Chapter Text
It was early in the morning, too early to be awake, though Black Saphhire found himself wandering through the spire, searching for something to do anyway. He kept to paths with windows, the light warming him in ways the usually chilly place never did, as the sun had just started its descent into the sky. Orange wasn’t a color that paired well with the purples of the tunic he wore to sleep and the shade his hair had slowly turned after years of magically dying it away from that auburn brown that had once sat atop his head in a fluffy mound, in his humble opinion, but it bathed the hallway around him in its glow regardless of how he felt.
He walked until he reached the old music room. He once enjoyed it, though it now felt small in comparison to the rest of the house, filled with things sized for a child and ash left over from when Candy Apple had once been sent inside during a particularly horrible tantrum.
He slowly made his way toward the bench of an old piano. It barely reached his torso, and when his finger dragged across the keys, dust came flying out along with a long, out-of-tune note. Black Saphhire sighed, making his way to another section of the place he slept in before his recording studio, a place that once occasionally picked up bits of static from the world outside and now bore full recordings from wherever he desired, had been taken up by his bed and, later, Candy Apple’s, only a little while before their master’s return. At the very least, it had felt that way. It had also felt like an eternity, to the point that her formerly constant presence by his side while he was doing just about anything was something he was so used to that it was more than unpleasant when she moved out at their master’s request shortly after he moved back in with them. She had her own room, of course, and more playrooms than Black Sapphire cared to count. Some were filled with roller coasters and others with targets, one even containing nothing but shelves full of dolls and a single, bottomless hole in the floor that Black Sapphire swore he sometimes still heard screams from, but all were made for her various definitions of play. He’d only ever asked Shadow Milk for a fraction of what she did, although it often felt like her every whim was indulged, as though their master’s desire to watch her cause the chaos she was known for was all it took to get a prize.
Though his gaze was vacant and his steps more out of the desire to move than to go anywhere, he still managed to sit beside the wreckage caused by the girl in question, whom he’d long since accepted as a constant force in his life, whether he wanted her there or not.
Sometimes, recently, her playrooms were oddly… Tame. It had started since their master had come back. Maybe he didn’t think she was ready for any true terror and drama. They were rusty from years off, after all, and Shadow Milk was still as fit as a fiddle. Even better than ever, if his desire to do the jobs his minions had once taken care of for him. Their chores, as he now referred to them, as if they hadn’t been an integral part of his every scheme before, were unnecessary in his eyes. He’d even recommended that Black Sapphire spend his excess time in the library to study, as would be useful, and then it turned out the reading material was all things he knew were useless. Some about modern podcasts, some novels that he knew bore no real sway in the world, or a story barely worth telling, or histories in which Black Sapphire was mentioned in a line or more. He was being told he was useless now, in modern times, as he had no way of connecting to the modern populace, rendering his rumours useless, and he was well aware of it already, had dreaded and prepared for Shadow Milk to tell him that very thing for years, but unfortunately, it didn’t make the bitter pill any harder for him to swallow, no matter how his other behaviors had attempted to sweeten it as it went down.
The beast had started almost rewarding him for the smallest of things. A new present of equipment placed in his path, his old clothes, covered in ash from Candy Apple’s “games,” not only cleaned but reembroidered. Sweets were delivered to him, from cupcakes to ice cream to pastries, with extravagant icing and fruits, as though they were the centerpiece in the scene of a play. Although he hardly had a sweet tooth, he ate each of them without complaint. It would be rude to deny them, after all.
He sighed as his gaze finally fell upon the one thing he remembered clearly, perhaps the thing his subconscious had led him here for: A silver lyre, carved with patterns of grape vines, the only thing he’d brought with him when he first became his master’s all those centuries ago. Now it lay broken beyond repair, its strings snapped and ash matted into the carvings, not to mention its form broken up.
He sighed, pulling it to his chest in silent mourning. It predated his master’s great… Dislike for the faerie kingdom, to put it mildly. That was the only place where such a thing could be found now. The rest of the world had moved on from it, not to mention the rest of Black Sapphire’s history, and that was that. Although…
There must have been something that would allow him to both get his lyre returned and impress his master that could be found there, right? After all, Shadow Milk so loathed that kingdom. Part of why he wasn’t allowed on missions was because of that blasted Candy Apple, so if he simply proved that he was capable of doing what she couldn’t and finding information out about White Lily and her Silver Tree Knights– By extension, also that Ancient that Shadow Milk had grown so very fond of, even after his… Black Sapphire won’t deny it, defeat– He would be able to knock two birds out with one stone–
But no. That would be impossible. Black Sapphire hugged his lyre a final time and stepped out of his old music room. He had rumours to spread. What was done was done. No use crying over spilled milk.
The eyes in the corner, settled in the shadows, slowly blinked at him as he began his trip back to his recording studio, before vanishing as silently as they’d come.
They’d settled into a morning routine soon after. Black Sapphire would wake long before the sun and wander the spire whil Candy Apple slept. His master would pretend not to notice his sleepless tendencies and wouldn’t bring them up while they all ate breakfast.
Breakfast was a relatively informal affair. Compared to lunch and dinner, anyway, which his master had recently demanded he attend with Candy Apple and him. As if the two hadn’t spent enough time with each other in the Spire. And Black Sapphire couldn’t claim to know why Shadow Milk had begun spending such time with Candy Apple and himself, but he never found it to complain. It was difficult to believe his moods were genuine, but he no longer had bouts of rage. It was as though that Ancient had bewitched him… But it was neither here nor there for Black Sapphire. After all, it allowed him to report his most recent findings to his master.
“Master Shadow Milk.” Black Sapphire greeted him as he entered the kitchen, bowing as low as he could without revealing an inch of his back. It had grown difficult to conceal the marks there, ever since they’d appeared, but he still had hope that his master would neglect to mention them. After all, Shadow Milk was not known for his happiness when the topic of soulmates was brought up.
On the other hand, Black Sapphire would say he was a fan of soulmates. He didn’t dislike them. Not really, anyway. They were hilarious to torture with rumours. It would drive anyone crazy from the twisted suggestion of a single person with the same mark as them, or perhaps one of infidelity with their partners, for all the supposedly sorry souls who never found their other half. Or perhaps jealousy, from those who had none at all. And it was easy enough to ignore the marks on his own body most days, winding from his knees to his chest in swirls of dark vines.
Flowers bloomed on every tip, marring his body with their delicate beauty. He recognized some of them and their meanings– Milkcrowns, for his master, lilies, likely for Dark Enchantress, and apple blossoms for that brat he so often took care of– But there were a few he could hardly guess at the meaning of. Even the type, considering the ways he’d begun avoiding the subject of botany. Small white ones all over, similar to bells in their shape, hanging over the entire pattern like ferns blocking a tree from receiving light. They were tiny, so much so that he only noticed them after countless nights staring. They seemed to be growing bigger– No, they seemed to be blooming, changing in ways he hardly expected. He could have sworn they were once buds, back when they’d first appeared. It had happened while he and Candy Apple were still woefully trapped in the spire, alone and yet together. Dreadful, really, being trapped in the spire with someone as annoying as the younger girl…
They’d changed the most the day after he’d found himself freed from the isolation of the spire, but since then, hadn’t adjusted. It was as though the magic of his soulmate and himself had finally been allowed to seep into him. Not a surprise if his soulmate were alive now. Not that it was something to dwell on, except for maybe the possibility he was meant to stay in this time rather than remaining locked up in his own version of the Silver Tree. Not that he’d compare his time to that of his masters; If that was the case, he’d consider his purgatory as freedom.
Shadow Milk had been floating next to the countertop as one of his many rabbits cooked. His master’s food was often bland, especially when compared to the dishes of Black Sapphire’s old home, all spices, but he understood the reason. Aside from avoiding the faerie kingdom’s spices, much of what they’d kept in the spire, most of what Black Sapphire would consider seasoning was Candy Apple’s poisoning. Curse her vanillan genes, he supposed. Or really, her picky eating habits that Shadow Milk had never ceased to indulge. And even more so was the master himself, who had built up such a tolerance for poison from his old experiments that Black Sapphire was certain he believed the foods from the faerie kingdom to be equivalent to the barely salted eggs and bacon he was served that morning.
“Hi, Sapphire.” Shadow Milk said as he dumped a fourth egg onto Black Sapphire’s plate with a stray blast of magic. He was wearing his reading glasses that day, probably for the blue and gold, unlabeled book in his hands that he was scribbling away at with a new quill, with thick lenses and golden rims from a time long before he became a beast, and his usual house wear since one Pure Vanilla had escaped. Longer sleeves reminiscent of robes in the same dark blue as the night sky, the frilled blouse he now wore buttoned up most of the way, and looser pants that allowed him the illusion of a skirt if he wished it, which was often every other time he moved. He barely looked up as he spoke in a half-casual tone, as though he was forcing it into normality. Like Black Sapphire wouldn’t be able to notice. “I have a task for you. Outside of the spire.”
Black Sapphire nodded, unable to resist the flutter of his wings as he waited for the rest of his assignment. He took a bit of his eggs, trying to keep his expression neutral. Candy Apple came rushing in soon after, her own plate already set with a stack of rabbit-shaped pancakes and covered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream. She squealed like a dying bird and dug into the breakfast like she was starved for sugar. She probably was, seeing how little Black Sapphire would make sweets for her, though he often relented while they were trapped until they began running out of even the most basic of ingredients, barring what was growing artificially within the spire itself, and her own lack of skill in that department.
“May I ask what my job is?” Black Sapphire asked, his gaze traveling from Candy Apple to Shadow Milk, who snapped his odd book shut, as though its very existence annoyed him.
“You will travel to the faerie kingdom to… Locate an old manuscript of mine. I require it.” He responded. Retrieving an old manuscript, without even a specification of which one it might be? How peculiar. It was as if it were simply another task for the sake of busywork, not something that Shadow Milk would send him into a den of faeries for. Then again, Black Sapphire was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He nodded and bowed his head.
“Of course, Master. Do you have any idea of where it might be located?”
“There should be an old playhouse a ways away from the palace. Search there. If it turns up empty, head home.” Black Sapphire pushed another piece of the bland egg down his throat. Head home… What an odd hint. Surely, his master couldn’t be referring to the spire, so what else could he be thinking of for his newest play?
“Very well. Shall I leave after breakfast?” He asked, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. Candy Apple huffed indignantly.
“Master Shadow Milk, I want to go to!” She cried, kicking her feet like a petulant child. Black Sapphire barely resisted rolling his eyes. His master had no such patience, however, and every pupil in his hair seemed to gaze at the book held in his fist, as though the oncoming temper tantrum was somehow all its fault, before he turned back to Candy Apple.
“No, you may not. And Sapphire, you can go whenever you’re ready.” He responded. Black Sapphire barely resisted a smirk at Candy Apple’s indignant cry about the unfair treatment, finishing his third egg and stuffing a few pieces of bacon down his throat before making a hasty exit.
He was given the chance to leave, after all, and even if he should really spend more time getting a disguise ready, the opportunity was one that he’d prefer to take before his master spent additional time considering the consequences. Besides, he always had just the right disguise prepared for whenever a trip to the faerie kingdom was in order. A vision of how he’d look if it wasn’t for those ghoulish wings he’d been cursed with. Not quite his own form, nor bearing his old name, but Wisteria Cookie was lovely in his own right, and if Black Sapphire was forced to spend another hour in the spire, he was certain that he’d lose his mind.