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Feather’s head hurt. He didn’t know when it had started hurting. There were lots of loud noises, he couldn’t hear them, it was too loud. Something like metal that made his chest feel all tight like it sometimes did, but he was too confused to get up. He felt so tired, and he was lying on the ground, and it was okay to just lay there, right? He didn’t know where he was. The ground was cold and hard. Was he outside? Did he and his prince get sent on another cold mission? No, it didn’t feel like ice, and it didn’t burn. It felt more like… Like the tiles at…
“-Get up, get up! Feather, get up!” His prince’s voice cut through the fog. Feather didn’t know what was going on. He couldn’t see, it was all just black. His prince was waving a hand in front of his face. He blinked. It was still dark. His prince was worried. Was there something to be worried about? Ow, his head still hurt. The tile was nice, it was cool and comfy and he didn't know why he had to move. He was so tired, couldn’t he just rest for a few minutes?
“Cm\’mon, get up!” A warm hand found his and he obeyed without thinking, he was sitting up and then kneeling and then on his feet. The sounds were louder now and his head swam and he almost tripped. He let his prince lead him, hand curling tight around the smaller one. It was loud. He heard voices. He couldn’t understand them. There was more metal too, and he ducked when his prince told him to only to hear something fly past his head. It sounded heavy. He hoped it didn’t hit anyone, that would hurt bad. It could kill them if it was too bad.
“‘Amiri,” he murmured under the din as he was tugged along, “‘amiri, my head hurts. I can’t see.”
“Shit,” his prince cursed, then took a breath. “Okay, okay. It’s okay, your vision will come back. C’mon, come here- I can’t take you- We can’t leave yet. Here, sit. Back against the wall, stay still.”
Hands forced him down, and then Feather was sitting on something again, cold tile again. He wanted to lay down and let his head press against the cold tile but the wall was nice enough too. He would listen. He was good. That was what his prince told him, that he was good, he was a perfect servant, even when he couldn’t do much of anything. His prince said he was better than everyone else even then, even when he got hurt and couldn’t fight, though he always could when it mattered. He would always keep his prince safe, no matter what, even if it took so much effort that he got really sick after and had to lay in his prince’s bed for hours while his prince fed him something out of a bowl. He didn’t remember what it was called.
His head swam again and he bit his lip, screwing his eyes closed against the sound that wanted out of his throat. It was still dark when he opened them, but he could see just barely the shape of his prince in front of him. His prince looked so tall like this, when he was standing while Feather was sitting or kneeling. Feather should kneel, he thought, it would be more proper, he was a servant after all and servants always kneeled when they were on the ground. But his prince had told him to keep his back against the wall and Feather couldn’t do that for long while he was kneeling.
The metal sound was getting loud again, his head throbbed, his chest felt tight like it did with the metal and his hands twitched. He didn’t understand the feeling that it brought, so he just ignored it, even though it made his whole body want to lock up. He knew that some people felt a thing called ‘fear’ when they heard metal like that, but Lady Talia told him that he wasn’t capable of fear. It had been trained out of him when he first came to them, she said, even though he didn’t remember then, so it had to be something else. Servants like him didn’t feel fear because that would make them useless because they couldn’t fight properly if they were scared. Feather wasn’t a normal servant, but he was still trained, because he was the personal servant for his prince and that meant he had to be better.
He still didn’t like the metal. It felt like his heart was being squeezed when he heard it. Lady Talia seemed surprised when he’d told her that once, but she said it was nothing to worry about. His prince said it meant that Feather wanted to fight to protect him, which made Feather an even better protector, and that made Feather happy. He was always happy when his prince told him he was doing a good job. His prince was so smart and always knew what Feather meant even when everyone else stared at him like he was an idiot. His prince was the best. Feather loved his prince.
He leaned his head back against the wall again - tilting it forward hurt too much now and he wanted to look but he couldn’t see anyway. His prince always told him it was best to do whatever made the pain go away the most even if it wasn’t perfect. His prince would tell him when it was time to do the things that hurt again so he could make sure they stopped hurting. Feather had heard something about that before. He didn’t know where. That lady was very nice. But she still gave him needles and Feather hated needles. But his prince never made him take needles, only bowls full of the nice stuff that made the hurt go away. His prince was the best.
He blinked and this time his vision swam like black smoke, and then there was stuff peeking through. He could shapes and colors and armour and swords and robes. His prince was in front of him. One of his arms was really dark where it should have been green.
“‘Amiri,” Feather mumbled, trying to lean forward, “you’re hurt…”
“Shh!” his prince hissed, sword swinging out in front of Feather. “Quiet! Don’t- Just stay against the wall and don’t say anything!”
Feather went quiet. He nodded softly and immediately regretted it - his stomach hurt too now. He frowned and bowed his head for a moment before leaning back against the wall like he was told. He had to bow in apology first and then he could do as he was told, that was how he was so good. His prince didn’t usually care about it but Feather did it anyway because the other servants did it for Lady Talia and The Demon, and his prince deserved even more respect than that. Even though the other servants got upset when he didn’t bow to Lady Talia and The Demon. Lady Talia told him he didn’t have to, it was okay. He was only supposed to bow for his prince. She even told him not to listen to what she told him to do unless his prince said to do it too.
There were lots of people in the room. It was a very big room. His prince was yelling but Feather still couldn’t really make out the words. The others were adults. He knew because they were tall like him and Lady Talia and Lady Talia told him that he was an adult. His prince was a kid which Lady Talia said didn’t mean much because even the adults had to listen to him. But they also fought him a lot like now and Feather wasn’t allowed to help! He hated that he couldn’t help. Once his prince wasn’t training anymore, Feather was gonna tackle anyone who tried to hurt his prince. Then it wouldn’t matter. His prince was supposed to be safe and healthy, not bleeding.
There were lots of weapons this time. Feather couldn’t track all of them. There was a sword in a wall. That must be what flew over him. It didn’t look like it hit his prince though. So it was okay. A cut didn’t take long to heal anyway, his prince would just wrap it up and Feather would help and then it would all be okay. His prince was strong and healed really fast, faster than Feather did, which was why his prince always preferred to fight instead of him. At least, that’s what he’d been told.
Feather didn’t like how loud it was. His head hurt and he wanted to go back to his prince’s room and get his head looked at and then his prince would touch his hair in the special way and they’d lay down and he would sleep. His prince always insisted on staying and sleeping with him even when Feather said it was okay. Feather didn’t mind. His prince was warm and let him use him as a pillow. And Feather knew better than to argue too much or he’d get punished. Not by his prince but by Lady Talia or someone with her. Then after he’d have to go back to sleeping in his own room until his prince got him back.
One of the men fell hard and didn’t get back up. Feather could see the lull the first kill always caused, but then they were back fighting and even harder this time. But now that one of them had died Feather knew that his prince would win. They got desperate now and then they got sloppy and then his prince got through them easily. Someone stepped on the dead man and got a squirt of blood on their leg. Feather though that was pretty funny. The next person broke the guy’s nose. They never cared about the bodies. They were scared. That was why the League was better. They never got scared. Even if someone died. Someone dying didn’t mean they would.
Besides, they could just put them in the green pit like Feather was and they’d be fine.
Someone else fell, she even made a loud squeaky noise when she got hit. Feather couldn’t help but giggle, it was like a balloon! It reminded him of something but that something made him sad so he forgot it again. There were lots more people falling now, and they were starting to fall on top of each other and make piles. There was a lot of blood and Feather knew he’d have to stay in his prince’s room for a bit tomorrow because the other servants who had to clean would be mad at him. He didn’t know why, his duties were way more important than theirs. He had to protect the prince! And that meant he went wherever his prince was, so he didn’t have to clean because then he would have to be away.
It was fun watching his prince fight. His prince fought with such grace, he whirled and spun and his sword sliced instead of stabbed and he was so pretty when his robes flowed like that. Feather didn’t fight like that, he was too big, even though he used to be able to spin like that, but that was when he was little like his prince. Now he just tackled and snarled and stabbed and ripped things. But his prince seemed to like watching him too. Did he look pretty when he fought, even though it wasn’t like his prince at all? Maybe that was why the other servants didn’t like him, because the prince paid more attention to him. But Feather wasn’t special. He was just doing what he was told, he was a good servant, he wasn’t anything more. Maybe they should try harder and they’d be good servants too.
The last of the adults fell and his prince stood there for a long moment and for a second Feather thought maybe he’d forgotten. But then his prince spun towards him and ran over, kneeling down.
“Alright, take my hand. Can you see again, Feather?”
Feather nodded and took the offered hand. “My head hurts,” he said.
“Yes, I know it does,” his prince said and pulled him up. “C’mon, I’ll take you to our room. You need to rest.”
“You’re injured.”
“I have first aid supplies in my room. And you are too.”
Feather couldn’t argue with that.
When he got to the room, his prince made him sit on the bed and take his robes off. His prince usually did that, and then he’d inspect Feather for any injuries aside from the head one and he’d just keep his hands there for a minute and the tightness in Feather’s heart would go away. He sat on the soft sheets and his prince washed all the spots he said were injured (even though most of them didn’t hurt) with a nice warm cloth and that made Feather feel warm and tingly.
“There,” his prince murmured, “all clean, Feather. Let me put this on your head and then I’ll get your night robes.”
“Is it night already?” Feather tilted his head. He thought it had been in the morning still.
“No,” his prince admitted, “but you’re not going to do much else today. So you’re going to wear your night robes. We will wash them when you are better.” He held out the cold thing with its strap and gently wrapped it around Feather’s head. He even let Feather move it to where it hurt the most so the pain would go away nice.
Feather didn’t argue. He only nodded. The night robes were his favorite, but he usually wasn’t allowed to wear them during the day. It was special.
“Here,” his prince said when he returned with them. “Stand for me, ya hayati. Let me dress you, your head is too hurt for it.”
“Yes, ‘amiri.” Feather stood without protest, arms out, and let his prince wrap the soft fabric around him, holding where it needed to stay. The pants were just as comfortable even if Feather felt dizzy and had to hold his prince’s shoulder when he lifted his legs. Then his prince cinched his sash just a bit tight and patted his arm.
He laid down without having to be told, and let the blankets be pulled up without protest, he’d had this argument before and he didn’t have enough brain to do it right now. His prince slipped in beside him and pulled him close so that his head was on a warm chest. “Your arm…”
“Shh, rishti, I’ve already dealt with it.” His prince tilted his head down and kissed his head like Lady Talia did. “Don’t worry about me, you’ll only hurt that pretty head more.”
Feather only smiled. His prince was so nice. “Okay, ‘amiri,” he murmured, and let his eyes fall closed. They were alone. His prince and him. Lady Talia never checked their room. He could be whatever he wanted here, no matter what anyone thought. It didn’t matter what the other servants said or even The Demon or Lady Talia, he only had to care about his prince, and his prince was here and safe under him where Feather could shield what needed it. This was the safe place. Nothing could touch them here.
His prince’s hands were gentle in his hair and it reminded him of something else, someone else, like it meant something. “Dami?” he mumbled, because they were alone where it didn’t matter if he called Damian his prince. The sheets were soft and the silk green curtains kept the light out of the bed and it didn’t matter what time it was until they were hungry. Everything was okay.
“Yes, Feather?” Damian returned - because Feather didn’t have a title, he was just Feather, just the boy Lady Talia had brought home for her son. “I’m right here.”
“‘Uhibukka,” Feather murmured, rubbing his cheek against Da ian’s chest like the cats Damian liked to play with in the garden.
Damian laughed softly and gave him a squeeze. “Me too, rishti. Me too.” It was too risky for him to say it back. “Go to sleep now. Unless you want to say something else?”
Feather nodded. “Do you think baba and Dickie will come to get us soon?”
Damian hummed, fingers still moving in those sweet curls. “Yes, Feather. They will. Now go to sleep and they’ll come quicker.”
Feather nodded and let his arms rest around Damian, feeling the soft silk beneath his cheek. It was warm here in the bedroom, in Bialya, far away from the cold, snowy mountains. He felt warm. “Goodnight, ‘amiri,” he said, even though it wasn’t night yet.
“Goodnight, Feather.”
Feather smiled. He loved his prince. It wasn't hard to fall asleep here, not with the warmth and the darkness and the steady beat of a heart under his ear. It was as easy as it used to be, in the bed with the white sheets and the red comforter and the posters he kept up on the walls. For a moment, eyes closed, he could have pretended he was in that room again. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to, but it felt like a nice idea. One day he and Damian would sleep in the room with the red comforter that smelled like vanilla and lavender and Damian’s favorite tea because it was his dad’s favorite tea too. And everything would be okay.
He decided to keep thinking about that. It made it easier to sleep, even easier than it already was. He was in the room with the hardwood floor and the red curtains and the cream walls and the chandelier on the ceiling. He was asleep with Damian and soon it would be time for lunch. And it didn’t matter if he didn’t feel good enough to get up and make them something because he didn’t have to. That sounded nice…