new wound. "Up. Please."
Gamzee stands up.
"Oh, since we're airing all our dirty laundry here—ah, up you get too—" He motions to Tavros. The young troll shivers, but moves slowly and carefully into a standing position, the knife an oppressive weight on his neck that his collar had never matched. They are near the window now, far enough away that Gamzee couldn't reach them before…. Before. The cool breeze soothes the burn of his new cut, even as Eridan's icy arm snakes around his waist to keep him from sudden movement and makes him shiver. "I am quite interested to know why you tried to poison me in addition to the queen. You know I'd have let you keep your little toy."
Gamzee grins, dark with promise. "I really don't like you."
"The feeling's mutual, I assure you." Eridan sneers. "But you probably guessed that from the reciprocal poison ploy. And I thought Karkat had screwed up again; wrong slave, I suppose, but then they do all look the same to me." He pauses. "I suppose it's a good thing that your puppy sniffed out the iocane, considering the mutual double-cross. I should thank him for saving my life."
"Don't."
But Eridan just smiles. "No, no. I like this. I was planning to just kill you and frame the brat, then off him too. Of course, in light of this horrific deed at the hands of a lowblood, as well as the recent death of Her Imperial Condescension—also you, Tavros dear-the political climate would be much too shaky to shift the hemospectrum laws." He shrugs. "Rudimentary, but why waste talent when no one's going to appreciate it? But you know, maybe the boy survives—quite mad, of course, to have killed two of his betters in cold blood, but the poor thing doesn't know what he's doing—and I, out of the goodness of my heart, take the lost soul in. What do you say, Tavros?"
Tavros can't really say anything, with the pointy bit of a deadly weapon pressing in on his windpipe. Eridan seems to notice this, because he chuckles but does not move the weight.
"Silence as agreement and all that rot. I think we'll have a lot of fun together." He grins at Tavros before turning to Gamzee. "So, I was giving this a lot of thought. First I thought I'd just kill you myself, but then I realized, why hog all the fun? So I think I'll let you slit your own throat."
Tavros gasps, his body jerking in an aborted movement to do something to help. Gamzee is still looking at him, and he tries to do his best to make his eyes say 'Don't you dare, we'll figure this out, but don't you dare'.
Gamzee calmly picks up one of his many juggling knives from the table and holds it up to his throat (Why hadn't Tavros put those away? Why was he so lazy?). Tavros whimpers again, daring in his desperation to shake his head just a little, widening the line of umber welling on his throat.
"Let's not be hasty now!" Eridan laughs. "I still have some scores to settle. Four scores, to be exact, for marring my beautiful face." His face twists into an ugly mockery of amusement. "Of course, I'll be fair; the throat slitting will count as one, so you only have three more to go." When Gamzee makes no move, Eridan says lowly, "Anytime now, or things get ugly."
"Why would I want to do that?" Gamzee says slowly. "You'll try to kill me anyway." The way he says 'try' is enough to buoy Tavros's heart. He's seen Gamzee fight, that one day on the training grounds. He's not sure in a one-on-one fight that Eridan could do much more than try.
This is not a one-on-one fight.
"Primarily because if you don't, I'm more than willing to cut your pet instead. I said it would be fun to keep him, but it's hardly necessary."
Tavros does not doubt this. Apparently neither does Gamzee, because he moves the knife before Tavros can react. For a moment he thinks that he's going to throw it at Eridan, and Eridan must too, because the knife bites hard into his throat for a moment before the first drop of lavender hits the carpet. It only takes that moment; Gamzee is truly a master with his blades. Three long thin slices run across his face in a mirror of Eridan's own, oozing purple blood.
It takes Tavros a moment to realize that the source of the high, hurt keening is himself. Gamzee smiles at him, soft and sweet like they're still lying in bed together and not at the mercy of a madman, even as he raises the knife back to his neck. There's so much blood…
"It's alright, Tavros. You'll be alright."
I won't. He wants to scream. I won't. He'll kill you and then nothing will ever be alright again.
He finds that he doesn't care what happens to him, not really. If Gamzee's gone, what does it matter? Without his horrible jokes and honking laughter, Tavros doesn't think he'd last long anyway.
"Okay, enough. Say goodbye to your old master, Tavros." The knife lets up just enough for him to speak, finally.
It hits Tavros suddenly that if anyone is going to do something to stop this, it's going to have to be him. Eridan's too busy being psychotic, and Gamzee won't move as long as Tavros is in danger. The legendary warrior of the trolls, and he's willing to sacrifice himself so that Tavros might get to live. It hurts.
Tavros has never been brave. He doesn't think he is now, either. For Tavros, action has always been driven on necessity. He cannot let Gamzee die.
The cool breeze ruffles his hair as if encouraging him, the way that Gamzee does sometimes.
He swallows, careful and slow, and smiles back at Gamzee as bravely as he can. Gamzee's eyes widen, as though he can tell what's going to happen. The older troll always could read Tavros like a picture book.
"Tavros—"
"G-goodbye, Gamzee."
And then he pushes back as hard as he can, away from the knife, and sends both Eridan and himself toppling out the window.
For a moment he's scared. It's been so long and he's afraid it won't work and he needs to live for Gamzee and then the amber wings are exploding from his back and everything stops. He hears the crack as Eridan hits the ground, but does not dare look down. He's still a little scared of heights, to be honest.
He settles in air, flapping his wings experimentally in order to gain equilibrium, and then he looks up. Gamzee is standing in the sill of the window and staring at him with something like awe in his eyes.
Tavros smiles up at him bashfully, and Gamzee smiles, slowly, back.
Tavros finds Gamzee in the gardens, sitting on the old stone and wood bench that they'd shared before. His wounds are much better tended than Eridan's had been, sown neatly shut with stitches. Kanaya still hadn't held out much hope that they wouldn't scar, but she did say that she was going to do her best.
The troll doesn't look up as Tavros sits beside him.
"She freed you then?" He asks. Tavros looks down at where Gamzee's earrings are clenched in his hand. He's not sure what to do with them, now.
"F-Feferi?" The queen had insisted that Tavros call her by her given name, which was still a little awkward. "S-She, uh, said that I was, um, 'God Tier'." He says meekly. He is still getting used to the idea. He knows that most trolls don't have wings, but he'd always just thought that his wings were another thing that made him a freak rather than something to be proud of. And now he discovers that having wings is a sign of honor and privilege that supersedes even the hemospectrum. Which of course no one bothered to tell him until now. "God Tier trolls can't be, uh, slaves. Apparently." Which would have been nice to know a bit sooner, if he's being blunt. Not that he's pointing any fingers.
Gamzee flinches minutely. "Of course." He still isn't looking at Tavros. "When are you leaving?"
Tavros blinks at him owlishly. "Leaving? I wasn't, uh, planning to, that is, unless you want—"
"No!" Gamzee's whole body lurches into the motion that he aborts at the last second, his hand hovering awkwardly over Tavros's arm before dropping listlessly between them on the bench. At least now his eyes turned towards Tavros's own, although he still seems to be having trouble meeting them. "I just thought that those royal fishfuckers would snap you up. It's not every day that you find a troll on motherfucking God Tier." The way he says it, with such bitterness, makes Tavros feel as though he has swallowed something sour himself.
"They, ah, asked." He allows softly. It is true. Queen Feferi had offered him a permanent home in one of the pressurized and oxygenated estates of her homeland, and had been quite put-out at his refusals. "I said no."
Gamzee relaxes, just a little. He's still not meeting Tavros's eyes. "Why?"
Tavros thinks for a moment, because this is an important conversation, he thinks, and he doesn't want to trip over his tongue like he usually does.
"I'm f-free. I think, um, that I'd like to do what makes me happy instead of other people, for a little bit at least. Which sounds completely selfish, I suppose."
"I think I understand the feeling." Gamzee says lowly. Well, yes, he would, Tavros supposes. Better to gloss over that detail. It was awkward enough taking tea with a girl that has been the focus of not one but two assassinations attempts at the same meal from two men being completely selfish. As though he can sense where Tavros's thoughts are headed, Gamzee adds softly, "I just wanted you to stay, Tavros."
This conversation is getting rather awkward. Tavros is a bit unsure how to respond to that. Yes, Gamzee was willing to kill a perfectly nice troll in order to keep Tavros enslaved and near him, which is horrific on so many levels, but he also was, well, willing to kill a perfectly nice troll in order to keep Tavros enslaved and near him. Which is sort of sweet, in an extremely twisted and sort of scary way. Tavros has learned that when it comes to Gamzee, twisted and scary is about the only way that the sweetness comes. He's learned that he doesn't mind, really.
"R-Right. Well, I was thinking, about what makes me happy. And well, I am still very u-upset with you—" understatement of the year, but not nearly as upset as he thinks he should be, "—but even so, I still think that, um. Well. I'm happiest when I'm with you." He finishes firmly, because that hasn't changed, even now.
Gamzee is meeting his gaze now, eyes wide. His dark tongue darts out to lick his lips absently, and Tavros finds his train of thought derailed for a moment as he marks its progress.
"U-um. Yes. So. Even with the k-k-kiss and the iocane and all of the secrets, I'm still happiest when I'm with you. And I don't really, um, see that changing any time soon, to be honest, because you're funny and sweet when you want to be and an amazing juggler and you make me feel like I'm flying even when I'm not and—"
He stops again, but this time only because there is once again a very insistent mouth pressing against his own and stoppering any words, yet again without permission.
Before Tavros can process this change of events, Gamzee pulls back, smiling at him and… licking his lips again, dear gog that is distracting.
"Um. So, um, two k-kisses and iocane and secrets, now." He says shakily. "A-And you should know right now that, uh, I'm not going to be staying as your slave, so, um, if that's what you're thinking you should just, uhhhh, stop thinking it, I suppose."
Gamzee is still smiling; if anything, his smiles widens. "Oh? So what you planning to stay as?" He leans in very close and makes it very hard to think.
"W-Well, uh, Feferi said that I could stay as an ambassador of her court, to, uh, oversee relations, if I wanted. Officially. But, ah, unofficially I was hoping that I could stay as, um, a friend? Maybe?"
Gamzee's answer is another peck on the lips, light as a butterfly.
"Uhhhhh…" Tavros says when he pulls back, blushing madly. "Is that going to be happening a lot?" He asks uncertainly. "Because I don't think that friends usually do that."
Gamzee grins sharply at him. "I never said I wanted to be just your friend, Tavros."
"O-Oh." He thinks about that for a moment. "Okay."
They still have a lot to talk about, the kisses not the least of them, but for now…
He reaches up and carefully threads the earrings back through his ears. Their familiar weight settles against his skin, and he sighs. Feferi had told him that earrings weren't acceptable or functional as slave markers. Her exact words were, in fact: "They look more like something that a dashing lord would give his lady love--Oh! Tavros, what a remarkable shade of bronze!" He should probably ask Gamzee about that, when the thought doesn't make him blush so much. Gamzee watches him with dark, solemn eyes, a question clear in them.
Tavros smiles, shrugging.
"Someone very d-dear to me told me once that they suit me."
This time when Gamzee kisses him, Tavros kisses back.