Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You have a meeting with Bdubs after lunch,” Grian read out loud as he shuffled some of the parchment held in his grasp. He was reading quickly, trying to memorize their plan for the day as breakfast was taking place. “He wants to talk to you about some of the trades going on with other kingdoms, though he didn’t clarify which ones. I suppose it will come up at the meeting.”

There was a soft humming noise to his left, the only sign that his King was listening to his words. Grian cleared his throat and continued, the paper crinkling in the quiet of the room. “Once the meeting is over, you have some letters from various noble families that need answering. You’ve been putting them off for over a week now, my King.”

Another hum. Grian dug his fingers slightly into the parchment, forcing his voice to remain even as slight annoyance started to bubble up beneath his skin. “After that, some rebels are going to come along and set the entire castle on fire. The entire thing is going to burn down. There won’t be any survivors,” he explained, his voice blank.

Yet another hum. Grian turned quickly to stare in the direction of his King. Scar - the current King of the Aqua Kingdom - was leaning back in the plush chair that was tucked slightly beneath his desk. A lavish breakfast of meat, potatoes, eggs, sausage, pastries, and any other type of food you could possibly want for breakfast was laid out in front of him, not a single bite taken. Scar was too busy staring at Grian, yet not paying attention to a single word he said.

Grian’s wings flared on his back, and Scar instantly sat up a bit more, his attention shifting to follow their movement. “I mean-” the King started to speak up, recognizing the sign of annoyance for what it was.

“You’re not paying attention to a word I’m saying!”

“I am, I am!”

“Really? What did I say then?”

Scar hesitated, glancing at the papers in Grian’s hands, down at his own breakfast, and then around the room as though it held all the answers. “Er… you were talking about how delicious the food was, and asking if you could try a bite?” A smile appeared on the King’s face, bright and eager, and he gestured quickly to the unused chair across from his desk. “Which, of course, you can! Come, sit down, we can eat together -”

“I already ate,” Grian snapped, “and that’s not what I said at all. Honestly, what are you going to do if I have business elsewhere today? You’ll have no idea where to go! You wouldn’t be able to figure it out either, you’re constantly disorganized. Your drawers are honestly terrifying, utterly monstrous.” Grian had no idea how Scar found anything, ever.

Scar’s smile twisted into a pout as he looked back at Grian. “You have business elsewhere today? What will I do without my favorite personal servant by my side?”

“You’ll manage.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Just eat your food,” Grian huffed. His wings shuffled into a more relaxed position as he began reading out Scar’s tasks for the day once more.

In all honesty, despite his scolding and complaints, Grian wasn’t bothered at all by needing to repeat himself. It was nice in a way, how vulnerable Scar allowed himself to be in front of the avian. Grian had only been serving Scar for about a year, but they had been through a lot together - Scar had saved Grian, and Grian had helped Scar unearth a huge conspiracy growing right under his kingdom, and the bond the two had created along the way had lasted longer than Grian had ever hoped.

It allowed Grian to scold his own King, to tease him and smack him on the shoulder when he was being particularly stupid, to complain and rant about the other servants and stupid annoyances in his life, to stretch his wings right into his Kings face to make him sneeze when he felt like being chaotic.

It allowed Scar to laugh and joke around without needing to worry about upholding an image, to open up to someone without fearing it being used against him, to share his personal space without preparing for a knife in his back, to allow a touch against his shoulder or his back without it being improper.

So despite the annoyances of his job, Scar was not one of them, and the relationship between himself and his King was something Grian treasured.

Perhaps a bit too much.

Grian’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly as he finished reading off their daily tasks (for the second time), shaking his head to clear it of any thoughts other than their work. At least Scar was eating this time, lazily shoving some potatoes in his mouth with a pleased noise. “You do have some free time after dinner,” Grian remarked as he placed the parchment down on Scar’s desk. “Is there anything in particular that you’d like to do?”

“It sounds like today will be busy, so I’ll just find Jellie and spend some time with her then,” Scar decided, smiling at the idea. Jellie was Scar’s cat, and Scar thought the world of the feline. The entire castle knew how much their King spoiled her. “Maybe read or something, I’m not in the mood for anything overboard.”

Grian nodded easily, already mentally making a note to collect some of Scar’s favorite books and some Jellie snacks for when Scar was finished his work. “Just make sure you rest well tonight, my King,” he remarked, “tomorrow is going to be even busier since you’ll be meeting with several representatives from all over the kingdom to hear their concerns.”

It was something the Aqua King didn’t really have to do, but choose to do anyways. He was always so open with his people, working tirelessly to better the world for them. Once, long ago, he had admitted to Grian that he was worried his own people would be afraid of him for his vex heritage. Grian didn’t see how anyone could be afraid of Scar. The man was like a ray of sunshine, constantly smiling and working tirelessly. He had gone out of his way to remember the name of every single servant that worked for him - the man was much too sweet for his own good.

“That will take all day,” Scar agreed, still smiling even as he voiced how much work he had ahead of him. That was the life of a King, Grian supposed. “You could take the day off? There’s no use in you standing by my side for something like that, you wouldn’t have anything to do.”

Grian turned his gaze back on Scar, hesitating. “I normally take notes for you. You’re very… forgetful.” It wasn’t like Scar didn’t listen. Everything went into one ear… and generally it kept going, straight out the other.

“Someone else can easily do that. You can enjoy a break.”

On one hand, it would be nice to have some time off. He could find Mumbo, maybe, or Pearl - friends he had made during his time working in the Aqua Kingdom, people he loved spending time with. He could relax, go out into the larger kingdom around them to explore more and travel, but…

Grian couldn’t help but feel a little overprotective of Scar. He couldn’t help but look at the scar that took up a large portion of his King’s face, something guilty twisting in his chest, squirming and wrapping around his organs painfully.

Scar looked up as Grian’s silence held, and he seemed to know what he was thinking about. He always did, able to read Grian’s body language, expressions, and silences as though he were reading Grian’s very mind. “I’ll be fine,” Scar said after a second, something gentle in his voice. “You know I’ll be surrounded by guards - False will be there.”

False was one of the best knights Scar had in his army. Grian had met her in the past, and the two got along well.

“Besides, Mumbo’s been overworking himself again, and you’re one of the only ones he listens to,” Scar added. “Even though I’m his King! I have no idea how you managed to get such an influence over him.”

Grian laughed at that, some of his hesitance melting away. “Fine, fine, I’ll take tomorrow off if that’s what my King demands… and I’ll drag Mumbo away from his work, so he can have some time to relax as well.” Mumbo was probably the person Grian would consider his best friend, out of everyone he met in the kingdom. Scar using him to convince Grian to take the time off was very tricky of him, but also something Grian could admire. “... And if you need me, you’ll send for me?”

“I will,” Scar promised.

“Fine. Now finish eating! You still need to get dressed!”

As Grian moved forwards to fuss over Scar and get him ready for the day, Scar’s laughter and teasing complaints echoing around him, he couldn’t help but smile himself.

A year ago, he never thought he would get anything like… this. Friends, people he cared about who cared about him. A place to stay where he was safe, a place he could even call home. Someone like Scar, who he cared about more than he would ever dare put into words. A real life. Not just surviving, but living.

If you asked him a year ago, he probably wouldn’t have even thought he would survive to this day.

-

He still remembered the first time he saw Scar. His body was filled with nerves and adrenaline, double-checking and triple-checking the mask on his face that would protect him and keep him safe that night.

The silk cloth on his skin was more expensive than any of the rags the Watchers made him wear - flowing fabrics in dark blue-black and startling red, interlaced with gold that glittered and shone under the lights of the ballroom.

His wings were free of the rope that kept them bound from his back. The shirt he had worn looped around his neck but left his back bare to the cool air. The limbs took up double the space the rest of him did, sleek white feathers shuffling to cover the powerful limbs. He had worried so much about any feathers that were out of order, broken or dull due to their constant abuse.

He had been so scared his wings would be seen and he would be dragged out of the ballroom, despite the ‘open for all hybrids’ that had been written on the invitation. 

That’s what the Watchers had told him - that his wings, his mark as an avian, put him in danger. That if the kingdom ever learned what he was he would be killed or sold, his wings torn from his back.

But for that night, Grian was ignoring all the rules. The kingdom could try and catch him, but Grian would be gone before midnight, and no one would even know his name. It was a risk, of course, it was a risk. But his entire life was a risk, and at least he was risking things on his own terms now.

His first moment in the ballroom, he spent staring at the sights around him. The huge tables overflowing with food, the crowds of people dancing and swaying and speaking with one another, the expense of the clothes and the decorations that particularly saturated the air. It was all like nothing Grian had seen before, and it had been enough to take his breath away.

Then he had looked away from the glittering chandelier, and the rich curtains dripping in silver hanging from the walls, and somehow ended up looking directly at King Scar himself.

If his surroundings had taken his breath away, Scar had stolen every bit of air from his chest, all of the oxygen in his blood.

The King was beautiful.

He had brown hair that was much messier than Grian expected from the ruler of the Kingdom, short and falling partly over his forehead and behind his ears. Even from this distance, Grian could see the bright green eyes that were focused on Grian of all people, the intent and stare making a shiver race down the avian’s spine.

His clothes were just as expensive and gorgeous as all of the nobles, if not more so, and his skin was smooth and unblemished, but it was his smile that had really gotten to Grian.

He smiled so easily, so widely, so honestly, the second Grian looked towards him. Like this strange masked avian who shuffled in with tense shoulders and stolen clothing had been enough to place that expression on his face.

Then Scar started to walk across the ballroom. It took Grian an awkward moment to realize he was approaching him, and he hardly had time to react before Scar was in front of him.

“I -” Grian started, wondering for a brief second if this was it if this was when the guards would drag him off before Grian even had a chance to get more than a glimpse of something good.

Before he could speak, Scar had grasped his hand, leaned down, and kissed the back of it. Grian’s words died in his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. Scar had smiled again - that wide smile that made Grian feel a bit dizzy - and spoke to him, for the first time.

“Well, hello there.”

And the rest, as they say, was history.

-

“Jellie,” Grian called out, glancing around his surrondings. He could see the darkening sky through the large glass windows lining the walls of the castle halls, the stars beginning to shine through the darkness. “Jellie,” he tried again, “c’mon darling, King Scar is waiting for you!”

Jellie had free reign over the castle. Scar couldn’t have imagined locking her into one room when she loved to run around and explore so much - but it made it a bit difficult to find her when she didn’t want to be found.

Grian made a soft noise in the back of his throat as he approached one of Jellie’s favorite hiding spots, a higher ledge on one of the windows that normally allowed quite a bit of sun to shine through. Her soft fur was always pleasantly warm when she lay there, limbs stretched out lazily. The noise in his throat was more bird than human, and he breathed a soft sight of relief as a cute Jellie face poked off the side of the ledge as he approached. “There you are, sweetheart.”

“Mrppph…?” Jellie purred in question.

Grian stopped by the ledge, pushing himself up on the tips of his toes as he reached to scoop her up in his arms. She settled easily against his chest, nosing under his chin calmly. Grian and Jellie had interacted countless of times in the past. If Grian had been a stranger, someone she didn’t trust or like, she would have tried to bite him or scratch him. Though Jellie was a gentle cat at heart, she wouldn’t allow anyone to steal her away from Scar without a fight.

Grian shuffled her slightly in his arms to ensure she was comfortable before he started heading towards Scar’s room. The day had been generally busy, but Grian still remembered the promise of time spent with Jellie to wrap up the King’s day, so Jellie would be delivered.

As he walked, he scratched behind one of Jellie’s ears, running his fingers down her back, and was rewarded with soft purs.

“Did you have a good day?” Grian questioned, uncaring that he could be spotted talking with a cat. No one would say anything - Scar did it often enough. “It was nice and sunny out today, that must have been a warm spot for you, mhn? Though the sun is going down now.”

Jellie, predictably, didn’t answer.

“King Scar had a productive day. He did lots of work today and he’s very tired now, so let’s give him a nice reward. When I say reward, I just want you to look cute and eat the Jellie treats he offers you - you’re already halfway there!”

Grian’s pets slowed for a second, and Jellie turned to rub her head against his fingers, clearly protesting the minute pause. Grian laughed slightly, grinning - Jellie really was precious, he could easily understand how she had stolen Scar’s heart.

He was in front of his King’s room now. Two guards stood to either side of the doors, and Grian nodded towards them politely as he reached forwards to knock twice.

There was a small silence, before Scar called out, “enter!”

Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed a thing in his voice as it rung out clearly, but Grian could hear the exhaustion lingering in his tone. It was noticeable in the slight drip towards the end of the word, the way that Grian couldn’t hear the smile that was normally so consistently present in everything Scar said.

One of the guards reached forwards to open the doors for him - since Grian’s hands were full of cat - and Grian stepped forwards, pulling his wings tightly to his back as the door closed shut behind him.

Scar was sitting behind his desk again, leaning back with a book cradled in his hands. Something about space, from the cover. He always did like space-related stories, full of adventure and rebellion.

Scar’s gaze was already fixated on the door as Grian stepped through. The King’s stare moved from Grian, down to Jellie, and then back up to Grian again - his mouth was parted slightly as though he meant to speak, but as Grian waited, Scar stayed quiet.

The silence stretched on for a second, and Grian raised an eyebrow. “... My Lord?”

Scar’s eyes widened a bit and he coughed, setting the book down and glancing away, his cheeks heating up slightly. Grian frowned, glancing around the room. It was a bit warm… should he open a window to let some of the cooler night air inside, perhaps?

“You brought Jellie! Aw, come here darling,” Scar spoke, his tone soft and sweet as he turned his attention to his cat, wiggling his fingers. Jellie wiggled in response, clearly wanting down. With a soft laugh, Grian crouched down to allow an easy escape - the second her four paws met the floor she took off towards Scar, easily jumping up in his lap to curl there and demand pets.

“She wasn’t too hard to find. She was up on that one ledge - the high one by the kitchens, where she likes the sun,” Grian remarked. He moved across the room to push open one of the windows, just a crack.

“That is a good spot, isn’t it? Did you have a good day?” Scar chuckled, speaking to Jellie softly. Grian glanced over to see Scar leaning over her, rubbing her ears gently.

He couldn’t help but flush slightly at the sight. It was cute, far cuter than it had the right to be. He tore his gaze away.

There was the sound of Scar opening a drawer, and then a few meows as the smell of Jellie treats filled the room. They faded quickly, and Grian peeked over to watch Jellie happily crunching down on a few offered treats that sat in the palm of Scar’s hand.

Scar glanced up at that moment, and Grian moved his gaze away from Jellie and upwards to Scar, the two making eye contact. “Thank you,” Scar remarked, smiling at him.

There was an all too familiar pull in his chest, something warm that Grian had accepted the presence of long ago. “... Of course. It’s my pleasure to serve you.” You saved me from them. I thought the Watchers would kill me, and you gave me a life, a reason to continue.

Scar’s expression faltered, but he nodded, wiping his hand off as Jellie finished eating. The cat settled in his lap once more, and Scar hesitantly reached for his book. Seeing that his King had what he needed to relax for the rest of the night - his cat, and a good book - Grian bowed lowly, hand over his heart, and started to head towards the door.

He barely got halfway there before Scar called out. “Grian?” he questioned. Grian paused immediately, turning back to Scar. There was something almost nervous there, in the edges of his voice. “Have you read this book before?” Scar asked, raising the book up more so Grian could see the cover a bit better.

“Erm… no. I’m still…” Grian trailed off, hesitant. His wings curled tighter against his back, pressing against his spine, and Scar’s eyes traced the motion immediately, narrowing a bit.

“... Still?” he prompted. He was smiling again. Grian hated that smile. Loved it, in the way it made him feel weak, in the way it made him immediately give in.

“... Still learning how to read, my King. They - the Watchers - never thought I needed to know how.”

Scar knew this. They had spoken about it before, long ago, during that first month. Back when they had been racing after every mention of the Watchers. After Scar had ripped Grian from their grasp, told Grian the truth of the world around him (so very different from the lies the Watchers had whispered into his ears), the Watchers had scrambled to cover up their very illegal tracks before Scar could expose them totally.

It had taken a long time to rip them down, to expose the full corruption of the noble family. Scar had been horrified at what had been growing right under his kingdom, and Grian had been there to help him each step of the way, support him through it all.

Grian had snuck back into that place he had been trapped for so long, for Scar, to steal paperwork and proof of their crimes. He hadn’t been able to understand it, but Scar’s council had, and that had been the end of things.

Scar’s hopeful expression had fallen slightly. The Watchers were still a sore topic, for both of them, though Grian more so. He figured Scar felt guilty at some level for not noticing sooner what had been going on. “... You read well this morning. You’re improving a lot.”

“Yes,” Grian acknowledged, nodding his head. “But full-length novels are a bit more complicated than your daily schedule, King Scar.” Scar still looked down, so Grian hurried to add, “I appreciate your help with my education greatly. It… means a lot to me.”

When Grian had admitted his lack of knowledge, during the fight against the Watchers, it had been a promise Scar had made to him - their hands clasped together, Scar holding on so tightly his knuckles were nearly white, something angry shimmering in the depths of his eyes. Something distinctly vex. Despite it, Grian hadn’t flinched away - Scar never scared him, Scar would never hurt him, he knew that.

Scar had promised him the world. Promised him an education, food, a place to stay, sounding nearly desperate with the force of his whispered promises.

He felt guilty, Grian reminded himself. That was all.

“Well, I’m happy to help you learn to your heart's content. If there’s anything else you want to learn, just let me know, I could hire tutors for you -”

“I’m a servant,” Grian laughed, amused. “I only need to know enough to serve you. But thank you.”

Scar went silent again. He still looked distinctly unhappy, the lack of a smile making that horribly clear, but as Grian thought back to his words, he couldn’t figure out what he had said wrong. “... If you want me to read the book, I will.”

“I don’t - I want you to do what you want to do.”

Grian frowned, his wings shifting again, flaring out slightly. “I am. I wouldn’t force myself to do something like that just because you want me to.”

“Good,” Scar sighed, relief clear in his tone. Is that why he was so worried? Did he think he was somehow… forcing Grian into actions Grian didn’t actually want? “I - well, maybe I could read it to you?”

“... The book?”

Scar’s smile was back at least, a small laugh echoing from his King’s chest at Grian’s question. “Yes, Grian, the book. What else? I don’t think you’ll find much interest in my paperwork.” Scar lowered his voice into a near whisper, teasing. “Honestly, it’s very boring at times. … Most of the time.”

Grian rolled his eyes slightly, which made Scar’s smile grow larger. Which, honestly, only Scar could find joy in a servant rolling their eyes at him. “Why do you want to read to me?”

“Well, it’s a good book! I think you’ll enjoy it. And… you deserve to relax as well.”

Grian stared at Scar. Scar stared back. There was that hopeful glint in his King’s eyes again. He was holding the book in his hands once more, fingers wrapped lightly around the cover, his expression so… open, towards Grian.

The idea of staying there, in the presence of his King, in such a casual setting… admittedly, was very tempting. Hearing Scar’s voice reading out loud for him, washing over him while Grian had a chance to relax, even more so. It was rare that moments like these were a choice for them, quiet times alone - Scar was busy so often since he had a Kingdom to rule. Scar reading to him was something new, and Grian didn’t want to turn the chance away.

Maybe it was selfish of him, to give in to the warmth in his chest, but he couldn’t prevent himself from nodding once.

The way Scar’s expression lit up was worth it, and Grian stepped back into the room. He could sit in the chair across from Scar’s desk - he probably should - but with some amount of mischievous Grian stepped over to let himself fall back into Scar’s frankly ridiculously large bed instead.

It was big enough for Grian’s white wings to stretch out entirely over the whole thing, the muscles enjoying the motion, and Grian went a bit limp in the soft covers. It felt like he was laying on a giant fluffy cloud, of all things. His own bedroom was incredibly comfortable, better than anything a servant should need (Scar had insisted), but this was far above what he had.

There was silence where Grian expected words, and he let his head fall to the side to peer over towards Scar. His King was staring at him again, cheeks slightly darker once more. Had he not opened the window wide enough? It felt cool enough to him.

At Grian’s questioning stare, Scar’s attention moved quickly to the book in his hands, and he cleared his throat as he flipped it open to the first page. “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.…” he began.

Grian let his eyes fall shut, Scar’s voice washing over him.

What more could he want, when he had this?

-

It was dark. It was dark but Grian was warm, wrapped in what felt like a heavy blanket. There was a hand gently pressed to his shoulder, a voice whispering something above him, but Grian made a noise of annoyance and pressed deeper into the warmth below him. As the voice tried to say something else, Grian shifted, freeing his wing from beneath him and raising it to smack the annoying voice lightly.

Go away. It’s not morning. I’m sleeping.

There was a tiny grunt, and then a sigh. “I’m not trying to move you, you can stay,” the voice muttered, something amused and fond there, and Grian abruptly recognized it as Scar. “You just look so uncomfortable twisted up like that, let me just -”

He didn’t feel uncomfortable, but as Scar freed his wings from a twisted blanket that he moved to tuck around Grian in a much more comfortable manner, Grian realized that he actually was much more comfortable now.

“There.”

Steps. Like Scar was moving away.

Grian’s hand snapped out around Scar’s wrist before he could leave, dragging him closer. It was night, Scar should be - sleeping, right, this was Scar’s bed, wasn’t it? His brain was moving sluggishly, something avian far too happy about being in such a comfortable nest for the world to make much sense.

“Grian?”

“Scar?” Grian muttered, voice sluggish, and there was a small sharp intake of breath.

“...Yes?” Gentle.

Grian yanked, and Scar fell half into bed. He could hear some sort of shocked, aborted protest, but he ignored it, curling a wing over Scar and tugging him more into the nest, the avian side of his mind agreeing to his actions. A tiny chirp fell from his lips, and Scar went still, his struggles ending as soon as they began.

There was a hesitant press of fingers to his wing. Grian chirped again, and the hand yanked away like it had been burnt. “Grian -” Scar whispered, something weak but protesting in his voice.

Grian ignored it.

Safe. In the nest.

He fell back asleep, though he had hardly been awake in the first place.

-

“Sir? Um… sir?”

What?

Grian opened his eyes to sunlight shining into the room. He closed his eyes a second later, the sudden light burning. His room was never this bright.

“... Sir? Are you awake?” A voice was speaking to him, clearly nervous, female. There was the smell of something in the air - food. Food that smelled really good, actually, and Grian was suddenly aware that he was very hungry.

His eyes opened again. It was very bright.

The realization set in slowly, and Grian’s eyes widened. In a second he was practically throwing himself into a seated position. He would have stumbled out of the bed he was in just as quickly if it wasn’t for the annoyed grunt of the cat curled up to his side. A quick glance downwards revealed Jellie was there, half-asleep as she blinked at him.

On Scar’s bed. In Scar’s room. Where Grian had fallen asleep.

It was daylight. Grian always woke up before the sun - he had to in order to get Scar his breakfast in time, and wake his King, reading him his daily schedule.

A quick glance around the room revealed that Scar was nowhere to be seen. There was only a nervous servant girl that Grian didn’t recognize - she must have been new. She was the one with the food, holding a large tray in her hands as she peered down at Grian anxiously. “I brought you breakfast, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir,” Grian answered automatically, wrinkling his nose at the title. New or not, he was the same status as the servant girl… well, more or less, since he was the King’s personal servant, but still. “I - where’s the King?”

“He’s in the throne room. He’s having an audience with groups of representatives from all over the Kingdom.” Right. They had spoken about that the day before, Scar had made Grian agree to take the day off. “He ordered the kitchen to send you breakfast when you woke up. I’m sorry for waking you, I thought - it’s been a few hours, so…”

“No, that’s - it’s fine. You can just… put that down, then?”

The servant girl nodded, stepping away to put the food down on Scar’s desk - then actually bowed to him - and left the room quickly.

He had fallen asleep in the King’s bed. He also had some vague memories of waking up sometime during the night, avian instincts shifting below his skin, and… maybe pulling Scar into the bed with him? But they didn’t actually sleep together, did they?

But where else would Scar have slept!? This was his room! That Grian had stolen! That belonged to the King!

Grian grabbed one of the pillows off the bed to press against his face, screaming slightly into it. As he raised his head from it a moment later, Jellie was giving him a very unimpressed stare. “Jellie,” Grian sighed, feeling somewhat dizzy. He was pretty sure he was blushing, badly. “I think I messed up. Oh, King Scar must be - I have no idea. I have no idea what he’s thinking. Or feeling.”

He sulked for a moment.

He could have sulked - and panicked - for longer, but the smell of the food was far too tempting for that, so Grian got out of the bed after a long moment to shuffle over and sit down at Scar’s desk in order to eat.

He needed to eat breakfast. And take a bath, and get a change of clothes, and preen his wings - once he was tidied up and felt a bit more like himself, he could take better stock of the situation.

What did Scar say yesterday? That Mumbo had been overworking himself? Grian still needed to go and drag his best friend away from whatever his newest invention was and make him care for himself as well, so well he was doing that, he could tell Mumbo everything that happened. Even if Mumbo couldn’t give him advice, his very empathetic friend could at least nod along and lend him a sympathetic ear.

Besides, Grian missed Mumbo.

Right.

Breakfast, bath, clothes, wings, and then Mumbo. If he still didn’t have an idea about what to do after all of that, then Grian could begin to truly panic.

-

Grian never made it to Mumbo’s side.

-

Breakfast went alright. It was very well, actually. The servant girl had brought up truly delicious food, much better than what Grian normally grabbed for himself - freshly cooked eggs, toast with fresh jam spread over it, roasted potatoes, and crispy bacon. A large glass of some type of fancy juice that cost more than what Grian would ever be willing to spend on food.

Lingering in Scar’s room for a few extra minutes, Grian even took some time to sneak Jellie some treats and give her some well-deserved pets. When he collected his dishes and opened the doors to exit, Jellie had shot past his legs to go on her only adventures for the day.

There had been guards outside of Scar’s bedroom, for some reason. They normally weren’t there if Scar wasn’t - Grian avoided eye contact, cheeks burning as he wondered what they could possibly be thinking, and hurried to drop his dishes off in the kitchen and then hurry back to his own room.

Heating up some water and cleaning himself off was a relaxing pastime, that Grian spent carefully not thinking about the night before.

He selected one of his outfits without much thought, getting dressed quickly.

Preening his wings took longer than his bath and change of clothes combined. It was always annoying to preen, trying to reach for the feathers at his back that he could hardly get to. Still, Grian took his time as he straightened out the snow-white feathers as well as he could, raking away any dirt with his nails and gently tugging away at any feathers that were ready to go.

Then he was the one ready to go, already composing a small list in his mind of where Mumbo may be as he exited his room and headed out into the large kingdom hallways.

It happened as he turned a corner, not paying attention to his surroundings.

He was in the Aqua Kingdom, Scar’s Kingdom. The Watchers were gone, their corruption dealt with, and he was safe.

He was supposed to be safe.

-

Arms around his chest, yanking him backward, a broad chest pinning his wings in place.

A blade at his throat, pressing into the skin there.

A cloth over his mouth.

Grian barely had a chance to struggle, a startled yell tearing its way out of his throat before whatever the cloth was soaked in sent a wave of awful dizziness straight through his body. It hurt - his throat and nose ached, his stomach churned at the awful sent, and his head started pounding in half a second.

Breathing in another breath before he could react further made his knees buckle and his sight go horribly blurry.

He wondered for a brief second if this was an assasination. If he was about to be killed.

At the thought, he could only think of Scar, and how the last year was the happiest of his entire life.

-

The world went black.

-

Many, many hours later, Grian never arrived at Scar’s room to help him prepare for bed.

At first, the King wondered if it had anything to do with the night before. If Grian was upset or felt uncomfortable, Scar wouldn’t blame him or force him to continue his servant duties. Everyone in the Kingdom (other than, perhaps, Grian himself) was well aware that Grian could quit being a servant on the spot for all Scar could care.

Scar would still shelter him, spend time with him, pay for his food and his lessons, and everything the avian could possibly want. Grian would never have to work a single day in his life.

But despite Scar’s lack of care that Grian wasn’t fulfilling his duties without any prior warning, he still grew worried when Grian never showed. Perhaps it was a bit overly paranoid of him, but Scar very rarely went a day without seeing the avian, and Grian always warned him ahead of time if Scar shouldn’t expect to see him again.

So the King went to check Grian’s room, just to make sure he was okay. Grian, however, wasn’t in his own room either.

It wouldn’t be the first time Grian spent the night with Mumbo, but upon traking the inventor down, Mumbo made it very clear that he hadn’t seen Grian at all that day.

Within an hour Scar was sounding the alarm, and everyone scrambled to stay out of his way as the normally gentle and cheerful king stalked down towards his council's meeting room with rage emitting from his posture.

Sometimes, his people forgot that their King had vex blood, that under his love for his Kingdom and his love for life, something much darker and crueler - and bloodthirsty - lay asleep.

His people forgot because hardly anything was enough to wake that side of their King, but once it did…

In the past, the awakening of the vex had always ended with bloodshed.

-

Grian had only seen Scar give into his vex bloodline once.

It was near the end of the business with the Watchers. Grian had snuck back into the mansion that belonged to the noble family, and had successfully stolen what he needed to - paperwork and proof of their crimes tucked away in a bag attached to his shoulder. He had worn the same mask he wore to the ball he met Scar at, weeks ago.

He had been scared, of course. The Watchers terrified him. Grian would never admit it to hardly anyone - not the Watchers, especially - but he could admit it to himself. He could admit it to Scar. Going back into that place had been one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

He had grown up there, abused and beaten, forced to hide his wings away, lied to about discrimination against hybrids. Discrimination that he now knew was nothing but a control tactic, discrimination that didn’t exist in the current era under Scar. He had laid against cold brick and stone, bleeding and shaking, wishing for anything to make the pain end - and accepting that he would die there, cold and alone and afraid.

Accepting that no one would save him.

So yes, he was scared, but at the same time it had felt so good. It felt amazing, to defy them, to help rip them down from the throne the Watchers had built for themselves.

Grian had been doing so well, too. He had collected what he had to, and he had made it out without being caught and captured. Scar had been so nervous about sending him back there, so worried that Grian would be found and killed, but Grian had been the only one who knew the layout, and had known where to look. He had promised he would return to Scar, and he had been determined to fulfil that promise, and he had.

The adrenaline and the excitement of a successful mission, of fulfilling his promise towards Scar, of being so close to taking the Watchers down… it had been enough of a distraction not to notice he was being followed.

Grian had made it so very close to the meeting spot where Scar and several members of the royal army (including False) had been waiting for him, when he had been attacked.

It had been unexpected. He had lowered his guard over twenty minutes ago, thinking he would be safe.

The snap of bone made it clear he was wrong. Grian had broken many bones over his time with the Watchers, fingers slammed shut in door that left them slightly crooked, a broken nose from a hit to the face, several broken ribs from kicks slammed into his sides as he laid broken on the ground. Even a broken leg once, memorably, when he had been shoved down a flight of stairs.

None of them hurt more than the crunch of bone in his wing, and Grian had screamed as he fell, unable to stop to cry from escaping his throat.

The avian side of his brain throwing itself into a panic had made it worse as agony ripped up his wing, into his back and shoulder, the sensation of sticky blood settling into his feathers making him gag as he kneeled on the ground, trying to blink tears away from his eyes.

One of the Watchers had seen him. Had followed him out into the forest.

Grian could barely twitch as his pack was ripped away from him, the Watcher looking through the stolen information with a loud scoff. The pain was too loud, too demanding, and Grian was gasping and wheezing through every wave of white-hot heat.

“Xelqua,” the Watcher had muttered, disappointment and disgust dripping from their tone of voice, “you really thought this would work? You thought you would get away with this? We see everything. You should know that, by now.”

The Watcher had tossed the pack away - the precious papers that Scar needed - to step closer to Grian, and grab his wing.

Grian screamed again, falling sideways, a small, pathetic chirping sob escaping his throat. His bones, broken and shattered, were grinding together in his wing at the touch, the pain increasing tenfold.

The Watcher laughed. As though his pain was funny, something to find amusement in, to smile about and find pleasure in.

Like he wasn’t a person.

Like Scar hadn’t promised him his protection.

It was their mistake, as a sharp noise echoed through the small forest clearing - something close to a screech, high pitched with a strange whoosh noise behind it, almost like… a laugh, echoing and creepy, digging into the heads of anyone who heard it. Something vex, something hard to describe.

Grian had looked up, blinking frantically through the pain, and there was Scar. His eyes were glowing white, and wisps of something trailed behind his back, around his shoulders, a shadow of wings. Probably the way he got there so much faster than any of the royal guards.

He didn’t remember much.

The pain had been too much to focus through. But he remembered the Watcher screaming in a way Grian hadn’t even thought was possible, he remembered the wet noises of skin ripping and blood and organs meeting the bare air of the world.

He remembered the rest of the royal guards arriving just as the fight ended, Scar the victor. The way they froze, flinching and stepping back, away from their own King.

He remembered looking for Scar, his stomach dropping in horror at the sight of his injury, a deep injury that spread across Scar’s face, blood trailing down his cheeks and dripping off his chin. As everyone else flinched away from Scar, horrified, Grian had reached for him -

Uncaring of the blood and meat coating Scar’s hands, under his nails, the massacre he just committed -

Scared, not of Scar, but for him -

So horribly, desperately thankful for being saved yet again, because Scar always saved him, always -

Scar’s eyes had widened, blinking in clear startlement, as the green and black pupils appeared back through the white haze. He had moved forwards towards Grian as soon as he was reached for, something dark yet vulnerable in the shadows of his face, and had reached back.

Grian couldn’t remember anything else from that day, but he remembered Scar’s arms as Grian fell into them, unconscious but triumphant.

It was the day they won.

-

As Grian opened his eyes now, the lingering memories of that day stayed in his mind for a long moment. It was rare he dreamt of it. The first few weeks he had dreamt of it almost nightly, but the dreams had grown further and further apart as his wing slowly healed, and Scar’s injury had faded to nothing but a dark scar on his face.

There were still bad nights, and horrible guilt whenever he looked at Scar’s injury for too long, but Grian moved on with his life. Relaxed in the lights of the Kingdom, in the presence of Scar, in the absence of the Watchers. One of them was dead, and the rest were stripped of their status, their money, their home, bound to live far away from the Kingdom as commoners with no power of their own.

The fact that he had dreamt about it now was the first sign something had gone wrong.

The second was the cold stone beneath him. It had been a long, long time since Grian had slept on stone.

The third was the thick manacles around his wrists and neck, and as Grian sat up, the blaring warning signs became too many to count.

He was in a cell. There were thick iron bars blocking him off from a stone hallway, and he was surrounded by cold, damp stone. He was chained against the walls, and his wings ached where they had been tied down to his back by what felt like rope. He knew from experience that would begin to hurt soon, badly.

Rope was one of the worst wing bindings. It would dig into the skin of his wings, causing rope burns and bleeding, feather loss, and awful pain combined with unforgiving itchiness. He held his wings as still as possible, knowing that it would be the best way to avoid that pain for as long as he could.

He had been kidnapped. He had been taken from the castle, away from Scar. He remembered being grabbed, something held against his mouth before he was whisked away.

Grian breathed out a slow, shaky breath, trying his best to stay calm despite the rising panic in his chest. Panicking would get him nowhere. It wouldn’t help him escape, or survive long enough for someone to find him. He had to focus on what was going on, and he had to plan around it.

Scar would come for him. Grian knew he would. Scar would be worrying right now, so would Mumbo, and Pearl, and False, and all the other friends Grian had made over the past year. Someone would notice he was missing, and they would look for him.

But would they find him in time?

Grian grit his teeth, shoving that thought away. They would. They had to. Scar always found him, Scar had saved him over and over again - from his life with the Watchers, from their grasp over him, from the Watcher who hunted him down and was ready to kill him - he would save him again.

He thought the castle was safe. He was wrong.

Well, Grian had the feeling the castle security was going to be increased after this incident by tenfold, and he really was trying to remain optimistic, so if his mind would kindly shut up, it would be much appreciated!

He looked around the cell again, more carefully this time. There wasn’t much to see. There wasn’t a light source inside the cell, though a torch outside in the hallway sent a few flickers of light his way. The cell was entirely bare - back when Grian was with the Watchers, sometimes he upset them enough for them to lock him away in a cell similar to this one. But normally that cell would have at least one blanket tucked in the corner, and a pot or pan for him to use to relieve himself.

Thie cell lacked even that much. Were his captors intending for it to be a short-term prison? He wasn’t sure if the thought was reassuring, or horrifying.

One one hand, he would like to stay here for as short a time as possible.

On the other hand, he had no idea what was planned for him. They could kill him in some attempt to send a message, or torture him. They could sell him off. Or use him as a hostage to demand money from Scar, or some other boon they wanted from the King.

Grian was just a servant, and Scar didn’t have to empty his pockets for him, but Grian knew he would regardless because it was Scar, and the relationship they had, everything they had gone through… well, Grian could easily state they were a bit more than just master and servant.

Grian looked down towards his restraints next. It was solid metal, locked tightly around his wrists. As he reached out to touch the metal around his neck, it felt the same, solid and cool under his fingers. He reached to where they attached to the wall, wrapping his fingers around one of the chains and yanking, but it stuck fast.

From what he could see, there would be no easy out of this situation. He had no way to know how long he had even been there, so far. The foul smelling drug they used on him could have been strong enough to knock him out for days, for all he knew.

He did feel hungry, but not hungry enough to have gone without food for days…

There was nothing he could do for now.

Grian pulled his knees to his chest, trying to settle himself down as comfortably as he could. Which was hard to do, in this situation.

He waited.

-

He counted the stones on the walls.

Eight hundred and fifty-six.

-

He counted again.

Eight hundred and fifty-nine. He supposed he missed a few the first time.

-

He remembered dancing with Scar.

After being approached at the ball so suddenly, not only approached but approached by the King himself, Grian had, admittedly, been a little bit of a mess. He had managed to hold up okay on the outside - being with the Watchers had taught him how to wear a mask at all times, and the fact that was literally had a mask did help somewhat in hiding his emotions - but on the inside, he couldn’t help but panic slightly.

“Well, hello there,” the King had greeted, smiling up at him with such easy joy in his expression. Grian felt like there were little shocks going up his hand where Scar had pressed a kiss against it, waves of electricity flowing from that spot.

“Hi,” Grian spoke in response, his voice a bit too loud, and - “um, your Majesty.”

Scar straightened, still smiling at Grian, his gaze shifting towards Grian’s wings for a moment. Instinctively, Grian pulled them tighter to his body, the smallest shiver running down them. Your wings will be torn from your back, sold, the voices of the Watchers whispered in his mind.

Scar looked away from Grian, back into his eyes. His smile changed slightly, appearing almost apologetic. “My apologies, I don’t mean to stare. I’ve just never seen an avian with such a pure color of wings before.”

White? Were white wings rare? Did that make the King want them even more? Would he wait until the ball was over, or would he order his guards to drag Grian away now? Had Grian made a mistake, after all, coming there?

He still couldn’t regret it.

“... Thank you?” Grian settled on saying, his words unsure even to his own ears.

And Scar - Scar winked at him. “It was a compliment.” He held out his hand to Grian once more. “May I have this dance?”

A dance? A compliment? “... I don’t know how to dance.” The admittance was free before Grian could rethink his words, and he felt like smacking himself at the stupidity of his words. He was at a ball, for noble families. Him not knowing how to dance was a huge red flag.

Somehow, Scar didn’t seem to realize that. “Well I’ll forgive you if you step on my feet then,” he promised, “I can lead. Please?”

Grian still had no idea why he said yes.

Scar’s hands on him had sent more electricity racing up and down his body. Had anyone ever touched him like this? Gently but firmly, in a way meant to hold and guide, not in a way that was meant to cause pain? The Watchers avoided contact with him unless they were punishing him, and every part of his brain, the avian part and the human part, was melting into the contact.

Even though Scar was dangerous, Grian tried to remind himself. Even though Scar could turn on him in a second, and try to hurt him as well.

“I thought you didn’t know how to dance?” Scar questioned minutes later as the two turned on the dance floor. They moved fluidly, in perfect sync, like they had danced like this a million times before. The lights were warm, shining above, and the music was delicate and beautiful against Grian’s ears.

“I’ve never danced before,” Grian confirmed, but it was so easy.

Scar led and Grian followed. He copied the steps of Scar, of the people around him, and he looked at Scar and he read his motions - his body language, the way he shifted his weight before he moved, and he adjusted his own motions accordingly.

“You’re a natural,” Scar smiled. His hands were so warm where they rested against him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around the Kingdom before. I would remember someone like you.” Scar peeked at his wings again.

Right. He had to remember why the King was really interested in him, the warmth of his hands and the sway of their motions meant nothing.

Xelqua was the name the Watchers had given him when they had taken him in as a child, a nobody on the streets. But if that name was spoken, the Watchers would take notice. Scar may be able to track him down later on, track down the wings on his back.

There was another name he held, before the Watchers took him in. A name that had been given to him by his parents, smudged faces and smiles he could hardly remember. A name he still referred to himself as in his mind, even if no one had spoken it for many, many years.

“Call me Grian.”

“Grian,” Scar spoke, softly, reverently, and his name on Scar’s tongue felt like… something.

He didn’t know what. But it was something.

-

Thinking back to the happy memories was the only thing that helped fill the hours that passed in the cell. His stomach was hurting now from the lack of food, twisting into itself with hunger. Grian had grown far too used to comforts while living with Scar, and his body wasn’t pleased by the sudden lack of them.

Just as he was starting to wonder if perhaps his captors intended to just leave him locked in the cell to die and starve to death, there was the sound of a lock clicking and footsteps echoing down the hallway outside his cell.

Grian straightened as much as he could. His body was already aching from sitting up on the stone ground for so long, pain running through his backside and up his spine. The dull ache of his wings had grown into an itching sensation, the beginning of what he knew would be torture on them. His mouth was dry, and he ran his tongue over the roof of it.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing strangely in his cell. The steps stopped in front of his cell, and Grian’s breath caught in his throat. “What -” The word was torn from him, deadpanned and devoid of emotions, because -

This part of the story was meant to be over. A closed book. A happy ending.

One of the Watchers - they always wore those stupid hoods, Grian never knew their individual names - tilted their head towards Grian, a smile clear in their voice as they spoke. “Xelqua. Welcome back.”

-

“I need to leave,” Grian insisted. His insistence was weak even to his own ears, but it was midnight, and he had to go back before the Watchers noticed he was missing. Before they discovered what he did.

“But I’ll see you again?”

Something in him wanted to say yes. Scar had been so kind to him. He had told him stories, showed him around the castle, allowed him (encouraged him) to try any of the food laid out, showering him with compliments.

Scar just wanted his wings.

“Yes,” Grian lied.

He needed to leave.

So he left, the only sign he was ever there at all a delicate white feather clutched in Scar’s hand.

-

“You had your fairytale life,” the Watcher remarked. “What was it like? Were you… happy?”

The Watcher had let themself into his cell at some point. Grian was on his feet, unwilling to be seated and vulnerable, but he couldn’t hide the shaking of his hands. He moved them behind his back, balling his hands into fists. “Yes, it was. I got away from you, from your lies -”

“Our lies?”

“You told me the Aqua Kingdom hated hybrids. You failed to mention their King had non-human blood. Somehow, you never mentioned the equality laws.”

“Xelqua -”

“You wanted me to be so full of fear, I would never dare step a single toe out of line. So I would never discover the world would be so much better without you in it.”

And it had worked. Grian was still terrified of anyone going near his wings, still preened them himself, held them close to his back. He was getting better with them, smacking his friends with them, hesitantly wrapping them around others in important moments, for just a brief second -

But the idea of them touching his wings, fingers pressing against the feathers? Grian wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to allow such a thing.

“We wanted you safe.”

“You hurt me more than anyone else ever has!” The words had barely left his mouth before the chain around his neck was being grabbed. Grian was yanked forwards hard enough that he stumbled, and then pain shot up the right side of his face as he was hit with enough force to turn his face to the side.

He would bruise.

“We took you in when you were nothing. You would have died on the streets without our help. You would have been sold to a much worse fate.” The Watchers words were calm. It was one of the things that had always frustrated him about the Watchers - no matter what happened, they always acted like they were above everyone else, like nothing bothered them.

“I would have rathered that,” Grian hissed.

Truly, he didn’t know what would have happened had the Watchers never found him. Scar did all he could for avians, for all hybrids, but discrimation existed regardless - back then, Scar hadn’t even been King yet, and hybrid rights had been much worse. Grian’s own parents had been killed due to their wings.

But a potential fate that might have existed didn’t excuse what the Watchers had done to him. Mumbo had told him that.

“After everything we did for you…” the Watcher yanked the chain around his throat again, and Grian choked, unable to breath for a long moment. “This is how you repay us. You betray us. You take away everything we have, while you wrap yourself in comfort and riches in the castle.”

“Riches? I’m a servant!” Grian gasped out when he was finally able to breath again. “I have never been greedy. I have never reached above my station. All I wanted was to exist in peace!”

He never would have spoken back to them, a year ago. Now he was filled with rage, indignant and furious. This wasn’t fair. Grian had put the Watchers far behind him, he had escaped, and now…

The Watcher dropped him, and Grian’s knees buckled. He fell onto the stone ground with a hiss of pain, the Watcher’s hand curling around his hair, yanking his head back. “You’re selfish. You have King Scar wrapped around your finger, you’re a thorn in his side. You may have given yourself the title of a servant, coverage for your greed, but you receive far more than any other servant working in that castle. Everyone knows the King loves you.”

The Watcher released his hair to reach for his wing. Grian hardly had a second to scramble back before they grab a handful of feathers and yanked.

There was a flash of pain and Grian chirped loudly, jerking backward, the Watcher laughing slightly. “You may bark, but you have no bite, Xelqua,” they sighed, looking at the feathers tipped in blood they held in their hand. “We will receive our due. Your King will repay us for everything you took from us, and we will journey out of this cursed Kingdom to rebuild our domain.”

Money. This was all about money and power. Status.

“Until then, you will suffer for every day your King doesn’t deliver.”

The Watcher turned and walked away.

-

The day after Grian was going missing, as search parties were being sent out every hour of the day, an envelope arrived for the king.

In the envelope, white feathers stained with dried blood, a letter asking for an absurd amount of gold, and a warning.

Every day we wait for our payment, we will send a piece of your servant back to you.

Scar’s eyes turned a glowing, blinding white on that second day, and the Kingdom knew the white would remain until the Kingdom’s avian was safely home once more.

-

Grian really hated being a prisoner.

At least when he was with the Watchers the first time, he had been a servant. He had tasks to do - cleaning, cooking, organizing, any number of things that kept him busy. Even if everything hurt, even if his body hurt down to his very bones, the constant drive of work allowed him to keep his mind off the worst of it.

Now there was nothing but the pain, and the cold, and the boredom. He ended up lying down. It was better than sitting up, though not by much. His wings were beginning to go numb, and they started bleeding sometime while he slept. He wasn’t sure how long he had been there.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He had been given nothing to drink nor eat, and his mouth, throat, and stomach felt like they were all being grated.

The hours continued to drag on.

He fell asleep, woke, and fell asleep again, and at some point, two Watchers arrived. Grian tried to stand like he had the first time, but he had to lean heavily against the wall to stay on his feet this time, trembling in place.

“Your King,” the first Watcher remarked, “must not care for you as much as you think he does.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Yet it’s been three days since we took you, and he’s yet to pay your due.”

It was more complicated than that. Grian knew Scar’s council would fight him on everything he tried to do, knew taking large amounts of gold out of the Kingdom’s store wasn’t something Scar could do so easily. Grian wasn’t even sure if he wanted Scar to do so. He didn’t want the Kingdom to suffer like that, just for him. Scar was a King. He had to worry about all of his people, not just Grian.

But still, the words hurt somewhere deep inside of Grian’s chest regardless. A small voice in the back of his head, wondering if the Watchers were right, if Scar really didn’t care he had gone missing.

One of the Watcher’s pulled out a knife, and Grian’s breath caught in his throat. “What -”

“If your King isn’t paying attention yet, then we need to force him to do so.”

Grian could hardly fight back. One of the Watcher’s pinned him down, and the other grasped his wrist tightly in their grip, pressing down hard with the knife.

It wasn’t even a full finger. Just half. It had no right to hurt as badly as it did.

It felt like a jolt of electricity going up the rest of his finger, and then the cold hair hit the exposed flesh as blood started to leak and spurt, and Grian gasped, thrashing as hard as he could with a pained screech. The Watchers let go of him and backed off easily - their job was done.

All of his nerves were firing at once. It was burning as his blood flowed, leaving his body, and Grian could only curl his hand under his body like he could protect it that way. Like he had any power to protect himself at all in this horrible, awful situation, like he wasn’t exposed and helpless like he had promised himself he would never be again -

He was cold. He was cold, and everything ached, and his wings were bleeding and hurting and itching, and they burned where the ropes touched and where the feathers had been ripped out. He was hungry and thirsty and his stomach felt like it was on fire, his throat and mouth so dry it hurt to lick his lips.

He was hurt, and his finger hurt, and it burned and bleed and his blood was leaving his body, and the world was getting dizzy around him, and Grian was pretty sure the shock was setting in -

It hurt, and he missed Scar. He wanted to go home. He wanted Jellie.

-

The Kingdom was walking on razors around their King. Half of the army was out searching, and the council did everything they could to keep Scar in the castle, to keep him locked to his duties. They couldn’t afford the amount of gold the Watchers wanted, and the Watchers refused to accept anything less.

Scar spent all hours of the day listening to report after report, struggling through paperwork to try to find any way to get enough gold, to dig into his personal expenses without hurting his people -

Then a box arrived.

No one saw what was in it, other than their King.

The box had arrived, and then their King had vanished, and the Kingdom went into an uproar.

-

He was going to die, wasn’t it?

More hours had passed. Grian had torn part of his filthy shirt with his teeth to wrap it around the stub of his finger and curled up in the corner, embarrassing chirps slipping free in the silence of the cell. Everything felt horribly numb, his mind trying to fight back against the pain he was in, both physical and psychological. It was too much for him to handle, and he felt like he was shutting down.

It was meant to be over. This wasn’t meant to happen.

It felt so annoying to still be thinking that, but Grian had suffered in his life for so long, and then he had finally been happy. Hadn’t he suffered enough? Didn’t he deserve that happiness, that small place he had dug out for himself in the world?

Why was he back here? Back to wondering if he was going to live until tomorrow? Back to the fear that he would lose himself, lose his wings, that they would go after those next?

Grian fell asleep again, at some point. His dreams were nothing but nightmares, and he didn’t sleep for long. At least, he was rather certain it hadn’t been too long - there wasn’t really any way to tell, not down in the cells that lacked even a single window to tell how much time was passing by.

He felt weak. Like his head was full of cotton, and the world was slipping away from him.

-

He thought of meeting Jellie for the first time. A few days after Scar had brought him into the palace, before the Watchers had been discovered for their crimes, far before Grian had pledged himself to his King - back when Grian was just a refugee that Scar had taken home with him when he spotted the bruises on his chin and the bones that jutted out of his wrists.

He had been so nervous, in a huge castle without anyone he knew, curled in the corner of the palace library with his wings wrapped around his body. He was still growing used to them being free, running his fingers through the feathers when there had been a soft mrrrowww? and he had looked down into her eyes.

A few hours later Scar had found them there, cuddled together, Jellie purring and Grian chirping sleepily back, warm and content.

-

He had been happy.

If he died now, at least he had those moments in his life to think back on during his final moments.

-

The Watchers approached his cell once more. For a moment Grian wondered what limb he was about to lose next, more tension growing in his shoulders and racing down his spine, but it became clear rather quickly that something… new was going on. The Watchers seemed tense themselves as they opened his cell, one of them coming in with a set of keys.

As they unlocked his chains and dragged him to his feet, swaying and weak, Grian honestly couldn’t figure out what was going on.

He was dragged from his cell, down stone hallways, and up a flight of stairs. Grian squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden bright light after days of darkness, stumbling hard. The hands around his arms turned bruising, yanking him back so he was forced to stand straight.

“Walk,” one of the Watchers commanded, as though Grian were stumbling on purpose. The tone of voice was sharp, commanding, and… something else, lingering below the confidence.

Something that matched with the tension in their shoulders, in their hurried steps, in the cloak they shoved towards Grian. The cloak was yanked over his shoulders and head. It was a match for their own dark cloaks, like an attempt to make Grian blend in. Like an attempt to hide him.

A smile appeared on Grian’s face, the first one for days, something stirring in his chest. The Watchers were afraid. Something had happened, and they were running. Things weren’t going their way - which meant things were going Scar’s way, and that meant things were going Grian’s way for once.

For the first time since he had been kidnapped, hope was rising in Grian’s chest. He had no idea where they were - the building they were in wasn’t the one that the Watchers had lived in when Grian was with them, long ago. That mansion had been taken by Scar along with their titles and money, something that was no longer available to them.

Since he didn’t know the layout of this building, Grian wasn’t sure where he was being taken as he was pulled onwards and onwards, trying his best not to stumble over his own feet. They entered a small passage, and it only clicked when Grian’s eyes caught on a large, locked door in front of them. It was some kind of hidden back entrance, a way to escape if the front door was inaccessible.

It meant that whatever was going on was serious.

The lock of the door slid open with a muted click, and then it was thrown open to reveal the outdoors. Grian had to close his eyes at the brightness, at the sight of green grass and open blue skys, sunlight shining down into the hallway and hitting the back of his eyelids strongly enough to burn.

“Walk,” the Watcher commanded again, yanking his arm, and Grian stumbled once more. If they wanted him to walk correctly, they shouldn’t have locked him in a dark cell, starving and hurting him for days on end.

Grian was going to make this as hard as he could for them. The complete loss of sensation in the half of his finger he had lost sealed that fate.

As Grian’s feet hit the grass, soft and so different from cold, painful stone, he leaned all his weight forwards, purposefully falling. “Ow!” he snapped as though it were accidental, raising his voice as loudly as he could, letting it echo across the clearing. I’m here. I’m right here.

He was grabbed by his cloak and yanked back upwards, a hand striking him hard across the face. The pain it caused was hardly anything, almost laughable in comparison to how the rest of his body already felt, but it was enough to make him stumble. “Silence, Xelqua, if you don’t want -”

“If he doesn’t want what?”

Scar.

Grian was dragged back into the chest of a Watcher, a knife held against his throat, but he didn’t even register it, he could only stare, because -

His King was in front of him. His King with white eyes and spectral wings that only appeared when he was at his worst, his King that was in front of him without any sign of an army to back him up, and oh, Scar.

“You idiot,” Grian choked, and Scar’s expression, hard and cold and dangerous, softened for just a second.

“Aw, that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Silence!” The Watcher that was holding him called out, voice sharp over the clearing. “No sudden motions. You may have managed to take one of us down, vex, but you can’t beat all of us at once. You have the scar to prove it.”

There was a second of silence. “Maybe,” Scar agreed, slowly, carefully. “But you’ll find I’m not actually alone this time.”

“And,” Grian whispered, “you’ll find that I do actually bite.”

He turned his head, and sunk his teeth as hard as he could into the arm wrapped around him. As the Watcher staggered at the sudden attack, Scar lunged in a flurry of vex magic, and an arrow shot from the trees across the clearing, piercing through one of the Watcher’s shoulders, and a female with long blonde hair and a sword dropped down from the porch roof above them -

The hand around him loosened enough for Grian to yank the knife away from the Watcher’s grip. He may be weak and dazed, hurt and tired, but he had enough strength to turn and shove the knife as deeply as he could into the arms that kept him captured for too long.

“I bite hard,” he gasped, as the battle begun.

-

Scar had his vex abilities, False was basically an army by herself, and Mumbo insisted they take him along with his own arrows that he had made with something called flame, and infinity, and punch, and -

The Watchers were powerful with their own magic, but they had lost everything a year ago, and it wasn’t much of a fight.

-

Scar was covered in blood, again, but none of it was his this time, and his arms were still arms that Grian fell into willingly.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” he joked as Scar held up most of his weight. Scar’s arms were shaking around Grian, clutching him tightly like Grian would vanish if he so much as loosened his grip, his breath erratic.

“I thought I lost you,” Scar whispered.

“I’m right here.” Grian’s fingers were digging into Scar’s back just as tightly, and maybe, just maybe, he was shaking as well. A little. “I’m here. I want… I want to go home.”

“Then I’ll take you home,” Scar promised, immediately. “I - this will never happen again.”

He did just tear apart all of the Watchers. Mostly with his bare hands. Grian didn’t think he’d ever seen Scar that angry, that out of control of himself, but it hardly mattered. It was still Scar - gentle Scar, who read to him, and saved him, and offered him a home.

“We need to up the security.”

“Oh, we will.”

-

Grian fell unconscious there, in Scar’s arms, finally safe once more. Finally home.

-

“Mrrpph?”

A tiny, furry face butted at his chin.

“Mrowe.”

As Grian turned his head to the side, there was a second, softer nudge, before a paw smacked him on the face. The lull of sleep was trying to drag him back under, as Grian was somewhere soft and warm and comfortable, and his body wanted to get as much energy back as it could. However, it seemed like a certain cat was determined not to let that happen.

“Mroooooow.”

“Jellie - no, Jellie, no, let Grian rest!”

At the sound of his King’s voice, whispering and hushed as it were, Grian cracked open an eye halfway. Jellie was perched directly on his chest, staring him down. Hands shot into his vision, curling around the feline and gently lifting her away. “Grian went through a lot, we need to let him sleep,” Scar scolded his cat.

Grian opened his eyes the rest of the way, tilting his head to the side to watch as Scar crouched and deposited the cat back on the floor. Jellie only flicked her tail, immediately moving to jump back on the bed.

Scar sighed. He sounded tired. Really tired. “Jellie -” he began, turning as he spoke.

They made eye contact, Scar’s eyes widening when he saw Grian’s own eyes were open. “Oh.”

Grian raised an eyebrow. Reluctantly he pushed himself up into a seated position, a warm body curling into his lap as Jellie settled down. “Oh indeed?” he questioned, running a hand through Jellie’s fur.

His other hand seemed to be wrapped tightly in bandages, but the area was pleasantly numb. Grian stared at the stark white bandages for a second, before ripping his gaze away and glancing around the room.

Which, he realized quickly, wasn’t his room or any type of medical area. It seemed like Grian was back in Scar’s bedroom, of all places - and a quick glance out the window revealed the sun was rising once more.

It was such a sudden throwback to however long ago it had been when he had been first kidnapped, that strange morning that had Grian setting out to find Mumbo in the first place. “... How long has it been?” When he looked back towards his King, he found Scar hadn’t looked away from him. He was staring… very intently, actually, expression open and something hurt there. Grian remembered the exhaustion in Scar’s voice, and grimanced. “You look awful -”

“I look awful?” Scar echoed. He ran a hand down the side of his face with a short, bitter laugh. “I - … you were taken early in the morning, four days ago. We found late in the day yesterday. You were with them for three and a half days.”

Three and a half days. It felt like longer. It felt like less.

“You look awful,” Grian said again. Scar’s hair was a mess. There were dark bags under his eyes that looked like bruises, and he was in the clothes he wore to sleep.

“Worry less about me, and more about yourself, considering the fact you were kidnapped Grian. How do you feel?”

Grian sighed at Scar’s sharp tone, leaning back into the pillows behind him. “... Numb. Emotionally and physically,” he admitted finally, slowly. “... Was I given water when I was asleep?”

“You woke up and drank some. You don’t remember?”

“No.” His throat and mouth were no longer as horribly dry, but he still felt thirsty to some extent. Dehydration couldn’t go away that quickly, it seemed. His hand was numb, and his body was aching but not as badly as it had in the cell, everything feeling… numb.

Grian shuffled his wings, pulling them around his body to look at them. They were a horrible mess, dried blood stuck to the feathers that bent in every direction, awfully itchy and caked in dirt and dust. The areas the rope had pressed against were swollen and burned mildly.

“Did you give me something for the pain?”

“Yes. We would have tried to help out more with the wings, but…”

“I would rather you hadn’t.”

“I assumed so.”

It felt so tense, between them.

Grian felt tired, and out of it, and so done with everything around him, like he wanted to lay down and sleep again. He wanted to pretend the last few days had been a dream. He made so much progress, moving on with his life - he felt like he had been climbing a steep cliff for a year, finally able to see the sunlight over the top of it, and then had been shoved all the way back to the bottom.

Scar… Grian couldn’t read Scar. It was normally so easy for him, but his King was such a quiet mess now, tired and shaky on his own feet. Closed off to Grian in a way he never had been before, avoiding eye contact and staying several steps away from the bed.

Away from his own bed. Despite the distance Scar was keeping between them, he brought Grian to his own bed, to his own space, so…

Despite the tension, despite the awful sensation of staring upwards at a cliff he had just finished climbing and preparing himself to start all over, Grian hoped…

He hoped that everything wasn’t ruined.

Grian’s stomach growled, loudly, and he winced at the sharp pain there. “Do you think I could have breakfast -”

“I’ll send for some,” Scar spoke, almost before Grian finished speaking. He practically ran from the room in a second, turning on his heel and briskly walking away, presumably to send for some food.

… He r eally hoped everything wasn’t ruined.

-

Waiting for the food to arrive was… awkward. Scar had sat down at his desk, entirely silent, avoiding eye contact with Grian. Grian ended up pulling his wings into his lap and getting to work.

Straightening feathers, gently ripping out the ones that were bent wrong. Combing out dirt and grit. He would never do this on Scar’s bed of all places, with the man in the room, in a normal situation. But Grian had a feeling changing his sheets later was the last thing on Scar’s mind, and letting Grian stand and leave the room also wasn’t on the to-do list.

As he worked on his wings, Scar’s eyes fell on him again. Still not looking towards his face, but paying attention to his motions. Scar had always held some interest in his wings, but he respected Grian’s wishes and kept his distance from them and the topic of them.

Grian got about half-way through one wing when the food arrived, a soft knock on the door breaking through the tense silence. Instead of calling for the servant to enter, Scar stood once more and walked over the get the food himself.

The smell that filled the room as the door cracked open was enough to make Grian’s mouth water. He had grown so used to being hungry, he hadn’t even realized how bad it had been until he could smell food again, the hunger roaring to life in his stomach anew.

There was some shuffling at the door, some soft-spoken words, and Grian shifted impatiently. A moment later the door was closing, and Scar was wheeling in what looked like an entire cart. It looked like enough food to feed four people, let alone two.

If this was a week ago, Grian would have teased Scar and started cracking jokes the second he saw the cart, but today he kept his mouth closed. He knew Scar was worried. Even if Scar was closed off towards him, that much at least was obvious. Trying to stuff him full of food wasn’t even new for him - it had been many months since he had to, but Grian arrived at the castle much too skinny for his own good.

They used to always eat their meals together. Grian would sit across from Scar’s desk, and they would talk about everything and nothing as they ate.

Grian wondered, for a brief moment, when and why they stopped.

The cart was rolled next to the bed, Scar staring down at the food, still avoiding eye contact. “I - what do you want first?”

“I can grab my food myself, my King,” Grian said slowly. “You… shouldn’t lower yourself to help out a servant like myself. I can stay in my own room, or perhaps with a healer for the time being -”

“No.” Scar’s voice was sharp as it cut through the room. He was glaring at the food, harshly. “No, I… after you’re healed you can go wherever you want Grian, I promise, but until then, just… please.”

“... Okay?” Grian’s voice wavered, unsure. He could go wherever he wanted? What was that suppose to mean? Where would he go? Or did he just mean anywhere in the castle? “... I can still serve myself, though,” Grian sighed, reaching for a plate of toast. As much as he wanted to go for the meat, scent thick in the air, or the eggs, freshly cooked to perfection, he knew he had to start slowly. His stomach wouldn’t be able to handle all of that food at once.

As Grian took his first bite, Scar started stepping back towards his desk without taking anything, and Grian hurried to swallow so he could speak. “Aren’t you taking any?”

Scar paused, turning back to him. He was staring somewhere at Grian’s shoulder now. “No. This is for you.”

“For me - I can’t eat all of this, I thought you would at least be eating as well! Have you already had breakfast?” Scar’s silence was enough of an answer, and Grian rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t fall out of his head. “Take a plate and eat,” he commanded, sternly. “We’re not wasting this much food due to your stubbornness.”

Scar didn’t argue. He just stepped forwards to take his own food. At least Grian didn’t have to scold his King again, since Scar actually went ahead and took a normal amount of food, enough for it to count as a decent breakfast.

“What did you mean, when you said I could go wherever I want after I’m healed?” Grian questioned as Scar picked his food out. “Are you really keeping me stuck only in your room until then? My friends won’t be pleased, King or not.” He tried to interject some hint of teasing into his voice.

The tension was still so thick in the air, but Grian felt each attempt to cut away at it fail. At the question, Scar froze for a moment, before he started to move again, his motions jerky. “I… meant if you want to leave the Kingdom, you can. I’ll help you. You don’t need to worry about money or distance. I heard Dogwarts is a really good Kingdom.”

Scar hated Dogwarts. The King of Dogwarts, King Ren, and Scar disagreed on everything.

“Why would I leave the Kingdom?” Grian questioned, still trying to get over the wave of shock at the suggestion that he would leave. “Do - do you want me to go?”

Had he finally brought too much trouble to the Kingdom? He felt indignant. Hurt. It wasn’t like he asked to be kidnapped. If anything, Grian got the short end of the stick - he lost a finger! Something he was still trying not to think about because it was honestly terrifying, and now Scar was trying to kick him out of his home?

“No!” The word tore from Scar’s throat so quickly, even the King looked surprised by it. “I just meant I won’t force you to stay. That I understand if you want to leave.”

“Why would I want to leave?” Grian asked, again, sharper this time.

“Grian.” Scar looked so lost. It was an expression he never wanted to see on the King’s face again. “This was meant to be a safe place for you, and you were taken. I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me.”

The two stared at each other, for a long moment. Some of the puzzle pieces began to fall into place in Grian’s mind. Scar felt guilty about what happened. Of course he did, Grian had been taken in the halls of the heart of the Aqua Kingdom, under Scar’s direct protection. Scar thought… that Grian wanted to leave. What else did Scar think?

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” Grian questioned hesitantly, surprised by the softness of his own tone.

“... You’re not?” Scar’s hands were gripping his tray of food too tightly once more, his nails digging into the metal surface.

Grian sighed, and scooted over on the bed. He winced a bit at the movement, but shuffled over enough to make room for one more body, patting the spot gently. “Come here. Come eat with me.”

There was clear reluctance in his movements, but Scar nodded slowly, another shadow of that guilt passing over his face as he moved to sit next to Grian. He was much too tense as he sat on the edge of the bed, and then pulled his legs up to sprawl out, lowering the tray to balance it carefully in his lap. “I was so scared, when we found out you were missing,” Scar spoke first, as a tick of silence passed. “Then, the fear burned away, replaced by anger. I couldn’t handle the fear, so I just… used my anger instead, to hide behind it and let it consume me. If you died…”

“I didn’t.”

“If you had, I don’t - I don’t know if I ever would have been able to let that rage go. It only faded, a little bit, when I saw you. When you collapsed into my arms. And then when the doctor said you would survive.” Scar was looking down at his tray. “It was like a weight was lifted off my chest, and I could finally breathe again.”

It was a bit surprising to hear how upset Scar had been. Grian knew Scar cared for him, of course he knew that. But Scar wasn’t an angry person. It took a lot to annoy him, and even more to seriously upset him. Scar was just so cheerful, constantly - smiles and forgiveness even when people didn’t deserve it.

And he felt like that because Grian was gone. Hesitantly, Grian reached over, nudging Scar’s hand with his own. After a second, Scar uncurled his fingers so that his palm was exposed, and the two slowly, cautiously, locked their fingers together in a tight squeeze.

“I was scared as well. I thought… I thought that part of my life was over, and I could finally heal, and now I feel like I have to start over with all the progress I made,” Grian admitted, slowly. He hated talking about his emotions, how he felt, but in this moment it felt right. If he was going to talk about it with anyone, it was going to be his King. “But in those moments… I thought about all the happy memories. Meeting you during that ball, dancing with you, meeting Mumbo and Pearl and running around the castle halls.”

“Causing trouble,” Scar spoke up. The teasing note in his voice was weak, as with his smile, but they were both present, which was enough to make Grian grin in response.

“Causing trouble,” he agreed, regardless. “... King Scar. I thought about those moments, and I thought… well, I could die happy, since I got to experience that. And without you, I wouldn’t have had any of it. You know I can never thank you enough for that.”

“Grian, you swore yourself to me -”

“Because I wanted to. I want to be by your side, through the good, and the bad, and the really bad, like this.” He made an awkward motion with his free hand, gesturing around them. “You didn’t tell the Watchers to kidnap me, or tell them where my bedroom was, or give them a way into the castle, did you?”

“Of course not!” Scar sounded scandalized by the very idea.

“Then this wasn’t your fault!” Scar squeezed Grian’s hand, and Grian squeezed back. The contact was… nice. Grian wasn’t sure if he ever held hands with Scar before, other than during their dance and a few moments afterwards before Grian had sworn himself into his position. “It wasn’t your fault,” Grian repeated. “I don’t want to walk around each other like this, full of… guilt and regret, because that means I’ll loose you. Loosing you - that’s something I’d be mad at you for.”

“You went through something traumatic Grian,” Scar sighed. He was finally looking at Grian, their eyes locked on one another. “You lost part of your finger, that’s permanent, you’re hurting, and I can’t just pretend that never happened.”

“I don’t want you to. These next few months are going to be horrible for me. So be there for me, stay by my side, help me heal - can you do that?”

“Of course.” Scar breathed the words out softly, something reverant in the way he spoke, the way he leaned closer into Grian’s space. “Of course I can.”

“Then we’ll be okay.”

“And we’ll launch a full scale investigation on how this happened and up the security,” Scar added.

Grian laughed, and if it was shaky, neither of them commented on it. “And that,” he agreed.

-

The food was delicious.

-

Jellie returned from her windowsill to curl up between them as they lay side by side, legs pressed together and hands still twined together.

It was a completely inappropriate way for a servant to interact with his King, but neither of them cared in the moment. There was a mutual understanding that they both needed to be close, after everything that happened, and everything that was going to happen in the next while.

They needed this moment.

Grian’s eyes were closed, his breathing soft, trying to memorize everything about it - the feeling of Scar’s hand in his, the warmth of their bodies close together, the light weight of Jellie between them, the gentle warmth of the sun through the window, the sound of Scar breathing next to him, everything.

“... Grian?”

He kept his eyes closed. “Yes?”

“... When we’re alone, can you just call me Scar? Without the ‘King’ in front of my name.”

That hadn’t been what he was expecting. Still, he kept his eyes closed. “... Isn’t that a little…? Against the rules?”

“Whose rules?” Scar questioned, his voice challenging. “I’m the King. I make the rules. … Don’t I?”

Grian chuckled slightly, amused that Scar had to second guess himself on that one. “Yes, you do.” It wasn’t like he was against it. He called Scar, well, ‘Scar’ in his mind already. It just seemed a bit of a sudden request. “... Why?”

Hesitance. Grian had hoped they were past that part. “It bothers me when you call me King, I suppose. I know you’re my servant, but you’ve never exactly felt like one. I mean - you’ve done a wonderful job! But we’ve always been closer than that.”

He supposed a normal servant wouldn’t be able to get away with half of what Grian did. A normal servant wouldn’t be used against the King as a political prisoner, and a normal servant wouldn’t have the King himself coming along to save him. And… Mumbo as well, if Grian remembered correctly. He would definitely have to yell at Scar about that later on - Mumbo was awful at fighting, he could have ended up really hurt.

Still, Grian felt part of himself hesitate as well. He allowed himself the closer than usual relationship with Scar, and sometimes he pushed the boundaries really far, like he did now. But if he let all of their boundaries go, where did that leave him? Calling Scar his King was one of the ways that Grian could remember to keep himself in check. A way to remind himself of their status, to remind himself of the lines in the sand.

“You don’t have to,” Scar spoke, taking his long pause as an answer. His voice was soft, honest, but Grian could hear something like dissapointment lingering underneath his tone.

“... Scar.”

A tiny intake of breath from next to him. Grian opened his eyes and tilted his head, and there was his King, watching him. “Grian.”

“Scar.” Grian smiled, a small, but true thing. “... I like your name.”

Scar’s cheeks were ever so slightly tinged, a slight flush creeping across his expression. “I like it when you say my name,” he responded, his voice rough.

The air felt oddly charged again, but it wasn’t tense. It was like a compulsion under his skin, like the electricity that he felt the first time Scar touched him, urging him to get closer. Grian felt his own face heat up slightly, body tensing at the sensation.

Oh no. It was those feelings again.

Before Grian could throw his boundaries back up and move away, redraw those lines in the sand before he said or did something he would later regret, something one of the Watchers had said to him while they had him floated to the top of his memory. In the moment, Grian had hardly even noticed the words, a bit preoccupied with his past trauma returning to face him, along with torture, starvation, cold, and a plethora of other much more pressing matters, but now -

“You’re selfish. You have King Scar wrapped around your finger, you’re a thorn in his side. You may have given yourself the title of a servant, coverage for your greed, but you receive far more than any other servant working in that castle. Everyone knows the King loves you.”

“Am I… taking too much, Scar?” Grian questioned, the words slipping free.

Scar paused, blinked, and shuffled closer. Just a bit closer, his warmth growing at Grian’s side. “I’d give you everything, if I could.”

“Why?”

“You’re important to me.” Scar’s expression was twisting slightly, darkening. Grian felt like something heavy was sitting on his chest. His mouth felt suddenly dry, and he wondered if the effects of his kidnapping were acting up, or if this was something else.

“You’re everything to me,” Grian said slowly, the truth, exposed to the open. “That’s why I swore myself to you. You saved me. You gave me a home.”

“I don’t want you to stay by my side because you feel like you’re in debt to me -”

“That’s not it,” Grian shook his head, as much as he could. “I told you, you’re everything to me. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Scar was staring again, before he looked away, running a hand down his face. He swallowed, looking conflicted, before he took in a deep breath. “Grian, do you… remember when you swore yourself to my service?”

“Yes.” How could he forget? “We were throwing a celebration. To celebrate the Kingdom’s victory over the Watchers, after over a month of fighting against them, and trying to weed them out.”

“To celebrate you,” Scar reminded him. “I told you that, when I first started planning it. I told you, that you would be the guest of honour. That I had a surprise for you.”

“I remember.” Grian was a bit unsure about the change of topic, but he had a feeling there was a point here. “You made a speech for me. You thanked me, and apologized for…” he trailed off, swallowing. Grian hated talking about this, but it felt like Scar and him had to be honest with each other, in this lingering moment. “To apologize for the way I suffered in your Kingdom. You promised that I could remain in the castle for the rest of my days, and I wouldn’t have to want for anything.”

Scar nodded. He turned to stare at Grian again. He looked pained now, frowning, eyes scrunched together. “And then what?”

“You invited me up onto the platform?” Grian frowned in response to Scar’s expression, watching the other man warily. “You gave me flowers. Poppies and lilacs.”

“... And then?”

“... I thanked you? I knelt down in front of you, and I thanked you, and I said… that I wanted to stay in the castle by your side forever.” He did. That urge, that wish, had felt nearly overpowering. “So I pledged myself to you, in servitude, until the moment I died.”

Scar nodded, sighing softly. “I wanted you by my side forever as well, Grian, but you never gave me a chance to give you your surprise.”

“I - was it not the speech? And the flowers? And the… apology, and the promise of a place to stay, and all of that?” Grian knew he looked a bit bewildered now, gesturing awkwardly with the hand not clasped in Scar’s own still. “Because that was more than anyone had ever offered to me before. That meant everything to me, and I thought…”

“And I really should have corrected you,” Scar admitted, “but you already pledged yourself to me, in front of the entire kingdom, so my original surprise became a bit… illegal.”

“Illegal?”

“Improper?”

“What?”

Grian had never seen this expression on his King’s face before. He was still flushed (Grian should really open a window, but his body still hurt too much for him to move). Scar licked his lips, an almost nervous expression on his face. But he was smiling still, something soft, anxious but intense and careful.

“Grian.”

“... Scar?”

“What I intended was - I…” Scar took a deep breath, almost like he had to prepare himself for what he was about to say. “I made a speech about you, in front of my entire Kingdom, because I wanted them to know how much I admired you. I needed them to know you helped our Kingdom. I needed them to know you were strong, and brave, and loyal, and dedicated. That you were willing to take these risks.”

Grian stayed silent. He felt like this wasn’t something he should interrupt.

“I promised you a place to stay because I wanted you by my side forever, and I wanted - I wanted to share everything I had with you, if you would accept it. Accept me. And… you did. But not in the way I intended to ask.” Scar took a second, deeper breath. “I gave you flowers, and then before I could - I fully intended, in that moment, in front of the entire Kingdom… to ask you to marry me.”

It took a long, long minute for those words to register properly.

Grian just stared at Scar. Waiting for his King to smile and make a joke, to admit he was just teasing him. It would be a horribly cruel joke, and it would have taken a lot for Grian to just laugh it off as Scar twisted his feelings in that manner, but he would have. He would have forced himself to do so.

But Scar stayed silent, and just kept watching him, waiting for a response.

Grian ripped his hand away and sat up quickly, ignoring the flare of pain in his body, ignoring Jellie’s disgruntled ‘mrrrow?’

“What!?” he demanded, voice loud. “You - what? Are you serious? But - that - why!?”

Scar sat up as well, a bit slower than Grian. He reached for Grian’s hand again, squeezing it, and Grian couldn’t bring himself to pull away. “Because I love you.”

“You -”

“Me?”

“You love… me?”

“I love you.”

“I mistook your proposal, for you asking me to be your servant? I could have married you a year ago!?” Grian’s voice was raising again. This entire time he had been trying his hardest to be so careful around his King, to keep his own emotions in check. Even if he loved Scar, even if he wanted to spend every moment by his side, he would take whatever he could get.

He loved Scar, so he wanted Scar to be happy. Even if Grian was only in his life as a servant, it was more than enough. And Scar had treated him so well, more like a friend than a servant, and that had been more than enough, and wow it was all starting to come together in his mind now.

“You could have,” Scar agreed. “I mean, royal weddings take a while to plan, and I did want to wait a while since we had only known each other for a month, and I know I can move quickly and I know I fell in love with you really quickly, but…” Scar breathed out, shakily. “Grian. Can you please let me know if I’m just embarrassing myself here?”

Oh. He hadn’t really given Scar an answer, had he?

Grian turned to look at his King, sitting there with messy hair and an anxious half-smile, his hand warm in Grian’s, and he was the one that moved closer this time. “Scar, I just told you that you meant everything to me, and that I want to stay by your side forever,” he laughed, a tad hysterically. “Yes, I love you too. I want to marry you.”

“This wasn’t a proposal,” Scar said quickly, “because I want your actual proposal to be something deserving of you, something better than this -”

“But we’re going to get married,” Grian interrupted. It was meant to come out as a question, but it sounded more like a demand, sharp and eager.

Scar laughed, an honest, light sound. “Yes, Grian, if that’s what you want -”

“Yes,” Grian interrupted again, nodding, smiling wider than he thought he physically could. “Yes Scar, I want that.”

He thought his life couldn’t surprise him anymore. Going from a servant under the Watchers abusive hands, to dancing with the King, and then being whisked away into a life of rebellion and sneaking around the castle walls -

Finding a peaceful life as a servant, and then getting kidnapped and hurt once more, knowing he would have to overcome that trauma and recover, but having the promise of support from his friends and from Scar -

And now, this. This. The realization of how much he messed up Scar’s first proposal was a bit hilarious, and very annoying, but Scar was in front of him now and their hands and bodies were warm and close to one another, and Scar loved him. And he loved Scar. And they were going to stick together, no matter what weird surprises life threw at him next.

Scar leaned forwards, and their mouths brushed together for a brief moment. Before Grian could lean into the kiss, before he could catolouge the sensations flaring in his chest, warm and bright (it felt like coming home), there was a sharp bap on the side of their faces.

Scar and Grian fell apart, both of them staring at Jellie who crawled up between them with a displeased ‘merp.’

“Aw, don’t worry, we won’t forget about you,” Scar said after a second, laughing as he reached forwards to run his fingers down her fur. The sunlight shone through the windows behind the three of them, casting shadows and light across their skin, faces, and Jellie’s fur.

Grian had everything he needed in his grasp, and it truly felt like everything was going to be alright.

This was his ‘happy ever after,’ here, hand in hand with Scar.