Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Akande has never smelled clean air before. The Kingdom of Talon is situated among a string of Volcanoes, sending the foul smell of sulfur into the air. It spreads throughout the land even in areas where no such landmarks can be seen. The stench is only doubled near the royal castle, which sits right between two of the continent’s largest active volcanoes, just high enough to avoid lava flow when they erupt. The land around the castle’s grounds is covered in ash. It dances on the wind and at this time of year, blends in with the snow. The smoke is so heavy in the atmosphere that it is unsafe for one to be outside without a mask to shield his or her mouth and nose from the air.

The prince feels no pity for those visiting his Kingdom. When his father’s guests come into the throne room, pulling down the scarves covering their faces, coughing violently and spitting up black mucus, their noses wrinkled at the smell of the air, his lips curl up into the slightest of smirks. Akande grew up with this smell. It was all he knew and so he had no complaints. In fact, he got some delight in watching these foreigners struggle with the unfamiliar scent.

“Your Majesty,” one of the older men from the group speaks up. He is short, with dark skin, greying hair, and a flat nose like a pig. His ash covered boots drag against the cobble floors as he takes a step toward the king before seeming to lose confidence in his Majesty’s gaze and taking another step back. “I present to you, the princess of Vishkar, Satya Vaswani.”

The woman mentioned steps toward the royal family. She stops at the foot of the steps which lead up to three thrones. The king sits in the most ornate, middle throne, with his son on his left, and an empty seat on his right. The throne room is the least welcoming room in the castle. The walls and floors are plain, grey stone. There are torchlights lining the walls and lighting the path to the king’s chair. No decorations are in sight, nothing with the purpose to impress or wow their guests.

King Akinjide never felt very hospitable toward his visitors. Ever since his wife’s death nearly forty years ago, he has made it his mission to withdraw Talon from the other Kingdoms, only keeping brief and hesitant political ties when needed. He often said that a terrifying throne room such as this is necessary to scare away their visitors.

Akande cannot help but notice that the princess in front of them now does not seem nervous in their presence, perhaps due to betting raised in an equally restrictive royal household. She holds her head high, not afraid to meet both the king and the prince’s eyes.

Akande has heard rumors about the princess of Vishkar. The kingdom is known for its magical ties, including its army of sorcerers, witches, and mages. Of those magic wielders, Satya Vaswani is supposedly one of the strongest. Her royal blood gave her incredible powers in witchcraft, which she had been tutored privately on to control and perfect. Some said that she could make objects appear out of thin air and her grasp of alchemy is the strongest in the land.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” she says with a small bow to the King before turning her attention to Akande with a second one, “Your Highness.” She waits for a moment, seeming to expect a response before continuing. “I am here on Vishkar’s behalf to propose a permanent alliance between our neighboring Kingdoms. Vishkar and Talon have acted as strangers for too long. We believe that an economic alliance will be beneficial to both of our families. The volcanoes in your Kingdom possess very precious minerals that can be used to-”

Akande tunes out the rest. He does not care about Vishkar or the resources that they have to offer. The words ‘permanent alliance’ told him everything. What Princess Vaswani is proposing is marriage, something Akande has been trying his best to avoid.

In truth, he had already been married once, soon after his eighteenth birthday, as was generally required of royalty. The woman he had been wed too was not very notable. She was rather plain looking and not very smart. Akande never for a moment loved her and it was rare that he spent time with her outside of social functions. But she was not a bad wife.

It was a shame that she died the way that she did.

Akande wonders now if Satya Vaswani is worried about meeting the same fate, should she marry into this family. Surely the rumors of what had happened to Akande’s first wife had reached Vishkar years ago.

The princess before him now is admittedly beautiful, with long hair and dark skin. He eyes are a stunning golden hazel and she wears a light blue dress with slits on either side to show off toned legs. Akande knew that almost any man would be lucky to claim her as his bride. But the longer she talks on about the chemical properties of the minerals in Talon’s land and how they could be used to benefit Vishkar’s sorcerers and their potions and spells, he grows annoyed. The woman is too smart, too sure of herself. Akande is sure that if he agreed to marry her, she would be more trouble than she is worth.

“Enough,” he says, finally speaking up and interrupting their guest. “Thank you for your consideration Princess Satya. I will not be accepting this proposal. I still grieve for my late wife and do not plan to remarry anytime soon.” The lie came easily to him, though it is far less believable now than it was twenty years ago when he first started using the excuse. With Akande’s forty-fifth name day approaching, there are very few people who still believe that he is refusing to marry out of love for his deceased wife.

“It seems that Vishkar will be getting far more from an alliance than Talon. What does your Kingdom have to offer?” Akande is surprised when his father speaks up. In his old age, the king has fallen out of politics and left most decisions regarding Talon to his heir. But now, it seems as though this princess has spiked his interest enough for him to participate in negotiations.

Satya’s lips form a thin line, frustrated at having been rejected in the middle of her proposal. When the king speaks up though, her put-on smile quickly returns. “Vishkar’s influence is constantly expanding. Our armies have completed the capture of many lands and our resources range from gold to spices. Our Kingdom is stronger than many and our army now even rivals Overwatch’s in size. We will offer you protection against invaders as well as reduced tariffs on trade.”

Akande’s eyes are drawn to one of Satya’s soldiers, dressed in silver armor as she approaches the royal family. In her hands, she holds a golden cage that Akande had not noticed before. It stands not even a foot high, and not wide at all with bars that run vertical to the base and meet in a dome on the top. There is something inside that Akande cannot make out at this distance.

“This is a Fae, taken from the forests to the south of Vishkar. My Kingdom took the lands there by force and I have brought this creature as a gift to you. It is one of the last of its kind, so you must see how valuable it is. Vishkar hopes that you will accept our offer of an alliance. Of course, you can have as much time as you need to consider your options.”

The knight kneels before King Akinjide, holding out the cage, along with a small scroll in an offering.

The old man rolls his eyes at the gesture, not one for accepting bribery. He then turns his attention to his son, nodding first to him and then toward the gift in instruction.

Akande stares down at the kneeling knight for only a moment before standing from his throne and taking the cage in one hand and scroll in the other before. As he returns to his seat, he spares a glance at his father before turning his attention to the creature within the cage.

“He’s a bit sick from the smoke,” Princess Satya explains, “I suggest that you do not let him out of his cage. He’ll be quite difficult to manage, should he escape. There are other ways, potions and spells, which can be used to keep his powers at bay. The scroll that we have given you includes information about his species, as well as instructions for caring for him. We at Vishkar have done quite a bit of,” she pauses here, seeming to think of an appropriate word to use. “Experimenting,” she states plainly after a moment, “on his species. So any questions that you may have will be addressed there.”

Akande finds himself tuning out much of what the foreigner says as he holds the cage up to eye level so that he can get a better look at the fae inside. He is much more humanoid in shape than Akande would have imagined. The fae only stands at about five inches tall and he is incredibly thin. He has dark skin, with a shimmering mark like a tattoo on the shoulder of his left arm that matches the color of the fae’s golden eyes. Eyes that narrow in hostility at the much larger man looking in on him. His wings are a gorgeous mixture of green and gold though they seem to be dingy with soot at the moment.

Pity for the creature twists in Akande’s chest as he watches the tiny man try to fight a violent cough. His wings spasm and shake with the force of it and within a moment, he is curling up on the floor of the cage with his back toward the prince.

Akande lets out a quiet tsk of disapproval before turning his attention back to the princess in the throne room. “You said he was a bit sick,” he says, accusation laced in his words, “but this faerie looks as though he is dying.”

Satya’s frowns at the lack of gratitude shown toward her offering. “Faeries have incredible powers, Your Majesty,” she retorts sharply, though she goes quiet right after. She takes a deep breath before reverting to her much calmer tone. “This one’s specialty is healing. We’ve seen him overcome many things thus far. Sickness will not affect him in the long run.”

Akande sets the cage in his lap, being uncharacteristically careful to make sure that he does not jostle the injured fae. He was not sure how much trust should be placed in the foreign princess, but if this gift is truly as valuable as she says, it should be taken care of.

“I will consider your offer of alliance,” he says finally, feeling both the eyes of the king and foreign party on him. “If this creature survives the night.”

Chapter Text

Lucio’s first real memory is of his mother’s voice. He was not sure where he was when he heard it. Perhaps he was nestled into the leaves on the forest floor, readying himself for bed as she sang him a lullaby. Maybe he was sitting on her hip with one of her strong arms keeping him in place as she gathered berries for a meal. Or was he up in a tree, staring up at the brilliant light that peaks through the branches of the green canopy above? Places, objects, sights, and smells are all hazy in his memory, but his mother’s singing remains in his head as clear as day. Every word, every note is engraved in him as the first song he ever heard.

All faeries supposedly possess a talent for music. Their culture is built off songs and rhythms passed down through the generations. They say that music is in their blood and in their bones, in every breath and step that they take. But despite the hundreds of other faeries who have a talent for song, Lucio never for a moment believed that any of them were as gifted as his mother. She had the most beautiful voice of all of the Fae.

It is painful to hear that beautiful voice break and crackle as she screams after her youngest son, calling for him to come back. To join her and his siblings and flee the forest.

But how could Lucio run away? He had gotten his family to safety, carrying his baby sister in his arms as he guided his mother and younger brother through the smoke and fire to the edge of the forest. Immediately, he had handed his little sister over into his old mother’s arms and kissed her cheek. She had been confused by the gesture but soon understood when Lucio turned to his brother with instructions to keep moving and to take care of their family.

Lucio had to run back into the maze of burning trees. There were still so many Fae who were hurt or lost. He knew that with his gift, he would be able to help them. Even saving just one person would make everything worth it, but he could not run knowing that his people were still in danger.

As he runs through the expanse of trees, he can feel the flames hot against his bare flesh and he keeps his wings tucked down to avoid the fires as best as he can. While he possessed a gift for self-regeneration, most Fae were not so lucky. The first that he comes across is a young woman, crawling on the ground and screaming in pain as the fire sears her skin. As Lucio moves toward her, the sight that greets him makes his stomach drop in disgust.

Half of the woman's body looks as it once had, with pale, flawless skin accented by deep purple tattoos that trail up her right arm and white hair that falls to her shoulders. The other half, however, is disfigured beyond recognition. Her hair on the left side has been burned off down to her scalp, which is charred from being exposed to flames. Black, burned skin along her arm and side is damaged and peeling, leaving behind deep red, raw muscle. Both of her wings are burned black, torn, and mangled.

Lucio forces his gaze away from the horror, locking his golden eyes onto the woman's deep purple ones, filled with tears as she sobs out in pain, coughing and sputtering as weak lungs try to rid themselves of smoke. “Hey,” he says quietly, moving his hand to the back of her neck, “Hey hey hey, shhh. I got you. I got you. You're going to be okay.” He tries to reassure her as his eyes begin to glow.

It was not unusual for a Faerie to possess other-worldly powers, each dictated by their eye color. Dark-eyed Faes have no mystic abilities. Those with golden eyes like Lucio are able to regenerate their bodies when they are harmed. Blue eyes indicate the ability to breathe underwater. The woman in pain now has the capability of teleportation, one of the more rare traits, though it seems as though she is in too much agony at the moment to focus her powers.

Lucio realized that he was special at a very young age. Both of his parents and their parents before them all had dark eyes, so when his mother gave birth to a golden-eyed boy, they knew that he was special and named him Lucio, meaning “light.” It was stranger still when they learned of the extent of his powers. Of all of the powers that Fae could possess, none of their abilities could be applied to another person. They were all related to the environment or to assisting the individual owner of them. So when an eight-year-old Lucio healed his baby brother’s scraped knee one day, the elder Faeries were called to examine the peculiar healer.

Since then, Lucio has largely hidden his powers. But now, there were people who needed him to use them.

The woman’s violet eyes shut tight as Lucio’s glow brighter. He watches as the red and bloody skin begins to heal itself, slowly getting paler as he rubs her arm, pushing and peeling away the blackened dead skin. She winces at this, letting out an almost inhuman whimper before going silent as the pain fades.

When she opens her eyes again, she immediately looks at her hands, amazed to find her ghostly pale skin completely healed. She rubs her arms and sits up, stretching out her newly healed, delicate purple wings before looking up to her savior with glassy eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers out quietly, barely heard over the crackling of the forest fire around them. “Thank you. I’m sorry.” And with that, she disappears in a zip of purple light.

Lucio lets out a sigh of relief at having saved the woman, but his mood quickly turns as a scream meets his ears from somewhere to his left. Almost immediately, he is on his feet, running toward the sound. Within a minute, he can see people moving and hear them shouting from a forest clearing up ahead. Without a second thought, he shrinks down to a smaller size and peeks out from behind a tree branch to the scene before him.

“My daughter! That’s my daughter, please!”

There are about ten soldiers in the clearing, all adorned in the same silver armor. One of them has a very young, dark-skinned, green-eyed Fae by the arm, pulling her toward a rather large cage as she screams and thrashes in retaliation. He watches as the young girl puts both of her feet against the cage, pushing against it to try and stop from being forced inside.

“Dad!” she screams out, voice breaking as she turns her body, reaching for her father. She shrinks down in size, hoping to slip through the man's grip. Instead, the burly man just tightens a fist around her, squeezing her hard enough that Lucio is almost sure that any more pressure will break her bones. She grows in size again, trying to loosen his hold, and in one last attempt, slings her fist across the older man’s face in a sloppy punch.

The knight does not falter, the hit barely registering for him as he grabs onto one of the girl’s yellow, butterfly-like wings and rips it, tearing a shriek from the girl as he pulls away a large chunk of her wing. Lucio finally notices the syringe in his hand just as he pushes it into the girl's neck before tossing her into the cage immediately.

“Be careful,” A calm, authoritative voice brings Lucio’s attention to a tall, red-haired woman who stands proudly between two silver soldiers. “If you destroy my specimens before we reach Vishkar, I’ll kill you myself.” The woman takes a few steps toward the cage, holding her head high as she stares down at her new captive. She lets out a quiet tsk of disapproval at the state of the girl's wing. “We should be able to patch it up.”

“Please!” Lucio then turns his attention to the older man, who is being held down by a soldier. His wings seem to be ripped off entirely. His back is soaked with his own blood. The knight on top of him has him pinned down with a knee on his back and a heavy gloved hand on the back of his neck. “Please. My Efi. Please let my Efi go! Take me! You can have me!”

The red-haired woman steps toward the grieving father, a cruel smile forming on her face. “Really?” she asks, seeming to only grow more amused as the frail old man nods quickly, drool and tears running down his face as he looks up at her. “The girl has her father's eyes,” she comments offhandedly to the soldier holding onto him, “We don't need two green-eyed ones. Kill him. And… we are in no rush.”

The soldier lets out a quiet laugh at his boss’s cruelty, pulling a knife from his belt and dragging it across the old man's back, tearing into his skin and earning a blood-curdling scream in return.

It all becomes too much for Lucio to watch. He does not even think as he rushes from the treeline, four wings carry him quickly as he zips toward the soldier. He picks up enough speed that when he transforms into his larger form and lands a kick directly into the side of the man’s head, the blood covered blade drops to the ground and the guard stumbles off to the side.

The golden eyed Fae is quick to grab onto the knife and hold it up in defense, though he now knows how difficult of a situation he has gotten himself into. He rests a hand on the old man’s back, eyes darting from the lanky woman to the silver-clad men surrounding him as his eyes begin to glow and the skin on the old man’s back starts to close up as the cuts are healed. The clearing is still and silent. Many sets of eyes watch the old man’s back as Lucio works his magic, reforming the man’s large yellow wings slowly.

The man keeps babbling about his daughter throughout the process and it is not until he's entirely healed that he even acknowledges Lucio presence. “You,” he says quietly, “You saved me. You saved-"

“This is interesting indeed,” the leader says, two mismatched eyes locking onto Lucio. “the other golden Fae cannot heal others, isn’t that right?” She does not give the young man a chance to respond before nodding toward him. “I want that one.”

Lucio does not have time to process the command before hands are on him. The guard closest to him grabs him by the wing and pulls him away from the older man. Lucio hisses in pain at the tug on the appendage and immediately slashes at the soldier with the knife, slashing him in the side before shrinking down and flying around his head. When he returns to his full size, he immediately drops his heel onto the man’s skull, snapping his head hard against the ground with enough force to break his nose.

Another soldier meets him next, and Lucio shrinks once again, flying up high above the man’s head and transforming. His thighs lock on the man’s shoulders and he leans forward quickly, sending the man stumbling to the ground. His wings were not strong enough to carry him in his larger form but Lucio knew how to use this to his advantage, tossing his weight when he could and shifting forms at just the right time. He grows smaller again, just in time to avoid the fall.

When his feet touch the ground again, he feels something rough latch onto his leg, anchoring him to the ground. He hisses in pain as he tries to pull his leg up, only for what feel like blades to drag across his ankle and open his flesh. He looks down to see a vine, covered in thorns and growing straight from the ground. It wraps up his leg quickly, curling around the bare flesh there and ripping the skin from his ankle to his thigh. He screams out in pain, eyes darting around his surroundings to the faces of the soldiers, who seem to be just as confused as Lucio. It’s then that he realizes what is happening and turns his head toward Efi’s father.

The older Faerie stands up straight now, yellow wings outstretched far past his body. His fists are clenched at his side and his green eyes are glowing brightly with the use of his powers.

Lucio shrinks down but the vines only tighten around him. A thorn catches him just right in the stomach and drags across his abdomen, slicing open his gut and causing him to scream as he grows once again, eyes burning a hot golden as his body fights to heal itself.

“I’ll give him to you,” the old man offers, tears running from his glowing eyes as he faces the dual eyed stranger. “You can have him! Just- just give me my daughter back! Let my Efi go!”

“Dad, stop!” The young girl screams from the cage, though her cries go unheard by the others. He own eyes glow green as well, trying to fight her father’s power. It was rare that a gardening Fae had such control over their element and it was clear that the girl is no match for her father’s mastery of the ability.

The red-haired woman nods toward her guards in confirmation, amused by the turn of events. “Well,” she says with a cold laugh, “You certainly have surprised me. Fine. Give him to us.”

Lucio tries to pull away from the approaching soldier, but with his leg being torn and slashed, there is not much he can do to defend himself from the syringe plunging into his neck. The vine around his leg loosens and falls to the ground and it is then that he realizes that the syringe seemed to contain some kind of form shifting prohibitor. As hard as he tries to shrink down to fly away from the soldiers dragging him toward the cage, he can not seem to make his body follow his commands.

“My daughter!” the older man says quickly as if their captives could have forgotten. “You said you’d release her!”

“You are right,” the tall woman says with a nod, walking toward the cage. As Lucio gets forced into it, she grabs the young Fae by the wrist and pulls her toward the opening. “Restrain him,” she tells the soldiers, who all move to do as ordered, grabbing onto the older Faerie and forcing him to the ashy ground with spears and knives at his throat.

Lucio stares from the cage in horror as the woman pulls a knife from her belt and plunges it into the young girl’s stomach as soon as her bare feet touch the ground outside of the cage.

“Efi!” the older Fae screams out in agony at watching his only child’s life being taken before him. “Someone! Someone save my daughter!” He cries out, crumbling in on himself. His eyes glow even brighter than before then flicker and fade as he closes them tight, having expended all of his energy in Lucio’s capture.

“She’s out of the cage,” the cruel woman says simply, “Is that not what you wanted?” She lets Efi fall to the ground and Lucio watches in horror as the child grabs at her stomach, trying to stop the bleeding, gasping and choking with every breath. “Now,” the woman continues, “If I put her back into the cage, will you heal her?”

Lucio realizes quickly that he is being spoken to and nods his head, already trying to reach between the bars for the young girl, only to have the woman slash at his arm without hesitance.

“What do you say, dad?” She asks, sending a grin over to the old man. “Do you want her to come with us? You gave us this healer Fae, so she can either bleed out here or come with him to Vishkar. I will give you the choice. Do we have permission to take your daughter?”

The old man’s eyes widen with fear, disgust, and disbelief at the situation before him. His daughter's life is being ripped from his hands and the only way for him to save her is to hand her over to the man he betrayed and turned over to these soldiers. He would have to send her to an unknown and possibly much worst fate to save her life. But still, he does not bother to think it over, nodding desperately and sobbing as the young girl is forced back into the cage with the new captive.

Lucio’s arms circle around the child immediately, hugging her to his chest as his eyes glow bright, trying his hardest to heal the wound. Her breathing is shallow and strained and her blood soaks both of their bodies as well as the floor of the cage.

When the order is given to kill the old man, neither captured Fae look in his direction, turning their heads as Efi cries out for her father.

Chapter Text

Akande was not overly interested in the gift that Satya gave him.

After his meeting with the diplomats of Vishkar, Akande immediately returned to his room, carrying the golden cage in his arms carefully as to not jostle the Faerie around. The creature looked incredibly exhausted, sick, and malnourished, coughing up black phlegm and curling up on the bottom of his cage.

The prince thought the sight was pitiful, though he did not know how to help this new pet. Wondering if the creature was hungry, he turned his attention to the bowl of fruit on the table in the corner. He took a single grape from the vine and poured a bit of water into a small bowl before placing them both into the cage. He was surprised to see the Fae make no move to escape, still curled up on the golden ground.

When the winged creature began downing the water, scooping it into both hands and drinking it in heavy gulps, Akande felt relieved. The feeling was washed away completely though when soon after, the creature doubled over and threw up all of it onto the floor of the cage.

The prince had been frustrated, though he remembered the scroll that had been given to him. Satya said that it would have instructions for how to care for the Fae, and so Akande wasted no time in reading it. Though he was disappointed to find that Satya’s definition of “taking care of” the Fae was more along the lines of how to keep him prisoner and discipline him rather than actually care for him.

And so Akande could do nothing but try and make the creature comfortable, giving him a bit of food and water every day and even going as far as to give him some scraps of fabric to sleep on rather than the hard cage floor.

In a matter of days, he began seeing improvements in his pet. The Fae’s wings and the marking on his arm became brighter and shimmered in the torchlight. He looked as though he had been sleeping a bit better, and started eating better as the days went on.

Almost a week has passed since he received his gift, and the Fae looked good as new.

At hearing a quiet knock on the door, Akande stands immediately from his seat at the window, where he had been using the natural lighting to read. He places a marker in his book to keep the spot, then sets the book next to his Fae’s cage on the way to the door, not sparing a glance to the tiny man. He knows exactly who his visitor is before he even opens the door. The servants of the house are under strict orders to never disturb him and thanks to a letter he received from the visitor by raven a few days ago, Akande was expecting him.

“God, Talon is still such a shit hole,” the man says, pushing past Akande to make his way into the room as soon as the door opens. He sheds his heavy black coat without a second thought and lets it fall to the ground, getting ash from the outside on the prince’s normally immaculate floor.

The prince’s guest stands a little over six feet tall, though he is dwarfed in comparison to Akande. His head is shaved into a buzz cut and he has a full, dark mustache and beard. His tanned skin is covered in scars, some on his face and hands, though most are hidden by the all-black attire that he wears now.

“You are not welcome here if you are going to make a mess of my castle, Gabriel,” Akande says with a frown, reaching down and picking up the soot-covered garment and taking it to the coathanger by the door that the other man had so rudely ignored. He was unsure if he should be annoyed or amused by his friend's careless attitude.

The shorter man lets out a laugh at the other’s pickiness. “Gabriel?” he asks, “I thought you were calling me Sir Reyes now. Or did you want to go back to a first name basis?”

“As if you deserve that title in the first place,” Akande says with a scoff, “Do you really think that Jack Morrison would have knighted you if he knew that you were here now?”

Gabriel grins, unphased. “He doesn't know that I'm here though, and I plan to keep it that way,” he says, “You aren’t going to tell me you’re jealous because I’ve been coming to see you less since my knighting, are you?”

Akande lets out a breath of air that could almost pass for a laugh, shaking his head. “As if,” he retorts easily, “This place has been far calmer without you popping in every few weeks. What brings you here now? It’s been months. Talon and Overwatch are still not on good terms. Didn't you say you would lay low until tensions blew over?"

“You've never had a problem with me coming here before,” Gabriel says, his tone playful, “I just wanted to catch up with you is all. I heard from Jack that Vishkar is trying to ally itself with Talon.” He ignores the taller man’s frown at the mention of the neighboring kingdom. “I also heard you got an interesting gift with the proposal. Is that it?” The traveler asks, eyes falling onto the Fae and taking a few steps toward the dresser. He takes the cage in both of his hands and holds it up to his face to get a closer look at the winged man. “I heard he can heal people, is that right?”

At the cage shifting, the Faerie stumbles and holds tight to the bars to keep from falling over, only making Gabriel laugh cruelly at the frail thing.

“I haven't seen him do anything like that,” Akande says, eyes narrowed at his friend as the traveler turns the cage in his hands. “Put him down.”

“Why’re you keeping it then?” Gabe asks, narrowing his eyes at the cage with a mischievous grin. “If he can’t heal people then what’s the use?” At the question, Gabriel shakes the cage, sending the tiny creature stumbling to the ground and slamming against the bars.

“He’s just something pretty to look at,” Akande explains calmly, but as he sees his friend shaking the cage he hurries forward and grabs the knight by the shoulder. “Quit it,” he says angrily, voice more dangerous than Gabriel had heard in a long time, “Now.”

Gabriel frowns hard, setting the cage back down on the dresser with a hard thud and sending the tiny man crumbling to the floor again. The two men glare at each other, silence falling over the both of them at the tension in the air.

Seeing Gabriel mistreat the Fae made Akande angry. The Faerie belongs to him .

After a moment, Gabriel shrugs Akande’s hand off of his shoulder and steps toward the bed to sit down. “So what about you?” he asks, “Are you going to marry Satya Vaswani?”

Akande shakes his head, annoyed by both the question and Gabriel’s behavior. “Of course not. I’ve been avoiding marriage for too many years to give up now. Why?” he asks, leaning down to look at his pet in his cage and make sure he is not hurt badly before turning to his friend. “Are you worried that you’ll lose another one of your lovers to an arranged marriage?”

“Don’t compare yourself to him,” Gabriel warns, voice lowering dangerously, his own anger building “It is different with Jack. And I didn't lose him." Gabriel's voice is sharp, though he is unsure if he is trying to convince Akande or himself.

Gabriel had not always been a knight. Years ago, he worked as a bounty hunter for Talon’s royal family, hunting down and bringing back the heads of the family’s enemies. He and Akande had been close, much more than they are now. They slept together any chance they got, and out of all of Akande’s secret lovers, Gabriel had been his favorite.

The two shared many nights together between the bounty hunter’s missions, until one day Gabriel disappeared. He had been sent on an assassination mission by King Akinjide to kill the Prince of Overwatch. Years passed and Akande nearly forgot about the bounty hunter, until he showed up in Talon one afternoon. He came into the castle, hiding away from the king to speak only to Akande. He claimed that he had fallen in love with the prince, that the two were happy together, and that he had been knighted under the king of Overwatch.

After that, Gabriel began visiting him again, not with the intent of fooling around but rather to catch up and remain friends, given that neither of them had anyone else.  Their affair did not pick back up again until Jack Morrison’s marriage announcement was made. Akande heard of the engagement by letter and not two days later, Gabriel appeared. The knight was enraged at the news and ready to get vengeance the only way he could think of: sleeping with the prince of Overwatch’s rivaling Kingdom.

It never stopped after that. Even when Gabriel and Jack seemed to make up and put their situations aside, Gabriel continued his visits to Talon and to the bedroom for Akande Ogundimu.

“Maybe you should get married,” Gabriel suggests, forcing up a grin, which only widens as Akande walks toward him. “You stay locked away all the time, maybe it'd be good for you to have someone other than me to come see you.”

The larger man smirks ever so slightly as he stands in front of Gabriel. “You assume that you are the only one who comes to see me,” he responds, moving his hand to rest on Gabriel's shoulder and squeezing onto it.

Gabriel knew the prince was not bluffing. Akande had plenty of lovers. The prince is undeniably attractive, taller than most men, well built and strong, with chiseled features and an overwhelming presence. So much so that when Akande gives him the command, “Take your clothes off,” Gabriel can do nothing but stand and comply.

The knight stares up at his friend, eyes locked onto Akande’s as his calloused fingers work at the silver buttons of a black shirt that looked far too expensive for Gabriel to have bought it himself. The fabric is heavy and well made, embroidered with dark thread in intricate patterns that no common man, or even a knight, could afford.

Akande cannot help but smirk, thinking that Jack Morrison probably had it tailored just for his favorite knight. The fact that Gabriel is so willing to remove it on the Prince of Talon’s request makes his ego swell. “Your pants too. Shoes. Everything,” he encourages Gabriel, stepping back and letting his eyes run over Gabriel’s dark, scarred, and toned skin. “Why do you still come here?” he asks, eyes meeting the other man’s just as Gabriel pulls off his second boot and lets it fall to the floor.

“Jack hasn’t been any fun since he became king,” Gabriel admits, stepping closer to Akande and resting a hand on the larger man’s hip. “He’s been too busy running Overwatch and taking care of his family to-”

“To fuck you properly?” Akande asks with a dark smile, grabbing onto Gabriel’s wrist and spinning him around to face the other way. “You’re such a slut,” the prince mutters, putting a large hand on Gabriel’s back and forcing him to bend over onto the oversized bed and push his ass up into the air.

Gabriel grits his teeth at the comment, though he knew there was some truth in it. He did this anytime he was upset with Jack. When the other man stopped paying him attention or when they fought, Gabriel would take the trip to Talon just to sleep with his secret lover.

The knight says nothing but raises his hips up just a bit further. He hates to admit it, but he likes being dominated like this and Akande is the only man big enough and strong enough to put him in his place.

A small smile makes its way across Akande’s lips. He reaches forward, grabbing one of Gabriel’s ass cheeks in his large hand and pulling it to the side to get a glimpse of his dark and puckered asshole. It brought him more pleasure than he would admit, seeing this man obey his commands and submitting to him.

Usually, the men that Akande slept with were weak-willed or frail, servants of the house that caught his eye, stable boys, or sons of foreign diplomats. Gabriel was by far the strongest and most dangerous man that Akande had slept with and he loved knocking him back down to size.

“Suck,” he commands, outstretching his arm and shoving three fingers into Gabriel’s mouth ruthlessly. “Get them wet and do a good job,” he continues, “It does not affect me if this hurts you.”

Gabriel likes to think that he knows Akande well enough by now. He would like to say that the younger man would not actually hurt him but he is not so confident. And so he does as he is told. He gags quietly as the long fingers force their way into his mouth and graze the back of his throat but quickly recovers, swirling his tongue around the digits and spitting against them. He works quickly, not wanting to keep his friend waiting.

Gabriel is already turned on just from being manhandled. His dick is erect and pressing against the silk sheets of the bed. He grinds his hips against the smooth fabric as he practically drools onto Akande’s fingers.

The prince hums quietly at the display, impressed by how quickly the other man had resigned himself to his fate. He pulls his hand from Gabriel’s mouth and hurries to press a thick finger into the other man’s entrance. He bites his lip, moving the finger in and out slowly and trying to hold back a chuckle at how tight the other man is. “Your king really hasn’t been taking care of you,” he comments, curling the finger down hard against Gabriel’s prostate and making the knight arch his back and groan, too caught up in his own pleasure to argue.

Akande prepares his lover quickly, fucking him with his fingers brutally, adding one after another until he decides that Gabriel is stretched open enough for him. “Don’t come until I’m finished with you,” he warns, stroking his own dick in his hand now to get it at full mast before pushing it hard into Gabriel’s wet and stretched hole, “Even if you do, I’m not stopping.”

From the cage on the dresser, the Faerie stares at the two men with wide, golden eyes, too scared to speak up and remind them of his presence and too turned on to tear his eyes away from the scene.

Chapter Text

It was terrifying how grateful Lucio was to Akande sometimes. This man literally owned him. He has been kept in a cage for over three weeks and given barely enough room to stretch out his wings. He lives as some sort of pet or decoration, sitting on the top of the prince’s dresser. Akande did not even think of him as a person but rather “just something pretty to look at,” an expensive, living ornament.

But still, there were moments when Lucio forgot about all of that and thought of Akande Ogundimu as his savior, as sick as it was.

These past weeks have been the first time in months in which you young Fae has not gone hungry. Every day he is given food: a couple of berries, a few crumbs of bread, or leftovers from Akande’s dinners. When he had been Vishkar’s prisoner, food was incredibly rare. When it was provided, it came in the form of slimy, unidentifiable porridge.

The change in his diet had not come easily to Lucio. The first night in Talon, Lucio had been so excited to see real food and clean water, that he had gulped down handfuls of the cool liquid, only to throw it up a moment later. It seemed as though his stomach had been conditioned to only being given the bare minimum and so it took the Faerie days to be able to eat normally again.

He had also been both surprised and grateful for the lack of attention that his captor showed him. Since his gifting to the royal family, Akande has not spoken a word to him. While this behavior made the healer nervous for the first few days, he quickly adjusted and was grateful to be left alone.

During his stay in Vishkar’s cells, he would pray and beg to be left alone. Soldiers and guards in the prison would often ‘check in on him,’ tormenting physically and emotionally until they got bored of their games and moved on to the next Fae. And so Lucio was delighted when he realized that Akande would do no such thing to him.

These small acts of human decency should not have come off as kindness to Lucio. The healer wonders if he had lost his mind during his captivity in Vishkar. Had he been starved and tortured by Moira and her men so much so that he has latched onto the first person to show him any sort of care?

He has to constantly remind himself: Prince Akande Ogundimu is a monster. He is my captor. He cannot be trusted.

“You can leave now,” Akande’s voice brings Lucio’s attention from his cage to the sight before him. He watches as the prince stands, stretching his arms out and frowning down at the younger man laying across his majesty’s oversized bed.

The prince’s guest sits up, letting out a quiet groan as he does so. Lucio imagines that his back must hurt, given the way that Akande seemed to have practically bent him in half while fucking him earlier. “Pleasure doing business with you,” the scrawny man says with a delighted hum, trying to ignore the pain running up his spine. The stranger is young and thin with pale skin and blonde curls that fall around his shoulders. His eyes are bright blue and flicker with the torches that line the walls of the prince’s bedroom. He has visited Akande several times since Lucio was given to the prince, paid each time for his work.

“Your money’s over there,” Akande explains, nodding over to the deep purple coin sack on the small table for two by the window. The prince stares down at the younger man in his bed for a moment before letting out a quiet huff of air. “I’m washing up, Charlie. Be gone by the time I’m done,” he orders, earning him a smile from the smaller man.

The Faerie stares after Akande as he leaves the room and heads into the adjoining bathroom. Lucio does not need to look at the sex worker to know that Charlie’s eyes are also on the prince, staring at Akande’s broad shoulders, muscular back, and thick thighs as he leaves the room.

The young stranger lets out a quiet and low whistle as the door closes. As scary as Prince Akande is, no one could argue the fact that he was incredibly attractive. Charlie would like to think that anyone would be lucky to have sex with the older man on a regular basis. He shakes his head, curls bouncing off his shoulders before standing from the bed and stretching his arms well above his head. His dick hangs limp between his thighs, covered with both his and Akande’s spend. He does not seem to mind though as he makes his way around the room, gathering his clothes from the floor and slowly getting dressed. He does not bother to wipe the drying liquids away, after all, he would be going right back to work.

Charlie collects the bag of coins from the table and tosses it in his hand, feeling the heavy weight of it in his palm. He never felt the need to count Akande’s money on site, and instead saved that for when he returned to the brothel of the nearby town. He knew the prince could not afford to short him on money since Charlie is doing him a great service by keeping their meetings private.

He turns from the window, ready to leave before his eyes catch on the golden cage sitting atop Akande’s dresser. He glances to the door that the prince left through, listening for any possible sound to determine if Akande is coming back or not. He can hear the faint sound of running water and so he hurries over to the creature in the cage, eager to see the Faerie that he had never gotten a good look at.

Lucio grimaces as the visitor picks up his cage, bringing the small healer up to a pair of bright blue, curious eyes. The Fae curls in on himself, fingers tightening almost painfully around the bars of the cage as he holds on for purchase.

Charlie stares into the cage, turning it in his hands to try and see the Fae from all angles, though the small creature tries his best to not turn his back on the human. “Hey,” the young man says in a soft voice, not wanting Akande to hear him in the next room, “I’m just looking,” he says softly as if the Fae would lower his guard knowing this. “Wow,” he says quietly, voice laced with awe, “You are so beautiful.”

A creak in the bathroom makes Charlie jump in surprise, hands fumbling on the golden cage. He can do nothing but watch in horror as the small golden prison falls and clatters hard against the dark marble of the floor.

The loud noise echoes off of the stone walls and floor and Charlie realizes that there was little to no chance that Akande did not hear the racket. Time seems to freeze as the young man thinks over what he should do. He, of course, feels guilty for dropping the defenseless creature on the ground, but more than anything he fears for his own life. What would Akande do if he found out that a common whore had been going through his possessions? Even worse, if the Fae is injured, would the royal family have him executed?

He struggles to decide whether to check on the Faerie to see if he is okay or to flee. His fear wins out and he bolts toward the door before the Prince can return. Maybe Akande would not track him down, given that he would have to admit to hiring a male prostitute to do so. The well-being of the Faerie leaves his mind completely as he worries for his own safety.

Lucio saw the world rush past him as he fell. He tries desperately to catch the air on his wings, but the heavy weight of the cage pushes him down to the ground with it. He feels his stomach lurch into his throat as he plummets toward the ground before the pain shoots through his body.

His wings are crushed beneath him as his body was slammed into the bars at full force. He is almost certain that the force has broken his ribs. He gasps for air, each breath sending a sharp pain through his left side.

Immediately, his eyes glow brilliantly as his body fights to heal itself. The pain in Lucio’s side slowly turns to a dull ache before disappearing completely. He shuts his eyes tight as he rolls onto his side, focusing next on the pain in his bent wings, which slowly straighten themselves back out and flutter quickly.

He is still and silent for a long time, making sure that he did not take any additional damage before he finally sits up on his knees to take in his surroundings. His cage is on its side and as Lucio moves to stand, he sees something that makes him stop breathing.

The door of the cage is wide open and the golden padlock lays shattered against the floor.

Lucio stares at the broken lock for a moment, not quite sure what this could mean for him. Was he free? All he had to do was take a few steps and he could be out of his cage, but would that really be it for him? His mind races as he thinks over the past weeks. Akande was good to him. Akande made sure he had food and water. Akande never hit him or degraded him.

Akande kept him in a cage.

When Lucio’s mind finally catches up to him, his only option is clear. He moves quickly, taking a few steps forward and out of the opening, having to duck his head as he climbs out. When his feet meet the cold marble flooring, he knows better than to celebrate so soon. Akande could be back any second and so he needs to act fast.

He glances around the room for a moment before transforming, standing just over five feet when he takes on his larger form. He frowns down at the golden cage, the thing looking impossibly tiny to him now. The Fae reaches down and lifts the cage, wondering what about it was prohibiting him from growing. When he turns the cage to look at the bottom of it, he understands. Engraved into the base of the cage are several sigils that the young healer had seen during his time in Vishkar. There seemed to be some sort of enchantment that was keeping him from changing forms when inside of it.

Lucio frowns hard at the markings before realizing that the sound of running water is no longer coming from the bathroom. He knows that there is little time left. It was now or never and Lucio needed to make a run for it. He drops the cage to the ground without a care for the clattering racket it makes before rushing to the window.

He had never seen Akande open the window before but notices a latch on the window sill keeping it shut. He hears heavy footsteps thudding hard against the floor in the bathroom and he fumbles with the rusty latch, cutting his fingers on it impatiently before finally flicking it open. The bathroom door swings open with a loud thud just as Lucio manages to pry the window open, only to get a breath full of smoke and ash.

Chapter Text

Lucio’s breath hitches as he hears the bathroom door open and he immediately regrets his choices as the outside air rushes down his throat and into his lungs. The stench is worse than he remembered, sulfuric and rotting as it overtakes his senses. He chokes on the air, feeling it fill his chest and burn his insides. He coughs and wheezes, trying to rid his body of the foul air as his head spins.

He feels a large hand circle around his upper arm, almost bruising him, and he turns to lash out blindly. He feels his nails catch against the skin of Akande’s face but knows he is no match for the giant of a man. He shrinks down quickly, standing at only about five inches and slipping through the older man’s hand easily.

His wings beat quickly and he rushes out of the window, not looking back to his former captor. He shuts his eyes tight as he pushes on, flying blindly so that the ashes do not get in his eyes. But in this form, his body is much more fragile and his lungs are far too small to deal with the smoke filing them. The winter air is freezing his wings, numbing them and making his body feel impossibly heavy.  Within less than a minute he feels himself giving out and his mind going blank as it all becomes too much, and his frail body rushes toward the snow-covered ground.

Akande hisses at the sharp nails that drag across his face. He reels back in pain, fingers loosening just enough for the Fae to escape his grip. The prince quickly looks back to the window with squinted eyes to avoid the ashes rushing into his bedroom, just in time to see a pair of golden wings fluttering out into the cold and out of his reach.

The prince curses quietly, slamming the window shut to close off the air from outside. His mind races as he looks around his room, staring at the now blackened floor and furniture and the ashes that dance in the air. His eyes catch on the golden cage, now soot-covered and empty on the floor.

The Faerie escaped. Akande was not sure how, though he wonders if the young prostitute, Charlie, had anything to do with it. The thought of the younger man sends panic running through him. This creature saw him with Charlie just as he saw him with Gabriel and all of the other men Akande has spent nights with since the Fae was gifted to him.

The Faerie knew something that no one should know about the prince. Akande could not let him get away.

He hurries to his wardrobe, grabbing a heavy coat and pulling it on over his sleep shirt and pants before yanking on a pair of boots. He could not rally the guards to help him search. He could not chance anyone else learning of his secret. He would have to do this alone.

It did not take very long to find the young Fae. The creature had barely made is fifty feet from the castle’s outer wall before falling to the ground. He lays unconscious against the grey, ashy snow, shaking and wheezing, unable to breathe in the harsh environment. He is on his stomach, hands tightened into loose fists and his wings stretch out behind him, twitching as the hard wind blows at them. Akande was not sure when the Fae shifted back into his larger form but wonders if it has anything to do with the atmosphere.

He kneels down next to the Fae, knowing that he would need to work fast if he wants to save him. The young man is naked in the snow. If the air does not suffocate him, he will certainly freeze to death. Would that not be easier? Akande thinks to himself. He only came after his prisoner to stop a secret of his from getting out to the public. If the Faerie dies here, Akande would not have to worry about anyone finding out about his, what most people would deem ‘unacceptable,’ bedroom habits.

He is almost set on watching the Faerie be killed by the elements when the creature turns onto his side and coughs violently, his golden eyes meeting Akande’s and pleading for mercy in the briefest of moments before sliding shut again as his body goes limp.

The Prince feels pity wash over him for the familiar Fae. He could not let him die.

He frowns hard, pulling the thick fur coat from his shoulder and carefully, as if he were made of glass, wrapping the Fae in it and with caution to avoid bending his wings. He pulls the golden-eyed boy into his lap, holding his chest against his own much larger one and wraps both arms around his thin body as he stands.

Akande barely feels the cold as he carries his Fae back to Talon’s castle.

He can hear water. It is far off in the back of his mind, running through his head and down his spine. It fills up the world around him, soaking his skin and drenching his hair. It’s warm and hazy and comforting, lulling him in and out of consciousness.

When Lucio finally comes to his senses, he quickly realizes that the water in his dream was a reality. He sits in a bathtub larger than any he had seen before. He wonders if it could even be called a tub when a small pool was a bit more accurate. His eyes open and close weakly as he struggles to maintain alertness.

He wiggles his toes, staring at the digits through the clear water. It felt incredibly hot and he could tell that he was just regaining feeling after the numbness that had overtaken him in the outside cold.

He tries to take a deep breath, only for the warm air to irritate his throat and lungs. His body hitches forward violently as he falls into a coughing fit, shaking and splashing in the water as he coughs up black mucus into his hand. His eyes glow with a golden light as the remains of soot and smoke are forced from his lungs.

“You’re making a mess,” a deep, rumbling voice barely catches Lucio’s attention through the pain in his chest. “Here.”

Akande frowns hard, moving to sit at the edge of the tub. He takes the sick Fae’s wrist in his hand and brings a white washcloth up to wipe the gunk from the young man’s palm with his other. He clicks his tongue in a quiet tsk as the Fae struggles and tries to pull away. “Hold still,” he commands, his harsh voice immediately gaining compliance from the smaller man.

Lucio shakes in place, his surroundings and memories rushing back to him. He had nearly escaped. He made it out of his cage, out of the castle, beyond the walls, but it was for nothing. “Please let me go,” he says, voice breaking through his coughs as the reality hits him, “Let me go.”

“I did let you go,” the prince says sternly, frowning hard at his captive until his coughs finally die away, “And you almost got yourself killed.You’re lucky that I came after you.”

Lucio feels his eyes stinging, welling up with tears at having had freedom ripped away from him. He refuses to cry though and when he turns his head to finally look at the Prince of Talon, he feels anything but lucky.

Akande’s clothes are covered with ashes. He had washed himself less than an hour ago only to get dirty again when Lucio pried the window open, letting the outside air into his home. He has a series of long but shallow cuts running from his right cheekbone, across his lips, and to his chin from where Lucio scratched while him trying to escape. The wound still looks fresh, though any blood had been wiped away from the opened flesh.

“What is your name?”

The question throws Lucio for a loop. For over three weeks the prince has kept him as a pet, not speaking a word to him, and now he wants to know his name. The Faerie turns his head away, not wanting to look at the prince any longer or respond to him. He wishes he had never left his cage. Now there was no telling what would happen to him.

“Are you not going to answer me, Fae?” the prince asks, annoyance clear in his voice though he shows no sign of lashing out. “Fine then,” he says, frowning down at the smaller man as he stands beside the tub. “Get dressed and come out when you’re done,” he instructs, gesturing to a pile of folded clothes sitting atop the sink’s counter, “I have to finish cleaning up your mess.”

With that Akande turns to head toward the door leading back to his bedroom, leaving his prisoner speechless at the idea of being left alone.

The fae watches him begin to leave before bravely speaking up. “I don’t wear clothes,” he says, voice hoarse and unfamiliar, surprising both himself and Akande as he speaks up against the request, testing the amount of control the older man would hold over him.

Akande simply turns to spare one final glance at the Fae. He was unsure that the creature was even capable of speech, so he was relieved to hear him speak up, and in Common thankfully. “You do now,” Akande says dismissively, frowning at the golden-eyed boy before leaving the bathroom without another word.

Lucio curls in on himself, hugging his knees tight for comfort. His wings stretch out, fanning out behind him and dripping water onto the bathroom floor. He stares down at his knees, frowning at his dark and flawless skin, before looking at his thighs, then his stomach, and finally his arms. He is surprised at how clean his body is, remembering how Akande’s clothes were greyed with the soot from outside. His attention is then drawn to the pile of dirty washcloths laying wet in a pile in the corner of the bathroom.

It was not until the water ran cold that Lucio finally pulls himself from the tub. He grabs a towel from the counter to dry himself off and shakes his wings to get most of the water off of them. He remembers what Akande said about clothes and reluctantly pulls on the too big pair of cotton sleep pants. He fiddles with the shirt left for him for only a moment before deciding that it will not work with his wings and leaves it in its place.

He knows better than to keep Akande waiting for long. Eventually, he will have to leave the bathroom, so it is better to do so on his own than to have an angry prince drag him out.

When he peeks out of the bathroom, the first thing he sees is the prince’s back to him, sitting in his chair by the window with an open book in his palm and a table full of food in front of him. He glances around the room, noticing how Akande has already cleaned up the mess that Lucio made from opening the window. The floors have been swept and mopped, new sheets have been put on the bed, and the prince has changed out of his dirty clothes.

Lucio must have been hidden away in the bathroom for longer than he originally thought. He wonders if his captor will be mad at him, and his eyes wander to the door. He wanted to make a run for it but even if he did, he knew he could not survive the weather outside for long.

“Come sit down.”

Akande’s deep voice brings Lucio’s attention to him. Though the older man's face is turned away from him, the fear in Lucio has him walking forward after only a moment of hesitation. He keeps his distance from the Prince as he rounds the small dinner table, hands tightened around one another. He stares as the Prince closes his book and sets it on the table before slumping into the seat opposite of him.

“Eat,” Akande commands, nodding toward the food on the table. Next, he picks up a bottle of wine, pouring it into two chalices and setting one into of the younger man. “You threw up when I was bringing you up the stairs,” he explains with a hard frown, “You need to eat something.”

Lucio stares at the prince in confusion, not wanting to accept the food from him in case he had other motives. But when his eyes trail down to the plates of food before him, his mind goes hazy. He hadn't seen so much food in all of his life. There were bowls of fruit, greens, meats, bread, anything Lucio could have possibly asked for and it all looks and smells amazing. He cannot help himself, reaching forward and grabbing a loaf of bread and quickly biting into it, surprised at how soft and warm the food is, having only been given cold or stale food in the past.

“I did not know what kind of food you like,” the prince says, watching as the Fae devours the bread quickly, picking it apart with his fingers and chewing noisily with his mouth open. It is clear that the Fae has no interest in speaking to him while he eats and so Akande sits back in his chair, waiting patiently.

The prince can finally get a good look at the Fae now, with him being clean and more importantly, much bigger than he had been in his cage. He thinks for a moment how incredibly pretty this man is, with his golden eyes, excessively curly hair that just reaches past his shoulders, dark and perfect skin, thick lips, and high cheekbones. It’s hard for Akande to look away from him.

Almost half an hour passes before the Faerie has properly satiated his hunger, though he does not take more than a couple sips of the wine offered to him. Finally, he goes still, eyes locked down on his hands that grip the fabric of the much too big, brown pants.

“Will you tell me your name?” Akande finally asks again, unsurprised when the Fae does not respond but flinches when he speaks. The older man lets out a slow sigh. He rests an elbow on the arm of his chair and his chin on his hand as he watches the Fae for a bit longer. “You must get some sleep,” he insists, nodding toward the absurdly large bed that Lucio has watched Akande sleep in for weeks.

Lucio is hesitant to move until the prince prompts him with a quick, “Go on. We will talk when the time comes.” At the almost comforting words, Lucio finally looks up from his lap to meet his captor’s dark eyes. He opens his mouth only to close it again, confused by the gesture of kindness.

“I changed the sheets,” he explains, eyes as hard and emotionless as obsidian, watching for the Fae’s reaction with his next words. “You saw me with that man, didn’t you?” he asks, knowing it was impossible for that to have not been the case, only wanting to see what the Faerie thought of it. He could not have his secret getting out. At the slightest nod from the winged boy he continues, “I changed the sheets, so do not worry about that.”

Lucio’s mind is swarming, trying to take in all that has happened to him in the past hours. As if in a daze, he finally stands up, legs weak and heavy as he makes his way toward the inviting mattress, having never in his life slept on one before. In the forests of his home, the Faerie made bedding out of leaves. In Vishkar, he had nothing but the cold cell floor to sleep on. He stares down at the all-white cushions before turning back to look at his prince.

Overwhelmed by the sudden kindness being shown to him, he takes a few tentative steps toward the prince before stopping just in front of him. For a moment, he is sure he sees the slightest flash of worry in Akande’s eyes as he reaches for the older man’s face and rests his hand gently on the side of his cheek.

Lucio is not sure of himself. He cannot decide if he is doing the right thing. He does not know if it is safe to approach Akande like this, or to touch him, or to help him but he pushes all thoughts aside as his eyes begin to glow. He focuses in on the scratch marks he left on the prince’s face in their earlier struggle, watching as dark skin slowly grows over and closes up the pink wounds.

Before long, no trace of the marks can be found and the Faerie rubs over where the marks had been, stopping as his finger brush over Akande’s lips which immediately move into a frown at the soft gesture. “Lucio,” he finally says, letting his hand drop to his side, “My name is Lucio.”

Chapter Text

Akande was not quite sure what to do with this situation. Ever since his Faerie escaped its cage, the prince has hardly entered his own room. It is clear that the creature is scared of him from the way he flinches when Akande enters the room or curls in on himself when the older man speaks to him. And so Akande barely spends more than a couple of hours each day in his bedroom, using that time to deliver food and water to the Fae. It has even gotten to the point where Akande is staying in the guest wing of the castle, much to the confusion of the household servants and guards though thankfully the king has not noticed.

The prince is at war with himself. On one hand, he can not let the Faerie leave. The creature has seen Akande sleeping with several men during the past weeks and should the Fae feel vengeful, he could let that information slide to the public, tarnishing the Kingdom of Talon’s reputation. What would his father do if he knew that his son behaved this way behind closed doors? No. Akande could not let him go.

But on the other hand, this is not just some animal. Not a tiny, mindless creature, but a real person who clearly has thoughts and feelings. He is capable of speech. Capable of longing for escape. He has a name. Lucio. Just the sound of it drenches Akande’s mind in guilt.

The prince’s hand freezes on the door to his room, letting out a quiet breath of air. He has had two guards posted outside ever since the first night Lucio was freed, their sole purpose being to make sure no one leaves or enters unless it is the Prince. Both guards know better than to ask questions and are sworn to secrecy under oath. Akande spares them the slightest of glances before stepping into his room, unsurprised by the way the half-dressed Fae on the bed startles with the noise.

“You do not have to be afraid every time I enter the room,” the Prince says with a sigh, though he knows that his words do nothing to ease Lucio’s anxiety. He walks past the king sized bed without a glance to the Fae and sets down the contents of his arms on the small dinner table by the window. A couple of books, a basket of food from the kitchen, and a big jug of water.

Next, he turns his attention to rest on Lucio, staring at the Fae for a moment in confusion. “What are you doing?” he asks, frowning at the way that the creature’s golden wings still and his body hunches forward at being addressed. “You aren’t in trouble,” he adds on quickly, though he felt terrible for having scared the man in the first place and even worse for having to remind him that he was not being scolded.

Lucio’s hair has been sectioned out and twisted into clumps. Where the dark locks had once been curly and poofed out to the sides of Lucio’s head, they are now tangled and held together in loose dreads.

The Faerie stares at Akande for a moment, unsure of whether or not the Prince is telling the truth about not being mad at him. After a moment of silence, he returns to mess with the lock in his fingers, starting from his scalp and slowly making his way down, curling it tight and pinching it between his pointer finger, index, and thumb to keep the strands together.

The prince sighs quietly, understanding that Lucio does not want to give him an answer though his actions clearly give it away. “I brought dinner,” Akande says to break the silence, only for it to become overwhelming once again. “And some more books,” he adds on, glancing at the pile of books by the window that Lucio never touched, “that you probably won’t read.”

“I can’t,” Lucio answers simply, frowning down at the sheets between his criss-crossed legs, his hands never for a second faltering in their movements.

Akande felt ridiculous. He has been trying so hard to provide Lucio with something to do to pass the time and never for a second even thought to ask the Fae if he read. His face burns hot at his own foolish mistake.

He clears his throat and sits in the chair by the window, just watching his Fae as he moves from one section of hair to the next. It seems to be slow work and Akande wonders how long Lucio has been at this.

The silence stretches on between the two men for a long time before Akande finally speaks up once again. ”Why are you doing that to your hair?” he asks, trying to fill the silence and set the Fae at ease, though he receives no answer. “You really don’t want to talk to me?” The Prince actually scoffs when he gets a small head shake in response.

“Fine,” he says, crossing his arms and sitting back in the chair. He gathers his thoughts before speaking again. “I’m moving you downstairs,” he explains as Lucio’s head snaps up to look at him, “I need my room back, so you’re going to go stay in the servants’ quarters.”

“I want to leave.” The Fae's voice is shaking as he speaks, sitting up straighter to look over at his captor. “I don’t want to stay here. I want to go.”

Akande sighs at the other’s insistence, annoyed with the younger man who only seems to speak with him when it is to complain. “You can go if you want,” he says, voice harsh and eyes narrowed, “You tried before and almost suffocated to death. If you want to go again, I won't stop you. Do you think I care if you die?”

Lucio frowns hard at the prince, mustering up all the courage he can before responding. “Do you think I didn’t see the guards outside?” he asks, sitting forward on his hands and knees and gripping hard to the bed sheets, “Or notice the lock on the window?!” He raises his voice louder than it had been in months and the thought terrifies him as Akande stands from his seat. Immediately, like a frightened animal, Lucio shrinks down to a smaller size and flies up to the head of the bed, hiding behind the headboard in fear of what his Majesty would do to him for talking back.

The defensive position takes Akande by surprise and his movements still entirely. He has to remind himself that the Faerie is not a normal guest here. He is terrified by Akande’s presence and to speak out against him must have scared him senseless.

The older man opens his mouth to respond but gives up on trying to formulate words. Instead, he takes a few steps closer to the bed and sits at the foot of it, eyes trained on the reddish wooden headboard that Lucio is no doubt still cowering behind. “What did they do to you?” he asks with a defeated sigh, feeling guilt and sadness for the stranger. He surely must have been through a lot for such a small movement to set him off.

The gentle crackling of torchlight is the only sound in the room for what seems like a century before Akande speaks. “Look,” he says quietly, sure that the Fae is listening though he can not see him. “I won’t keep you here anymore,” he continues, “You are my guest, alright? Not a prisoner. You could leave tomorrow if you’d like, though I am sure that we both know you will not make it more than a mile outside of the castle’s gates.” He knew the suggestion was a bad idea. He could not afford to let Lucio leave.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he begins again, more hesitantly this time, “At the start of every spring, my family travels down south to visit my mother’s grave in her hometown. The weather will be better then. You can come with us, travel in a caravan until we’re out of the burned lands and then go off on your own. You just need to stay here a little longer.” Would that give Akande time to figure something else out? Or to determine whether or not Lucio would rat him out?

He almost thinks that Lucio is ignoring him until the Fae peaks his head out from the side of the headboard and moves to sit on the bed, slowly regaining size. He did not want to stay here for that long. Winter had just barely begun. The weather is going to get far worse before it gets better and Akande is offering him not only a solution to the cold but shelter from the smoke as well. The Faerie knows that he could not possibly leave today even if Akande did allow it.

He nods slightly in agreement to the larger man’s proposal, but it still left one concern of his unaddressed. “I want to stay in this room,” he says quietly, hugging his knees as his eyes train on the white bedsheets.

“You can’t stay here. This is my-”

“We can share,” Lucio suggests quickly, dropping his knees and turning to finally look at the prince. As frightening as he can be, the Fae is far less scared of Akande than he is of the unknown outside of the prince’s bedroom. “You can have your bed back. You know I don’t take up a lot of space. It will be like I am not here.” He felt ridiculous, begging to share a room with the Prince of Talon, like a child afraid of the dark.

“Fine, fine,” the older man says, cutting off the Fae’s pleading, “You can stay, but I’m going to be spending more time in here, do you understand?” he asks, receiving a quick nod in return. “And that means you cannot ignore me when I talk to you or ask you questions.”

He watches at the Fae nods quickly but plunges the room back into silence. Was he really alright with sharing a room with this creature? Spring was still two months away. Maybe as the days passed it would be easier to convince Lucio to switch rooms.

Minutes tick by as the two sit on opposite sides of the bed and eventually the young Fae hesitantly returns to dreading his hair, tightening up curls that had loosened with his flight and sectioning off new strands toward the back of his head to try and do the same with them.

Akande watches the creature for a few minutes but soon gets bored and moves to stand up.

“I use to keep it like this,” Lucio says suddenly, dragging the other man’s attention back to him. He is quiet for a minute more, keeping Akande waiting before clearing his throat to continue. “Back home… In the forest, it was easier to manage. It was a lot longer then.”

Akande pushes up the ever so slightest of smiles, trying to be polite as the Fae shares this information though it brings up more questions than anything else. He watches as the Faerie struggles with a stand at the back of his head, losing his grip and dropping it twice before beginning to turn and tangle it, not quite getting the desired look of the others.

“Let me.”

Lucio goes silent at words, unsure if they were a suggestion or a command. His hands go still and he stares downward, afraid to look at the large man.

“You think just because I am bald means I do not know how to do it?” the prince jokes in an attempt to alleviate his new roommate’s anxiety, though for what reason he was not sure. He walks around the side of the bed before crawling to sit cross-legged behind Lucio.

For the first time, he really gets a good look at the Fae’s wings up close and begins the notice the slight differences in color to each of the delicate overlapping scales. He reaches a hand outward, brushing his fingers against the magnificent golden appendage before gently guiding it aside to give him access to the smaller man’s hair.

The Fae does not put up a fight as Akande’s fingers brush his scalp, carding through curly and tangled locks with more gentleness than he knew he was capable of. They both stay quiet as Akande works through a couple of sections of hair, doing just as he watched the younger man do earlier. The motions were familiar to him but felt so far off and unpracticed.

“How?”

Akande thinks for a moment, not quite sure what the golden-eyed boy is asking him before taking a guess. “My-...” God, he hates this word , “wife. She had long hair like this. She showed me how to help her.” He has not mentioned Dayo like this in years, having only spoken of her when using her death as an excuse to not wed. “If you ever need anything while you are here, do not hesitate to ask me.”

It is clear the Prince is trying to take the subject off of his late wife. Lucio knows though. He has heard the rumors. He knows what Akande did to this woman and so he stays silent, not wanting to ask anything else of him. Instead, he closes his eyes tight, focusing on the soft fingers in his hair and trying to ignore the stench of sulfur reminding him that his freedom is still so far away.

Chapter Text

Akande and Lucio do not trust one another. Their relationship is built on their needs. Lucio needs a place to be safe, to remain hidden from the world until the time comes where he can travel back home. Akande needs to keep the Fae in Talon for as long as possible until he can think of a way to make sure none of his secrets will get out into the world. And so the two find themselves in this particular living situation.

Akande laid down plenty of ground rules when he agreed to share his bedroom with Lucio almost a week ago.

Don’t leave the bedroom.

Don’t open the window.

If someone knocks, shrink down and hide under the bed.

It seems as though now he will have to add another rule to this list.

Don’t come into the bathroom while I’m bathing.

Akande thought it was a given. Most people do not typically barge in on another person while they are in the bathroom. Admittedly though, Lucio is not like most people.

Lucio has been watching Akande for a minute now. He was surprised when the prince did not immediately react to the door opening and had come to the conclusion that he did not hear the creak of the old wood or the soft pattering of his footsteps. The Fae opens his mouth, about to call out to the other man, before closing it slowly at the sight of Akande.

The Prince is incredibly handsome if anything. His back is to Lucio, showing off toned muscles and scars that Lucio never had the courage to ask about. His arms and hands are huge and for a moment Lucio wishes the other man was facing him so that he could get a look at his muscular chest and stomach.

Lucio tries to tell himself that there is nothing wrong with admiring Akande’s body like this. In the forests of his home, none of the Faerie wore clothes. Their bodies were meant to be celebrated for their beauty. So why, when he watches the prince run a large, soap covered hand down his muscular thigh, does the motion seem so perverse in Lucio’s mind?

He needs to ignore these thoughts.

“Prince Akande?”

The Fae’s voice surprises Akande more than he is willing to admit. His shoulders tense for a moment only for him to get ahold of himself half a second later and scramble to grab a nearby towel. He yanks the plush fabric from the towel rack and wraps it around his waist quickly, trying to hide from the Faerie’s gaze the best he can before turning to face the shorter man.

“What are you doing in here?!” He does not mean to raise his voice, but his words come out loud and harsh, more of a demand than a question. All of the times that he has even slightly raised his voice at the fae suddenly rush into his mind, reminding him how the young man flinches or curls up on himself at any sudden movements or loud noises. “Wait-” he says quickly, ready to apologize before the Fae can run from him.

“You didn’t lock the door!”

This is surprising.

Akande goes silent immediately, stunned at the way the Faerie raises his voice right back rather than run away as he had done before. He is unsure of what to say in response, confused by the situation. “You can’t-” he begins, not sure why he has to explain this to the younger man, “You can’t just come in here while I’m not dressed.”

Lucio frowns hard at that, eyes narrowed at the prince in retaliation and ready to argue with the older man, holding his ground despite the tight nervousness in his chest. Akande has not lashed out at him yet. “Why not?”

Akande lets out a forced laugh of disbelief, hand clutching tight to the towel around his waist and shifting on his feet, sloshing the water in the tub around his calves. “You just can’t. You shouldn’t.” He can not ignore the way Lucio’s eyes are on his chest rather than his face. “Hey,” he says, snapping once to draw the golden eyes back up to him. “I don’t know how you faeries live, but humans don’t let just anyone see them naked.”

“I’ve already seen you naked,” Lucio says stubbornly, not moving from his spot. “Several times. When you were having sex with-”

“Okay, okay,” Akande says, obviously annoyed by the Fae bringing up the string of men that he had been meeting with on a fairly regular basis. “I still don’t want you barging in on me like this.”

“Is that another one of your rules?”

The prince goes silent at the accusatory question. He does not believe he is being unreasonable in his request. Instead of answering, he quickly changes the subject as he notices the book Lucio has brought into the bathroom with him. “What did you need?”

The Faerie cannot help but feel proud of himself for not backing down from this. For months he has been terrified of everyone that meets, though not without good reason. The confidence he possessed prior to his capture had been completely shattered. Though this exchange was not much, he would take a victory where he could.

He stares at Akande for a moment before moving to sit atop the sink’s counter, setting the book in his lap for a moment to thumb through the pages and open it up to one that was marked with a small red bookmark. “You said if I ever wanted anything I could ask you for it,” he says, voice slowly getting quieter as he goes on.

This gets Akande’s interest. He told this to Lucio almost a week ago, and since then the Fae has asked for nothing and barely spoken more than a few sentences at a time. “What do you want?” he asks, grabbing a second towel from the rack before finally stepping over the rim of the tub to stand on the bath mat. He runs the cotton cloth over his chest for a moment, then across his neck before approaching Lucio.

“Can we have this?” he asks, pointing at a picture on the left-hand side of the page, eyes trained down rather than gazing at the muscular man looking over his shoulder now. The courage that he felt with Akande farther away from him quickly dissipates as the older man approaches.

Upon learning that Lucio did not know how to read, Akande went out of his way to make sure that the Fae would have something to do to fill his time. This meant asking around the castle for art supplies like color pencils and paper and combing through Talon’s library in search of books that had more pictures than words.

The one in Lucio’s hands now is a cookbook that Akande found on a bottom shelf in the library, covered in dust only a few days prior. The illustration that Lucio is interested in now is one of a rather decadent looking chocolate cake, served with a side of vanilla ice cream.

“You like cake?” Akande asks with a frown, never having been one to indulge in sweets often.

Lucio frowns down at the page, a bit put off by the other’s tone with the question. “I’ve never had it,” he explains, finally tilting his head back so that he can look up and meet Akande’s eyes, unsure of what exactly he finds there. The prince is definitely not as easy to read as most.

“Alright,” Akande says finally, taking a step back. “Go outside. I’ll be done in a minute.” His eyes lock onto Lucio, watching the Fae immediately hop down from the counter and leave the book behind as he hurries from the room. “And don’t walk in on me like this again.”

Chapter Text

It does not take Akande long to get dressed and wave down a trusted servant to take his order to the kitchen. He hands her the entire book so that the chef can make the exact recipe that Lucio had in mind, stressing the importance that she brings it up herself when it is done.

When Akande enters his bedroom again, he is not surprised to see Lucio sitting on a stool at the table by the window. He is hunched over what appears to be a forest scene drawn with every shade of green that Akande has given him along with blues and yellows and browns. The prince watches the Fae for a few minutes, standing just a few feet away before finally speaking up.”What are you drawing?”

The Fae looks up at the prince and his pencil stills against the parchment. His mouth opens and closes, unsure of how to explain before just shrugging and responding in a quiet voice. “My home.”

After a moment he returns to his drawing, trying to ignore the prince taking a seat on the bed only a few feet away, his attention on the Faerie as he draws.

When Lucio stops again, it is to stare out of the window to his right. He watches as the smoke outside is pushed with the wind and small flakes of ashes stick to the glass only to be whisked away a few seconds later. There is not much to see, only wisps of grey and white.

“I couldn’t remember what it looked like,” the Fae begins again, golden eyes lingering on the window before looking over to Akande, then back to his drawing. “The forest I mean. I don’t think I’ve been away for more than a few months but it feels like it’s been years. I couldn’t see it in my head anymore, but I found a picture,” he says, nodding his head toward a thick leather bound book across from him on the table, “and a map.”

The prince slowly gets up from the edge of the bed and takes his new seat across from the Fae at the table. Akande takes the book Lucio nodded too before opening to a page marked with a handful of drawings that Lucio has no doubt been working on, each of green and brown scenery. Some are perspectives of the canopy or of the forest floor covered in leaves. They are each incredibly beautiful and vivid, and Akande cannot help but feel sad for the Fae who claims he almost forgot what the forest looked like.

He then moves the illustrations to the side to view the map that Lucio had been referring to.

It is a hand-drawn map of the land, broken up into regions some of which are very familiar to Akande: Talon, Overwatch, Vishkar, Anubis. There are others, which the prince knew to be old empires that no longer existed. It is clear that the map is at least a hundred years old.

There is a small portion of the map in Vishkar’s territory colored in with blue paint, which Akande assumes is the forest of Lucio’s home. The very next page is a sketch, much like the ones Lucio had made, though this one is black and white and was clearly drawn to view the forest from atop of a hill or mountain.

“I might not be able to read,” Lucio starts again, determination in his voice, “but if I follow the pictures in that book, I can find my way home.” He then stands up from his seat, moving quite bravely to stand closer to the older man. He takes the book from his hands, flipping through some pages that were each marked with a tiny scrap of paper.

“Talon is this one with the volcanos,” he explains, landing on a page with part of the map colored in a deep red, accompanied by an illustration of a very familiar mountain range running with lava. He flips from one page to the next, trying to convey his travel route to the older man with only the pictures provided. “So, I need to go through the plains, and then this forest with the tall trees, and then this town and-”

“Lucio, stop.”

The Faerie goes silent almost immediately, not use to hearing his name from the prince.

“This is an old book,” he begins, not meeting Lucio’s eyes but rather staring ahead of him, “The land does not look like this anymore and you can’t just skip from here to here,” he explains, pointing from one country to the next. “There is a mountain range between them. You’d have to cross at a specific point-” He sighs, realizing that this might not make much sense to someone who could not read a map, or more importantly, could not read at all.

“Look,” he says, gently taking the book from the shorter man’s hands again and setting it on the tabletop. He flips backward a couple of pages to the second image Lucio showed him, grasslands that seemed to stretch on forever accompanied by a map that highlighted just to the south of Talon’s territory. “This area isn’t a unified country anymore. A sorcerer cursed the area. Turned it into a desert. She made the rain burn the plants and animals, and the days hotter than anywhere else on the continent. The factions there are constantly at war. Traveling through would be a death sentence.”

Lucio frowns down at the book, trying to imagine the peaceful looking landscape as the hellish warzone that Akande describes it as. “So,” he says slowly, trying to understand what could be done. “Can you get me a new map?” he asks, turning his attention back to the prince.

“I could,” he begins, frowning down at the pages, “But you can’t just follow the pictures, you need to know town names and where the safest places to go are. You can’t get all of that from a picture.”

One look at the crestfallen Faerie and guilt has Akande wanting to make right by him. “I can teach you to read if you would like.” He knows it is not a good idea. If the Fae learns how to read, he could learn how to write, which would make it far easier for Akande’s secrets to get out into the world.

Lucio stays quiet, believing that any moment now, the other man would retract his offer, or tell him that it was a joke. When living in the forest, there was no need to know a written language. Everything the Fae needed could be expressed verbally. Their stories were passed down by song through the generation and their laws were simple and easily followed. But in the world of humans, it is clear that Lucio will not be able to navigate life without being able to read.

“I want to learn.”

Chapter Text

Writing is not a problem for Lucio. He does not find it hard to copy the shapes and lines that Akande calls an alphabet. The biggest problem for him is remembering which symbols made which sounds and how they can make completely different sounds when combined or rearranged. It took him about an hour to learn all twenty-six symbols and their basic sounds, only for them to move on to Akande trying to talk him through how to write a few simple words.

Cat. Dog. Can. Pin. Red.

The Fae quickly became annoyed at the words that seemed useless to him and began asking for new words.

Tree. Water. Rock.

And then.

Smoke. Fire. Cage.

Each word took Lucio far longer than he expected it to. He needed time between each letter to stare at the piece of parchment that he copied the alphabet onto, only to then look at Akande’s alphabet as if he made a mistake with his own. Even with the time that he takes, he finds it difficult to get the spelling right.

“How do I write my name?” he asks suddenly, stopping halfway in the middle of a word to ask the question.

Akande frowns, not sure of how to answer it himself. He glances at the words on the parchment Lucio has been writing, realizing that being able to write words may be pointless if the Fae cannot even spell his own name.

Without saying a word, the prince picks up a spare pencil, scribbling down the spelling that made the most sense to him before making sure to print it as neatly as possible. He turns the paper toward the Faerie.

The young golden-eyed boy stares at the paper for a moment before slowly beginning to copy the five letters in his slightly shaky penmanship.

L U C-

“Why is it a C?” he asks, confused by the spelling as he goes through each letter.

Akande had been watching carefully as the Faerie’s thin fingers grip tight to the lead pencil, carefully forming each letter. “It just is,” he says, not thinking much of it, “Sometimes Cs makes an S sound.”

“But, why?”

Akande shakes his head at the question but cannot help but laugh at the way the Faerie’s nose wrinkles up in his confusion. “It just does,” he says, not used to having to explain this to anyone. “Here,” he says, scooting his chair a bit closer to Lucio to show him as he writes a series of words. “Like nice, place, voice, face, prince.” As he says each word, he writes it clearly so that the Fae can follow with the spellings. “There are other languages that are less confusing, but that’s just how the Common Speech is."

When the prince turns his head toward the Fae again, he can clearly see the confusion written all over his features. “It will come to you with practice. There are still words that I do not know how to-” his admission is cut off by the rapt knocking on the door. He immediately stands up but does not move until the Fae shrinks down to only about five inches tall and his dragonfly-like wings beat quickly to take him under the bed, just as Akande had always instructed him to do.

It was not often these days that Lucio changed into his smaller form. Perhaps it made him feel more vulnerable. The only reason he does so now is to hide. He hides when Akande has to answer his door or when he has nightmares at night. Or when Akande raises his voice even the slightest.

The prince nods slightly at the well-rehearsed act, believing that it will not really be necessary given that he can step out into the hall to retrieve the ordered cake from his servant. But he sees no need to be reckless and is grateful for the Faerie’s willingness to hide.

Without much thought to it, he walks over to the door, only opening it a crack before a calloused and dark hand is trying to push its way into the room as it has a hundred times before.

“Gabriel.” Akande’s eyes are wide when he realizes that he has a surprise guest and he keeps the door cracked only slightly despite the other man’s firm hand on the door.

The shorter man raises an eyebrow just slightly at the prince. “You really want me standing outside your door, Your Majesty?” he asks, his voice coated in playful amusement.

The Prince frowns hard, glancing down the empty hallway, knowing very well that Gabriel had been careful to avoid guards or servants. But if he did not let the knight in, there is no telling how long he would wait outside for him. He bites the inside of his cheek, finally stepping aside to let his friend in the room.

“What’s all this?” The knight says with a frown, eyes immediately drawn to the mess of papers and books in his friend’s normally immaculate room. He takes a step toward the Rosewood table by the window, only to be beaten to it by the prince himself. Sir Reyes watches as the other man fumbles to sweep up the papers and coloring pencils and stack them all up, not sure whether to be concerned or entertained.

“You got an illegitimate kid that you’re hiding, Your Majesty?” he jokes, stepping behind the other man and not failing to notice the sheets of alphabet letters and poorly written words.

Akande scowls at his guest’s rudeness, staying quiet as he thinks over the situation. He did not know if he could trust Gabriel Reyes with this. Though the other man has always been the closest thing to a friend that the prince has, he never trusted Gabriel fully with some aspects of his life. But on the other hand, maybe Gabriel, well-traveled and knowledgeable about the world outside of Talon as he is, may be able to help Akande with his dilemma.

The prince is quiet for a long time before huffing out a quiet sigh and setting the papers back down on the table in a neat stack. “Come out, Lucio,” he says, surely taking both the Faerie and knight by surprise.

“Are you kidding?” Gabriel says, eyes wide as he scans the room, believing that his assumption about Akande’s child was correct. Instead, he is met with a silent, unchanging room and after a minute he turns his attention back to Akande as if a joke had been played on him. He cannot help but notice how the tall and muscular man’s eyebrows have knit together in worry.

“Lucio, please come out. I won’t let him hurt you.”

The reassurance throws Gabriel for a loop. It is kind and soft in a way he had never heard the usually cold prince speak.

The Faerie keeps hidden for a moment more before finally emerging from behind the bed’s regal headboard, peaking out with two tiny eyes before flying over the top and regrowing to his more human size and standing at just barely over five feet tall. He stands on the bed, wings folded in tight, clearly uneasy with knight’s eyes on him and ready to run again in a moments notice.

Gabriel stares in awe at the beautiful young man that seems to appear out of thin air, only dressed in pants that are clearly too big for him and have been cut so that they do not drag on the floor. His eyes run down the stranger’s thin frame and dark, flawless skin, before finally catching on his inhumanly golden eyes. He recognizes the creature for what it is before even seeing the wings.

“Oh, you’ve gotten yourself into something, haven’t you Akande?” he asks, letting out a low whistle. “You finally got your way out of that cage then?”

Lucio is taken aback by the older man addressing him so casually.

“You knew it would be like this?” the prince demands to know, voice sharp. “Did you know he could talk? Or that he is-”

“Actually a person?” Gabriel cuts in, finishing the prince’s thought for him. “And what, you thought he was an animal? A pet? Of course, I knew.”

Lucio’s mind races, frustrated as he remembers the way Gabriel shook his cage and laughed when the knight had first seen him.

“I’ve met plenty of Fae before. But would you have really let him out if I told you what he was?” Gabriel asks with narrowed eyes, not letting himself be blamed for the prince’s cruelty.

The room goes silent and tense and both Akande and Gabriel are incredibly aware of the anger directed toward them by the Faerie.

Gabriel sighs finally, turning his attention to the creature standing defensively atop of the bed’s mattress. “Come on down from there,” he suggests, reaching out a hand for the Faerie, though he does not grab for him without permission. “Lucio, right? Well, you are a lot prettier than most of the Faeries I’ve seen. You’ll have to forgive me and Prince Hardass for being indecent last time I was here.”

Lucio frowns hard at the unfamiliar knight, not eager to trust him. He could not understand how the man could be so uncaring the last time that they met, and now take such a kind tone. But the Faerie has to admit there is something welcoming about the way he apologizes for his behavior and tries to flatter without prying. Golden eyes glance over to the prince for less than a second before he slowly reaches out to take the knight’s hand, albeit cautiously.

Something about the way that Lucio holds onto Gabriel’s hand tight as he steps down from the mattress rubs Akande the wrong way. Even though the prince, in his mind, has done nothing but accommodate to the Faerie and try to make him comfortable in the castle, Lucio still shys away from any contact from the older man. And yet he does not seem nearly as scared of Gabriel, who he has not spoken a word to until today.

To Akande’s relief, the Faerie does not hold on to the visitor for long, letting his hand drop to his side as he rushes past the two men and back to the table by the window.

Gabriel’s smile falls as the Fae all but runs from him. Most of the Faerie that the knight met on his travels did not act this way. The creatures had an affinity for kindness and often were too quick to trust others. It is clear to him that something has broken that carefree spirit in the man before him now.

“Akande’s teaching you how to write? Is he doing a good job?” The knight of Overwatch asks in an attempt to break the dense silence. He takes a few hesitant steps toward the table before taking the seat that Akande had occupied not five minutes ago. Gabriel picks up the stack of papers that Akande had set on the table and looks over the misspelled words. “Apparently not,” he says with a laugh, directing a brief smile over at the prince.

Akande’s ears burn hot at the comment and even more so at the way that, for the first time since they met, Lucio’s lip turns up ever so slightly, smiling at the prince’s expense. “As if you could do better,” Akande responds, trying to keep the obvious annoyance from his voice.

“Of course I can,” Gabriel says quickly, looking from the papers back up to the prince, “Didn’t I ever tell you? I taught Jesse how to read.”

“Is Jesse your son?”

Gabriel’s dark eyes flit over to the Fae, a bit surprised that the young man seems to have taken an interest enough to ask him anything. “Not mine,” he says with a small smile, “He’s my sister’s kid. I helped raise him. Not all of us can grow up in a castle with a fancy tutor.”

At that, Akande narrows his eyes and grabs onto Gabriel by the shoulder with a bruising grip. He digs his fingers into the thick fabric of Gabriel’s overshirt, practically pulling him from the chair. “That’s enough,” he says, voice dangerously low. He tries to ignore the way that Lucio’s smile immediately falls and the young man shrinks in his seat. “Let’s go, you came here for a reason, didn’t you? We'll have to go to a guest room.”

Gabriel snorts at the other man’s insistence, shrugging his shoulder to try and make Akande release him but gives up after a moment and lets himself be led toward the door if only to hurry and get Akande alone. He has far too many questions about this whole situation and is sure that the prince will not answer them in front of Lucio.

“What, I can't just drop by to say hi?" he asks. "Nice meeting you, kid,” Gabriel says quickly, with a grin and a wave toward the Faerie.

Akande scowls at his friend’s light tone and pulls the door to the bedroom open, ready to push the smaller man out. Instead, he comes face to face with one of the servants of the castle, making both him and Gabriel pause in their tracks.

The servant girl is one of the youngest employed by the Ogundimu family. She wears the castle’s uniform, a brown servant’s dress with a white apron, but has two pink bows which tie her long brown hair up into pigtails on either side of her head. In front of her is a silver dessert cart, which she had been ordered to bring to the prince’s quarters.

Upon seeing the prince and his informal guests, her brown doe eyes immediately fall to the ground and she bows her head, knowing it best to pretend as if she did not see both the Overwatch knight and the Faerie just behind the door. “Your Majesty,” she says quickly, eyes locked onto the toes of her pointy slippers, “Pardon the intrusion. I brought the cake you asked for.”

Akande stands in the doorway, in shock. He knows that there is no way the servant did not see the other two men but quickly he steps into the doorway and pulls the door so that he can block the view of the inside of the room. “Leave it,” he says quickly, frowning down at the young girl and searching her face for any sign of mischief. He cannot afford to let this rumor get out and Akande hopes that the young girl knows that she cannot either. 

Without hesitation, the brown-eyed girl bows and then turns from the doorway with a quick, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Prince stays silent as she starts to make her way down the hall but then decides to speak up and ensure her loyalty. “Miss Song,” he calls out, waiting for her to turn and acknowledge him with yet another utterance of ‘Your Majesty.’ “Not a word,” he warns her.

Finally, when the hall is cleared out once again, the prince drags the metal cart into his bedroom. “Go to the guest room at the end of the western hall,” he instructs Gabriel, shoving him just a bit harder than necessary toward the door, “I don’t want to be seen walking with you.”

Gabriel is ready to protest until he sees the serious look on the other man’s face. Of course, the prince is worried about what could happen now. King Akinjide has always had a nasty temper and there is no telling what the cruel king might do if he finds out his son is keeping secrets. Much less secrets such as these, sneaking men into the castle and fooling around right under his father’s nose. The royal family’s reputation could be ruined if anyone were to learn of what Prince Akande has been up to and so the servant girl's silence is an absolute must.

It is only when Gabriel has made it halfway to the western hall that he realizes why Akande is keeping Lucio around. 

Lucio’s mouth goes dry when he sees the servant girl in the hall. In the briefest second, his eyes meet hers, only for her to turn her head toward the ground.

Akande made it very clear that he did not want anyone to know that Lucio was out of his cage though the Faerie is not sure why. Whatever the reason, Lucio cannot help but think that it is in his best interest to follow the prince’s orders. Though he does not trust Akande, the prince has not given him a reason to flee as of yet. And with all of the wicked things that he has heard about the King of Talon, he doubts he would get any help from the old man’s servants.

Lucio speaks up almost as soon as the door closes behind Sir Reyes. “She saw me,” he says, pulling his feet up into the chair and hugging onto his knees. “I know she saw me. What’s going to happen?” He could only imagine what would happen to him if the King knew about his presence in the castle. Though the old man had no interest in him while he was confined to his smaller form in Vishkar’s enchanted cage, would he still regard him with indifference now?

“Nothing is going to happen,” Akande responds, though his words are slow and lack the normal confidence that Lucio has grown so accustomed to. He lets out a sigh that burns through the quiet room and locks the door before turning to face the golden-eyed boy. “I told you that you’d be safe here until we leave in the spring,” he reminds the Fae, pushing the dessert cart over toward the table. He wanted to reassure Lucio that there was no need to worry. He cannot have the Fae in a panic over this.

“And then you’ll help me leave?” Lucio asks, wanting to reaffirm what the two had not discussed further since the proposal was made.

“I will,” Akande says easily, though in his mind he counts off the weeks left until the trip. “The volcanoes are more active at this time of year. As soon as they calm down, we will make the trip south. Like I promised you’re welcome to travel with us and then go your own way once we reach Valport.”

Lucio nods along with Akande’s words, soaking in the information. He does not know where the town is but tries to make a mental note to remember the name so that he can find it on the map later on.

He has many questions about the coming journey, the town of Valport, and how he will continue to find his way home after they part ways, but saves them for later, knowing that they still have a long time before winter ends. "

“You should eat,” Akande says, taking the covered silver platter off of the dessert cart and setting it in front of the Faerie.

Lucio nods quickly, dropping his feet back to the floor as he sits up. He watches as Akande removes the silver covering from the plate, eyes widening at the decadent cake before him. It looks far better than he imagined it would and even though the ice cream has begun to melt, the cake is moist and fluffy, urging Lucio to grab a fork as soon as Akande sets one on the table for him.

His attention is drawn from the food, however, when the prince begins walking back toward the exit. “Where are you going?” he asks, speaking up and making the older man pause in his tracks. Lucio had been under the impression that Akande would be sharing the dessert with him or at least stay a bit longer so that he would not have to be alone.

Dark eyes meet Lucio’s as Akande turns to face him again, not hesitating to explain himself. “I am going to go find that girl and make sure she won’t talk."

"You aren't going to hurt her, right?" Lucio asks, concern in his voice. Though he does not know the girl, he cannot help but be worried for her. He understands that it is important that no one knows that he is here but the way that Akande says that he will make sure she won't talk sends shivers down Lucio's spine. "Akande," he begs, voice wavering, "Please don't hurt her."

The prince does not think that he can say no to Lucio at this moment. The way that the young Faeshakyshakey voice says his name and pleads with him has him nodding his head before he realizes what he is agreeing too. "I won't," he promises, though he knew it would be safer to get rid of the girl. "I'll be back in a few hours, okay? Try to keep yourself occupied. Practice writing or drawing or something until I get back. I'll ask Gabriel if he can draw you a map of the best way to get you home. He knows a lot more about traveling than I do." 

Lucio actually finds himself smiling at both the promise and at the prospect of getting a new map though he is still unhappy with being left alone after what happened. “Are you going to have sex with him?” His smile fades completely as he asks this. He does not know where the question came from and knows he should not be focused on this, especially when there was so much else he should be worried about. But still, he cannot explain the sinking feeling in his gut that only grows when Akande does not answer the question and instead holds up a dismissive hand and leaves the room without another word.

Lucio frowns down at the cake in front of him, scoops up a piece with his fork and shoves it into his mouth. It takes a tremendous effort to not spit the sickeningly sweet mush back out as he realizes the feeling in his gut is jealousy.

Chapter Text

When Gabriel arrives at the guest room in the western hall of Talon’s castle, he does not hesitate to make himself comfortable. He takes the long heavy coat from his shoulders and drapes it over the back of a chair before carefully removing the strap of holstered knives from his chest. Finally, he makes his way over to the bed and takes a seat, seeing no point in standing around to wait for the prince.

Gabriel does not expect Akande to arrive anytime soon, given that one of the Ogundimu’s family servants saw his majesty with not one, but two strange men in his bedroom. He cannot help but feel bad for the poor girl that had walked in on them. Having worked for the Ogundimu family as a bounty hunter years and years ago, he knows that both the King and the Prince are willing to do anything to keep their secrets hidden, even if that meant sacrificing a life.

He remembers that he used to be the same way. So eager to kill or hurt someone for all of the wrong reasons. He never hesitated to take an innocent life if the price was right. It is a past that he is ashamed of now and one that he easily left behind after meeting Jack Morrison, the former prince and present King of Overwatch.

Gabriel finds himself waiting for hardly twenty minutes before the door to the room slowly creaks open to let his majesty hesitantly step into the room, surprising his waiting guest.

“That was quick.” Gabriel’s voice is dry. Disapproving. His assumptions about where the prince has been are obvious.

“I talked with her,” Akande’s response is entirely on the defensive as he steps into the poorly lit bedroom. While usually, he would not care what others think of him, the promise he made to Lucio, that he would not hurt the young servant girl, remains engraved in his mind. “She will not speak of what happened.”

The older man stares at his friend in astonishment, not sure whether to believe Akande or not. “You just... talked to her?” He asks, voice disbelieving. “And what? You take her word on this? You just asked her not to mention that she saw the prince with two foreign men in his sleeping quarters?”

“Did you want me to kill her?”

“Of course not,” Gabriel snaps back, unnerved by the extreme that his friend suggests. “You Just seem very relaxed about this whole situation. Don’t you know what’s at stake for us if she decides to tell someone about this?” Of course, he does. “That’s why you’re keeping that Faerie locked up in your room, isn’t it?” Gabriel notices that the prince immediately tenses and goes still at the question. “You know you’re just pushing the problem further down the road, don’t you?”

“You have a lot to say tonight, Gabriel,” Akande’s rough voice interrupts the other man. “Why did you come back so soon? Surely, you did not miss me already?”

“I’m sure you’d like to think so,” the knight responds. His dark and narrowed eyes follow Akande as he walks across the room to stand in front of his friend, leaning back against the wall opposite of the queen-sized bed. “I’m not here to play with you Akande, I’m here on business,” he says, though he can not remember the last time he visited Talon without the purpose of continuing his affair with the prince.

The laugh that rolls from his majesty’s lips takes Gabriel off guard. “On business? Are you acting as Jack’s errand boy now? He has you whipped harder than I once believed.” The glare he receives does nothing to deter him. “I remember years ago, you use to report back to me. I suppose it was only a matter of time before the tides turned.”

The guilt washes over Gabriel before the other man has even finished talking. He remembers early on in his and Jack’s relationship, how Akande had gotten more information about the Kingdom of Overwatch out of Gabriel than any of King Akinjide’s hired spies had. He let his friend in Talon know all about the King’s failing health, newly proposed alliances, and possible negotiations. He even let it slip to Akande that Jack Morrison was expecting an heir long before the Kingdom’s public new.

“It is not like that,” the shorter man protests with a hard frown. “Jack did not send me. He does not even know that I am here.”

“So what business could you possibly have in Talon?”

“Are you going to ally with Vishkar? Did you ever accept Satya Vaswani’s proposal?”

Akande scoffs at the question, having heard enough about possible alliances from his father’s advisors. “I told you before that I have no intentions of marrying anyone if I can help it.”

“What if you can’t help it?”

“What does this have to do with you, Gabriel?” Akande asks harshly, annoyed at the older man’s persistence.

The knight frowns hard at his friend, staying silent for a moment and taking a slow breath to compose himself. “Jack is worried about the people living in your Kingdom and in Vishkar… King Sanjay has never been good to his people. He and the other aristocrats in Vishkar sit on large fortunes while their magicians work to pull the wool over the eyes of the middle class. The poorest of their citizens live in slums and are exploited for their resources.”

“And what of Talon?” Akande says, challenging the other man to continue. He is well aware of the problems facing his own country but wonders if Gabriel is so bold as to bring them up.

Gabriel hesitates but knows that what he says is the truth. “Your father was once a good King,” he begins slowly, choosing his words as wisely as he can. “I was still young but I remember when your mother died. Your father snapped, Akande. And his people have suffered for it. The citizens of Talon live like dogs here and they aren’t getting any help from their king.”

Gabriel feels as though he has said too much but the amused smirk on his friend’s face tells him otherwise. This is nothing that Akande does not already know.

“Akinjide’s getting old. When he dies, Talon will get a second chance. You will be able to give your people the new start that they deserve. You cannot do that if Talon and Vishkar merge. You might think you’ll have control over Sanjay and his daughter, but they’ll treat Talon they same way they do their own Kingdom.” Gabriel takes in a steadying breath. “If you can hold off on a merger until the King’s passing, Overwatch and Talon will finally be able to put aside their differences and ally with one another. Jack is more than willing to offer financial support to help rebuild the cities in Talon that were destroyed by volcanoes and help stimulate the economy here by-”

He trails off and cuts a sharp glare at the prince, who had begun laughing at his friend’s proposal. “What about this is funny?” he asks, anger rising in his voice. “Your people are suffering from your father’s neglect!”

“I am well aware of the conditions within my Kingdom, Reyes,” Akande says, a small smirk playing on his lips as his laughter dies down. “As I told you, I do not plan on allying with Vishkar. But that does not mean that I will agree to an alliance with Overwatch when my father dies. Our Kingdoms have been on bad terms for decades. Am I supposed to put aside years of threats and violence? Does that die when my father does?”

It is unnerving how casually the prince talks about the death of his own father.

“That’s exactly what it means!” Gabriel raises his voice just slightly at the prince, only to remind himself to quiet down in case a stray servant or guard happens to be out in the hall. “If you want to be a King, you need to do what is best for your people.”

“You let me worry about what is best for my people,” Akande replies, frowning hard at his guest now. “When I become king, I will find a way to deal with the problems here and when I do Talon will be better for it. Conflict makes people stronger, Gabriel. It has made me stronger and I am sure that it has made you stronger as well.”

The knight stands up from the bed, fists clenched tightly at his sides. He wonders how long Akande has thought about his upcoming coronation. Talon’s citizens’ wellbeing aside, the prince’s plan is a solid one. After all, if Overwatch steps in to assist the people to its north, Talon’s villagers will have a foreign entity to thank for their salvation. If Akande takes over after his father and single-handedly lifts his people up, no matter how long it takes, the people of Talon’s loyalty to their new King will be unbreakable. But the idea that Akande is willing to allow his people to continue suffering just to make the Kingdom more powerful is sickening to the knight.

“What about that Fae in your room?” Gabriel asks, not thinking through his words as they leave his mouth, “Lucio. Do you think conflict made him stronger?” He remembers how terrified the young man was of him and can only imagine what terrible things had been done to him during his time in Vishkar.

The prince becomes visibly enraged at the mention of his Faerie. He straightens up off of the wall and takes a step toward Gabriel, voice dropping threateningly low. “Lucio has nothing to do with this. Leave him out.”

“You brought him into this the second you decided to keep him captive in your room. Or are you going to try and tell me that he likes this shithole of a place?”

“I am going to take him South as soon as the seasons change. It isn’t safe for him to go now.” Akande knew his friend would not buy his story.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Gabriel takes a step back from the prince, moving to the other side of the bed in case the other man lashes out. The two friends had gotten into many fights over the years and while it is rare that they come to blows, Gabriel does not want this to escalate further.

A tense silence fills the room and the two men just stare at each other with matched annoyance and contempt.

The knight is the first to speak up again, carefully choosing his words. “You’re worried that he’ll let slip the things that he saw while in that cage,” Gabriel guesses with a frown, knowing very well that he was not Akande’s only visitor during that time. “Akande, the more you keep him here, the more he’ll have to use against you if it comes down to that. What are you waiting for?”

The prince is silent, standing in place with tense shoulders. His eyes fall to the ground.

“Look, I can tell that you don’t want him dead and it’s obvious that you’re fond of him,” Gabriel adds on hesitantly, unsure of how the younger man will react. “But if you’re really just worried about your secret getting out, then I can help you.” That seems to gain the taller man’s attention again. “Pack him a bag. Give him food and clothes. I can take him South tonight. I’ll personally make sure he gets where he wants to go and he could be there within the course of a couple of weeks. Let him go home, Akande.”

Akande stays silent as the proposition is made. He can not explain the panic unexpectedly rising in his gut at the mention of Lucio being taken home. There is not a person in the world, aside from himself, that he trusts more than Gabriel and so he knows that he should leap at the opportunity for the older man to help him get rid of the Faerie. But he is not ready for this yet.

“I think you should leave, Gabriel. And I don’t want you coming back anytime soon.”

Chapter Text

Vaswani Mansion truly represents the country of Vishkar. The nobles of the kingdom call it “The Castle of Light,” praising it for its elegant design and magnificent architecture. No one can deny its beauty. It’s brilliant crystalline towers stretch higher than any other structure in the twelve kingdoms. The castle and the city surrounding it look as though they are made of glass when in reality they are constructed from the royal family’s signature Hard Light Alchemy. Like the rest of the Kingdom of Vishkar, despite its glorious facade, The Castle of Light holds cruel and dark secrets. 

There were seven of them total.

Red eyes.

Green eyes.

Black eyes.

Purple eyes.

White eyes.

Blue eyes.

Gold eyes.

They were never asked their names.

Some of the Faeries cried during the trip. Some begged for release, begged to be returned to their families. Some said nothing at all.

The Faeries were kept far beneath the ground, in the damp and cold dungeons of the Vaswani family’s castle. They traveled in the cage for five days until they arrived at the Castle of Light. Immediately, they were taken to the dungeon and forced into separate cells which were lined up against a stone wall covered in foreign sigils.

Lucio sat, naked and shivering, body pressed against the back wall of his cell. Each of the Faeries had been given a small bowl of porridge as their first meal in their “new home.” It was bland, cold, and clumpy. Lucio finished it within seconds.

His attention was then turned to the girl next to him. Strong iron bars were the only thing seperating the two of them. “Efi, sweetie, you need to eat.” His voice was a raspy whisper, trying not to be heard by the guards chatting amongst themselves across the room. “Efi.”

“I- I can’t- I can’t.” The girl’s body shook with her cries. Lucio had healed the wounds inflicted on her by their captor but she had not stopped crying since. “I want to go- I want to go home.” The words were barely recognizable through her sobs.

“Shut up, you brat,” The blue-eyed Faerie on the other side of Efi’s cell spoke up, eyes narrowed through the bars. He was the tallest Fae that had been captured. His skin was lighter than Lucio’s though still tan and there was a long cut running across the scalp of his newly shaven head. “If you’re not going to eat then hand it here!” The water-Faerie was ill-tempered and starving.

Lucio’s eyes went wide as he watched Efi reach for her bowl, ready to comply.

“Nu-uh. Don’t you dare take that girl’s food!” Lucio hissed out angrily, moving onto his knees to get a better look at the larger man only two cells away. They had not been given food up until this point and Lucio was not sure when their next meal would be.

“If she doesn’t want to live, that’s on her! She should give her food to someone who will eat it!”

“Psst.” Lucio’s eyes darted past the tall man to an older Faerie with pale white skin, hair, and eyes. Her wings looked as though they were made of glass and her skin was almost transparent, showing blue veins just beneath her flesh. She had not said a word since her capture. Half of her porridge was gone but she held the rest out to the loud Faerie on the other side of her bars.

The blue-eyed man snatched the food immediately. “Ghost here knows what she’s doing,” he claimed, finally going silent as he slurped at the lumpy grey liquid and turned his back to Lucio and Efi.

Lucio sighed quietly, relieved that the other man had backed off of the child. “Efi,” he said, turning his attention back to the young girl. “Please just eat. They might not feed us again soon. You need to eat it.”

Big green eyes stared downward for a moment before Efi finally lifted the bowl to her mouth, forcing the mush down her throat and holding back a gag. She set the empty bowl down on the floor.

Immediately, she threw up, doubling over and coughing through her sobs. She was a pitiful thing, having been taken from her home and witnessed her father being killed in front of her.

“This one’s sick!” One of the guards approached the cell quickly, followed by another.

“Ungrateful bitch, throwing up the food we gave her.”

The lock to the cell clicked and a heavily armored soldier stepped inside with the young girl.

“Get away from her!” Lucio yelled, standing up with weak legs and reaching through the bars to grab at the giant of a man’s shoulder. He was willing to do anything to distract the man from the small green-eyed girl.

As soon as his hand went into the neighboring cell, the silver-clad guard grabbed onto it, yanking Lucio forward against the bars and wrenching his arm to the side until a pop rang through the dungeon, accompanied by Lucio’s scream.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” the older man sneered. His teeth were yellow and his skin looked dry like leather. After a moment, he lets out a sickening laugh. His voice sounded as though he had razors stuck in his throat, rasping and hoarse. “You’ve got a pretty little mouth on you, don’t you, Faerie?” He asked twisting the winged boy’s arm even further. “Scream for me a little louder.”

Lucio could faintly hear Efi crying over his own anguish.

“You better be glad the boss is coming back soon, pretty boy. No telling what I’d do to you if I got you alone.”

The threat made Lucio’s blood run cold.

Finally, the old guard released his arm, letting Lucio pull his broken arm back through the bars. His eyes glowed gold but he could not seem to heal the twisted appendage. He watched in horror as the soldier turned to look at Efi before finally stepping back outside of the cell and slamming the door shut.

None of the Faeries said a word after that and the dungeon was once again silent apart from Efi’s soft crying.

“Heal her.”

Lucio frowned hard at the young girl in front of him.

The dark circles around her eyes and pale skin gave her away as someone who was very sick. She looked impossibly tired and could not stand on her own. Instead, she sits in a clunky wheelchair with a tiny plush doll in her lap.

Lucio just stared up at the girl from his place on the ground at her feet, confusion set on his dirt covered face. Moira stood close behind him with a long knife in her hand. Surrounding the three of them were a circle of royal guards, dressed in the same silver armor as the men who had taken him from his forest home.

“I know you are not deaf.” Moira’s cold voice caught his attention. “She is dying. You can heal people, can’t you?”

“I can’t.” Lucio’s voice was dry and it crackles as he speaks.

One by one, they were taken from their cells and dragged down the dungeon’s hall for their abilities to be tested in isolated chambers. This was Lucio’s first time leaving his cell since their arrival and he learned quickly that the sigils engraved in the holding room kept him from using any of his powers. Here he had been able to finally heal his broken arm.

“What do you mean you cannot? I’ve seen you do it.”

Lucio gazed up at the young girl, unnerved by the way her seemingly lifeless eyes stared through him. He felt bad for her. She could not be more than five or six years old and her body was impossibly small and frail. He really wanted to heal her. But her body, as weak as it was, was intact and never before had Lucio healed something like this.

“Try.”

That one word sent shivers down Lucio’s spine. It was threatening and cold. He did not know what would happen to him if he disobeyed. And so he reached out, resting his shaky hand atop of the girl’s own much smaller one. He wrapped his fingers around hers and his eyes slowly began to glow.

The guards circling the Fae and the sick girl seemed to tense and grip tighter to their weapons, fearing the magic that was unknown to them.

A long time passed as the Fae tried to work his magic. He was tired and starved and as his eyes burn hot, he felt the strength leaving his body. His efforts were futile. His hand dropped down to his side.

“Useless,” Moira’s voice was as cold as ever and Lucio can practically feel the anger rising from her. “You are completely useless. ” She punctuated the last word with a kick to Lucio’s shoulder, sending him toppling onto his side.

The Faerie could only curl in on himself and try to block the repeating kicks from the self-proclaimed scientist. He could not imagine what about his actions made her so angry. Did Moira care so much about this child that him being unable to save her sent her into a rage?

His question was soon answered as the lanky woman calmed down. Her razor sharp nails ran through red locks of hair, sweeping it back and off of her forehead. “He just needs more practice,” she insisted finally, taking a few steadying breaths. “Put him in his cell. We will get to work tomorrow morning.”

“Do you want us to return the girl to her family?” One of the guards asked, proving himself brave to speak in the cruel woman’s presence.

“I don’t care what you do with her,” Moira responded, voice taking on her usual even tone. “She won’t even survive the trip back into town. You might as well put her out of her misery.” 

“Lu-ucio- Lucio, please!” Vincent’s voice was shaky and strained. His screams echoed off the stone walls and down the halls. The normally proud and rude man was crying, his body and the cold floor below him were soaked in the dark red of his own blood.

A deep gash ran from the blue-eyed Faerie’s tanned collar-bone down to his stomach. It was far more severe than any wound Lucio had healed before. Blood gushed from the open wound and between the split skin he could see the white of bone and the pink of organs. His hands immediately went to the older Fae’s stomach, trying to keep inside what belonged there.

His eyes burned and bled as they glowed golden, trying to repair broken skin when there was not enough to mend.

It was clear that the guards were feeling particularly cruel with Moira nowhere to be found and they were content to continue Lucio’s “training.” This was the tenth time they have wounded Vincent. They gave Lucio no choice but to heal him. Over and over again.

“Lu-” The blue-eyed Faerie choked on his own blood, feeling the sickening thick liquid clog in his throat. He coughed and sputtered but his hands grabbed at the other Faerie’s as he finally gets his words out. “Don’t- Don’t. Please- I can’t.

“I’ve got you,” Lucio’s voice was shaking and it came out unsure and scared. “I won’t let you- I won’t let you die. You’re going to be okay.”

“Let me.”

Vincent’s last words came out as a hoarse and gargled whisper and it took Lucio much too long to make sense of them.

Lucio was not particularly fond of the other Faerie. He was cruel to the other prisoners often and was selfish beyond belief. But he did not deserve this.

“No- No no no n-” The words rushed from Lucio’s mouth as he tried to push the other man’s hands away, set on healing the Faerie. Finally, two large hands grabbed onto his own, holding them at a distance.

“Please.”

Lucio knew the pain was unbearable. After time and time again of the older Faerie being ripped apart only to be put back together with no end in sight, it was finally time to let go. Lucio’s eyes stopped glowing with the plead and he held tight to the paler hands in his own. “Okay,” he whispered, voice rasping as he speaks. “Okay, okay,” he said, crying as he tried to comfort the other man, “I’ve got you. It’ll be okay. You don’t have to do this anymore.” The words made the golden-eyed Faerie’s stomach churn as the reality set in.

The guards panicked at that moment, understanding what the two Faes planned to do. One ran from the room, likely to track down Moira in hopes that the scientist could make things right. Others yelled and argued amongst themselves, pointing fingers as they tried to push the blame onto one another, fearful of what would happen to the perpetrator.

Lucio felt a spear pierce through his back. White noise rang in his ears and the guard’s voices were muffled and far off.

“Heal him!”

“Boss is going to have us hanged if she loses one of her test subjects!”

“Do your fucking job or you’re going to regret it!”

It all meant nothing to Lucio. His body only worked to heal itself as he was stabbed again and again. He felt the sharp metal impale his back, stabbing in and tearing its way out over and over though he felt no pain save for the loss of a life that he knew he could have saved.

He squeezed onto the tan and calloused hand and could do nothing but scream through his tears as he watched the life fade from Vincent’s ocean blue eyes.

Lucio did not know how long he was staring at the older Fae’s lifeless body. It seemed as though his entire world had been submerged underwater, deadened and mute as time seemed to no longer exist.

It was Moira’s voice that finally cut through that water, draining it away until Lucio was back in the familiar and dreaded dungeon.

“I see,” she said thoughtfully, standing just a few feet away from the two Faeries as she exchanged words with the few soldiers still in the room. “We cannot carry on testing like this. Accommodations will have to be made.”

Lucio felt a pressure on his shoulder and it is only as Moira ripped the spear upward, wrenching it from its place, that he realized the thing had still been skewered through him.

“Look at me, gold.”

He did not want to respond. Not to the color that he was reduced to.

Moira’s patience was thin. She knelt in front of her specimen, long limbs only taking her so close to the ground. She grabbed Lucio by the chin and her long nails dug into his skin, forcing his face away from the fallen prisoner. “This little stunt of yours will not go unpunished.”

Golden eyes narrowed at the older woman with more hatred than Lucio had felt in a lifetime. He jerked his head, trying to pull it from Moira’s grasp only to have her slap him hard across the face and then grab him by what little was left of his hair. “I have been incredibly kind to you, Fae. We have been going easy on you because you are gifted, do you understand?”

Lucio’s blood ran hot at the words. How could this woman claim she was being kind to him? He had been taken from his home, beaten, and forced to watch the other Faeries be tortured for hours on end. Vincent had died because of the cruelty that took place here.

As the anger built within the winged boy it clouded his judgment, and before he could think the action over he spit directly into the woman’s face. Watching her close her eyes and reel back from the spray of blood that splattered against her pale skin was only satisfying for a brief moment.

“Take him.” Moira’s voice brimmed with rage, only barely contained. “Lock him away. I don’t want him to see the light of day again unless we’re running tests. I don’t care how you handle him anymore as long as he’s kept in one piece.”

Lucio fought hard against the guards that grabbed him. He kicked and flailed and bit at hands that got a bit too close. He felt a hard blow in his side and heard a sickening crack that had him doubling over in pain. As he was dragged back into the holding room, he could hear Efi screaming and crying.

What are you doing with him?!

Where’s Vincent?!

Let him go!

His new cell was solid and empty. No bars. No bedding. Just a metal box with a cold floor and solid walls. As soon as the door slammed shut, Lucio was plunged into silent darkness. 

Lucio’s body ached. His wrists and ankles were chaffed from the straps keeping him restrained. His body was stretched out on a wooden table as Moira and a few of her men hovered over him. He thought his body would be used to the pain by now but every cut felt incredibly new and for the first time in his life, he cursed the so-called gift that he had been born with.

“Fascinating.” Moira’s voice had come to instill fear within him even with the slightest murmurs. The past few hours had been a cycle. The lanky woman continued to create incisions in Lucio’s skin, each getting longer and longer, deeper and deeper, waiting for the Fae to completely heal himself before creating the next. Every once in awhile she would step away from the table to write in a leather-bound journal kept on a side table by torchlight.

“And you still cannot heal sickness?”

Lucio was not sure if it was a question or a statement. His body shook and his chest heaved with his sobs as Moira plunged her knife into his stomach, slicing across the perfect skin there.

“He never scars,” she muttered quietly. “Let’s try something new.”

The Fae loss consciousness the second he saw the wicked woman press those talon sharp nails into his gaping stomach. 

The light burned his eyes when the door opened. He knew better than to move. Knew better than to speak, to fight, to cry. He has learned that when that door opens he is to be nothing but compliant.

“This one’s given us more trouble than the rest.”

“He’s learned his lesson. S’ been months since we’ve had a problem with him. ‘Sides, Princess said she wanted the best-lookin' one. Rest of em got too many dents in ‘em.” Lucio knew the second voice far better than he would have liked to, hoarse and grating as if he had swallowed razors.

If this man was here, he knew what was coming.

The old man with skin like leather and teeth yellowed with rot had always had his eyes on Lucio. From the moment Moira began turning a blind eye on her guards, he began paying Lucio visits almost nightly. Sometimes it was just him, sometimes others joined in.

“Hands and knees, pretty boy.”

Lucio obeyed.

He knew better than to fight back. The first time the old man forced himself on the young Faerie, it was with a knife impaled through his stomach to hold him still. Each time it hurt just as much as the first but Lucio learned to endure the pain until it was over.

“Look at him” the voice rasped out, “Sticking his ass up like a slut. He’s so eager for my cock.” The laughter that filled his prison bounced off of the stone walls and surrounded Lucio, taunting him and burning his skin.

“Enough.” Moira’s voice came from outside of the solitary chamber. “We have orders to follow.” She did not sound happy.

“You heard the boss,” The leather-skinned man said, “On your feet, gold. Come on out.”

Lucio obeyed.

He stepped out past the heavy metal door and glanced around the room that had clearly changed since he saw it last. It had been days since he had been taken out of his chamber.

The cells that had held the other Faeries were empty, sending panic rushing through Lucio’s body though he does not show it. Where had the others gone? 

He saw Moira, standing against a torchlit wall, in the corner of the room.

“This is him?”

His attention is then brought to a woman in the middle of the room. She had dark skin and long black hair. Her clothes were blue and silver and more elegant than any the Faerie had seen in his life. She was surrounded with silver-clad guards, ready to defend her with their lives. She held a small golden birdcage in her hands.

“Sure is.” The perverse guard grabs Lucio by the wrist. His lips curled into a crooked smile and his breath smelt of decay. “Come give me a goodbye kiss, pretty boy.”

Lucio obeyed.

Chapter Text

Only a month ago, there was not much in Akande’s life that he looked forward to. Every day was the same for him. Each morning he woke up with the sunrise and did his morning workout in his bedroom. He would bathe and then have his breakfast brought to his room. The rest of the day would either be spent in his room reading or attending meetings with Talon’s royal council. At dinner, he would either hide away in his room or be required to eat with other diplomats.

In the past month, he has spent far less time doing the mindless tasks that use to take up his day and more time counting the minutes until he could return to his room to spend time with the Faerie that was waiting there. Whether it was sitting in silence, him reading and Lucio sketching out picture after picture, or the two sitting side by side as the Fae practices reading aloud from any given book, Akande genuinely enjoys spending time with the other man.

This is the first time in the past three weeks that Akande has dreaded returning to his room.

His pride is broken and the newly forming bruises on his body along with the deep cut along the side of his face will not go unnoticed by the Faerie. He knows that he does not owe the other man an explanation should he ask but Akande would rather avoid the questions altogether.

When he finally turns the doorknob to his bedroom and steps inside, he is relieved to find Lucio curled up and asleep in the large king-sized bed. He lays on his side, facing away from the door with his golden wings outstretched behind him and his knees tucked up to his chest. At least this way Akande will be able to clean up before the other man notices the wounds.

In Akande’s rush to the connected bathroom, he does not notice the way that the Faerie shakes and cries in his sleep.

“What are you just standing there for? Come here.”

The king’s health has been wavering for months now. Some days he has trouble even getting out of bed, while others he looks as though he is the man he once was, strong and terrifying.

Akande is reminded of that man this evening.

Akinjide sits at his throne with his back straight and proud. His hands are placed on the armrests on either side of him and his walking cane leans against the side of the throne. While his voice is hoarse and raspy from his sickness, it commands the harsh authority that Akande had grown up with.

The prince is quick to obey, letting the heavy iron doors close behind him as he takes the long walk down the throne room’s grey stone floor. His path is lined with royal guards on either side of him as he approaches his father.

Akande takes a step up the cobblestone stairs toward his throne, only to see a spear pointing in his direction from the corner of his eye. His movements are slow and cautious as he turns to look at the guard with narrowed eyes, only to see every soldier in the throne room ready to attack. Over twenty sets of spears are pointed in his direction. How dare they raise their weapons to their prince?

“Kneel before your King, Akande.”

The prince’s glare is then turned to his father. Seeing the dark smirk on King Akinjide's face allows everything to click into place for the prince. Begrudgingly, the younger man takes a couple of steps back and kneels at the feet of his father. “Yes, my king?” He has to bite his tongue, knowing that the older man will not tolerate insubordination.

The guards return to their resting position, lowering their spears.

“Yes, my king?” Akinjide mocks with a scoff as if it is not exactly what he wants from his son. “You have some nerve, speaking without permission.”

Akande grits his teeth together, seething with anger. He is being made a fool of in front of the very men who were sworn to protect him. Of course, they report to his father first and foremost and so their loyalty to Akande is never guaranteed and only goes so far.

He stays silent.

“I asked you here to discuss your marital status,” the king begins again, eyes locked on his son. “I’m dying you cunt, I hope you’re happy. You’re finally getting what you always wanted.”

Akande knows the king is paranoid. He went mad after the death of his wife and since then has always had suspicions about his son plotting his death. When he took sick for unknown reasons only two months ago, he began to place the blame on his only heir.

Akande has never denied poisoning his father.

“I do not think my marrying Princess Satya will benefit our kingdom.” Akande’s voice remains even and his eyes are locked onto the grey cobbles beneath him but still, the king finds this disrespectful.

“Will you shut up?” The old man snaps out with a snarl. “I know that. I have ruled this kingdom for over half a decade! Do you think you know better than me, boy?!” The man chokes on his yell and falls into a coughing fit. The throne room is filled with the sound of him hacking for nearly a minute until he can compose himself. “We need to strengthen the Ogundimu’s hold on Talon,” he begins again, quieter this time, “You will be marrying a Lord’s daughter from within the kingdom.”

“I do not need to re-marry to strengthen our hold on Talon,” Akande says, not backing down on the issue despite his father's anger. Soon he will be a king. He deserves to be treated as such, not kneeling before a sickly man on a throne.

“Our family needs an heir,” The king replies quickly, standing from his throne. “Unless you plan on impregnating one of your common whores. But who would acknowledge a bastard as a Prince of Talon? Without a proper heir, the Kingdom will fall apart.”

“Our Kingdom is falling apart. Whether or not I get married will not-”

Akande’s words are cut off by the end of a walking cane catching him in the side of the face. It hits him hard, slicing from his temple across the bridge of his nose and snaps his head to the side.

Akande knows better than to fight back. When his father acts out like this, he is to be nothing but compliant. The best he can do now is to stay on his knees and cover his head with his arms to try and block the repeating blows from the older man.

Akande is forty-four years old and even bigger than his father now. He is stronger and more capable, but his father holds all of the power between them shown by the guards surrounding them both. These men have learned better than to speak out against the King for his abusive behavior. Anyone who questioned their king would be killed without a second thought.

Finally, the assault slows and comes to a stop as the King's body gives out. He coughs and stumbles backwards, falling into his throne.

Akande finally opens his eyes and lowers his hands. He finds it pathetic how the older man can pretend to be so strong when in reality he is becoming frailer every day. Where he had been powerful and fearsome, his body is now deteriorating. He is growing thin and losing the muscle definition he once had.

“Get him out of my sight,” the king orders between coughs as his castle's medic rushes to his side. Lately, the old doctor has scarcely left the king's side.

Akande feels the heavy gloved hand of a guard grab him by the shoulder, but he pushes out of the hold and hurries to his feet. “Do not touch me,” he orders with a glare at the younger man who is only following orders from his king, “I am capable of seeing myself out.”

The soldiers in Talon use to have pity on Akande. He remembers when Akinjide would lash out at him as a child. While the guards would keep their mouth shuts in front of the king, they would express pity for the young prince in private. They used to make sure he was safe and got proper medical attention. Now they just stare. 

Akande has not taken a proper bath in years. Usually, when he bathes it is just long enough for him to properly wash his body. However, tonight, whether it is the ache running through his body or the need to simply clear his mind for awhile, he finds himself laying in the large bathtub and letting the hot water soothe his body.

He hears the doorknob to the bathroom click and it causes his whole body to tense.

“What have I told you about coming in here, Lucio? Go.” Akande does not turn his head to look at Lucio. He does not want the Faerie to see the deep cut along the side of his face. A part of him knows that it is unavoidable but he wants to keep the questions at bay for as long as he can.

The door creaks on its hinges and Akande grits his teeth as a pair of footsteps quietly make their way forward. “I said get out!” His commanding yell echoes in the bathroom. He expects to hear those light footsteps hurrying back out and the slam of the bathroom door.

The room is silent for a moment until a quiet sniffle causes the prince's eyes to go wide.

“Please... My prince.” Lucio’s voice is broken, scared and weak. “I don’t want to be alone,” he begs, clearly talking through tears.

Akande forgets all of his own ailments, his pride, and his pain and quickly turns in the tub to face the Faerie.

It is obvious that Lucio has been crying. His eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are wet with tears. After all of the progress they have made together, Lucio looks as though he has only just been released from his cage for the first time. He shakes in his place and seems absolutely terrified, though thankfully it does not seem to be because of the prince this time.

“What’s wrong?” Akande has never heard his voice so concerned before. He did not know he could worry so much for one person. When he saw the other less than an hour ago, the Faerie had been fast asleep in bed. What could have happened in such a short time to upset him so much? “Lucio?”

The Faerie wipes at his eyes, trying his best to get himself under control. He stands in the middle of the bathroom for almost a minute before speaking up. “Can I get in with you?”

The question takes Akande by surprise. He does not like the idea one bit but after hearing the way Lucio’s voice breaks with the question, he can not tell him no. He refuses to do absolutely anything to upset the Faerie more. He can not help but remember what Gabriel Reyes said about him becoming fond of the Faerie. With each passing day, it becomes more true.

And so instead of responding, he scoots over to one side of the overly large tub without a word. There is plenty of room for another person. He stares over at the other in worry, before turning his head quickly as the Faerie drops his pants to the ground.

With all of the extra space in the pool-sized tub, Akande is surprised when the Faerie moves into the area right next to him. He feels the Faerie’s hip brush against his own as the smaller man slides into the warm water.

Lucio wipes at his eyes again, frowning hard. He clearly does not want for Akande to see him crying but his need to be near another person trumps his pride. He brings his knees up to his chest and hugs onto them, turning his face away from the other man.

The two sit in silence for a long time, not looking at one another until Akande finally speaks up. “What happened?” The question hangs in the air for a long time and Akande wonders if maybe the Faerie is not listening to him.

“Nightmares,” Lucio says simply, finally turning his head to look at Akande. His eyes are red and puffy from crying and though he just woke up, he looks incredibly tired. His eyes meet Akande’s and for a moment the two just stare at each other. “What happened to you?”

The prince frowns, glancing away from the winged boy with the question. Any other night, Akande would tell Lucio to mind his own business. “I got hit,” he says vaguely, staring at the wall in front of them.

It is difficult for Lucio to wrap his mind around. The prince is big, strong, and holds more power than most men on the continent. The idea that someone could hurt him like this seems impossible. But yet Akande has the scars all over his body to prove it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The question throws Akande for a loop. When was the last time someone asked him this? His eyebrows knit together in confusion, staring at the water ahead of him. He does not know how to talk about it, even if he wants to. “I cannot,” he says quietly, voice coming out softer than he intends. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” He wants to get the attention off of himself.

Lucio opens his mouth, but even trying to think back on the dream has him shaking his head and trying to hold back tears. “I can’t,” he mutters finally. He keeps his arms around his knees and lets his head lull over to the side to rest his cheek on Akande’s bare shoulder. "Not yet."

The prince tenses up at the contact but slowly lets himself relax his shoulders. He does not need to look at his own face in the bathroom mirror or see Lucio’s eyes glow to know the young Faerie is working his magic. In only a few seconds, he feels the sliced skin across his face begin to repair itself.

Akande sighs out in relief as the pain slowly fades from his body. “Thank you,” he says quietly, leaning back against the side of the tub. There is something relaxing about Lucio’s ability. While it heals his body of all of its aches, it also sends a comforting feeling through him as if he is being bathed in sunlight.

He closes his eyes and lets himself bask in the feeling, ignoring the fact that there is a naked Faerie next to him, getting closer with every second.

Akande does not know how long he is in a trance. When he comes to, the bath water has already become tepid and Lucio lays close to the older man, having worked his way under Akande’s arm to rest his head in the crook of the prince’s neck.

Akande believes the other man to be asleep and for a long time is afraid to move until the golden-eyed boy finally speaks up.

“Prince Akande?” The Faerie’s voice is soft and fragile. He has calmed down from his nightmare but is still far from being okay. “Can I ask you for something? It’s something big.”

The prince’s lips turn downward and his eyebrows pinch together in worry. “I will do everything in my power to do what you ask, Lucio.” He wonders if he will regret the words and cannot figure out if they are true or not.

It seems to be good enough for Lucio. He turns his head to look up at the other man. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he rests his head back on the older man’s chest, finding it easier to not look at him. “When I was in Vishkar, there were other Faeries there. Some of them didn’t survive. There were still three left alive but…”

This is clearly hard for him to talk about. Unsure of how to comfort the Faerie, Akande rests a large, wet hand on the Faerie’s back in the space between his golden wings.

“When I was taken and brought here I didn’t see them. I don’t know what happened to them… Is there anyway that you could-” He has to stop talking, just barely holding back tears. The thought that something bad could have happened to the remaining Faeries, the thought that little Efi could have been killed, was too much for him.

“I will write to Vishkar immediately. If there is any way that I can reunite you with your friends, I promise I will see it done.” He is not sure if reaching out to Satya Vaswani or King Sanjay will do any good. It does not seem as though it will help, given his failure to accept their alliance proposal.

Even as slim a chance as the idea is, it puts the Faerie at ease. He nods his head slowly before finally letting it rest against Akande’s chest.

The prince knows he should not be as comfortable next to the naked Faerie as he is. He closes his eyes and rubs slow circles in the Faerie’s soft and damp back, brushing against the delicate wings every once in awhile out of curiosity. He listens as Lucio’s deep breathing slowly turns into light snores and can not help but feel grateful for the Faerie’s company, even if he will not admit it.

Chapter Text

The changes in Lucio and Akande’s relationship were subtle but did not go unnoticed by the Faerie. He cannot explain why or when he began seeing Akande as something more than his captor. Perhaps it started a few days ago when the two shared each other’s company in Akande’s bath, silently comforting each other without a word but Lucio feels as though his feelings toward the prince have been changing long before that.

That night certainly caused a shift though.

For the past three days, Akande has seldom left his room, only disappearing for about an hour or so a day to attend meetings with the Royal Council. He would come back in a bad mood as usual, but instead of shutting himself away in the bathroom to be alone or ignoring Lucio to read a book, they would continue their reading lessons or sit at the table by the window to play cards while they eat dinner. Within a half hour, like clockwork, the prince's mood would be lightened.

They began sleeping closer together that night as well and it only took one night of Lucio scooting to the wrong side of the bed and resting his forehead against the prince’s back for it to become the new normal. There was something comforting about the prince laying close to him, with one large warm hand resting against Lucio’s bare side. He is a source of protection against the outside world and the contact somehow wards off Lucio’s nightmares.

The Faerie can not remember the last time he woke up feeling well rested. His legs shift under the soft covers, tangling them with the older man’s much larger ones. Golden wings flutter behind him, peeking out from under the silk sheets as his eyes finally open.

Akande had mentioned that he was not much of a cuddler, though he never seemed to mind when Lucio held onto him. Even now as Lucio presses his body against the older man’s, the prince only turns his head to the side in his sleep and lets out a quiet grunt.

Lucio shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable before moving to sit up, resting his hands on the pillows on either side of Akande’s face. His lips curl into a frown as he moves to straddle the older man’s hips, only wanting to get a better look at the man beneath him.

He has always thought the prince to be good looking. Only a blind man would think otherwise. But over the past weeks, Lucio has become more and more enchanted by the other’s features. Especially as he sleeps. It is times like these when Lucio has time to admire the other man.

He hesitates before resting his hand gently on Akande’s cheek and slowly tracing the sharp edge of his jaw down to his chin. He notices that the prince’s eyelids twitch just slightly with the touch and he stills his movements for a moment.

It is early in the morning and sunlight has just begun to peak through the window. It is rare that Akande sleeps in so late and so Lucio does not want to wake the older man. It is better to let him get enough sleep. Even so, the dark skin of Akande’s neck tempts him to drag his hand down further. His fingers trace gently over a protruding collar bone, brushing against the cotton of His Majesty’s shirt before dipping his fingers beneath the fabric to caress the strong muscles of Akande’s neck and shoulder. He hums quietly to himself, before bringing his hands up to the other man’s face and letting his thumb rest gently against Akande’s thick lips. He looks like a perfect sculpture.

Akande cannot tell if he is dreaming or not. His body is relaxed and his eyes are closed, enjoying the soft touches on his skin. He feels a warm weight on him. It straddles his abdomen and the pressure is comforting. Two warm hands rub at his neck and then run down to his shoulders. They play with the hem of his lightweight cotton sleep shirt before resting against his chest.

He wants those hands to touch him more, to caress his body with their warm touches.

As if his wish were granted, he feels the weight shift to sit on his hips, brushing ever so sweetly against his slowly hardening member.

This must be a dream.

He feels the cold air of his bedroom against his chest as the fabric is lifted up, followed by two warm hands resting on his abdomen. They move across his skin, tracing over scars from long ago, as if they were begging to learn the origins of every discolored and raised mark.

The touches become too much. Akande finally lifts his hands to rest on the figure’s hips, letting out a quiet groan as he rolls his hip against the warm body above his.

He feels muscle tense beneath his fingers and hears a quiet surprised gasp as the hands withdraw from his skin. The movement is too quick and too sudden.  Definitely not a part of a dream.

Akande’s eyes shoot open quickly and he is met with another pair staring down at him. Golden eyes, blown wide with surprise and fear.

“Prince Akande-”

“What are you doing?!” Akande releases his hold on the Faerie, sitting up quickly. His hands push at Lucio's chest, trying to force the small creature off of him without hurting it.

Lucio shrinks down in an instant, dwindling in size until he is no larger than Akande’s hand and his wings beat quickly. In a golden blur, he zips off of the bed and retakes his larger form in the corner of the room. “I was just looking!” he responds back quickly, on the defensive.

“By crawling on top of me?!” Akande raises his voice, not out of anger but from embarrassment. His face burns hot. How could he have acted so shamelessly? Whether he had been fully awake or not, his behavior was humiliating.

“I’m- I’m sorry!” Lucio says quickly, wanting nothing more than to get the other man to lower his voice. His hands are out in front of him, as if to keep the older man at bay.

Akande cannot help but think that Lucio is just as embarrassed as he is.

The prince quickly smooths out the front of his shirt, pulling the hem back down to cover up the toned and scar littered skin. He does not know what could have been going through Lucio’s head. He knows that Faerie seem to have a different standard for public indecency and things like this, shown by the way Lucio has walked in on him naked and refused to wear a shirt. Perhaps the golden-winged boy saw nothing wrong with his actions. Maybe Akande is overreacting.

Regardless, he is quick to hurry from the bed without another word to the Faerie, making a beeline for the adjoining restroom all the while trying to hide his stiff cock in his sleep pants.

Akande never was one to excite so easily. It should have taken more than a few gentle touches to get him going. Yet somehow, this Faerie was able to arouse him with his hands alone, and unintentionally at that.

Akande wants to blame it on having not had sex nearly a month. But even after relieving himself with his hand in the bathroom, he can not get the incident out of his mind. Throughout the morning, he finds his mind wandering to perverse thoughts of the Fae.

How the younger man’s perfect skin would feel. How it would taste.

The noises the Fae would make while the prince ravishes him.

How Lucio’s much smaller hands would feel grasping at his shoulders and back as Akande has his way with him.

The prince noticed long ago how beautiful his Faerie is but never have his thoughts run so deprave. It is all too much and Akande decides that he desperately needs to get laid.

Lucio knows he got carried away this morning. He should have never let himself get comfortable with the Prince. He should not have gotten so close. He was mistaking kindness for something more and did not realize his error until now.

When Akande opened his dark eyes, Lucio felt afraid of the older man for the first time in weeks. His fear was pushed aside only slightly when Akande retreated to the bathroom instead of lashing out at Lucio but for the entire morning, the Faerie is on edge, wondering if the incident will be brought up again.

The prince has been Lucio’s only solace for weeks. He has not been unusually cruel to the Faerie and is allowing him a place to stay until the time comes when he can return home. If Akande’s mood were to shift at any moment, Lucio could be killed by Talon’s royal guard, or cast out into the smoke ridden air outside of the palace, air that could clog his fragile lungs in minutes. Lucio needs Akande to help him get back home, that is it. There is no need for him to get close to his captor.

When Akande finally leaves the bathroom, he does not say a word to Lucio, which only makes the golden-eyed boy’s nerves worst. The rest of the morning stretches on without a word. Lucio sits in the corner of the room with a color pencil in his hand, staring down at a blank sheet of parchment, while Akande sits on the bed with a book in his hand that he has hardly turned a page in for the past four hours.

Lucio waits all this time, expecting His Majesty to bring up the incident, or for his annoyance to bubble over and cause him to snap. He never expected that he would feel disappointed when that moment never comes.

Instead, he watches from the corner of his eye as Akande finally closes the book in his hands and makes his way to the bedroom door. He steps outside, leaving the door open only a crack as he calls out for a servant. Lucio has to strain his ears to hear the older man whispering to a young maid outside.

“I need you to send a message to the usual brothel. I want a boy sent here as soon as possible. Set him up in the west wing of the castle and let me know when he arrives.”

Lucio tries to ignore the jealousy burning a hole in his stomach.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the girl’s voice responds, “Would you like for me to ask for any one in particular?”

A silence stretches on as Akande seems to think over his options. “I want a skinny one,” he says, his confidence letting the Faerie know that this is a normal occurrence. “A pretty one. If he isn’t pretty, he’s not getting a cent.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

When the door opens again, Lucio’s head bows back down, pretending not to have heard the exchange. Though he cannot keep the charade up for long. “You’re going to go have sex with someone?” he asks, surprising himself with such a prying question.

By the look on Akande’s face, he is even more shocked by the sudden question. “I-” he stands in the middle of the room for a moment before walking toward his bed. “It is none of your business,” he says stubbornly.

Lucio does not know why the Akande’s avoidance rubs him the wrong way. Was he not the one that got the Prince so flustered earlier that morning? The hard cock against his ass did not go unnoticed by the Faerie.

“Why isn’t it my business?” Lucio says with a frown, ignoring the forming scowl on his roommate’s face.

“It just isn’t, Lucio.”

“But you’re going to disappear all night and leave me alone just so you can go have sex with someone you haven’t even met-”

“Lucio, enough!”

Lucio flinches as the prince raises his voice and the room goes silent while he gathers up his courage.

“You should have me instead.”

Akande thinks that he has misheard the Faerie. “What?” he asks, baffled and standing still in the middle of the large bedroom. His eyes are locked onto Lucio’s gold ones, searching for any sign that the winged man is joking.

Lucio is frozen in place by the other’s stare, wondering if he would regret his words. His fingers hold tight to a green pencil in his hand. Would Akande hurt him like so many before had?

Finally, he pushes his chair back from the wooden table to stand up, letting the coloring utensil fall as he approaches Akande. “I said, you can have me… If you want to. Instead of-” getting the words out is harder than Lucio imagined and he quickly finds himself getting embarrassed. “Instead of sleeping with someone else, you can have sex with me.” As he says the words, he comes to a stop just in front of the stunned prince.

Akande looks bewildered as the small man approaches him. It is uncharacteristic of Lucio to be so outgoing. It takes two small hands resting on his chest for Akande to snap out of his daze. His hands dart up from his sides, grabbing onto each of Lucio’s wrists in his own, holding them at bay. “Absolutely not.”

Lucio was given to him as a gift. He was practically trapped here in Talon until further notice. Akande is his keeper. He cannot take advantage of that, even if every ounce of his being longs for what the Faerie proposes.

Lucio’s dark eyebrows furrow in annoyance at being denied. “Why not?” he asks, voice coming out harsher than he intended. He prys his arms away from the prince, not wanting to be held in a position where he could not flee if he wanted to. “You want me, don’t you?”

It is not a big deal to Lucio. Several men had taken him before during his time as a prisoner in Vishkar, and without permission. Akande would just be one more. 

“I don’t.”

“You’re lying. I see the way you look at me. I know you only called for someone else because you wanted to have me this morning.”

“It has nothing to do with you, Lucio! You are here as my guest, not as my personal whore!”

“I don’t want to be your whore! I want to be your friend, and you’ve been treating me me like your pet!” Lucio’s voice raises to match the prince’s. He clutches his hands into fists at his sides, ready to fight or flee if it came down to it.

Lucio has never spoken to Akande like this. The young Faerie usually holds himself with with quiet reserve. The harsh words and tone leaving his lips now is something Akande has never heard. He is confused by the other’s sudden change in composure. Confused, frustrated, and annoyed.

“Fine. You do not want to be my pet?” The prince’s voice is low again, dangerously calm but brimming with his anger. “Get on your knees then.”

Chapter Text

The words send shivers down Lucio’s spine.

Get on your knees then.

Suddenly he is not so sure of his proposal. The change in Akande’s tone worries him but he is in far too deep to back out now. His shoulders remain stiff but he slowly approaches the prince. He stops in front of the other man, still unsure of his own proposition.

“Well?” Akande asks, raising an eyebrow. His presence is as overwhelming and confident as ever.

And so Lucio lowers himself onto his knees at the other man’s feet. He almost sure that this will hurt his neck. The prince is far too tall for him to reach on his knees.

Obviously realizing the dilemma, Akande takes a few steps back to sit on the edge of his bed, beckoning Lucio closer.

The Fae sits on the floor for a moment before swallowing hard and crawling forward toward His Majesty.

Akande’s mouth is dry. His eyes are locked onto Lucio. The faerie’s expression is difficult to read but if Akande had to take a guess, the pair of golden eyes look determined. He watches as Lucio’s gold and green wings flutter on his bare back, covering the dark skin in colorful, fractured light as the bedroom’s torchlight illuminates him.

Lucio has always been gorgeous. Akande should be more than happy to have this man at his feet. It takes Lucio’s hands finally resting on his thighs for him to push down the feeling of guilt. The room is silent but he can hear his heart pounding in his ears as Lucio’s thin fingers start untying the dark strings at the front of Akande’s pants. Despite his efforts to keep himself composed and maintain an air of confidence, he keeps having to reassure himself.

Lucio wants this. He is the one who suggested it.

Akande’s eyes stay focused on the Faerie as the massive cock is pulled from the cotton of his pants. He watches as Lucio’s delicate hand wraps around his limp member and golden eyes go wide.

“It’s too big.”

Akande actually laughs, his chuckles rolling from his lips at the observation. It soothes his nerves a bit for the young man to say something so casually. “What’s wrong?” he asks, “You’ve seen it before, have you not?”

“Not up close like this.” Lucio hesitates before slowly beginning to stroke the member in his hand.

“You have not even gotten me hard yet,” Akande responds, amused by the other’s hesitance. “You are not thinking of back out of this, are you? You are the one who asked for me t-”

His teasing is silenced the second Lucio drags a wet pink tongue against the underside of his slowly hardening cock.

“I still want it,” Lucio says stubbornly.

Akande keeps his mouth shut and lets the Faerie go to work.

Unfortunately, Lucio acts as though he has never given a blow job before. Never a good one anyway. His hands are still and rest on each of Akande’s thighs. He starts off hesitant, pressing his lips to the thick member before slowly letting it slide into his mouth. His movements seem mechanical as if he has to think hard about each bob of his head. His teeth graze ever so slightly against the sensitive skin, causing Akande to cringe and making it hard for him to enjoy himself. Perhaps Lucio’s jaw is already hurting from the girth of the member in his mouth.

What the Faerie lacks in skill, he more than makes up for with enthusiasm. Akande cannot deny that Lucio sucking on his cock is a pretty sight. The younger man alternates between bobbing his head slowly and running his tongue against the thick member. His thick, dark cock is covered in Lucio’s saliva.

Focusing on the soft slurping noises and the way Lucio’s lips look as they stretch around him only gets him so far. After a few minutes of the Faerie stumbling through a blowjob, Akande decides to help him. Wanting to guide his movements, the prince reaches down slowly and rests his hand on the back of Lucio’s head.

As if he has been electrocuted, Lucio pulls away suddenly. His head snaps back and he worms out of the other man’s grasp. His hands come between the two of them, creating an invisible barrier. “I don’t like that!” his voice comes out, sharp and desperate.

It causes Akande’s hands to go up defensively, showing the younger Faerie his palms as if to say he was sorry. “I was trying to help,” the prince says, eyes wide at the way the Faerie had gone to an extreme so quickly. “I am not going to come like this. You clearly don’t know what you’re doing.”

Lucio’s dark eyebrows knit together, clearly unhappy with his friend’s harsh criticisms. He frowns up at the other man until Akande finally caves.

The prince lets out a sigh, standing up from his place. He cannot help but be annoyed with Lucio. The Faerie insisted on this and now that they are trying, Lucio will not do it right and refuses to take his help.

“Undress and get on the bed,” he instructs, turning to walk toward the nightstand.

“Already?” Lucio’s voice actually shakes a bit as he speaks but his actions do not show the anxiety within him as he rushes to untie his pants and let them slide to the floor. “Where are you going?”

“Oil,” Akande explains, already reaching into the side table’s drawer to pull out a small vial of clear liquid.

“Why?”

Akande cannot figure out what Lucio is playing at with all of his questions. “Because if I do not prepare you correctly, it will hurt.” The annoyance in the prince builds up in the back of his head, threatening to burst.

“Isn’t it suppose to hurt?”

The room goes silent and Akande turns to face the Faerie only to see Lucio sitting still on the bed with his legs clamped closed, sitting on his knees. His wings are folded down as if he is trying to take up as little space as possible. It made sense to him now. Lucio’s stiff behavior and why he was so quick to snap at the smallest movement.

Whether he wants this or not, he is scared.

The prince is at a loss for words for nearly a minute before slowly moving to sit on the edge of the bed. His mind races, not sure of how to begin. His back is to the Faerie and his eyes are trained on the smokey window ahead of him. “Have you done this before?”

Lucio wrestles with the question. It brings back horrifying memories that he had been trying so hard to ignore. Memories that were so easily triggered by a raised voice or a harsh word or a hand on the back of his neck. Memories of a man who took his virginity from him by force in a dark cell.

“Not like this,” Lucio crosses his arms, hugging onto himself as if to form a barrier between him and the Prince. Akande could never understand.

The prince sighs quietly, trying to wrap his mind around what that could possibly mean. The sickest thought enters his mind and he is quick to push it away, not wanting to make such cruel assumptions about what had happened to the young golden-eyed Faerie.

“Lucio,” he says, turning to look at the young man. He slowly reaches his hand out to rest it on a scrawny shoulder. “We do not have to-”

“I want to!” Lucio argues, his voice shaking ever so slightly. He could not explain it himself. All he knew for certain is that he did not want Akande to have sex with anyone else again. If giving himself to the prince is the only way to escape the jealousy eating him inside, he is willing to do it.

“Please, can you just do it?” He asks, shrugging his shoulder away from the large hand. Desperate to change the subject, he moves onto his hands and knees, facing away and presenting himself to the older man. He grits his teeth hard, waiting for the familiar pain of being entered, only for it never to come.

Akande reaches forward, grabbing the Faerie by both of his hips to maneuver him closer. He turns the small body to face his own and pulls Lucio into his lap, despite the small hands pushing at his chest.

“What’re you-!”

“If you want to do this, you need to stop being so fussy,” Akande says, voice stern. “We’re doing this my way or not at all, do you understand?”

Lucio stops his squirming, going still in the older man’s lap. He is straddling the prince’s thighs, his bare chest pressed against the older man’s much more muscular one. His heart is beating fast in his ears and his body remains tense, not use to being so close to the other man.

“Relax,” Akande instructs, voice lowering and taking on a more gentle tone. “We won’t begin until you have calmed down.”

A large hand rests on Lucio’s back and he feels some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Ever so slowly, he lets himself relax, resting his head against Akande’s chest and listening to the overlapping rhythm of the other man’s breathing and heartbeat. He closes his eyes and lets himself relax into the warm comfort he finds there.

Akande sighs quietly, hesitating before wrapping both arms around the Faerie in a loose hug. One hand comes up slowly to rest on the back of the Faerie’s head.“We do not have to do this tonight, Lucio,” he says quietly, fingers playing carefully with thick strands of dreadlocks. “Why do you want this so badly?”

Lucio struggles with the question. His eyes shut tight and he presses his slightly damp forehead against the older man’s chest. “I want to have sex with you,” he finally begins, “I’ve watched you with other people and it doesn’t look so bad. And I can’t explain it. I just want it. And it makes you feel good. And I want to do that for you…”

Akande stays quiet throughout the smaller creature’s explanation, slowly shaking his head. “It is supposed to feel good for you too,” he tells Lucio, guiding the Faerie’s head to tilt back ever so gently so their eyes can meet. “Will you let me make you feel good?”

Lucio stares up at Akande, eyes wide and confused. Slowly, he nods his head to grant the other man permission.

Without another word, the prince reaches over for the glass vial that he took out of the drawer of his nightstand minutes ago. He pours just a bit of the clear oil onto his right hand, rubbing the substance across his fingers and between each digit.

“What is it?” Lucio asks finally, watching as that warm and wet hand reaches around his hip and out of sight. It makes its presence known again as Akande slides his hand between Lucio’s ass cheeks, making the Faerie arch his back at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Lube,” Akande explains in short, rubbing a thick digit at the young boy’s puckered entrance, taking extra care to get it nice and wet, “It will make things easier.” He prods at Lucio’s hole slowly, circling his finger around the tight muscles and trying to force them to relax. He can tell the winged man is still tense and after a moment of consideration, he leans down, pressing his lips against Lucio’s shoulder to kiss at the soft skin there.

Akande has not been this gentle with anyone in years. The last time he took things this slow is a distant memory to him and he cannot remember having ever been so eager to please someone else.

Usually, the prince’s sex life is all about him. He knows he is a selfish lover. While he allowed his partners to get themselves off, and even encouraged it, he never went out of his way to please them.

It would be different this time, Akande decides. Lucio is scared and nervous and weak.

Akande wants to make him scream.

His lips move slowly against the Faeries dark skin. He starts at his shoulder, kissing, sucking, licking up to his neck as the small frame squirms in his lap. “I need you to relax for me, Lucio,” Akande says, voice low. He presses his lips to Lucio’s pointed ear to whisper to him quietly.

Slowly, he feels the tension leave the other man’s body and Lucio goes limp in his arms, resting his head on the large chest in front of him again.

As expected, it only takes another minute of prodding and rubbing for the tip of Akande’s middle finger to push its way into Lucio. He feels the Faerie’s asshole tighten and ripple around the thick digit.

“It feels... Weird,” The Faerie whines out, grabbing onto the prince’s shoulders with whitening knuckles. It does not burn or hurt the way he remembers, but there is definitely a pressure there.

“Relax,” Akande reminds him again. “You’re going to like it soon.” The words are a promise that the prince plans to make good on. He stays focused on the task at hand, moving his finger in and out of the tight entrance. He ignores the way Lucio’s nails dig into his shoulders and the Faerie's whines at every small movement.

He waits for the heat around his middle finger to loosen its hold before slowly pressing in another one alongside it.

The added pressure has Lucio squirming in his lap again. “It’s too much-”

“It’s not,” Akande argues, cutting off the smaller man. He is being as careful as he can. He knew it would not be easy but the Faerie’s tense body is making things so much more difficult. “You can do this Lucio,” he whispers out, not quite sure where the encouraging tone came from. His free hand comes up to rest on the small creature’s hip, rubbing comforting circles there with his fingers.

Lucio feels a sudden shock run through his body. It makes his body pitch forward and a short surprised noise, like an animal, tears its way from his throat. He feels Akande’s large hand tighten on his hip to keep him in place. “Don’t do tha-” The sensation runs through him again as the prince curls his fingers inside of him. This time it makes him shut his eyes tight and hold onto Akande for something to ground him.

“Don’t do it?” Akande has to hold back a laugh, knowing by the other’s reaction that he found what he was looking for. “You don’t like it then?”

“I don’t like it-” Lucio hitches forward again, losing his breath as those two fingers continue to play at his prostate. “I don’t know.” Despite his protests, the pressure does not lighten up and before he knows it, Lucio is squirming and grinding his hips down onto three of Akande’s fingers. His dick is hard and leaking and with every movement it rubs against the older man’s firm abdomen, spreading precum onto it.

“That feels good, doesn’t it Lucio?” A chuckle slips from his lips as the Faerie whines and moans, unable to give his answer with words.

Akande wants nothing more than to bend the Faerie over right now. He wants to slide his dick into the tight heat that surrounds his fingers. He wants to fuck Lucio until he screams for mercy. He wants to pump his come deep into the other man’s perfect ass.

But tonight is not the night for that. It is clear the golden-eyed boy is enjoying himself and if this is truly the first time Lucio has liked doing something like this, the prince is not willing to risk hurting him by taking it any further. And so despite his own aching cock rubbing up against the Faerie’s thigh, he ignores all of his own pleasure in favor of pushing Lucio over the edge.

The second he wraps his fingers around Lucio’s cock, his ears are met with some of the most erotic moans and whines he has ever heard. They only encourage him more and within another minute, he gets what he wants.

Lucio feels his entire body get tense. His toes curl and his back arches. Nails dig into Akande’s shoulders, dragging deep cuts across them as his vision goes white.

Akande watches as the Faerie’s face scrunches up and his perfect lips form a circle. He cannot help but think of how rewarding the sight is. He waits until the Faerie’s body goes limp against his chest before slowly sliding his fingers out from the young man. 

Lucio is still shaking from the waves of pleasure and he cannot believe how tired he suddenly feels after this. He keeps his eyes shut, fading in and out of awareness. When he finally comes to his senses again, he is cleaned up and tucked into bed. His body feels heavy and he cannot determine how much time has passed.

Akande lays next to him, propped up on an elbow, watching him with stone eyes and the slightest of smirks. “Good?”

Lucio hesitates before nodding slowly. The answer seems to satisfy the prince and without another word, Akande rolls onto his back, taking in a deep breath to collect himself.

The room is silent until a thought crosses Lucio’s mind. “You didn’t put it in?” It was both an observation and a question. The Faerie really could not recall whether Akande entered him or not. The entire act had been a blur after about halfway through.

“Of course not,” Akande says, turning his head to speak to his smaller friend. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself. Was I supposed to stop?”

“But then... Did it not feel good for you?”

Akande rolls onto his other side, facing away from the Faerie now. Is he supposed to tell Lucio that he enjoyed simply getting the other man off? Is he supposed to tell him that he immediately went to the adjoining bathroom and came within less than a minute of touching himself?

“You can make me feel good next time,” he says simply.

Does he want to do this again?

Does Lucio?

Lucio stays silent, though he surprises himself with the small smile playing at his lips. He slowly scoots closer in bed to Prince Akande. Without a second thought, he presses a brief kiss to Akande’s bare, broad shoulder, a silent promise to make it up to him. Next time.

Chapter Text

Sex became a regular occurrence for the Prince and his Faerie. Nearly every day for the past week, the two have shared intimate time together.

It never escalated to penetration. Not yet anyway.

Akande was more than satisfied by getting the faerie off any way he knew how. He surprised himself when he realized just how much he enjoyed making the young faerie squirm. It was all too rewarding when Lucio would arch into his touches and occasionally be brought to tears from his pleasure, with a hand wrapped tight around his pretty dick or fingers prodding deep in his ass.

Their first time together had been hesitant and the Faerie seemed to have been scared. But nearly every time following, Lucio was eager and desperate. Earlier this week Akande woke up to a tiny, five-inch fairy grinding desperately against his hand as if the prince could have possibly slept through such a perverse display.

A fire had been ignited in the Fae and there seemed to be no way of putting it out.

Lucio kept his promise of meeting Akande’s needs as well. He managed to reciprocate the pleasure more often than not, either with a clumsy handjob or slowly improving blowjobs.

Akande considers Lucio’s lips far too pretty not to know how to suck dick. And so he was generous enough to give the Faerie plenty of time to practice. He reminded himself to be patient with the occasional scrape of teeth and uneven pacing. Where Lucio had once been terrified of the idea of Akande touching his head during the act, he now lets the prince gently guide his movements as long as Akande is careful.

As impressed as Akande is with Lucio’s ever-improving oral technique, he has found no greater addiction than the Faerie’s thighs. He could not keep his hands off of them. They are perfect. Thick and dark, free of stretch marks, blemishes, and hair. Lucio could never understand his friend’s obsession. He found it odd that his prince insisted on slathering his legs with oil and thrusting his hard and massive cock between them until he found release.

Aside from their newfound sex drives, the two men’s friendship did not seem to change. Lucio’s reading and writing lessons went on as normal and the pair often found themselves in silent moments like this morning.

Lucio is sitting at the Rosewood table next to the grey window, sketching landscapes and scenes, while Akande sits propped up in bed, a book in his hands.

Mornings like this could go on for hours. The silence was no longer suffocating and awkward but instead is calm, familiar, and comfortable.

“I need new colors,” Lucio finally says, frowning down at the forest scene he has created.

The soft voice draws Akande’s attention and he drops his book to his lap, gazing over at the golden-winged Fae. “I brought you a new set earlier this week,” he reminds his friend gently. The prince has lost count of how many color pencil sets he has bought for Lucio.

“I’m out of green.”

“Maybe you should use a different color,” Akande recommends, knowing that the suggestions would do no good. Out of hundreds of drawings so far, not one had lacked the color.

“I can’t draw anything without green,” Lucio says matter of factly, finally looking up from his drawing to peer over at the prince.

Akande finds it funny that Lucio thinks so. “Is that so?” His voice is tinged with amusement. “Why do you only ever draw the forest?” he asks.

Lucio seems to consider the question, thumbing through all of the pieces that he has worked on this morning. Like he had not noticed until it was pointed out. “I-... Don’t only draw the forest,” he says slowly, still rummaging through sheets covered in green markings. “I’ve drawn people… I’ve drawn animals.” He holds up one drawing to show the prince. A dark-skinned and heavy set Fae woman sits amongst a pile of leaves, holding a small child in each of her arms. Both have dark eyes and brown wings that nearly blend into the background. “I draw what I want to remember,” Lucio finally says, his words taking on a sadder tone as he turns the paper around to look at it. “I don’t want to forget.”

Akande could not sympathize with the young man. His memories of growing up in Talon’s castle were as clear as day. And if given the choice, he would gladly erase most of them from memory. But Lucio seems desperate to hold onto a part of his past. He refuses to let it slip.

“Where you are from must be very beautiful,” Akande says slowly, trying to put a smile back on Lucio’s face. “I’ve never left Talon. I have not seen so much green in my life,” he explains. If Akande were to recreate his childhood with color pencils, surely he would run out of grey time and time again. With all the ash in the air and soot on the ground, the volcanoes surrounding the palace and the dark halls of the interior. Grey is about all that there is.

“It is,” Lucio Lucio agrees with a solemn nod.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

The question takes Lucio by surprise and he is not sure how to respond. Akande has never asked much about Lucio’s life prior to Talon. And up until this moment, the Faerie liked it that way. He never wanted Akande to know about his time in Vishkar, but he did not see a problem with telling the older man about the Forest of Faes. The place he had grown up and spent almost his entire life.

Hesitantly, he slides out of his wooden chair, gathering up many pieces of colorful parchment in his arms before approaching his friend and taking a seat next to him on the bed.

Akande had not been prepared for the response. He sits up straight, setting his book on the nightstand and scooting over to make room for the Faerie. He watches as the winged-boy spread his pieces of art out on the bed’s comforter.

Lucio stares down at them for a minute, seeming to put his thoughts together. “I grew up inside a tree,” he says slowly, glancing over at the prince. “We didn’t have beds or blankets or anything like this. And we didn’t have to wear pants.”

Akande lets out a quiet chuckle at the disdain in Lucio’s voice at the mention of pants. He knew the young man hated wearing them, though he hoped that Lucio had grown used to them by now. The first time Akande handed them to him, Lucio did not seem happy at all to put them on. “Probably never bathed either,” Akande jokingly adds on to the other’s description with a small smile.

Lucio shakes his head. “Not as much as you make me bathe now,” he says, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. It had been difficult to adjust to, having Akande insist that he bathe every day or so. “We washed in the rivers and lakes sometimes,” he explains, “But we didn’t use that soap stuff. The blue Fae lived there. I don’t think they would have liked that.”

“Blue Fae?”

Lucio nods quickly as if an explanation was not needed. He gazes up at Akande, realizing that it is not the case. “They have blue eyes and blue wings,” he begins to explain, “They can breathe underwater and manipulate the currents.” Lucio stays silent for a moment before trying to explain further. “A Faerie's color determines what their abilities are. There are different clans and groups based on what we can do.”

Akande finds it difficult to wrap his mind around this but nevertheless, he makes an effort. “So golden-eyed Faeries like you,” he begins, thinking back on all he had witnessed the Fae do so far. “They can heal people by touching them?” It had only happened twice so far but Akande clearly remembers the way Lucio’s eyes glowed brightly as he dissolved the prince’s pain.

Lucio tilts his head. He struggles with the answer. Surely Akande could use it against him. After all, his unique ability had been what got him into all of this trouble in the first place. He finally looks up to Akande, trying to remind himself that the Prince of Talon had never intentionally caused him harm. “Not exactly,” he begins hesitantly, the words dragging out of his mouth, “Other golden-eyed Fae… They can only heal themselves, not other people. I was born into a brown-eyed clan, so I wasn’t supposed to have extra powers at all.” He pauses for a moment, frowning down at the bed sheets again. “No one knows why I have golden eyes… or why I can heal other people.”

The silence drags on and for a moment Lucio wishes Akande would break it, before taking it into his own hands. He clears his throat and reaches forward, picking up the drawing from earlier, the one with the short chubby woman and two small children. “This is my mom. And my brother and sister,” he explains, trying to redirect the conversation away from his peculiar quirk.

Akande’s lips push up into a small smile as the tension fades and he takes the illustration in his hands, staring down at the browns and greens. Lucio really does have a talent for drawing. While the style is a bit abstract and some areas are blurry and messy, the emotion he conveys is overwhelming. The woman’s face is round and kind, with greying hair and laugh lines around her eyes. There is an afro-headed baby on her hip and a young boy clinging to her other side that looks very much like Lucio though his eyes are dark.

“What are their names?” the prince asks finally.

Lucio cannot help but smile as he points to first the young boy and then his little sister. “Nico and Yara,” he says slowly. He did not want to think about what had become of them. Last he saw, they were out of harm's way, but there was no telling what other hardships his family faced without him. He only hopes that they are better off than he is.

Akande remains quiet as he looks over the picture before his attention shifts to another image amongst the pile. It is of a group of Faerie sitting in a line. Some of their faces are blurred and smudged and a few are hastily scribbled and barely recognizable. The clearest one is of a young, green-eyed girl. She holds her knees to her chest, hugging onto them tightly to hide her naked body. A pair of green and yellow butterfly wings extend behind her.

It is not the assortment of winged men and women that catch his attention but rather the stark white of the background. In all of Lucio’s other images, no detail is left uncaptured. “It’s not finished?” Akande assumes, not noticing how the boy next to him tenses up and clenches his fists at the attention to this particular picture.

“I’m not going to finish it,” the Faerie says, reaching out and taking the image in a quick motion. He folds the paper in half as if to hide it from the prince. He knows Akande is bound to ask and so he is quick to explain. “The other Fae from Vishkar,” the words tumble out quickly. He wants them to be heard and then forgotten, “I want to remember them but I don’t want to remember the place.”

“I want to remember my  home ,” he begins again, setting the folded paper aside in favor of showing Akande more lively scenes. A water Fae laying in the bank of a river, a large tree with colorful flowers and birds amongst its branches and leaves, a frog hiding beneath a rotten log. “I can’t wait to go back… I miss it so much.” It makes his heart ache when he remembers his home. The bright colors, sounds of early mornings, the smell of the earth. All there is in Talon is smoke and ash and rock.

The mention of Lucio going home makes Akande’s stomach drop. He remembers Sir Reyes calling him out, saying that Akande did not want Lucio to go because he had become attached to him. If it was not true then, it certainly is now. Akande did  not  like the idea of the Faerie leaving.

Lucio is surprised when the prince suddenly turns and stands up from the bed. “Do you want to go somewhere?” he asks, walking over to his closet and opening the door.

Lucio stares in awe, trying to process the question. He watches as Akande pulls on a blue and gold embroidered overshirt, wasting no time in lacing and tying it up before pulling on a pair of heavy black pants. His reflexes barely allow him to catch a thin cotton shirt thrown his way.

“Lucio?”

He shakes his head, trying to escape his daze. “Go somewhere?” the Faerie asks, frowning over at his prince. “Where are we going?” He turns his attention to the white fabric in his hands, noticing how low the fabric in the back ran as if the shirt were made to accommodate his wings.

“It’s a surprise,” Akande says, picking out a small shoulder bag from the closet. “Will you trust me?” 

In over a month, Lucio has never left the confines of Prince Akande’s sleeping chambers. There were times when he believed that he never would again.

It was hard for him to trust Akande. Especially when the older man opened up a small bag and asked him to hide inside. He did not know how he felt about it, but his curiosity ended up getting the better of him.

His heart raced as he shrunk down to a smaller size and flew inside the black back. He was completely at the prince’s mercy and could do nothing but sit within the dark fabric and hope that his friend would not betray him.

He was not left in the dark for long and soon feels the bag being set on the ground.

“You can come out now,” Akande’s voice coaxes him not ten minutes later. “No one should see you. I’ll keep a lookout.”

Lucio squints his eyes as the top of the bag opens up and he is bathed in a dim light. The sight that immediately catches his eyes makes his eyes well up with tears.

Grass. It is green and real and only a step away. But the Faerie is frozen in place, staring in awe at the surrounding area.

He stands in the middle of some sort of greenhouse. There is a cobblestone path that winds in between and around a variety of flower bushes and fruit trees. The path is lit every few feet with standing torches, and the light from them flickers and illuminates the plants. The plants are very different from the ones he was accustomed to in the forest but they were alive nonetheless. He tilts his head back, staring up at the glass ceiling above him, seeing how the smoke from the outside world billows and floats above.

“Where are we?” He asks, voice impossibly quiet.

“This is the palace’s garden,” Akande says softly, staring on at their surroundings as well, though not with the same wonder that Lucio’s eyes held. “It’s the only place in miles where anything grows… My mother had it planted years ago.”

Lucio does not look at Akande, still staring in awe. He breathes in deeply. The smell of sulfur is not as strong as it was outside the palace, but it still lingers in the air, mixing with the smell of roses and grass. It does not smell like the forest. But it was a step in the right direction.

“I’ll wait by the door and keep watch,” Akande says again. He does not want anyone seeing the Faerie out and about like this. “Take as long as you need.”

Akande is not prepared by the Faerie taking on his human size and embracing him. Two thin arms wrap around the prince’s waist and squeeze on tight.

“Thank you,” Lucio whispers quietly before taking a step back and hurrying into the garden, immediately disappearing behind a pear tree.

Akande keeps his promise of standing by the door, but he finds it difficult to keep watch, particularly with Lucio being the way he is. The prince has never seen the winged-boy so lively before. A permanent smile stains his face as he zips from one plant to the next, picking flowers here and gathering them up in a pouch he made with his oversized cotton shirt.

He is even more taken aback when he hears something he never expected. As if the noise were summoned from the Faerie’s subconscious, he begins to sing. The words are in a language Akande has never heard before. They flow together in a soft rhythm, floating through the air and echoing through the garden. The Faerie's voice is enchanting, hypnotizing. The feeling it invokes is very similar to the soothing sensation that Akande felt when Lucio worked his healing magic on him.

He sings one song, then another, and another. Akande is not sure how much time passes as he watches Lucio dance around the garden with a soft smile on his face as he picks flowers and feels the grass beneath his bare feet.

It is as if Lucio is a completely different Faerie. He is calm and at peace. It's almost surreal.

Akande wonders if this is the person the Faerie was before all of his hardships. Before Viskar and before Talon. He wishes he could have seen Lucio in his home. Before everything went wrong.

Akande is ripped from his thoughts by voices out in the hall. While one is completely foreign to him, the other is unmistakable. It is the deep and gravelly voice of his father.

“Lucio!” Akande hisses out, calling to his friend. He could not let the king see the Faerie like this. There is no telling what Akinjide would do to Lucio. “Hide!”

Lucio’s song comes to an abrupt halt and his eyes widen. The innocent and ethereal Faerie disappears and is quickly replaced with the terrified boy that Akande first met. He vanishes within a blink of an eye, nearly a hundred flowers fall from the air as he does so, and he is quick to hide within the briar bush.

Akande turns his attention to the garden's entrance just in time to see his father and his guest arrive.

“I heard you were out in the garden, boy.” Akinjide looks like he is doing well today. He stands up straight, clothed in royal robes and a cape, giving him a bulkier appearance and disguising the frail old man as a proper king. If someone did not know him, they might not be able to tell that he is dying. “Don't you have anything more productive to be doing than frolicking in the flowers? You're too much like your mother.”

Akande bites his tongue.

“I'm glad I found you nevertheless,” the king continues, “I have someone to introduce you to. Akande, this woman will be our new royal scientist. You should make yourself familiar with her. I believe her skill set will be very beneficial to us.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.”

Akande directs his attention to the unfamiliar woman. She is tall and slender, with long limbs and impossibly sharp cheekbones. She is pale with short, fiery red hair and two mismatched and stone cold eyes.

“My name is Moira O'deorain. I look forward to working with you.”

Chapter Text

Day 1 of the Faerie Project

I am keeping this journal not for my own benefit, but for the benefit of science as a whole. My hope is that some light may be shed on my subject of research.

As the royal scientist of Vishkar, my work has consisted mostly of assisting in the development of potions and monitoring the side effects of the magics used here. The royal family here in Vishkar has strong ties with the magical world and they are all classically trained in Alchemy. I have never had a lack for work under their employment. Though my work is fundamental to the success of the Kingdom, it has become exceedingly dull.

It is for this reason that I am grateful for Satya Vaswani’s approval and funding of my latest research endeavors.

King Sanjay has been sending military forces out for months now, conquering neighboring kingdoms and expanding Vishkar’s rule into the free states to its south known as the Land of Harmony. Rumor had reached me that the latest expedition would be into the Forest of Faeries, an ancient civilization which has been left undisturbed for hundreds of years. According to legend, the Faerie there are born with incredible powers, much different from the gifted few throughout the land who choose to hone their skills in alchemy or witchcraft.

I asked for the King’s permission to travel as a part of the expedition, to detain a select few of these Fae folk and study their abilities. His Highness was hesitant, but thanks to the persuasion of Princess Satya, he agreed.

Tonight we are stationed in a camp just north of the Forest of Faes. By dawn tomorrow, we will begin our assault on the Forest in order to conquer its people for the Kingdom of Vishkar and to obtain my new test subjects. 

Day 2

The Faerie are real. --- 

Day 3

I did not get much time yesterday to write a proper journal entry. It was probably for the best, anyhow. So much happened in the forest that I needed time to gather my thoughts. To decipher the events of our expedition and separate the important from filler details.

Day 2 was an overwhelming success. The Faerie were far more numerous and their powers more interesting than I had ever imagined.

They are fascinating creatures, with the ability to shrink down to a size no greater than a house sparrow. Their wings are colorful and thin like an insect's. They are crystalline, translucent, and highly flexible, though they tear easily.

If they had been more organized or had seen an attack coming, I am sure they would have put up a good fight against Vishkar’s soldiers. But the Fae seemed to be divided into a series of clans with no central figurehead. On our expedition, several Faerie were interrogated as to where their King was, but none of the creatures seemed to understand the concept.

As for acquiring Faerie for my research, I was pleased to find that the same sigils and serums that inhibit sorcery and witchcraft also prevent the Faeries from using their born gifts. It was rather easy to inject the creatures with an inhibitor serum and place them inside an iron cage that I had prepared with the necessary sigils carved on its underside.

I am eager to learn more about their abilities. Yesterday, I learned that the Faerie’s eye and wing colors can be used to determine what sort of powers they were born with. We picked up seven Faerie total. Their colors were red, green, brown, white, purple, blue, and gold.

I am particularly interested in the golden-eyed Faeries. These creatures have regenerative abilities and are able to heal themselves at astounding rates. Throughout our journey yesterday, I only saw one that was able to heal others than himself. This Faerie is captive in the cage with the others right now. I look forward to learning the extent of his powers.

I will provide a more thorough analysis of the remaining Fae once their abilities are discovered.

Tomorrow, the soldiers assigned to my company and I  will begin the trip back to Vishkar to begin our research while the rest of the army continues southward. 

Day 7

We arrived at the Castle of Light in the late afternoon. It was a long journey from the edge of Vishkar’s kingdom to the northern capital and onward to the Vaswani Mansion, traveling from sun up to sun down by horseback.

As soon as we arrived, my presence was requested by King Sanjay and his daughter. His Highness informed me of a section in the dungeon designated for my studies, complete with a holding cell for the seven Fae and extra room to work.

I had my men guard the Faerie out in the courtyard while I prepared the dungeon for the creatures’ arrivals by engraving inhibitor sigils into the walls of each cell, checking for any faulty or weak cells bars, and clearing the area of any items that could aid in an escape.

The cells are in a row on the southmost wall of the dungeon. Cells were assigned in the following order:

The red-eyed and winged Faerie is in the leftmost cell, followed then by the brown-eyed Fae, then purple, white, blue, and green, with the golden-eyed Fae at the rightmost end.

I instructed my guards to shave each Faeries heads to make it easier for our experiments. Then they hosed off each of these faerie to clean them of dirt and blood.

They were each given a bowl of corn porridge and a cup of water for dinner this evening, as they have not been fed since we left their homeland. I am hesitant to give them too much food. My worries are that they will gather their strength and find a way to escape.

This will also make experimentation very difficult. I cannot test their powers from within the sigil covered cells, but the risk of removing them from their holding areas is great. We will have to be incredibly careful in our endeavors and take every precaution to avoid an uprising.

Tomorrow my work will begin. 

Day 8

Today was an overwhelming success for Vishkar’s scientific community. Though I was only able to spend about an hour maximum on each of the captured Faeries, the information that I learned during this time was invaluable.

The soldiers lended to me by King Sanjay are fundamental in my research. They assisted me in taking the Faeries one by one from their cells and down the hall to an isolated testing chamber. Here, the Faeries were restrained, observed, and questioned on their abilities.

The details on each of these Fae are documented below, referring to each Fae by the color associated with their ability.

The Red-eyed Faerie was the first that we brought to the testing room. She was a difficult one to catch in the forest. She clearly has a strong fighting spirit that we will have to try and break as soon as possible. Her power has been clear since day two. She has the ability to ignite herself ablaze. This did a number on the guards who were assigned to taking her from her cage to the isolated holding room. Their hands were burned as the woman Fae struggled and tried to escape their grasp. We quickly learned that dousing her with pails of water was all that it took to extinguish these flames and inhibit her from using her ability, or at least until she dried off. Even screaming in anger, soaking wet, and shivering, she is admittedly beautiful. So much so that I had to warn my guardsmen against depredating her. She had fair skin an long auburn hair, before it was shaved off of course. Her eyes are vibrant red like rubies, and her wings were the color of fire with scales in red and yellow and orange. She would not answer any of the questions that we had for her.

The Brown-eyed Faerie is a rather plain looking young man. He has dark skin and eyes, and wings that almost resemble fallen leaves; brown with small flecks of black and paler shades. He struggled at first when we tried to take him from the cell, but quickly elected to walk alongside the guards as a sword was pressed to his back. When he reached the testing room, he was restrained with his arms tied behind his back and was pushed to sit on his knees. We waited a long time for him to retaliate and show us his power, even prompted him with a hot iron to his side, but he would not demonstrate it for us. He cried and claimed that he was not born with a gift like the others. I do not believe him. We will spend more time trying to get him to show us tomorrow.

The Purple Fae has not caused a problem for us yet. We found him in the forest, lying on the ground helplessly as the rest of the Faerie fled from the soldiers. He did not respond to our words or actions and did not put up a fight as my men lifted him from the leaves on the ground and into the cage. We were hesitant to take the clearly injured Faerie with us, but another purple-eyed Faerie could not be found. I wonder if they are a rarity or if they are simply more difficult to capture. He would not demonstrate his ability today and still did not speak. I wonder if he is braindead. A doctor will be called to evaluate him. He is no good to me in this state.

The White one is the oldest of the Faeries that we captured. She must be somewhere in her forties of fifties, assuming that Faerie age at the same rate as humans. Her skin is snow white and her eyes have no iris. Her wings are shaped like a moths, but are crystal clear like glass. So far, I have reason enough to assume that she is mute. She holds herself with what little dignity she has left, keeping her head up proud as she is led from one room to the next. When asked what her ability was, she said not a word, but demonstrated it for us. She is a shapeshifter. The forms we saw today were those of a mouse, of a cat, and of a deer, all stark white.

The Blue-eyed Faerie is the most visually interesting of the bunch. He has tanned skin with several scars. Gill-like structures line his neck, and his arms and legs have blue ridges, much like a sea creature. I can only assume that Fae like him reside in water, but could not confirm it today. Blue would not cooperate with my soldiers and had some very vulgar and choice words to say about me and my men.

I am not sure how old the Green-eyed Faerie is. She is only a child and is the youngest Faerie that we managed to capture. Her wings remind me of a butterfly, and are shades of dark green and yellow. Her skin is dark, making her piercing green eyes even more vibrant. She has not stopped crying since her capture. The girl lost her father and is clearly grieving. But a smaller Faerie is far easier to deal with than an adult one, and so we had to keep her. We did not question her for long. We know her power is to manipulate flora. We saw her father make vines grow out of the ground at an alarming rate and can only assume that she can do the same.

The last Faerie is the most interesting to me. The Gold Faerie that can heal himself and others with a touch of his hand. He too has some fight in him, and refused to be led by my guards, instead opting to walk alongside them. He refused to answer any questions as of yet, but we did test his powers today. I had one of my guards slice a long shallow cut across the Faerie’s chest. His eyes glow with a golden light when he heals himself. Next, I had a young girl brought from a nearby village. Her parents had asked her to be healed by Vishkar’s alchemists months ago, but they had no luck. I demanded that the Gold Faerie heal her sickness, but he was adamant that it was impossible. I hope that he will one day learn how.

I am most excited to run tests on the Gold Faerie. I wonder if he could hold the secrets to regeneration and even immortality.  

Day 15

Little more has been learned about the Faerie in my custody, though I thought it best to provide regular updates, even if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred.

I have taken samples from each of the Fae. Skin cells, pieces of their wings, and saliva samples. So far, nothing unnatural has been found. I expected to see differences in the structure between Faerie and human cells, but no differences have been spotted.

From each of the Faeries, I took a sample from their wings, no bigger than a thumb. While it seemed to distress them that I was ripping their wings, they did not seem to feel pain. This leads me to believe that they lack pain receptors in their wings. I will have to run an experiment to test this hypothesis. Under a microscope, the structure appears to be made up of tiny scales, much like an insect's wings.

I still do not know what the abilities of the purple or brown-eyed Faeries are.

Purple is still in a daze and has not spoken since his arrival. I had a physician take a look at him and there seems to be nothing wrong with him physically. The doctor’s best guess is that he is still in shock from both the destruction of his home and the sudden change in environment. He may be hopeless.

Brown is still insisting that he does not have an ability and though we have used very severe means to try and get him to confess, he remains adamant. The other Faerie have spoken out in his defense, also claiming that brown-eyed Faeries are not born with a special gift. It is still too early to believe them.

The golden-eyed Fae has quickly grown on me. He is far more fascinating than the rest. No matter how much I let my guards beat or cut him, he heals himself and gets up again. Yesterday, we let him witness the torture of his brown-eyed friend. It was intriguing to see him heal the older Faerie’s wounds only for my guards to cut him up again. 

Day 27

We have lost one of our Faerie. Admittedly, I had not been keeping a close eye on the purple Faerie lately. He had become useless to me, and I was led to believe that he had some sort of mental handicap. That his shock was permanently debilitating. Clearly, I was wrong.

He finally snapped out of his daze, nearly a moon cycle after his capture. We were transporting him from his cell to the experimentation room when suddenly he yelled out. He asked where he was and fought against the guards’ hold. Upon seeing his fellow Faerie in cages, he went berserk, fighting against the guards. As soon as we thought that we had him under control again, he disappeared in a flash of purple.

Needless to say, my men and I were shocked by the Faerie’s sudden disappearance. That is, until the other Faeries began cheering. The youngest, the green-eyed Fae, broke into sobs, grinning at the other man's disappearance.

Red cackled joyously, grinning at me through the bars of her cell. I am sure she could tell I was confused and so she clarified the situation for me. She told me that violet-eyed Faeries are able to teleport and that I would never see my old prisoner again.

It made sense now, the reason why I could not find any other like him in the forest. I am sure his species are incredibly difficult to hold in one place for long. We simply got lucky in finding one that was temporarily inhibited.

I do not know the extent of this teleportation, and so I sent a troop of guards out to search the Castle of Light’s perimeter, hoping to find any trace of the Purple Faerie.

As for the Red woman who seemed so eager to mock my misfortune, I let my men take her to do as they pleased. 

Day 28

The teleporting Faerie has not been found. I’ve ordered my men to give up their search. 

Day 29

Another one is gone.

My men got their turn with Red finally. They have been begging me to let them defile her since the day we took her from the forest. It would have been cruel of me to deny them that right after they have been such good employees.

When they were not having their time alone with her, I will admit that I took out much of my anger on the fiery Faerie. It was such great stress relief to split her pretty skin under my knife and see the normally proud and defiant girl screaming and begging for mercy.

I pushed her too far.

While I have seen her ignite herself before, I had always believed her body was immune to the fire’s effects. When one of my guards came to me and told me she had burned herself to a crisp, I almost did not believe it. 

Day 34

Things have come to a sudden standstill in my research. After having lost two of my specimen, I have found it difficult to continue things like they are. I would like to blame these incidents on the soldiers assisting me in my lab, though I know the fault is only my own. I should have taken more precautions.

Though the violet-eyed Fae’s escape may have been unavoidable and only a matter of time, red’s death was due to a complete lack of judgement.

I let my anger get the better of me and let my men push her too far. Not even the golden Faerie could help her. He screamed in horror as he was presented with her burnt and mutilated corpse and cried for the loss of someone who, to my knowledge, he had no attachment to.

The golden-eyed Faerie cannot heal sickness and he cannot heal death.

This entire experiment is seeming pointless to me now. 

Day 33

I received a letter from my home in Oasis this morning. Unfortunately, for events beyond my control, I must leave Vishkar for a short time. It pains me to abandon my research at such a time, especially given the circumstances of the past weeks.

My assistants have been ordered to continue on my research and update me of any suspicious behavior among the Faerie and of any possible improvements. I’ve given them no further instruction other than to make sure that my specimen are all in one piece by my return. 

Day 76

I have finally returned to continue my research in Vishkar. During my unexpected break, I was able to take a step back and reevaluate the experiments on the Fae-folk in my custody. I believe in my efforts to progress science. I have been too strict in following protocol and too gentle with these creatures, not wanting to cause permanent damage to them. The golden Faerie excluded of course, given that his talent cannot be tested without first causing him injury.

From now on, I will not be careful with any of them. I plan to use any means possible to learn their secrets and their powers.

I will not care for what the men working under my orders do or for what the King and his Princess have to say about my methods. My research will come above all else.  

Day 77

Today we began our new strategy for interrogating the Fae.

Today was a big day for the golden Fae. He is providing an invaluable service to our efforts. With his help, we are able to cut up and inflict pain on the other Faeries as much as we need without worrying about them dying. Unfortunately even with these healing abilities, the other Fae’s injuries still scar, unlike the golden Faerie’s wounds. But this is a fair price to pay.

This method seems to be tearing down every Faerie emotionally, which I believe will make them more willing to cooperate with my experimentation. 

Day 85

We lost a life today in the lab. I stepped out for the afternoon, leaving the water-Faerie’s torture to my men. I wanted to test the extent of how long both he and the golden-eyed Faerie could use their abilities. But it seems that after a few hours, the golden Faerie refused to heal his friend any longer.

My men tell me that the blue Faerie begged for death. He begged for the other Faerie to let him die rather than heal him. Nevertheless, the golden one will pay for this.

Months ago, I believe I would have been distraught by the news of a Faerie’s death, especially given that there are only four that remain. But I suppose these are the sacrifices that we must make in the name of science.

Gold seems to have a fondness for the green-eyed girl. His punishment for tomorrow will be to watch her be tortured until he begs us to let him heal her. 

Day 98

As a scientist, I understand that bias is incredibly dangerous to my field of work. However, I believe that my interest in the golden Fae is justified. The rest of the Faerie here: the shapeshifter, the girl who can control plants, and the ability-less Faerie, are no use to me this far in my research. Lately, they have only been used as tools to test gold’s abilities.

I will admit it gives me great pleasure to torture this Faerie only to watch his body heal and correct itself. It is a gift that can lead the study of immortality if we are able to find out how it works.

It is ever frustrating though, watching him heal his and others’ physical bodies though he somehow cannot cure disease. I’ve brought in almost a hundred men and women with different ailments, trying to find something, ANYTHING that he can heal. So far we have had no luck. I need more time to perform tests on his individual cells, though this calls for more equipment and more funds from my generous sponsors. I will have a conference with King Sanjay and Satya Vaswani in the coming week to discuss further funds. 

Day 117

In my previous journal entry, I referred to King Sanjay and his adopted daughter as ‘generous sponsors.’ I now know that this is anything but true. Thanks to their foolishness, I am unable to continue my research.

When I asked for additional funds and equipment for my studies, Princess Satya requested to see the progress I have made so far. She came down to the dungeon, to my lab, and claimed that I have done nothing but make a mess of the place and torture innocent and simple creatures. She could not comprehend my vision for the Faeries under my control and said there was no reason for me to continue my experiments.

Within a few hours, His Royal Highness came to observe the lab for himself and was quick to agree with his daughter’s claims that I had somehow wasted their time and money.

Just like that, I was forced to watch everything I worked for months on be torn apart. Satya oversaw the disassembly of my laboratory. I was held by spear point and forced to watch as she ordered that the three Faerie in the cells along the wall were put into a single cage to be taken out of the Kingdom for relocation.

I have no idea what became of these three Faeries. Though I know for a fact that my golden-Faerie was given to a prince in Talon as a proposal gift.

I fought the royal family in Vishkar every step of the way, but they would not hear my pleads and threatened me with banishment or imprisonment. I lost my job as their royal scientist. I have been disgraced and humiliated. Tomorrow, I will start the journey back to my home town in Oasis. There is nothing left for me here. 

I did not expect that I would ever reopen this journal. After my failure in Vishkar, I was resigned to work the rest of my days in Oasis, acting as a local scientist and doctor in the village only a few miles from my cottage in the woods.

But yesterday the hopes and beliefs of my scientific pursuits were restored. I received a letter from a carrier raven addressed to Dr. O'deorain, from King Akinjide of Talon. The letter read as follows:

Dr. Moira O’deorain,

I have heard of your research through diplomats and from several of my intelligence agents. From what several of these individuals have told me, in this past year you have began making progress toward a cure for mortality.

As outlandish as these claims may seem, due to my old age and declining health, I am willing to meet with you and discuss an employment opportunity. If what I have heard is true, I will gladly give you a spot on my royal council and any available tools that I can offer for your research.

If you accept this request, I expect to see you here in Talon by the next full moon.

Awaiting your response,

Akinjide Ogundimu

Needless to say, I could not have received better news. To my understanding, the very Faerie I need to continue my research should be within Ogundimu Castle. It is unclear to me if His Majesty knows that his Faerie is fundamental in my research, though I am sure we can reach an agreement if the golden-Faerie is still there. Especially since King Akinjide seems almost as desperate for the secret of immortality as I am.

Chapter Text

Seeing Moira in the garden was the scariest moment of Lucio’s life. After all of this time of trying to forget the wicked woman who tortured him and his Fae brothers and sisters, she appeared again out of nowhere. Lucio did not understand the situation. How could he? Did the corrupt scientist follow him to Talon? Did the Royal family of Vishkar send her to get him back? Is it a coincidence?

The second he saw her, he broke down. He was shocked into paralysis as he stood in the briar bush, concealed by thorns and leaves. He could not breathe as he watched the King of Talon introduce the source of all of his suffering to Akande. His mind buzzed with static. He saw all three of their lips moving as they chatted, but could not make out a single word.

It was not until a couple of minutes later, when the king and the scientist depart from the garden, that Lucio fell to his knees in the dirt. He sobbed uncontrollably, shaking and struggling to breathe as panic courses through his body.

He could vaguely hear Akande calling for him, beckoning for him to come out of hiding and then asking him what was wrong. The briars and thickets shifted above him as Akande plunged his hands into the thorny bushes and scooped up the scared Faerie in his hands.

He was not sure how long he stayed like that, crying and shaking in the palms of Akande’s bloodied hands. It could have been minutes or hours, time meant nothing to him then. He could hear Akande talking to him but could not make out the words. They all seemed so far away, in another world.

When he finally quieted down, he could not stop shaking, though it gave Akande enough time to carry the Faerie back to his sleeping quarters without being heard.

The rest of the week had Lucio on edge. He would not speak and hardly looked at the prince. How could he explain what this woman did to him? There were no words. 

Akande assumed it was the sight of the King that spooked Lucio. The Faerie had not seen Akinjide since his first arrival at the Ogunidimu’s Castle, and if he knew anything about the mad king, then he would be right to fear him. Though, his reaction was a bit over the top.

The prince could not get an explanation out of his friend. For a week Lucio was silent. When Akande spoke, it was as if the other man could not hear him. He did not leave his smaller form for days. He refused to eat. He hid beneath the bed or in Akande’s clothing drawers. Much to the prince’s annoyance, it was as if the Faerie was ignoring and avoiding him.

When the bedroom door opens, Lucio shrinks down to the size of a small bird and his wings beat quickly to carry him to a hiding place beneath the table in the corner.

It has been like this ever since the garden. He cannot help but rush to hide whenever he hears the click of the doorknob. It has never been anyone but Akande, but the Faerie is still terrified that one of these days, a heterochromatic-eyed scientist will make an appearance.

“Just me.”

Akande’s voice does little to take Lucio off the edge. He stays low to the ground, clinging to a wooden table leg until the door finally closes again. Hesitantly, he regains his full size and crawls out from under the table.

“What can I do to get you to stop acting like this?” The prince asks, frowning as he watches Lucio scoot back into his seat by the window and pick up a quill pen. “My father does not know that you’re here. No one does. I told you that you would be safe in my company.”

Lucio barely processes the words. Instead, focusing his eyes down on the parchment paper he had been writing on.

Map

Water

Bred

“I brought you some fresh fruit from the garden.... You know we can go back there anytime you want. You seemed to like it there... I don’t think I ever saw you that happy before.”

Vegeetabuls

Cloves

Nife

“If you want, I can go get you some new color pencils. Or I could ask for one of our servants to go into town and buy some oil paints for you to work with.”

Blankits

Maches

Ma-

“What are you doing?” Akande asks, pulling the paper from Lucio’s grasp before he can write the next word. The action makes the Faerie flinch and cower in his seat. The prince stares down at the messy handwriting and poorly spelled words, trying to make sense of them. “Map, Water, Bread, Vegetables, Clothes, Knife, Blankets, Matches… What is this, a shopping list?” he asks with an amused scoff, trying to make sense of what he is reading.

Lucio had not even realized the prince was talking to him until the parchment was taken from him. And now, for the first time this week, the prince has his attention. The words are caught in Lucio’s throat for a moment before finally sliding off his tongue. “For when I leave,” he says finally, not meeting his friend’s eyes. “I need to know what to bring.”

It was all that Lucio could think about these days. Ever since he saw Moira, his fight or flight response had been activated. He knew he made a promise to stay in Talon until the spring, but he needed to be ready to leave as soon as possible.

“For when you leave?” Akande’s voice sounds small.

The Faerie nods, his golden eyes finally locking onto the prince’s darker ones. “I don’t want to stay here longer than I have to. I need to go home.” Lucio cannot figure out why his friend seems so shocked by the statement. Akande knows Lucio misses his home. He knows Lucio hates being in Talon. He even promised to help the Faerie leave safely when the time came.

So then why does the prince’s mouth hang open as if he has something to say? As if he wants to fight Lucio on this matter? He looks shocked, then disappointed, and then not a second later, angry.

“You really can’t wait to leave, can you Fae?” Was it not obvious? “After all that I have done for you, here you are writing up your packing list so you can head out the second the seasons change.” Was that not the plan? “You think you’d show a little more appreciation. Do you know how much I’ve done for you?”

Lucio opens his mouth to speak, but cannot get a word out.

“I could have let you die out there in the snow the first night you left, but I didn’t. I could have treated you badly. I could have had you imprisoned and kept in the dungeons. Or given you away to my father the second I found out what you really were.” Akande’s voice raises with his temper, only making the Faerie shrink down in his seat. “But instead I took you in. I let you stay in my room. I shared everything I owned with you. I got you your stupid art supplies and kept you fed. I taught you to read and write. These are the thanks I get?” With the last words, he crumples up the parchment in his hands, tossing it back onto the Rosewood table. “Do you not think that you are being ungrateful by trying to run from me the second you get the chance?”

Lucio’s head spins with the onslaught of accusations. He did not think it was rude at all. But the prince’s harsh words and cruel tone send guilt reeling in his stomach anyway.

“I’m grateful!” Lucio says hurriedly, standing up to defend himself and turning to face Akande with wide eyes. His chair falls backward and clatters to the stone ground with the force. “I’m really grateful! You’ve done a lot for me and you haven’t hurt me!” Was that all it took for him to think someone was good to him? So many people had hurt him that he really did cling to the first person to treat him like a living being.

“If I have been good to you, then why are you trying to run from me the first chance you get?”

The question silences the Faerie. Was it not normal for him to want to return home? “I-” he stutters and stays quiet for a moment before dropping his eyes to the ground. “What do you want me to do?” He asks, feeling defeated. Akande was all he had now. The prince was the only way for him to return home and the only person who seemed to be on his side throughout all of this.

Lucio can feel the older man’s eyes burning into his skin as Akande stares him down. It is with an intensity that Lucio has not witnessed from his prince in a long time.

“Look at me.”

Lucio is quick to obey, locking their eyes again. He flinches as Akande brings up a large hand, cupping the side of Lucio’s face with it to keep him in place.

“I want you to go lay down on the bed,” he says simply, voice dangerously low, “And I want you to never mention leaving me again. I will tell you when the time is right. Do you understand?”

Lucio feels his stomach churn with the words and suddenly he wonders if he will ever make it out of Talon’s land of volcanoes and ash. He cannot read Akande’s cold eyes and for the first time in a long time, the prince’s hands on him make him nauseous. He knows he has no choice but to agree.

Chapter Text

Everything seemed to fall apart at once for the prince. He lost his temper. There was no excuse for lashing out against his Faerie, but the thought of Lucio leaving him made him want to lock the young boy away. For a little while, he actually thought that Lucio would change his mind about leaving, that the Faerie could learn to be happy amongst the ash and dust of Talon.

When Akande realized that this was not the case, it felt as though his world was torn apart. Gabriel was right. He had grown attached to Lucio. Years of solitude interrupted by the Faerie’s presence made him want to cling to the golden-eyed boy. He did not want to be alone again.

He feels as though he is obsessed with Lucio. With the boy’s touch, with his face, with his voice, and his smell. He knows it is not a healthy obsession, but he can not escape it. The Faerie is on his mind every waking moment. He cannot explain the feeling.
And so he made the decision, no matter what the consequence, he could not let Lucio leave Talon. He would convince the Faerie to stay or use force if necessary, but he could not bear to be apart from the young man.

This is what likely led to Lucio’s recent resentment of him. It has been a few days since Akande’s outburst. He did not mean to raise his voice at Lucio. He did not mean to scare him. But ever since, it has created a cycle for the prince and his Fae. The more Akande tries to cling to Lucio, the more Lucio withdraws from him, which only kindles Akande’s anger.

For three days, Akande has refused to let Lucio out of his sight, too scared that the Faerie will try to make an escape. He has not left the room. He has not showered alone. He makes sure whatever he does, Lucio is right there next to him. When he sleeps, it is with two strong arms clinging tightly onto the Fae boy, as if to remind him who he belongs to.

It is early in the morning when a series of loud knocks thud hard against the prince’s sleeping chamber door.

Akande knows immediately that it is not a servant. No housemaid would bang on his door so loudly or disturb him at this hour. He sits up quickly, startling the tired Faerie next to him.

“Open up, Your Highness,” a gruff voice shouts out from behind the old dark wood of the bedroom door. It is unfamiliar.

Akande watches as Lucio, having just woken up, shrinks down to a tiny size and darts to hide behind the headboard of the bed frame. The prince is quick to spring from his bed, glancing around the room. There was not time to hide all traces of the Faerie who lives here. Drawings on parchment. Maps of the Kingdom. Children’s storybooks. A half-empty bottle of lube and soiled sheets.

He does not know what to try and hide first, but before he can even make a move, the door to the bedroom swings open. The only people with a key to his bedroom are the king and himself.

He stands shock still. Caught red-handed. He expects to have to explain himself as two golden armored guards push their way into his bedroom. “I can explain-”

“There is no need.” Who does this guard think he is? Was interrupting and disrespecting the prince not seen as a crime anymore? “His Majesty has requested you be brought to him immediately.” Of course, these were his father’s personal guardsmen. “Put on some clothes.”

Akande cannot help but feel embarrassed, standing in the middle of his room, half-dressed in only a pair of night pants. He waits for the guardsmen to back out of the room, but quickly realizes that they have no plans to leave while he dresses himself. He frowns at the men but he knows that anything he says will be considered against his father’s orders, and as such, a crime.

He is quick to walk to his closet, dressing as quickly as possible, all the while glancing from the place where Lucio was hidden behind the bed, to the mess of the sheets, to the Faerie’s workstation on the table by the window, and back to the pair of soldiers. This would undoubtedly be reported to his father. He needs to figure out an excuse, and fast.

As he is guided out of his bedroom and down the long dark halls of Talon’s kingdom, he cannot imagine how scared his Faerie must be, left alone to wait in the bedroom.

The walk down to the king’s throne room is much longer than it has ever been. Akande is guided with one soldier on each side. They do not speak to him. They do not push him or threaten him with force. They do not need to.

When the three men enter the throne room, the prince is guided to the front and asked to kneel, an action he was very familiar with at this point.

The man sitting at the throne before him was not his father anymore. He is his king.

Akindije sits on his throne. He looks angry, thick grey eyebrows knitted together and forehead wrinkled. His eyes are narrow and shoot daggers. The realization hits Akande like a brick.

He already knows.

The silence is deafening for a long time before the king finally speaks up. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, boy?”

Akande winces with the word. Boy. As if that is all he is. As if he is not the heir to the Kingdom of Talon. “There is nothing to say,” he replies finally before slowly raising his head to meet the king’s eyes. He tries to meet the intensity of his father’s glare, but the sharp pain of a staff hitting the back of his head snaps his head downward. He yells out in agony as it slams his head down into the cobblestone floor. He shuts his eyes tight and doubles over, cursing the guardsman that hit him.

“That’s enough. Don’t be so dramatic,” the king says, sneering at his son’s pain.

Akande can see his blood on the grey stones. His forehead took a beating. It was scraped and the skin was split. His vision swims, but he manages to meet his Akinjide’s eyes again. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You must be joking,” the king scoffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “You really think I have not been keeping up with your affairs? How long did you think that you could hide your secrets from me.”

Akande grimaces, dread creeping up in his throat and swirling around in his head. “How did you know? How did you find out?”

The king lets out a laugh. It echoes in the throne room but quickly breaks away into a coughing fit, reminding Akande of his father’s failing health.

Akinjide takes a minute to get himself under control before spitting out his next words, “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? You thought you could just parade that thing around my castle without me knowing?”

“In the garden,” Akande says quietly, the realization hitting him. Akinjide knew for this long? Why did he not act on this sooner?

“Well, yes,” The king says, sitting back in his throne. “Though your little love letters to Princess Satya did not help your case.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says quickly, though his eyes finally focus on a small letter in His Majesty’s hand with Vishkar’s broken blue wax seal on the front.

Satya Vaswani’s letter. It had been so long since he wrote the princess in Vishkar that he nearly forgot about it. It was all for Lucio after all. The Faerie said his friends were still in Vishkar and so as Akande promised, he wrote the princess. He asked to know what became of the other Faeries from the Land of Harmony. He offered to send her as much gold or anything else that she could possibly want if she ensured the safety of these Faerie. Admittedly, his proposal was not entirely thought through. Even if he could ensure their safety, he could not have brought them here. And he could not ask that they are released. There was no way to protect Lucio’s friends. But Akande was willing to do anything for his Faerie.

What was Satya’s response?

The king shakes his head, balling up the envelope and parchment and tossing it down the steps where it lands at Akande’s knees. “I do not even know where to begin with you. Firstly, you cannot ask favors of neighboring Kingdoms. Especially when that Kingdom is Vishakr. You already insulted their King by denying his daughter’s marriage proposal!”

Akande had not thought of that. He had not thought of anything besides his promise to Lucio. He promised to do anything he could to reunite Lucio with the other Fae folk. His obsession with the Faerie had clouded his judgment.

“And secondly, if you remember correctly, that Faerie you’re keeping in your room was originally given to me.”

The realization makes the prince’s blood run cold. “Don’t hurt him!” Akande growls out, raising his voice against his father, only to earn a hard kick in his side from one of the golden-suited guards.

“I will do whatever I want with him,” The king responds with a snarl. “And whatever I want with you.” The throne room is silent as the king lets those words sink in. “The scientist that you met, Dr. O’deorain. She worked on the Faeries at Vishkar before her arrival here. She has experience with the one that you have been fucking in particular. She says he has powers that can heal people. Did you know that? She claims to be able to use that Faerie’s magic to create a serum for immortality. To stop me from dying.”

Akande had seen Lucio’s healing abilities for himself. He would not be surprised if the winged-boy could do more. But the mention of the scientist working on Lucio makes his stomach drop. Was this the person who caused the Faerie pain? Was she the reason Lucio cries and shakes at night, tortured by his nightmares?

“You sound crazy,” Akande hisses out, bracing himself for another hit from the soldiers on either of his sides, but his father holds up a hand.

“Don’t I?” Akinjide responds, his voice taking on a solemn tone. “It's the only option I have since you poisoned me. You’re just as bad as your whore mother.”

“I didn’t-”

“Shut up!” It did not matter what Akande had to say. “I know I cannot rely on this woman’s science to save my life. She was experimenting on the Faerie in Vishkar for months and has not gotten any closer to her goal. And so I’m prepared to offer you a choice.” His Majesty coughs, covering his mouth with the thick fabric of his robe’s sleeve. “Talon’s rule must continue. With or without me,” Akande can already tell that this pains his father to say, “You, even as the traitorous bastard that you are, are my heir. And you need an heir as well. I will see to it.”

Akande winces at the mention of an heir, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. Talon’s royal council had been begging him to remarry for nearly two decades.

“I’ve arranged a marriage for you. Do not think about denying me. It is already confirmed and the date is set. You will go through with this... If you know what is good for you.”

Akande’s head swims. He wipes the blood from his forehead, wincing as the split and peeling skin catches on his fingertips. His father knows everything. He knows about Lucio. He knows about his secret messages with Vishkar’s royal family. He wants to give Lucio to a scientist. This scientist experimented on Lucio in Vishkar. Akande is expected to get married soon.

“Do you hear me, boy?”

Akande feels nauseous. He cannot meet his father’s eyes. He was not in any position to ask for favors or make demands. But he had to do anything and everything that he could to protect Lucio. To make things right. “I will do what you ask," Akande begins, voice low and defeated, "But I have one condition.”

Chapter Text

It all happened too fast. Being woken up by the loud knock on the door. Having to hide as soon as he got up. The guards barging into Akande’s bedroom. Watching as they demand he go out and see his father.

Lucio cannot stop shaking. He hides in the space between the king sized bed’s large headboard and the wall, feet purchased on a small divot in the wood. His nails claw into the fabric of his shirt as he tries to get himself under control.

The door to the bedroom is still wide open, letting torch light stream in from the hall. The guards did not give Akande time to close it on their way to the throne room. And the Faerie cannot risk being seen by anyone in the hall by abandoning his hiding spot. And so he stays in place, cowering in his spot behind the bed, terrified for what is to come.

Why did they take Akande away so suddenly? Lucio is not a fool. He knows the guards saw traces of him left in the Prince’s room. And he knew the King to have a violent nature. He had hit Akande before, though he knows the Prince would never admit it. Would he take it further? Is Akande's life in danger?

He feels helpless, hiding away and waiting for his Prince to return.

He does not know how long he has been waiting when he hears footsteps in the hallway. They click quietly against the stone floors, getting louder and louder as they approach. Lucio knows almost instantly that it is not the Prince. Akande’s footsteps are familiar to him now, and they are not nearly as delicate or quiet.

The Faerie holds his breath, praying that whoever it is will continue on past His Majesty’s sleeping chambers and down the hall. Though scared, he is not surprised when the light tapping stops right in the room’s doorway and a slender shadow is cast on the stones of Akande’s bedroom floor.

Lucio shuts his eyes tight. He does not breathe. He does not move.

“I know you are here, Faerie.”

Every muscle in Lucio’s body is tense as the voice calls out into the room. It is a voice he had only heard in his nightmares lately, but one he could never forget.

Moira.

Lucio stays silent, knowing that nothing he can do will help him now. His only hope was that the older woman will leave but he knows that he is not that lucky.

“Come out, Gold. You are not fooling anyone. I know that you are here… I am not leaving until you come out.”

Lucio can hear his heart beating in his ears. The scientist is alone. Could he defend himself against her if need be? Was it safer for him to hide until Akande’s return or try and get the jump on the red-headed woman?

He finally lets himself breathe, sucking in a quick breath of air that burns his lungs with oxygen. Before he can talk himself out of it, he zips out from under the bed, growing to full size in the corner of the room, furthest from Moira. His fingers tighten around an unlit candlestick from the nightstand and he holds it up in front of himself as if to protect him from the evil woman.

“Oh please,” Moira scoffs, “Do you plan to kill me with that?”

“What do you want?!” Lucio yells out at the woman, “Why are you here?!” His body shakes. He is terrified, despite trying to mask his fear with anger. But he is sure that Moira knows him well enough to not be fooled.

“Quiet now, Gold,” she chastises with an unsettling smile. “You would not want the guards to hear you. I came here in peace, but that could change very quickly.”

“My name is not Gold,” the Faerie says. His voice lowers down to a whisper. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are narrowed in on the scientist. “What do you want?” he demands to know.

“I just wanted to see you, is all,” she says with a crooked smile, “To make sure my favorite specimen is still in good condition. Though I see that Prince Akande has been keeping you very… busy.” Her eyes drift down to linger on the messy bed sheets. She knew the guards in Vishkar had each taken their turn with him. It was no surprise that the Faerie had seduced the heir of Talon as well.

“I am not your specimen.”

Moira laughs, a cruel sound that echos in the sleeping chambers. “Of course you are. You always will be. I can assure you of that. You and I still have much work to do together.”

“You can’t make me go with you. The Prince won’t let you hurt me.” Even as Lucio says the words, he is not sure that they are true. What did Akande’s promise to him mean anymore with how cold the older man had been to him lately?

“Oh, you poor thing,” Moira coos quietly, her thin lips turned up in a smirk. “Why? Because you’re fucking him? You don’t really think that you mean something to him, do you?” She falls silent, waiting for a response before continuing. “I do not plan on making you come with me. I am confident that Prince Akande will hand you over to my care when the time comes.”

“He won’t do that.” Lucio does not know if he is trying to convince Moira or himself. “He’s not going to let you hurt me anymore.”

“You seem so sure of yourself, Gold,” The scientist muses with a smile. “I suppose we will both see how this pans out.” Moira stands in the doorway for a moment more, a smirk on her face and her slender hands clamped together behind her back, confident that she will get her way. “I will see you soon, Faerie.” She knows better than to go behind the royal families back and take Lucio now. All she can do is wait.

With that, she turns her back to Lucio and heads back down the hallway, the same way that she came from.

Lucio stays shocked still for nearly a minute, listening to the footsteps make their way down the hall again, getting quieter and quieter as they go. Finally, when the air is silent again, he snaps out of his paralyzing fear. He rushes forward, hopping over the bed and slamming the bedroom door shut tight.

The Faerie did not want to believe any of what Moira said but the words kept echoing in his head for the next hour. He is not able to calm down. Even with the bedroom door shut, giving him privacy, he cannot help but feel as though there are eyes on him.

He paces back and forth, candlestick in hand, eyes hardly leaving the bedroom door for more than a second at a time. There was no telling what was to come. Moira could come back. The King could come after him. Guards could be sent to take him away.

An hour passes before the door to the room finally creaks open again.

Lucio does not want to hide this time. He does not zip away and shrink out of sight. Or run to the closet or nightstand. Instead, he turns on his heels to face the doorway, holding the candlestick at eye level. He is ready to fight.

That is until he sees the prince stumbling into the bedroom. His face is bloodied and his nose is crooked. His hands are shaking and his clothes are stained.

“Your Majesty-” Lucio’s voice catches in his throat at the sight of such a strong man beaten and bruised. He drops the candlestick to the ground and hurries forward, wanting to help the prince, to heal his wounds, to clean his face.

He is only a few feet from the prince when Akande moves, surprising them both.

Lucio finds himself wrapped up in two strong arms. They squeeze him tight, not allowing for him to move. Lucio’s face is pressed against Akande’s chest and his arms are pinned to his side. “Your Majesty, what happened?” The Faerie tries again to get the older man’s attention. He wants to help Akande. But when he finally manages to crane his head upwards, he is met with a pair of thick, busted lips against his own.

The kiss makes his head spin. After all that had happened to both of them in the past two hours, the kiss feels unfamiliar and forced. Lucio can taste blood in the kiss. He cannot breathe. Has Akande ever kissed him before now?

He tries to force his hands between the two bodies. He tries to push Akande away, tries to separate from the unwanted contact, but the older man only holds him tighter.

He feels like he is being suffocated. He can sense the desperation in the prince as two large hands cling to his frail body. One stays firm against Lucio’s back while the other dips into Lucio’s pants, grabbing at his ass and trying to push a finger into him.

Lucio yells, but it is muffled by the forceful kiss.

Akande does not seem to care about his protests. He holds on tighter and moves a hand to the back of Lucio’s neck, effectively holding the golden-eyed boy in place. He shuts his eyes tight and ignores that hands pushing at his chest and the whine of protest as he forces his middle finger inside of the Faerie.

Lucio shrieks in pain and in fear. Finally, he manages to pull his hand back and gain enough momentum to sling his fist against the side of the prince’s face.

The Faerie is not sure if it hurt Akande’s face or his own hand more. But thankfully, the force of the punch was enough to knock some sense into His Majesty and give Lucio an opening to step away from the prince.

Akande stares on at Lucio in surprise, having not expected the young boy to fight back.

Lucio wipes Akande’s blood from his lips, grimacing at the taste of it. He glares at the prince and takes a step back, ready to defend himself again. As Akande takes a step forward, hand outstretched in apology, Lucio takes another step back. “Don’t!” He shouts out, struggling to catch his breath. “Don’t touch me! You’re always touching me! I hate it!” He did not hate it. Not until the past few weeks, when the prince stopped treating him like his equal.

“I’m not your sex slave! You can’t just touch me- you cant just fuck me whenever you want to!” The words Lucio had been sitting on for the past week finally were coming out. “I thought you were my friend! But you just won’t stop- I don’t like it-” Lucio struggles with the words. He did not expect to get this far. He expected Akande to fight back. To get angry. To apologize. To dismiss him. Anything would be better than the prince just staring at him with cold eyes.

“You said you were going to protect me! You said you were going to help me get home but you just keep lying to me! I’m not safe here and it’s your fault!”

Lucio’s voice echoes in the room and silence stretches on again. Not a word from the prince.

“That scientist that’s here. Her name is Moira. She hurt me Akande! She killed my friends and tortured me and let her soldiers rape me! And she is here now! She was in this room!” The tears are falling before Lucio can get a grip on himself. He never wanted to have to revisit his time in Vishkar. Never wanted to mention it or see this woman. “You- You said you’d protect me! You said you’d help me get away! You said you’d save my other friends that were still in the Castle of Light and you haven’t done anything! You just lie to me so that I’ll sleep with you!”

Lucio wants to go on. He wants to shout out everything he has been feeling since day one in Talon. He wants to blame it all on the prince. But finally, Akande reacts to the accusations. 

His Majesty says nothing, but his busted hand moves to the pocket of his brown slacks. He reaches in, pulling out a crumpled envelope and holding it out toward the Faerie. His face looks broken, not only from the blood and twisted nose. He looks sad. Defeated.

Lucio is hesitant to take the paper from His Majesty. But when he does he is quick to pull out a short letter from the envelope and smooth it out. He can feel Akande’s eyes burning into him as he slowly reads over the neat, handwritten script.

Prince Akande,

While your intentions seem noble, I am afraid there is little I can do for you. You ask me to have the remaining Faerie in Vishkar transported to your kingdom, in exchange for anything my heart desires. Though, I believe I already made it very clear that your hand in marriage would suffice.

As I mentioned in our previous correspondence, Vishkar seeks unification with the Kingdom of Talon, and I hope that you will reconsider my proposal.

As for the Faerie that were, for a period of time, housed here in Vishkar. There is nothing that I can do regarding them. You are currently in possession of the last of our Faeries. The rest have been disposed of accordingly.

All the best,

Princess Satya Vaswani

Lucio feels all hope dashed away as he finishes reading the letter. He knows what this means. The Faerie were disposed of. Efi, and all of the others were gone.

He finally loses all composure, letting out a wail as he collapses to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, not only for his lost friends but for his hopeless situation. He does not even hear Akande leave the room over the sound of his own cries.

Chapter Text

Akande has only ever entered the dungeon once before. Years ago, when his father first fell ill. The king had sworn that his son poisoned him. He had Akande thrown in a cell in the dungeon for nearly a week.

It was easily one of the worst weeks of the prince’s life. Akande was left sitting in the darkness. He curled up on the cobblestone floor and shivered in the damp air, not knowing how long had passed. He was not given proper meals and the only thing reminding him that he was still alive was the insistent hunger gnawing away at his stomach.

He was humiliated, treated like a common crook. He was forced to eat his meals off of the floor, begging for extra scraps from the guards who came to check on him once a day. Forced to relieve himself in a bucket in the corner of his cell. He still to this day remembers the stench of his own waste and sweat lingering in the stale air of the dungeon.

It was not until over a week had passed, when Akinjide’s advisors convinced his majesty that he had no evidence of his son’s wrongdoings that Akande was finally allowed back into the palace.

Years have passed since that horrible week. Remembering those horrible memories, Akande had never wished that fate upon anyone.

Until now.

Akande forces his nerves aside as he makes his way down the stairs toward the dungeon. He keeps his head high and tries to ignore the way his shoulders tense at the familiar stale air. Torches line the damp stone wall, illuminating his descent down the spiral staircase.

When he makes it to the bottom of the stairs, a number of guards wait for him. Many of the same men have been working in the dungeon for years. Though the prince does not recognize them, he wonders if they remember the pathetic prince starving and begging for food.

He does not meet their eyes. He does not have to. They are not his equals.

“Where is she?” Akande asks, staring straight ahead into the blackness of the dungeon, lined with cages on either side of the hall.

“This way. Follow me, Ya Majesty,” One of the guards, likely their leader if the badges on his uniform are anything to go by, speaks up. His face is long and his nose is crooked. He is pale from years spent working below Ogundimu Castle, with sagging skin and liver spots hinting at his age. He turns away from the prince, walking down the dungeon’s hall with an outstretched torch in his hand to light the way.

Akande does not even offer a nod of acknowledgement to the other men as he follows their leader down the hall.

The dungeon is not nearly as quiet as he remembers. There are men and women, crying and wailing all throughout the hall. From the old man’s torchlight, Akande can peer into a few of the cells that they pass. Some of the prisoners curl up in corners, hugging their legs and crying. Some charge at the prince, reaching their hands through the bars and hurling insults at His Majesty. Others lay on the floor, unmoving and unblinking. Akande wonders if they are even alive.

These men and women all have reason to hate the prince. After all, it was his father who sentenced them to imprisonment here, some of the for next to no reason no doubt. 

“Here,” The crooked nosed man finally says, coming to a stop at the end of the hall. “Restrained jus like ya asked. Shouldn’t be a problem for ya.” As he says this, he holds out the torch for the prince, offering it to him with one hand as the other slides a bronze key into the lock on the cell’s door. “Holler if ya need somethin’.”

Akande listens as the key clicks in the lock and the iron bars swing open with a forced creak and grating sound. He takes the wooden stave of the torch in his hand, taking a deep breath before walking into the cell, waving the fire in front of him to illuminate the room in flickering orange light.

Moira is on her knees in the center of the cell. Akande can tell that she too is trying to act brave. She holds her head high and meets the prince’s eyes but her body shakes uncontrollably.

She has shackles around her wrists, ankles, and neck which tether her to the each wall of the cell. They hold her in a fixed position, preventing her from relaxing in the slightest. She looks as though she has certainly seen better days. Despite the cool air of the dungeon, he forehead is drenched in sweat and her eyes are sunken into her pale face. There is a puddle of vomit not two feet in front of her. She certainly looks to be a pitiful woman.

“Why am I here?” She asks, voice hoarse.

The prince stares on at her for a moment before moving. He crouches down to meet the woman face to face, peering into her heterochromatic eyes. He can tell she is afraid of him. Her eyes dart from one of his to the other, before looking away and back again, a sign of panic. Her jaw is clenched tight.

“What did you do to Lucio… and to those other Faerie in Vishkar?”

The scientist’s mouth gapes open with the question before shutting tight again. For a moment, she looks guilty. “This is about that Fae,” She finally says in understanding before dropping her eyes to the ground, already trying to find a  way out of this predicament, scrambling for some sort of excuse. “It was for science. I did what I had to do.”

“I asked what you did to him.”

“You do not understand that golden Faerie’s powers. You don’t know what could be accomplished by studying him! Your Majesty, we must pursue my studies further. I have already taken this so far. I cannot give up. I have to-”

“What did you do to him?!”

The red-headed woman finally stops her pathetic rambling. She stops trying to reason with him. Instead, she lets out a breathless laugh of disbelief. She sounds absolutely insane as the wicked and terrified laughter echos in the cell. “What do you hope to accomplish here, Ogundimu? Did you fall in love with that creature?” Her voice takes on a tone of pity, as if the prince were a fool. “You must know that Gold will only use you to get what he wants. You offered him protection, did you not? The second you fail to provide that, don’t you know that he will flee?”

Akande’s anger bubbles further. Only because there is an obvious truth to the woman’s words. Lucio had already shown signs of it. As far as Akande knows, the young Faerie hates him now. Does he not have every reason? Akande has kept Lucio locked away. He failed to provide proper protection. He could not save Lucio's friends in Vishkar. And most of all, he could not bare to part with his Faerie. He knew it was selfish, but all he wanted was for Lucio to remain his forever.

“Do not speak of things you do not understand!” He tells the woman, voice breaking and showing signs of his distress.

She winces as his voice echoes off the stone walls but tries her best to match his ferocity, not one to be outdone. If she was beaten, bruised, and exhausted, she did not want him to see it. “You do not speak of things you don’t understand! You think that this Faerie is so innocent. The only use he would be to you is if you give him over to me and let me continue my research!”

The cell goes silent. All that Akande can hear are the wails and cries of other inmates down the hall. He wonders if Lucio was kept in a place such as this. Akande only spent a week in a dungeon. Lucio was kept in one in Vishkar for months. 

And even after he escaped, Akande still kept him prisoner, whether the Faerie knew it or not. It was not fair. Not to the prince and certainly not to the Faerie. Lucio was a good person. He deserves to be happy and safe. He deserves to go home.

“What did you do to him?” Akande asks again, calmer this time, “You tortured him? Did you use a knife? Rope?” He goes silent before lifting his torch toward the wicked woman’s face, leveling it with her eyes. “Fire?”

Finally, Moira loses all composure. “Prince Akand- Your Majesty. Please for- forgive me. I beg of you. I was only following orders. You don’t have to do this-”

Akande does not listen. He holds the fire against the woman’s face and stares down at her with cold eyes as the the fire licks her skin and her voice gives away into a pain filled scream.

Chapter Text

Hana Song had always been told she was brave. By family, friends, strangers and acquaintances.

It was brave of her to wander off and explore the woods as a child.

It was brave of her to speak up against those who she thought were wrong.

It was brave of her to try and rebuild her life after her hometown was raided and burned by bandits, killing both of her parents.

To travel to Ogundimu castle and pledge her employment to the royal family.

To agree to be the personal servant of the terrifying Prince Akande.

To keep his secrets from the even more fearsome King of Talon.

But secrets like this made the young servant girl feel anything but brave. Ever since she was first exposed to Akande’s secret she knew her life was on the line. It was one thing to arrange his meet-ups with harlots from neighboring towns but it was another thing completely when Hana was asked to keep it a secret that the prince was keeping a Faerie captive in his room. And something completely else when she realized the two were sleeping together.

The night she first saw the Faerie, Akande confronted her. He told her she had nothing to gain from informing the King of the situation and that if she did so she would severely regret it. Hana is not a fool. She knows better than to stick her nose where it does not belong. And so she keeps her mouth shut, doing whatever the Prince asks of her.

She brought up extra meals for the Faerie, provided books, drawing supplies, and anything else the prince requested.

But this was too much.

She stands outside of the prince’s sleeping chambers, taking a deep breath to steady herself. In a way, she was glad the prince entrusted her with this assignment. It meant she had gained his favor and his trust, something she was sure would be useful in the future. But it is also something that could hurt her should she lose it.

Finally, after gathering her courage, she slides the tiny golden key on the ring attached to her hip into the doorknob of the prince’s sleeping chambers. With a tiny click and a creak of the door, she is able to peer into the prince's bedroom.

It is dark. The candles on the nightstand have burned down completely, their wax pooling on the metal plate below. The only light in the room pours in from the large window. The sun has just begun to rise and its light is largely blocked by the smoke and ash and snow that billow against the window.

Hana rarely sees the sky anymore. It is almost always overcast in the land surrounding Ogundimu Castle. Hana grew up in the slums outside of a small town in the south of Talon, bordering the Wasteland. Life was brutal. She had no parents. She was poor. There were not many people she could rely on. But at least she could see the sun.

She finds herself gazing out of the window in a trance as shades of grey float by, pushed by the wind. Finally, her eyes roam the room and catch on the man asleep on the bed. She approaches carefully, staring down at the Faerie, though she cannot make out his features. In less than a minute she strikes up a match and lights a new candle, setting it on the tray with the others that had burned down.

In the flickering light she finally gets a good view of the Faerie and what she sees nearly takes her breath away. The young man is gorgeous. He only wears a pair of brown sleeping pants. His body is slim and his skin dark and flawless. He has long eyelashes and dreadlocks that fall around his head messily. But most amazing to her are the crystalline golden wings that extend behind his back and take up a large portion of the bed.

Upon closer inspection, the boy’s eyes are puffy. He looks as though he had been crying for a long time before falling asleep on the prince’s bed. She can only imagine what Prince Akande must have done to him.

She does not want to startle the creature out of his sleep, especially with how at peace he looks. But she has a job to do.

Finally, Hana takes a seat on the edge of the bed, slowly reaching her hand out and resting it on the Faerie’s bare shoulder. The creature’s eyes immediately shoot open, tearing a gasp from the servant girl. She did not expect to be met with two vividly bright golden eyes staring up at her.

The Faerie pulls away from her touch but makes no move to run away. He sits up and just stares at the stranger. He seems to be resigned to any fate that comes his way.

The two remain like that for a minute, shocked still and staring at one another. Hana cannot help but realize how sad and broken the Faerie seems. She wants to comfort him. To save him from the Prince who has clearly hurt him. To do anything she can to put a smile on his face.

“Your name is Lucio, right?” She finally asks, turning her lips up into what hopes comes off as a genuine smile. She has to hold it for a long time, waiting for the Faerie to respond. "I'm Hana," She continues, trying to put the unfamiliar creature at ease.

When the winged-boy speaks, it is not with an answer, but with questions of his own. “Why are you here? Who sent you?” He sounds distressed.

Hana’s smile falters. Of course the Faerie will not trust her. “The Prince sent me,” She answers honestly, “He asked me to take you to your new sleeping chambers.” The silence on Lucio’s part tells her she needs to explain more. “From today on you will be working with me and the other servants... But it’s not as bad as it sounds!” She adds on quickly, almost as an afterthought. “You won’t have to live in His Majesty’s chambers anymore. You’ll have to work but you won’t be doing hard labor. And you’ll be paid well. We get fed decently and after hours we are allowed to rest and do whatever we want as long as we stay in the servant’s hall.”

Lucio looks as though he is in a daze, staring off at the far wall of the room and not meeting the servant girl’s eyes. Hana can imagine that it was a lot of information to take in. But at least finally the boy would finally be free from under the prince’s thumb.

“I don’t want to leave.”

The words take Hana off guard. “You don’t?” She asks in disbelief.

“I like it here.”

Clearly the prince had more control over Lucio than she originally thought. She was sure the young man would be eager to get as far away from his captor as possible but something within him is clearly keeping him tethered here. Be it fear or something else. “I’m sorry but,” she starts again hesitantly, carefully choosing her words, “The Prince asked me to make sure that you are out of his room by noon. You and I do not get much say in the matter.”

Hana could not understand it herself. Akande came to her just an hour ago, giving her the order to retrieve the Faerie from his room. The prince appeared as though he had not slept in days. His clothes were a mess and he did not carry himself with his normal confidence. He would not even meet Hana's eyes as he gave the order.

Lucio meets her eyes again. He looks hurt, eyebrows furrowing together and eyes threatening to water. “He wants me gone?” He did not understand.

“That is what he said,” Hana says slowly, unsure of how to respond except with the truth. “I need you to come with me, Lucio.”

The golden-eyed boy appears lost in thought but he nods slowly in response and finally moves to get off of the bed.

He has given up.

“I brought a servant uniform for you,” Hana explains, pushing up a kind smile as she gestures to the brown clothes folded and sitting on the edge of the bed. “His Majesty asked me to cut and fit it to your wings… I will wait outside for you, Lucio… Let me know if you need anything.”

Chapter Text

The servant’s clothes are far itchier and more uncomfortable than the prince’s shirts and pants that Lucio has been living in. He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, not recognizing his own reflection. He has put on some weight since his first day in Talon and did not look nearly as sickly as he remembers. He supposes that his new health is thanks to the prince. Akande always made sure he had plenty to eat and drink, and a comfortable bed to sleep in. His hair, once shaven down to his scalp is now tangled in tight dreads that reach his shoulders. The servant's clothes are plain brown. Long pants and a long shirt. He was given a pair of raggedy shoes to wear as well and it took him longer than he would like to admit to put them on his feet. He had never worn them before and only watched Akande put his on a few times.

He cannot understand what had happened between him and Akande. Things had been going so well. They went from good friends, to distancing themselves, to seemingly hating each other in the course of a week.

Lucio does not want to hate Akande. He wants to see the prince so badly at this moment, even after the terrible things the older man had done to him. Memories of His Majesty’s large hands holding him in place and thick lips pushing forcefully against his own made him feel sick to his stomach. But even so, if the prince were here now, Lucio is sure he would throw himself into the other man’s arms and beg for forgiveness. He wants things to go back to how they were. Before Moira showed up, before Akande betrayed him, before he found out that Efi and the other Faerie from Vishkar were killed.

He wants to forget it all.

A soft knock on the bedroom door brings Lucio back to the present, reminding him of all that has happened. Akande does not want him anymore. The prince personally asked a servant to take him away. He is being put to work inside the castle instead of being allowed to stay by His Majesty’s side.

A month ago, he would have jumped at this opportunity. It would get him out of this room. Give him some independence. The maid even said he would be paid for his work.

But the castle outside of Akande’s bedroom is unfamiliar to him. At least here he knows what to expect. Here he is well-fed and protected. Outside of this room, everything is uncertain and Lucio’s memories of Moira Odeorain make him want to hide away. Lucio does not doubt that the wicked woman is still roaming about the castle. It is only a matter of time before she gets her hands on Lucio again. The prince's protection is likely the only thing between the Faerie and the scientist.

But Akande wants him gone.

And so Lucio walks over to the bedroom door. His feet feel heavy with the unfamiliar weight of shoes and they only serve to make him feel more restricted and helpless than before.

When he opens the door, the familiar servant girl waits outside patiently, hands clamped together in front of her apron. Her long brown hair is tied in pigtails with pink ribbons, the only color to her brown servants uniform. She looks incredibly young but even so she is taller than the Faerie. She has a warm face and kind smile and Lucio cannot help but think that she is very pretty. He does not remember her name.

He barely registers her voice as she asks him to follow her and turns to walk down the hall. Everything she says seems a mile away as Lucio trails behind her. Maybe she is introducing herself, or giving him directions, or explaining his new job. He is too caught up in his own thoughts to pay any attention.

He has never seen the halls of Ogundimu castle until now but they are as ghastly as the rest of the place. Dark stone floors and walls with torches lighting the way every ten feet. No windows and no ornate decorations or paintings. It is very different from the Castle of Light in Vishkar, which was built to impress even the most seasoned travelers.

Lucio stays close behind the servant girl, practically at her heels as she leads him through the castle. Some of the halls that they walk through are seemingly nicer than others. He sees a few windows, a tapestry every once and a while, a couple of portraits of past kings and their families. But other than these few distinctions, the halls all look the same to the Faerie. He wonders how people do not get lost within the castle’s walls.

They walk for nearly five minutes, down long corridors and spiraling staircases until finally, they reach a hall unlike the rest. It is not well lit at all. The few torches in the hall hardly keep the stones of the floor illuminated. The air is uncomfortably heavy.

Lucio comes to an abrupt stop as the maid in front of him turns to face him. They only stare at each other for a moment and a small smile appears on the young girl’s face as she looks at him expectantly.

“I said that these are the servant’s quarters,” She explains, unphased by having to repeat herself. She does not mind. “This is the basement of the castle. Only the dungeon is further down than this.” Big brown eyes gaze down at Lucio, waiting for a response before continuing. “It’s not so bad,” she assures him before nodding for him to follow her once again. “It is not nearly as bad as the place I was living before coming here… And since it is beneath the ground, it stays pretty warm during the winter months.”

Lucio follows her into a room at the end of the hall as she speaks, finally listening to the woman’s voice despite all of the other confusing thoughts swirling in his head. The room that they enter is small, with two bunk beds on either side of the walls and a dresser at the farthest wall.

“You’ll be sleeping in here with me and my roommates,” She explains, glancing back at him with her ever-present smile. “They’re good people. You’ll like them a lot. Your servant's clothes will go in that wardrobe and all other belongings,” she pauses, realizing that the Faerie did not seem to own anything, “All other belongings can go on top of or underneath your bed.” She takes a few steps to cross the room. “You can share a bunk with me. My old bunkmate-” The girl pauses. There seems to be something she does not want Lucio to know. “She doesn’t work here anymore. Do you want the top bunk or the bottom?” The young girl had been sleeping on the bottom bunk until now but she was willing to give it up to make the Faerie more comfortable.

Lucio does not meet her eyes, still trying to take in everything the maid is telling him. He stares down at the small, twin sized bed. It did not look nearly as comfortable as Prince Akande’s bed but having grown up sleeping on the ground, Lucio cannot complain. He stares in silence, lost in his thoughts again.

His life has changed over and over again. In the past year, he went from living in the Forest of Harmony with his family and friends, living off the land and spending all of his days in peace. Then he watched it all burn down. He was taken to the dungeons in Vishkar where he was tortured and starved, where he watched many of his friends die. He befriended a prince and spent his days well fed and taken care of, living in luxury for the first time of his time. And now he is to be a servant for that same prince.

The maid can tell something is off with the Faerie. She turns to face him before letting out a quiet sigh and sitting down on the small bed. “It is a lot to take in, isn’t it?” She asks as if reading his mind. “It will take some getting used to. But you’ll like it here. And if you ever need anything, I’ll be here to help.”

Lucio stares at her, expression blank. Finally, he takes a few steps closer and sits down on the opposite end of the bed from the brown-eyed girl. They sit in silence for nearly a minute before Lucio speaks up. “Why did he want me gone?” he asks, trying hard to mask the disappointment from his voice.

The girl tilts her head with the question before pushing a pigtail behind her shoulder as she speaks. “I don’t know,” she admits, “I’ve heard he has done this several times before. He will take interest in a man and when he gets bored of them, he sends them away.” She does not notice the way Lucio’s eyebrows knit together, or how her words hurt him. “But it’s better this way, isn’t it? He can’t hurt you anymore, Lucio. I won't let him.”

The Faerie opens his mouth. He wants to argue. He wants to say that Akande never hurt him. But he knows it is not true.

“I’m just glad he made you a servant instead of doing something worse. But I guess it is probably because he wants to keep you close in case you tattle on him,” she continues, smile falling as she talks.

“Tattle on him?” Lucio asks slowly, unsure what the girl meant. And then, worry seeps into his voice. “What do you mean by doing something worse?”

The servant goes still, trying to figure out what was so confusing. “You really don’t know anything about him, do you?”

Lucio can tell she is not trying to hurt him. But the question stings. He thought Akande as a good friend up until a couple of weeks ago but the realization hits him hard. The two never spoke of Akande’s life. Lucio really did not know anything about the prince.

“After his wife died, he started seeing a lot of different men whenever he could. Only a few of the servants know… The King doesn’t. If he found out, or if the citizens of Talon found out. There could be an uprising.” She pauses, before hurrying on quickly. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being- I just mean that since he’s a prince and all, he is suppose to have a wife and have children so that Talon will have an heir… He is probably keeping you in the castle so that you can’t go tell anyone about him being interested in men.”

Lucio shakes his head gently at the explanation. But he goes completely still after a moment. His golden eyes widen as everything pieces itself together. Everything the servant tells him must be true. Akande promised to help him get home, but since then the prince has avoided the topic altogether. It all made sense. Akande never planned to let Lucio leave.

His throat is dry and his eyes sting with tears threatening to fall. He feels a small tender hand rest against his shoulder, trying to be comforting. “Lucio,” the maid says softly, “It’s going to be okay. You’ll be safe here. He put you to work instead of-”

“Instead of what?” Lucio snaps, finally looking back at the young girl, eyes narrowed. He did not know how his situation could get worse. Someone who he thought was his friend had betrayed him and cast him aside.

“Instead of killing you like he did his wife, Lucio! Don’t you understand that you’re safe now? Yeah, you’ll have to work here, but it isn’t bad! And you can make friends and we’ll look out for you.”

Instead of killing you like he did his wife.

Everything else the servant girl says falls on deaf ears. Nausea rises in Lucio’s stomach. “His wife?” Akande had only mentioned the woman once before.

The girl frowns, moving a hand down to squeeze onto Lucio’s trying to comfort him in his distress. She stays silent, watching helplessly as the Faerie’s tears fall.

“What happened to his wife?!” Lucio demands to know, standing up suddenly and turning to face the girl. She all of a sudden looks very small, shrinking in on herself as if she had ruined a secret.

“He killed her… The Royal Guards found her in his majesty’s room. She was defiled and strangled to death.”

Chapter Text

Lucio did not leave Hana’s side for his first week as a castle servant. He learned everything from her. How to sweep, mop, make beds, dust, all things that had never been necessary within the Forest of Harmony. Soon, the impossibly large palace became manageable. Lucio learned how to get from one place to the next without too much difficulty and his tiny servant quarters and creaking bed became comfortable. He got to know several of the other servants in the castle by name, though he never reached out to anyone besides Hana. He learned that the young maid had been correct when she told him that life as a servant in Talon would not be so bad.

There were still things that haunted the Faerie though. Most notably, the way that other servants talked about the royal family. They were terrified of both the King and his son and many rumors circled the castle regarding His Majesty and His Highness. It was nearly impossible to tell which ones were true and which were myths.

King Akinjide went crazy and killed his wife.

Prince Akande killed his wife so that he could continue to take on male lovers.

The Queen was killed by her husband in a jealous rage for having slept with a traveling musician.

Akande is a bastard and has no claim to the throne.

The King is searching for the secret to immortality.

Akande poisoned both of his parents and killed his wife when she found out his plans to take the throne.

None of the rumors surrounding Akande sounded like the man that Lucio had grown close to. But for the past week, Akande has been nowhere to be seen, leaving Lucio even more confused than before.

In fact, Lucio has not seen Moira since taking on his new job either. Lucio had been sure that the corrupt scientist would have come to torment him the second she heard that he was no longer in the prince’s protection.

But as far as princes and scientists go, Lucio’s life has been unusually quiet.

A little over a week came and went before Lucio even saw a member of Talon’s royal family in the halls of the castle. He has grown accustomed to his new duties as a servant and finds himself alone, sweeping the floors of the castle’s halls. As much as he appreciates Hana’s company while working, quiet moments like this allow for him to finally breathe easily.

Though the second he hears footsteps behind him, he goes tense. They slowly get closer, tapping down the hall as they approach. Lucio expects them to continue on past him but suddenly they stop. His fingers tighten on the broomstick and his ears ring with the sudden silence. He cannot explain the tension in his shoulders. He can feel eyes on him. The person behind him could be another servant. A guard. A foreign diplomat. It could be Moira. It could be Akande.

Lucio’s stomach sinks and finally, he takes a deep breath and turns to face the stranger.

He has never seen King Akinjide this clearly before. When he first arrived in Talon months ago, he was presented to the King as a gift but could not remember his face. He had been through too much at once and was gravely ill when he arrived. The King's face had become a distant memory.

Now he sees the King very clearly. He is tall and looming like his son, but has not aged well. His dark skin is wrinkled, covered with age spots. His shoulders are hunched. Lucio can tell he may have looked like Akande once but now he looks weak and frail. He is much thinner than his son, though he wears several layers of clothes as if trying to hide his weakness.

“I did not tell you to stop working,” The King says, voice cold and gravelly. It is hoarse, as if he is trying to hold back a cough. He leans against a decorative table, pushed up against the wall and lined with vases and candles.

His voice sends a chill down Lucio’s spine but the Faerie is quick to return to his work. He keeps his eyes focused on the dust of the cobblestone floor but his mind is elsewhere. He does not like being watched like this, with his back to the most powerful man in the kingdom.

“I can see why he liked you. You’re prettier than most boys.”

Lucio grits his teeth. His Majesty’s voice is so quiet. He cannot tell if the king wants him to respond or not. He did not like being called pretty. Since leaving the forest, anytime someone called him pretty it sent shivers down his spine. T he Faerie keeps his head low, staying silent and counting the seconds until he is left alone again. He does not even reach a minute before a crash and shatter pierce his ears. The sound is loud and he drops his broom in surprise as he spins to face the noise.

Akinjide stands in his same place as before with a crooked and smug smile on his face. The table he leans against has been cleared and at the king’s feet are several shattered vases, covering the area in broken porcelain.

Lucio stares at the mess with wide eyes, trying to make sense of what had happened. The King does not look nearly as surprised.

The two stand in silence for a long moment before the old man speaks again.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He asks, lips curling up as if he is stifling a laugh, “Come clean up this mess, boy.”

Lucio stares on in shock for a moment. This man could not be serious. He cannot understand why King Akindije is doing this to him. What could he possibly gain by making the Faerie's life even harder? “Yes, Your Majesty,” Lucio utters quietly, picking up his broom and dustpan before slowly approaching the older man. He keeps his wings low, folded over themselves and pointed downward. The unfamiliar shoes on his feet feel heavy, as if they have been turned to led. Every inch of Lucio's body fights against approaching Akinjide. He barely begins to sweep up the shards before the King gives him new directions.

“Use your hands.”

Lucio’s head snaps up and for a moment he meets the King’s dark eyes with his own golden ones. Hana warned him to never look royalty in the eye. She said it would only cause him trouble. But in his confusion, he forgets her warning and stares into the piercing black of his Majesty's eyes. In an instant, he can tell that whatever rumors he heard about Akinjide must be true. This is a cruel man. He is a monster.

“Now,” Akinjide says, voice firm and commanding. His cold eyes seem to stare directly through his servant.

Lucio fights the panic rising up his throat as he moves down onto his hands and knees. What choice does he have? If he ran or disobeyed he could be killed. And there was nowhere else he could go. Not anymore.

He quickly begins picking up the largest shards of the vases and setting them into his dustpan. The faster he gets this mess cleaned up, the sooner he can dismiss himself. But he feels vulnerable on his hands and knees, presenting his wings and the back of his neck to the king. He feels tears pricking at his eyes and for a moment is thankful for the dreadlocks that fall into his face and hide it from view.

“Yes, I can see why he likes you,” The king begins speaking again, voice seemingly even more threatening than before, “You have a nice face. A nice body. You look a bit like a girl from this angle, don’t you?”

Lucio hisses as a piece of porcelain slices the palm of his hand. His ears ring. The combination of his fear, his pain, and his loneliness hit him all at once and he finds himself crying at His Majesty’s feet. His shoulders shake with his sobs and he tries hard to not make a sound. He did not want this man to know what his words and actions had done to him. He clenches his jaw, doing all that he can to stay silent.

“Your Majesty. Let me help.”

The new voice is unfamiliar and is accompanied by a set of footsteps approaching quickly.

Lucio watches the blood drip slowly from his hand as a stranger kneels beside him and begins sweeping up the remaining shards with his hands. They are so calloused that the porcelain does not even cut his skin. “My friend here must be extremely clumsy to have ruined one of your vases. Please forgive him, Your Majesty.”

Lucio’s hands shake and he keeps his head down and listens to the exchange.

“Clean up this mess.” The king commands, dissatisfaction clear in his voice. He goes silent for a few seconds before turning and walking back down the hall, leaving Lucio alone with the stranger.

The Faerie works hard to get himself under control. He takes deep breaths, shutting his eyes tight to try and quell his panic.

He feels a hand rest against his shoulder and as if he had been burned, he yanks away from the touch. He knows it is not fair. This man just practically saved him from the King. There is no telling what Akinjide would have done had they been left alone. He should not treat this stranger badly. But his mistrust in others refuses to let him relax.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the stranger assures him quickly, lifting both of his hands to show he means no harm. “You’re safe now. You don’t need to worry.” The young man is dressed in servants clothes, with an apron tied around his waist. He is tall. His hair and eyes are dark and his features are plain in the Faeries opinion. “Let me take you back to the servant’s quarters. I can patch up your hand for you… You’re new here right? I’ve never seen you before… I mean I’ve never seen a Faerie before at all… I didn’t even know there was-”

The young man goes silent as Lucio’s eyes glow and the skin on his palm slowly seals itself up. Lucio keeps his eyes on the other servant as he heals himself, still untrusting of the stranger.

“Oh,” The taller man says slowly, eyes locked on the supernatural healing for a moment before meeting Lucio’s golden eyes again. It is obvious that the Faerie had been crying. His eyes are puffy and red. “Let me walk with you downstairs,” the dark-eyed man offers again, "I was heading that way anyway."

Chapter Text

Word spreads fast in the slums, though this time it did not spread quite fast enough.

The young scavenger was practically the last person to hear about the crashed carriage in the desert. From what he understood, bandits had ambushed a group of travelers. They took the traveling merchant's silver and gold but left behind nearly everything else.  Dae-Hyun knows that with how late he heard the news, other scavengers from the slums likely took any other useful scraps left behind. But it was worth a shot to check out the wreckage. There was no work in the slums and no money. Everything the young scavenger owns he got from finding it himself or trading for it. And so he took a canteen of water and a makeshift spear and headed out into the desert in search for the abandoned carriage.

It does not take long for him to find what he is looking for. The vultures circling in the air high above the desert lead him to a sandy valley only a thirty minute walk from his home. But he cannot be more disappointed with what he finds. All resemblance to a merchant’s carriage is gone. The wooden wagon had been completely dismantled, for firewood if Dae-Hyun had to guess, and all that is left of it are a few splintered boards in the sand.

As he gets closer to what is left of the wreck, a foul smell reaches his nose and he has to pull a scarf over his face. There are two men, completely stripped of their clothes, laying in the sand. Their bodies are mangled and their chests are ripped open from vultures having gotten to them. Dae-Hyun was no stranger to corpses like this. People died in the slums all the time and with no one to care for them, their bodies usually remained in the streets for weeks, rotting away until vultures or wolves finished them off.

His eyes shift away from the human remains, settling on what was left of the carriage's horse. It had been killed as well and left to rot alongside its owners. Dae-Hyun grits his teeth in anger. The animal was big enough to feed half of the slums for days but instead, it had been left to rot. It is too late now, he knows from experience that eating meat like this will make him sick and he cannot afford illness now.

He knows he should not have expected much. Luckily, the only thing he lost was time. He is ready to leave when his eyes catch the glint of sun reflecting off of metal. Horseshoes.

He stares at the metal for a moment before taking a deep, slow breath. He ties the scarf around the back of his head, not wanting to breath in the dead animal’s scent. Next, he glances around the desert, electing to pick up a rock larger than his fist. He kneels down at the horse’s hind legs, and grabs ahold of one of the appendages tightly. He takes a deep breath and brings the rock up high into the air before slamming it hard against the horse’s hoof. He does it repeatedly, slowly but surely knocking the horseshoe off of its dead owner.

By the time he is on the forth hoof, he is drenched with sweat from his efforts and the scorching sun is burning his skin. The rotting stench makes his head ache and his eyes water but nevertheless, he persists, not stopping until he finally pries the last U-shaped piece of steel from the horse’s hoof.

He stands up, grinning down at the four pieces of forgotten treasure before shoving them into the carrier bag with his canteen. He pulls out the container, taking a few long gulps of water as he looks to the horizon.

Suddenly, his blood runs cold as dread takes over. Sand and dust gust above where the land meets the sky, a tell-tale sign that trouble was heading toward the slums. Without a second thought, he drops his canteen, letting the water soak into the sand below as he takes off into a sprint, hurrying back the way he came.

His feet kick up sand and his ears ring with panic. His eyes are fixed on the horizon and he prays that he will make it back home before the Junkers beat him there.

Dae-Hyun did not know why the people from the Wasteland called themselves Junkers. He did not know when the Junkers began invading outside of their territory. As long as he can remember they have been terrorizing the slums in the South of Talon. But he heard stories from the older citizens, passed down from their grandparents. The Junkers used to be normal people, just like the people of Talon. But when a sorcerer cursed the land, creating famine and acid rain, the people went crazy and began warring among themselves. With little resources in the Wasteland, they soon turned their efforts outward, and attacked all areas surrounding the desert.

The slum where Dae-Hyun lives is just one of the unlucky villages visited by the Junkers every few weeks. They come randomly, taking everything that they want. When the leave, they stay gone just long enough for the villagers to rebuild their resources. Then they come in and take everything again.

When Dae-Hyun finally makes it back into the shantytown, the people are in a state of panic and the Junkers are already on the loose. People try and fail to board up their poorly assembled houses or flea town, running or crawling through the sand. Junkers with mismatched, makeshift armor wield weapons and yell out commands for poor villagers to comply. Some act orderly while others attack women and children at random, lashing out at anyone who tries to fight or run.

Dae-Hyun knows he is insane to enter the slums while the Junkers are on a rampage. But he has no choice. He needs to protect what little he has.

And so he runs through the panicked crowd and ducks into alleys until he finally reaches his home, a tiny hut held together with scrap pieces of wood. He hears a scream from inside and knows that he is too late to ensure his friend’s safety.

“You’ve got to the count of three to hand it over before I let my mate here take it from you.” A shrill, unfamiliar voice is easily heard through the thin walls and Dae-Hyun knows he has little choice but to enter the hut to try and protect his friend.

The thin plywood door is off of its hinge and as he rounds the side of the building he can look straight into the single roomed shack. Two Junkers have their back to the door. One, tall and impossibly thin. His ribs can be seen through his pale, dirtied skin. His blonde hair is patchy and he is missing an arm and a leg. He balances on a pegleg and waves a blunt club with his only hand.

The second Junker is far more menacing. He can hardly fit in the shack and takes up half of the room. A half-giant. He is fat with a round stomach and large hands. Tattoos cover his skin and he has a large meat hook attached to a chain in his hand. As he turns his head to the newcomer, Dae-Hyun see that he wears an eerie pig skin mask over his face.

Beyond the two Junkers is a young girl. She is thin and short, with messy brown hair pulled up into two pigtails. Hana Song. She and Dae-Hyun had lived together ever since they were little. When their parents were killed by Junkers, they were left with only one another for support. She is all Dae-Hyun has in this place any more.

In her hands is an expertly crafted steel knife. She holds it up in self defense with her back against the wall. Her eyes are narrowed in anger rather than fear. She always was too brave for her own good and Dae-Hyun was always terrified for the both of them.

“Hey!” The patchy blonde Junker calls out, turning to look at the young newcomer. His lips are pulled back in a cruel smile, revealing his rotten and crooked teeth. “What?! Keep moving if you know what’s good for you!”

The taller of the two strangers lets out an inhuman grunt, that somehow the lanky one seems to understand. “You live here, mate?” He calls out to Dae-Hyun but does not wait for a response. “You tell little birdie here to give up the knife or she’s really going to get it!”

Dae-Hyun does not realize that all of the moisture is gone from his mouth until he tries to speak. It comes out as a quiet croak. “Hana-”

“They can try!” The young girl exclaims, fire in her voice. “I made it! It’s mine!”

Dae-Hyun knows it will not be easy to convince her. But Hana is not stupid. She has to understand that there is no other way out of this. And so Dae-Hyun takes a deep breath, pushing his fear aside as he steps between the two Junkers to approach his friend. “Give me the knife, Hana,” He urges her in a quiet voice, holding out his hand for the weapon.

He can tell that she is warring with herself in her mind. Her eyes dart from the dagger, to her friend, to the Junkers, and back again. Finally, she hands the knife to Dae-Hyun by the hilt.

“There’s a good girl,” The younger of the two bandits teases with a shrill laugh. “I’ll take good care of it for you.” He practically squeals in delight as Dae-Hyun hands the knife over but then his eyes lock onto the messenger bag on the young man’s shoulder. “What’s in the bag? You have something else for me?”

Dae-Hyun grimaces. He should have buried his newfound treasure in the desert before coming into town. Instead, in his panic, he brought his loot right to the people who wanted to take it from him. He does not hesitate to pull the strap over his shoulder and offer it to the larger of the two Junkers.

“Alrighty, kiddos. Well, this is how it's going to go. Me and my mate here are gonna tear this place apart. If you’ve got anything else of value ya better say so now. Cuz if we find you’ve been hiding anything from us, I’m gonna let Hog tear you both apart.” The scrappy young Junker says in full confidence. ‘Hog’ only lets out a quiet grunt of confirmation.

Dae-Hyun cannot look at either of their faces, his fear urging him to keep his head down. He does not want to comply, but the thought of anything bad happening to him or to Hana makes his body move on its own. He turns to face away from the Junkers and approaches his friend before kneeling down in front of her.

“Hyun,” She says, voice pleading.

“Hana, move.”

The young girl looks down at him before averting her eyes and stepping away.

Dae-Hyun wastes no time in prying up the floorboard that was previously below his friend’s feet. He hears it crack and tosses the rotten wood to the side before reaching into their secret hidden stash. He pulls out a handful of copper coins and turns to hand them to Hog, dropping them into his impossibly large hand.

He and Hana had been saving up for years. They sold the metal workings that Hana did and Dae-Hyun worked for anyone who could pay him. But money in the Slums was sparse. And it still wasn’t enough to take them up north and get them out of the shantytown.

“You were sitting on all of that?!” The loudmouthed Junker asks in disbelief. “And you’re willing to give it to us? I’m flattered!” He laughs cruelly before nudging his friend. “Let’s get out of here, Hog. Got a few more rounds to make!”

And within seconds, the two are gone and Dae-Hyun turns to face the angered and betrayed face of his friend. 

Hana did not talk to Dae-Hyun for nearly a week after the raid. Instead, she gave him the silent treatment. It was not until the end of the week that she spoke again.

She lays on the thin blanket separating her from the wooden floor of the hut. Dae-Hyun is only a few feet away, staring up at the poorly constructed ceiling, which lets moonlight stream in through the gaps in the wood.

“I’m leaving,” Hana says quietly, in almost a casual tone, as if she was simply telling him the weather.

Dae-Hyun does not think he heard her correctly at first and suddenly he is sitting up and looking over at his younger friend. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m going to head up North in the morning. If we can’t afford for someone to take us then I’ll just have to walk.”

Silence fills the shack and though Dae-Hyun’s eyes strain in the dark, he cannot make out her expression. “It’s not safe, Hana... You know that.”

“It’s not safe here,” She argues, sitting up to face Dae-Hyun as she speaks. “Things are just getting worse and worse. I can’t deal with it anymore.”

“Where will you go?”

“Ogundimu Castle.” She responds immediately and in that moment Dae-Hyun knows that she has thought this through. “Someone has to tell the king what is happening in the South. Maybe he can send someone to protect us.”

The older boy does not speak. He has only heard bad rumors about the King of Talon. He seriously doubts that it will do any good. The royal family abandoned its people long ago. But Hana is determined and she finally sees a light of hope to their lives. He cannot argue with her. “I’ll go with you,” He says finally, staring at the girl who he has spent his entire life trying to protect.

“I don’t need your help,” Hana says dismissively, laying back down on the hard floor and staring at a crack in the ceiling.

The words sting Dae-Hyun. Not because of his friends harsh rejection, but from the obvious truth to the words. Hana never needed him in the first place. She was strong and independent and brave. All things that Hyun wished he could be.

Finally, the boy moves onto his knees, crawling closer to close the gap between him and his friend. “I know you don’t,” he admits quietly before laying down beside her. “But you don’t have to do this alone, Hana. I want to be here for you. And whether you like it or not we’re a team, aren’t we?” He frowns as the young girl rolls onto her side, ignoring him for the rest of the night.

Years had passed since the two friends left the slums at the edge of The Wasteland. It took them nearly two weeks to make it to Ogundimu Castle to the north of the kingdom. They worked along the way, doing just enough here and there to get enough money for food.

When they arrived at Ogundimu castle, the guards refused to let them in. They waited for days with no relief in sight until a young guard finally gave them their in to the castle in the form of two servant jobs.

They never did get a hearing with the King of Talon and as years passed they found themselves stuck in the same place, working as the royal family’s servants. It was Dae-Hyun who suggested that they stay. Here they were given plenty of food and shelter. Their lives were no longer threatened by the barbarian Junkers. They had no where else to go. But at least they still had one another.

Chapter Text

Lucio did not trust Dae-Hyun at first. It is hard for him to trust anyone anymore. Even when Hana introduced the young man as her best friend, Lucio refused to let his guard down.

Dae-Hyun works in the castle’s kitchen, Lucio learned, and has a hand in making food for both the servants and for the royal family. He must be good at his job, considering he has held it for over two years now.

The Faerie finally starts warming up to the other man as he gets to know him. Dae-Hyun has an honest smile and speaks kindly and sincerely. Lucio can tell he is interested in Hana but is not sure what the nature of their relationship really is. He hides food in his apron and takes it down to the servant’s quarters to share with her, and by association, Lucio. It’s good food, that would usually be reserved for the royal family. Fresh bread, ripe fruit, sometimes even a small scrap of meat. He remembers when Akande used to order him whatever he wanted from the kitchen and had it specially made for him.

The three became close during the two weeks after Dae-Hyun and Lucio met. The Faerie slowly began to open up to both of the servants. He found himself talking to them more frequently and smiling easier around them. He did not know about their past and they did not know about his. Lucio did not want them to know.

He still has not seen Prince Akande since their fight but he knows he cannot avoid it for much longer. All day the servants have been busy, cleaning the castle and cooking food, preparing for a feast in which all members of the royal family and their guests will attend. The servants know little about these guest, but they have all been instructed to be available for the feast and prepare to serve food.

Until then, Lucio is keeping busy dusting and redusting the hallways of the castle. There is not a speck of dirt to be seen. But he has been instructed to keep busy until the feast begins.

“Hey, Lucio!” Dae-Hyun calls over in a hushed whisper, bringing the Faerie out of his daze. The castle's cook is making his way down the grey hallway, a large bucket and a ladle in hand as he approaches his friend. He walks right up to the golden-eyed boy, glancing around to make sure that they are alone before setting down the metal bucket on the ground. “I’ve got something for you.”

Lucio’s eyes immediately are drawn to the contents of the bucket. It is filled with some kind of thick, unidentifiable stew. The Faerie, for once, does not want to try Dae-Hyun’s cooking. “I’m not that hungry,” He says quietly, eyes fixated on the brown goo.

His comment makes the taller boy laugh and he shakes his head. “Not this. This is prisoner’s slop. Chef doesn’t let us feed them decent food… It’s just whatever we’ve got leftover in the back of the pantry. We toss it into a pot with some water and mash it up.”

Lucio’s nose wrinkles, remembering his own time in Vishkar’s prison and how he had been fed similar porridge. He bets whoever is stuck in Talon’s dungeon is in a similar circumstance, too hungry to deny any food they are given.

Dae-Hyun does not know why Lucio turns his nose up, but he does not have time to dwell on it. “Here,” He says, digging into the pocket of his apron and pulling out a handful of plump red strawberries. “I got these for Hana but I know they’re your favorite. You should take some.”

Lucio’s golden eyes light up at the sight and he feels a smile come to his face as he steps closer, reaching for the berries with a grateful nod. He shoves the first one into his mouth quickly, letting out a happy hum as the juice fills his mouth.

The taste quickly runs sour though as he sees a figure turn the corner of the hall and come into his peripheral vision. He turns his head quickly and hardly recognizes the King of Talon. Akinjide is dressed up in a red heavy cape, there are intricate black and gold designs sewn into his tunic, and a shiny gold and jewel-encrusted crown sits atop his head. Lucio has never seen the King so dressed up. The bulky clothes hide his frail and aging frame, giving the appeatance of a stronger and younger man.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” The King sneers as he approaches, eyes fixed on the Faerie rather than paying any attention to the cook.

Dae-Hyun’s eyes go wide. He had never been caught stealing from the kitchen before but he knew the price that he could pay. Others had lost their jobs, been imprisoned, or even killed for the same offense. His hands immediately scramble to hide the strawberries within his apron but his handles fumble and several fall from his grasp onto the floor.

The King’s eyes finally drift to the taller of the two boys before darting down to the strawberries on the floor. “Do I not feed you well enough?” He asks, voice cold.

Lucio can see how scared his friend is. Dae-Hyun’s fists clench at his sides, his shoulders are stiff and his eyes water. "You do, Your Majesty."

“Pick them up.” The King hisses out the order through thin lips, outstretching his hand to receive the stolen fruit.

Dae-Hyun does not hesitate to follow directions and immediately falls to his knees to scoop up the bruised berries from the stone floor of the palace. He drops them into His Majesty’s large hand and takes a step back quickly.

Lucio tilts his head down, avoiding the gaze of both his friend and the king, afraid to look at either of them. “Faerie. Come here.” Akindije’s voice beckons him closer and Lucio grits his teeth.

“Open up,” The king commands. He holds one of the berries by its dark green stem and presses the fruit against the winged man’s lips. He can sense Lucio’s hesitance and so he continues, “If you want to steal from me so badly, you can at least take what I offer.”

Lucio’s eyes widen and he finally meets the King’s much darker ones. They look like Akande’s, dark and cold, and deadly serious.

The Faerie glances over at Dae-Hyun only to see him struggling with whether or not to speak up. He wants to take responsibility, wants to tell Akindije that it was his fault for taking the berries, not Lucio’s for accepting one.

But Lucio will not let his friend take the fall, even if he is to blame. Instead, he meets the king’s eyes again, locking them with his own as he leans forward, taking a hesitant but large bite from the fruit.

“There you go,” The king practically purs. His voice is low and menacing, laced with amusement. A large thumb presses against Lucio’s lips wiping away the excess juice from the soft skin there. He grins sickly before holding out his now wet fingers in front of the Faerie expectantly.

He can’t be serious . Lucio thinks, eyes wide as he stares at the old man in front of him. But as the seconds tick by and hand stays in his face, Lucio knows that his options are limited. He can comply and possibly get out of the situation faster and easier. Or he can resist and risk his own life as well as the life of Dae-Hyun.

And so, he bites back his pride and leans in, dragging his tiny tongue over the Akindije’s thick, wet fingers. Lucio feels his stomach churn as the king presses two of his digits into his mouth and presses them against his tongue and to the back of his throat, making him cough and gag on the fingers.

"Don't you look pretty?" The words make him feel sick. He swears that Akande said something similar once, with the tip of his dick inLucio'se throat.

When the intrusion finally leaves Lucio’s mouth, the Faerie hitches forward, coughing and wiping the juice and drool from his mouth with the sleeve of his servants uniform. When he finally looks back up at His Majesty, it is with a deadly glare. He is mad. Not just at the King. But at everything. At his situation. At the men and women in Vishkar. Moira. Akande. Even Dae-Hyun.

“Careful how you look at me, Faerie.” The old man warns with a smirk. Finally, he looks back at Dae-Hyun, whose eyes are locked onto the stone tiles of the hall’s floor. “Shouldn’t you be preparing dinner?” He asks.

The cook does not look up as he is addressed. “The head chef instructed me to take dinner to the dungeon, sir.” He explains.

“Go back to the kitchen,” the king commands with a sly smirk, “The Faerie will feed the prisoners tonight.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Dae-Hyun concedes with a small bow.

Lucio’s body goes tense at the idea of going down to the dungeon. He had spent enough time underground for a lifetime and was definitely not keen on returning. But he knows better than to argue with the King of Talon. He stands up straight, watching as the king turns his back to them and walks back to the hall. Neither servant moves until they are sure he is gone.

“Lucio-”

“It’s fine.” Lucio’s response is short and mean as he shakes his head dismissively. He does not want to talk about it. Afterall, he has been through worse. But when he turns to look at Dae-Hyun finally and sees the other man’s eyes brimming with tears, his own emotions well up inside him. “Hey. It’s okay.” He knows his words do nothing to console the younger man.

“I should have told him it was me,” Dae-Hyun says, wiping at his eyes quickly, trying to blink away the forming tears.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Lucio says slowly, his anger slipping away. He could not explain to the other man what all he had been through or why this was not nearly the worst thing that had happened to him. He would much rather it be him on this end of His Majesty’s cruelty than it be his newfound friend. He lets out a quiet sigh, reaching up to tie his dreaded hair up in a small ponytail. “We need to get to work, Hyun.”

He did not have time to console his friend or to worry about the king’s sexual advances. He needs to stay focused on his work. Working keeps him busy. It kept his mind off of all of the pains he had suffered.

But it becomes difficult for him to forget his past as he descends the stairway into the dungeon. So much of Talon’s dungeon is similar to Vishkar’s. The smell of stale air. The cold. The torchlight illuminating the staircase. The bucket of slop feels as though it is getting heavier with every step and the Faerie has to set it down every once in a while to get a better grip on the handle.

When he finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, he is met with two armoured guards standing watch at the entrance to the cells.

“Woah, check this thing out,” One of the guards, the younger of the two says with a nudge in his friend’s side.

Lucio frowns as both of the guards look him over, gawking at his golden eyes, pointed ears, and crystalline wings. He stands there in silence for a moment but after realizing the others are too entranced with his appearance to speak, he addressed them first. “I was sent to bring the prisoners’ dinner,” He explains, holding up the serving ladle to show the guards.

“Where’s the usual fella?” The older man asks, voice gruff. He looks Lucio up and down once more before apparently deciding that he no longer cares. “Alrighty Sprite,” he says, “Just fill up their bowls. Call for us if you run into any problems.”

Lucio’s eyes zero in on the older man, simply staring at him. “I have to do it?” He asks, surprised at how his own voice shakes with the question.

“No worries, kid. Most of these guys ain’t even that dangerous. The real bad guys are locked up real tight so they can’t hurt ya.”

It takes Lucio another long pause before he finally steps past the pair of guards and down the hallway lined with cells. He refuses to look at any of the prisoners as he goes down a line, filling up wooden bowls on the floor and sliding them through the spaces in the bars. Some of the men and women try to talk to him. Some call him names or beg to be released. He wonders if they even did anything wrong or if, like him, they had been imprisoned for someone else’s masochistic reasons.

He tries to push the thoughts from his mind and hurries down the line. Pick up a bowl, fill it with slop, set it down, push it through the bars, repeat. He gets into a rhythm of it, ignoring all else. That is, until a familiar voice makes him drop the bowl and ladle.

“Gold.”

Chapter Text

Lucio would not have recognized her if it were not for her voice. And even that is scratchy and slightly unfamiliar. It lacks its normal cold, cruel tone and instead is tinged with pain. Her appearance is far worst. She is dressed in torn rags and has cuts, scabs, and bruises all over her pale body. The left side of her face has been burned badly. Her bright blue eye is a stark contrast to the raw, blistered, and bloody skin that surrounds it. Her body is frail and her arms are restrained, tethering her to either side of her cell and forcing her to stay up on her knees.

The cell reeks terribly and it only takes Lucio a minute to see why. The woman’s robes are stained with her own excrement. It looks as though she has not been untied to relieve herself, let alone eat, in days.

No other prisoner is in a condition such as this. While they were clearly not taken care of as they should be, there were no others that were enduring such heinous torture.

Lucio would not wish this on anyone, even Moira O’deorain.

The scientist stares out at him, meeting his eyes with her own for only a moment before lowering them in shame and embarrassment. She clenches her jaw. “Did you-... come here to gloat, Gold?”

Lucio does not respond. His mind is racing, trying to catch up with the situation and make sense of the scene before him. The last time he saw Moira, she had been as wicked as ever, insisting that Lucio would fall under her control again soon. What had happened in such a short period of time for things to change? Who had imprisoned her and why?

“Do not give me that look,” She hisses out, glaring at the stone floor of her cell, “You must be so proud of yourself, now that you’re on the other side of the cage. Did they send you here to finish me off?”

Lucio’s lips part ever so slightly but no words leave his mouth. His throat is dry and he cannot seem to form any words.

“You’ve been waiting for this haven’t you? You can’t do anything to me that is worse than what that prince did.”

Lucio’s stomach drops and the world goes still. His head buzzes as he tries to comprehend her words. “A-... Akande?” His voice is hoarse.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Moira’s voice breaks and she pulls at the chains on her arms, making them rattle. But the cuffs dig into the raw wounds on her wrists and she screams in pain. “You told him to do this to me,” She cries out.

“I didn’t!” Lucio yells out over her sobs. He looks down the hall worriedly, making sure that they had not drawn the attention of the two guards at the end of the hall. “I didn’t,” He repeats in a quiet hiss. His hands come up to the bars of the cage and he leans forward, trying to emphasize that he is telling the truth. “I never would have asked him to do something like this.” He cannot even convince himself of this. He had been angry at Moira for so long. If those feelings had festered and if he had the chance, would he wish this upon her?

Seeing her now though, he feels no anger toward the woman who had stolen him from his home, tortured him for her own pleasure, and killed his friends. Instead, the only things he feels are pity and sadness. He knows how scared she must be. He had been in this position and felt her pain.

He shuts his eyes, resting his forehead against the rusty bars of the cage. His hands hold onto the rods so tight that the rigid surface of them cut into his palms. He takes a deep breath, listening to the grown woman cry in her cell, whimpering and shaking in her pain.

He cannot stand the noise.

And so he acts quickly, turning his head to look down the hall. Check if the coast is clear. He takes another deep breath, gathering his courage. Before he can change his mind, he shrinks down to a smaller size, slipping between the bars of the cell. He regrows to his full size, taking a step toward the redheaded woman.

“Stay away from me! Stay back!” She sobs, voice wrecked with fear.

“Shh- Be qui- Shut up , Moira!” Lucio hisses out, silencing the terrified babbling.

He lifts his hands in front of them but they feel heavy, as if they have been turned to stone. He does not want to do this. But he does. It’s the right thing to do. But it feels wrong. He grits his teeth as his eyes begin to glow gold. The color spreads form his irises, to his pupils, to the whites of his eyes. The light casts shadows in the cell and he feels energy coursing through his body.

Finally, he reaches out, resting the fingertips of both of his hands against the wounded scientist’s face. He can feel the power leaving through his digits, warm and buzzing. He does not need to look at Moira to know that her body is repairing itself. Her cuts are sealing with new skin. Her green and purple bruises are being replaced by her normal fair complexion. And the burn on her face is scaring over.

When he finally looks down at her again, he is not surprised to see a nasty scar across the left side of her face. But as far as split skin and scabs go, she has none.

Her hetero-chromatic eyes are glassy with tears as she stares up at her healer. Her thin lip quivers as she struggles for something to say.

“You ruined my life,” Lucio says, voice more confident than it had been in nearly a year, “You attacked my home. And you hurt me. And you hurt my friends. You killed them.” He feels his own eyes burning with tears but he holds eye contact with the monster who has hurt him. “But I am nothing like you. I don’t kill people. And I do not torture people. Even when they have done much worse to me… I hate you. I have never hated anyone so much in my life.” He finds himself crying as he finally faces this woman but he does not waver. “But I do not want you dead. Or in pain… I just want you out of my life. I want you gone.”

He takes a deep breath, finally letting his hands fall to his sides again. He glances around the cell before getting to work. Lucio shrinks down to tiny size, much smaller than he normally would and his miniature wings beat fast. He rushes through the stale air of the dungeon, examining the chains on Moira’s arms.

It does not take him long to find what he is looking for. The rustiest of the chain-links holding her arms in place. He stands on the link, grabbing the top with his arms and pressing the heels of his feet against the other side. In one quick motion, his body takes on his full form, holding on tight to the thin tiny metal. The force of the change snaps the link and sends the rest of the chain clanging against the ground. He then rushes to her other side, repeating the action. This time it is not as easy and it takes him a couple of tries to get a strong enough hold on the link to break it. When the second chain falls to the ground, he retakes his full form and stands in front of Moira.

The woman falls to her hands and knees and gasps out quietly, finally allowed to leave a position which she had held for days. She stares up at the Faerie with wide eyes, clearly confused by his actions. “Why?” She asks, voice coming out in a whisper.

Lucio takes a step away from her, his wings extending for a moment before folding down against his back. “I said I want you gone… So go… You only have one chance. The royal family is having a feast tonight. All of the servants and all of the castle’s guards will be there.”

Lucio turns his back to her before shrinking down one last time. This time, he flies into the keyhole of the cell. He does not know exactly what he is doing but within a minute of pushing and prodding at metal gears, he hears a satisfying click and the quiet creak of the cell door opening.

He regains his size again, sparing one last glance at the stunned woman. “I never want to see you again, do you understand?” His tone is cold and serious, almost threatening. The voice does not sound like his own.

Moira nods her head quickly, still trying to catch up with all that had happened in less than five minutes. She watches as the golden Faerie picks up the bucket of porridge from the ground and turns to leave. After all she had put this young man through, she cannot comprehend how the Faerie can be so benevolent. “Lucio.” The name is unfamiliar on her lips and it comes out in a croak, making the Faerie pause for only a moment. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Lucio cannot seem to get enough air. He practically runs up the spiraling steps that take him out of the dungeon. He wants to get away from the haunting place as soon as possible. When he finally makes it to the main floor of the palace, he doubles over to rest his hands on his knees. He tries to fill his lungs with air but it becomes increasingly difficult as his throat clenches up and he begins to cry.

He did not want to see Moira like that, face mangled and covered in blood. It made him sick to his stomach. And even more sick that it fell on him to save this horrible woman from her situation. It is not fair. How could this have happened?

You can’t do anything to me that is worse than what that prince did.

Akande did this. But why? Did he think that this is what Lucio would want? Was it for revenge? Or something more twisted?

Lucio remembers all of the horrible things that he has heard about the prince in the past weeks. He heard stories about Prince Akande’s cruelty but he never wanted to believe any of it. How could a man this evil treat Lucio so gently?

He needs to get out of this place. He needs to leave Akande and all of Talon behind. It is clear to him that every kind moment that the two shared was fabricated. There were no real feelings between either of them. All of the fond moments that they shared meant nothing.

He wipes tears from his eyes quickly, trying to compose himself. He does not have time to be upset and he does not want anyone to see him like this.

But it is too late.

“Lucio?” Hana’s voice is soft and concerned as she turns the corner. She is slow to approach her friend. “Lucio, what happened?” She waits a moment before realizing that her friend clearly does not want to talk about it. Instead of pushing him further, she wraps her thin arms around his body, pulling him in close. “It’s going to be okay,” she assures him gently, resting one of her hands on the back of his head to keep him close.

The faerie has not been held like this in a while and the contact is not unwelcome. He cries quietly into the taller girl’s shoulder and clings to her dress. He expects that at any moment, Hana will pull away from the embrace but she is patient with him and holds on tight while he tries to compose himself.

They end up standing still in the hallway like this for nearly five minutes. Even when Lucio stops crying, he does not want to let go but finally, he manages. “Sorry,” mumbles out, wiping tears from his cheeks and rubbing at his reddened eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Lucio,” She assures him with a hand on his shoulder. “If you ever need to talk… about anything, you know I’m here for you, right? We’re a family now. We have to look after each other.” She watches her friend nod, but Lucio will not meet her eyes. “We need to go. We’re late to dinner.”

Lucio does not argue with her and instead, he lets her take his hand and guide him down the halls.

When they near the dining hall, Lucio can hardly recognize Ogundimu castle anymore. The halls have been lined with bright red banners displaying the Ogundimu’s family sigil, a gauntlet with its fist pointing toward the ground. Lucio had only seen the symbol on a few occasions. Apparently, the Ogundimu family does not have as much pride in its name as other royal houses.

The decorations on the normally grey stone walls are surprising, but what really gets his attention are the seemingly endless lines of soldiers lining the way to the banquet hall. Surely King Akinjide is trying to show off his influence to his honored guests. Most of these men have never set foot inside of the castle’s walls. Lucio did not even know that there were so many guards in all of Talon.

Hana and Lucio are the last of the servants to arrive. The banquet hall is unrecognizable. The large open room has an incredibly long table. The Ogundimus must not have guests often, because Lucio has never seen the table set and he has never seen this hall looking so regal. The table is covered with silver and porcelain dining sets and lines of red wax candles.

Every servant in the castle is present. They line the walls of the room, spaced evenly apart with their hands folded behind their backs, ready to serve the royal family however they are asked to.

The young girl and the Faerie are quick to spot Dae-Hyun, and take their places on the wall beside him. He gives them both a sheepish smile but does not say a word. For nearly ten minutes, everything is dead silent.

The giant wooden doors creak open as the dinner party arrives. The King walks in first, followed by Price Akande and several of the royal advisors that Lucio has never spoken to. They are followed by, Lucio assumes, their dinner guests, lords, and ladies that Lucio had never seen before.

Lucio meets Akande’s eyes for only a moment. He is dressed in black and gold, with a cape draping across his shoulders. His brow is furrowed and his face does not hide his worry. He can tell that the Faerie has been crying. Lucio averts his eyes. Akande has no right to worry about him now.

The King sits at one end of the table, to his left the Prince. At the furthest end sits a tall and slender woman. Her skin is deathly pale, almost taking on a blue hue in the dim lighting. Her hair is dark and she is dressed in an elegant purple dress that trails behind her and is embroidered with black spider web designs. She does not say a word as she takes her seat.

“Lady Amelie Lacroix,” Talon’s eldest councilman speaks up. “Thank you for meeting with us. We hope that your new home is to your liking and His Majesty is willing to do anything to make your stay here more comfortable.”

Still, she does not speak.

“Our Prince is surely lucky to take the hand of someone such as yourself.” The old man pauses again, waiting for Ms. Lacroix to respond. After a moment, he flounders to fill the silence. “The Guillards and the Lacroixs are two of Talon’s most influential and oldest houses. We are honored to bring someone of your bloodline into the royal family.”

Lucio’s stomach churns as he tries to make sense of the words.

Amelie stares straight ahead, staring down the King of Talon. She does not even acknowledge the councilman and instead lifts the chalice of wine in front of her, taking a slow sip from the silver cup. Her thin ashen fingers are even paler than the polished metal.

“Prince Akande,” the Councilman speaks up again, addressing the man to his right this time. “Your Majesty, perhaps you would like to say a few words to your betrothed?”

Lucio can feel the prince’s eyes on him, but the sensation vanishes as Akande addresses Amelie.

“Your Grace,” He begins slowly, “Thank you for coming all of this way. I hope that this castle will become a home for you. What is mine is now yours. I look forward to our wedding day.” The words sound fake, rehearsed. As if Akande is reading from a book rather than talking to his fiance.

But they still make Lucio’s chest feel tight as the world rushes to catch up with him. Akande is getting married. When? Why? He knows that he should not care. All rational parts of his brain are telling him to ignore the prince and his doings. But he cannot help but feel betrayed somehow. The prince sent him away without explanation, he tortured people in the dungeons, and now he is getting married. Never once did he ask Lucio what he wanted.

The conversations at the dinner table buzz on in the back of Lucio’s mind. Council members from both families discuss preparations for the wedding, vows, land agreements, politics. All through dinner the focus of discussion is on a marriage that neither bride nor groom seem to care for.

As the dessert is brought out, Lucio can feel a pair of cold eyes on him. He scans the table, expecting to meet the prince’s gaze. But Akande is staring down at his chalice, as silent as he has been all evening. What he finds instead are the eyes of the soon to be princess staring him down. Lucio cannot make out what she is thinking. Is it malice, interest, or something else?

“That Faerie was given to my son as a dowry from Vishkar.” All of the chatter at the table goes silent when the old king speaks for the first time that night. He must have noticed Lady Lacroix’s gaze. “Interesting isn’t he? Come here, Fae.”

All eyes in the room go to Lucio now. He sticks out like a sore thumb amongst all of the humans in the room. His crystalline wings and golden eyes give him away for what he is. He does not budge.

“Come,”  Akinjide commands him again, voice harsher this time. He waits for the tiny Faerie to get within arms reach. Suddenly, he reaches out, grabbing ahold of Lucio’s wrist and pulling him closer. “Let them see you,” He says, yanking on Lucio’s arm to make him spin away from the dinner guests.

Lucio feels the King’s hands grab at his wings, spreading them apart to show off his trophy. He grits his teeth as the old man handles him roughly as if he is an object to brag about.

"As far as we know, he is the last of his race, making him far more valuable than our other servants."

It is too much. With all of the pain and degradation that Lucio has been through today, this public humiliation sends him over the edge. He stretches out his wings, flapping them quickly to knock over the King’s drinking chalice. It spills into his lap, soaking his robe and slacks.

"You-!" In an instant, the king stands from his place at the table and in one fluid motion hits Lucio hard with the back of his hand.

The Faerie falls to the ground with the force of the strike. He never imagined that such an old man could pack such a punch. The rings on His Majesty’s hand hit him hard in the side of the head, leaving his temple bloody.

Akande is out of his chair in an instant. The wood of the chair legs scrapes across the stone floor, piercing the ears of the men in women in the room. He slams his hands on the table to draw the king’s attention away from the Faerie and suddenly all eyes are on him. He is furious and his body shakes with his anger. But his hands stay planted on the wooden table. He cannot lash out at his father. Not here, not when the older man holds both his and Lucio’s fate in his hands.

“Do you have something to say?” The King asks, narrowing his eyes at his son. The room is silent again as the two men stare each other down, neither backing down from the other’s glare.

Lucio stays on the ground, not wanting to anger Akinjide further. He brings a hand to the wound on his head, wincing at the pain from it. For a moment, he hopes that Akande will come to his rescue but as the seconds tick by, he realizes that it will not be the case. He hears heavy footsteps leaving the dining hall and when he looks up, Akande is gone.

“Get up. Go back to your place,” The King commands, cold eyes trained on the Faerie.

Lucio obeys quickly, keeping his head lowered to the floor as he hurries back to take his place between Dae-Hyun and Hana. Breaking protocol, the young girl reaches out, grabbing ahold of Lucio’s hand and squeezing on tight. Her eyes are glassy and she is clearly fighting back tears.

If Akinjide notices the young girl, he says nothing and he turns back to his guests. “You will have to forgive my servant. Like I mentioned, he came to us recently. Please excuse me.” The King nods politely toward his guests before turning to leave the room.

Lucio feels panic well in his chest as he watches the King go. Will he follow Akande? Is the prince in danger?

He has to force himself to stay still, squeezing on tight to Hana’s hand as a way to ground himself. With the prince and king both gone the lords and ladies at the dinner table resume their conversation with a more light-hearted tone. They continue talking for almost another half hour until Lady Lacroix stands and silently excuses herself. The others take her cue and file out of the dining hall.

The servants and soldiers stand completely still until the last of the royals have left the room. When the room comes to life again, servants hurry to clear the dinner table.

“Lucio,” Hana turns to her friend, reaching to touch the temple of his head gently. “Lucio, I’m so sorry. We need to get this looked at-”

“Hana,” Lucio interrupts his friend, taking a step back from her touch. “Thank you but… I need to go.”

The young girl tries to argue with him but when Lucio pulls away from her grasp, she can do nothing but watch him hurry from the room, chasing after a man who so easily threw him away.

Chapter Text

Lucio should not be as afraid as he is. The day is over. He can return to the servants quarters and finally rest. But his body will not let him. Instead, he rushes around the castle, trying to find Akande.

He first goes to the prince’s room. He has not been here in weeks and it takes all of his courage to knock on the door. He taps on it gently at first but with no response he knocks again, calling for Akande through the wood.

He waits for a while longer before trying the door handle. Locked. He curses, though he did not expect any less. The prince likes his privacy. He glances down the hallway to his left, then to his right. No one is in sight.

The Faerie takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as his body shrinks down. His wings beat quickly and he slips beneath the crack in the door. He buzzes around the room, checking the bathroom and the closet as well. The place is much cleaner than he remembers it. There is an open book and a map of the Kingdom on the table by the window. Lucio’s drawings are stacked up in the window sill. Aside from that, the room is spotless. No Akande.

Lucio slips out again and continues to make his way down the hall. He does not know where else the prince could be. After watching Akande standoff with his father, then seeing both Ogundimu’s leave the banquet hall, he grew worried for his former friend. He does not want an apology from the other man. He does not even want to talk to him. He just wants to know that Akande is safe.

At least that is what he thinks. Until nearly an hour later when he finally sees the prince.

Akande is in the garden. He sits on a stone bench with his back toward the Faerie. His head is in his hands and an empty bottle of wine sits toppled over in the grass by his feet.

Lucio struggles with himself. He wants to walk away. But then again, he does not. And so he approaches Akande slowly, walking up behind him and finally rounding the bench.

Akande does not look up.

Lucio worries at his lip, teeth chewing at the soft skin there nervously. Finally, he kneels down in front of the other man, tilting his head back to look up at Akande with concerned eyes. “Ak-” He hesitates, “Your Highness?”

Akande lifts his head. He drops his arms to his sides as he meets Lucio’s eyes. He looks exhausted and his eyes are glassy as if he is holding back sorrow. He looks as if he has not slept since the last time he and Lucio spoke. Suddenly the Faerie has so many questions for the man he used to call his friend.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology takes Lucio by surprise and suddenly he cannot find any of the anger or resentment he once felt. He just gapes up at the prince with wide golden eyes.

An impossibly large hand comes up, cupping the side of Lucio’s face. He does not pull away from the touch.

“I want to do right by you. I want you to stay safe.” The prince’s voice is gentle and fragile. He brings his other hand up as well, resting his hands on both of Lucio’s cheeks. “They keep hurting you and-” His large fingers trail up Lucio’s face, gently wiping at where his father had hit the Faerie. The cut has already healed itself and there is no scar to be seen but the sticky dried blood remains as proof of the attack. “I can’t do anything.”

Lucio stares on at the prince, hoping that his eyes do not betray his thoughts. Akande is drunk, that much is clear. He sighs quietly, tilting his head into the gentle touches. It is not fair. Even after all that the prince has put him through, he still has a way of winning Lucio over. He shuts his eyes, relaxing into the other’s warm hands.

“I’ve missed you. There’s so much that I- I can’t deal with it-”

“Shh,” Lucio hushes the prince gently. He never considered that Akande could be hurting just as much as him. He suddenly longs for things to go back to how they were. Before Moira arrived in Talon. Before Akande forbid him to leave. Before the prince sent to work as a servant.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Lucio’s much smaller hands come up to grab Akande’s wrists. He pulls them away ever so gently then moves his hands to the front of His Highness’s pants. “Please. Don’t say anything,” he begs.

The golden-eyed boy cannot explain what came over him. He undoes the front of Akande’s pants and reaches forward to curl his fingers around the prince’s soft member.

“Wait-”

The prince reaches out for Lucio but he pushes the hands away. “Please,” Lucio repeats again quietly.

The garden goes quiet again and the Faerie lets out a slow sigh before leaning forward. He drags his tongue up the tip of Akande’s member, licking at it ever so gently as he tries to get the other man hard. He takes the member in his mouth, running his tongue against the underside of it. He almost forgot the way that it makes his jaw ache.

This is familiar to him. The smell, the taste, the feeling of Akande’s cock swelling inside of his mouth, slowly getting hard against his lips.

“Lucio.”

The Faerie opens his golden eyes, staring up at Akande. He cannot help but find him cute. It is not a word he would usually use to describe the prince. But with his mouth hanging open and his eyes half-lidded, the word seems to fit.

Akande’s hands hang in the air, unsure of where to go and for a moment Lucio thinks that the other man is going to push him away again. Finally, one of his hands rests gently in Lucio’s hair, as if he is afraid that the Faerie will shatter under his touch.

Lucio relaxes with the touch, closing his eyes again as he bobs his head slowly, feeling the other man’s cock dragging against his lips. He tries not to think about anything. He does not want to think about Moira or the King or the pale slender woman that Akande is meant to marry. He focuses on the heavy cock in his mouth and the feeling of grass beneath his fingertips.

“Ah- Lucio-”

The way Akande says his name makes the Faerie shiver. He pulls back slowly, letting the member slide out of his lips. He stares up at his prince and leans forward, resting his cheek against Akande’s thigh. “Your Highness. Take me to your bedchamber.” 

Akande is not thinking straight. Seeing Lucio tonight brought up too many raw emotions. And the way that his father put his hands on the Faerie made anger boil up under his skin. But what could Akande do?

He cannot speak up against the King anymore. Not when it meant that Lucio could pay the price. He should have let Gabriel take the Faerie down south when he had the chance. Now Lucio is stuck here and there is no way for Akande to protect him any longer.

He wallows in his own helplessness, nursing a bottle of wine as he walks aimlessly down the palace’s halls. He does not know what brought him to the garden. It was the only place where he had ever seen his Faerie truly happy.

His head is swimming with regrets and memories as he polishes off the bottle.

When Lucio first appears in front of him, he thinks that it is a dream. He knows that he cannot keep the Faerie to himself anymore. He knows that the young man has every reason in the world to hate him now. He wants to apologize. He wants to explain himself. He wants to make Lucio feel better. But all of his words come out slurred and he cannot form a coherent thought.

He should have pushed Lucio away when the Faerie began to touch him. He should have stood up and walked away. He should not have taken the smaller man up to his bedroom.

He is surprised by how forward the smaller man is being. Lucio practically shoves him down on the bed and crawls into his lap. Again, Akande considers pushing the Faerie away, but he cannot bring himself to do it.

He lets Lucio undress him. He lets him lay him down on the bed. Lets him grind against his abdomen.

“Touch me.”

The prince complies without a word, sliding his hands up Lucio’s tiny body, feeling the soft skin under his hands. He runs them back down, unable to get enough of the other man’s body. He tries to sit up, wants to taste Lucio. Wants to press his lips to that perfect skin.

But the Faerie will not allow it. He pushes Akande’s broad chest to keep him laying flat against the bed.

Akande could easily overpower the tiny creature. But he does not dare. After all that he has put Lucio through, he cannot disobey him.

His head swims as time passes. He is so caught up in the slow grinding and the gentle touching, that he does not even notice when the Faerie begins to finger himself. It is not until he feels his cock sliding into Lucio’s tight asshole that he realizes what is happening.

“Lucio!” He grabs ahold of the Faerie’s hips tight, trying to pull the thin body off of his member. For the first time since they left the garden, Akande finally speaks. “You shouldn’t-”

“I want to.”

Akande gapes up at his servant, his Faerie, his friend, his lover. His mind is clouded with alcohol. He wants this more than anything. Finally, he loosens his hold on the other man’s hips and lets Lucio slide back down, slowly taking in more of the prince’s hot member.

Akande watches as Lucio’s face scrunches up. They have not done this before. Even after all of the times that they have fooled around, Lucio has never let Akande fuck him. He never imagined that it would happen like this. With Lucio sitting atop him, controlling the whole situation.

He stares on with wide eyes as Lucio’s thighs lift him up and down ever so slowly. It takes all of his effort to not thrust into the tight and overwhelming heat clamping down on his dick. He watches the slow movements, eyes trailing over Lucio’s body. It is damp with sweat and his thighs tremble with the effort of keeping himself moving.

“Touch me, Akande,” Lucio tells him again. His voice is raspy and quiet as he guides Akande’s hands into place. One on Lucio’s chest and the other around his hard and leaking dick.

The prince is in a trance as he watches the other man, his right hand absently stroking his member. “Does it-”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Lucio gasps out as he falls all the way down on Akande’s cock, holding himself there and rolling his hips slowly. His mouth gapes open, forming an O. “Ah- it just-” his chest is heaving with each breath. “I feel really… full… inside.”

A pair of heavy-lidded black eyes meet gold. Both men breathe heavy and stare at one another.

“I want to kiss you.” Akande holds his breath, almost sure that the Faerie will deny his request. He has only pressed his lips to Lucio’s once. And neither of them enjoyed it. It was forced and rough and unwelcomed on Lucio’s part.

“Okay.” Lucio’s voice is quiet, a whisper. “Kiss me.” He leans down, pressing his body against Akande’s own, squirming a bit as the new angle has Akande’s cock rubbing against his prostate.

The prince is hesitant this time around. His lips are only an inch from the Faerie’s but he still holds completely still, giving Lucio every opportunity to change his mind. Finally, he moves a hand up to rest against the side of the smaller man’s face. When his lips press against Lucio’s his eyes slide shut as he tries to enjoy the sensation.

Lucio’s lips are incredibly soft. They are warm. And they move against Akande’s so effortlessly. The prince cannot explain why his eyes water up with the sensation or why he immediately finds himself crying into the other man’s mouth. His tears mix with Lucio’s own as the two men move against each other, hands wandering over missed skin, bodies rocking against one another in search of release, and lips locked together desperately.

Chapter Text

“Why did you send me away?”

Akande’s eyes are still red from crying. He does not know when the last time he cried was. Once the floodgates were opened though, he could not close them again. He and Lucio were both exhausted. From sex and from crying. He lays on his oversized bed, Lucio laying flat against his chest.

The prince knows that he owes Lucio an explanation. More than one if he is honest. But he was hoping that this talk could wait until morning. He had sobered up as the wine worked its way through his system but his head still feels foggy with exhaustion.

“I thought that it would be better for you.”

“You didn’t ask me what I wanted.”

“I knew it wasn’t me.”

The silence stretches on between them.

“What do you mean?” Lucio finally asks. He tilts his head back to meet Akande’s eyes. He waits patiently for his friend to respond.

“I-... You didn’t want me. You wanted to leave Talon… and leave me.”

The Faerie stares at his friend, though he cannot seem to get Akande to look at him. Finally, he rests his head on the prince’s chest, pressing his ear to Akande’s skin and letting himself get lost in the way it rises and falls. His eyes trail across the familiar room and he finds himself staring out the window. How many hours has he spent watching the volcanic smoke and ash billow and swirl just beyond the glass?

“I still want to leave.” He can feel Akande’s body tense beneath his own. “Not because of you. It was never because of you.”

More silence.

“I thought if I made you happy... If I taught you to read and gave you fruits and paints and a garden-...” He trails off.

“You thought I’d stay?” Lucio does not need Akande to say anything to know that it is the truth. He remembers the way that the older man had blown up at him, all of the anger that Akande expressed when he found Lucio’s packing list. ”You’re mad at me?”

It takes a long time for Akande to respond. “Yes,” he finally says. He wants to be nothing but honest with the Faerie. He cannot risk hurting him again. “But I understand. I didn’t at the time but I do now. I was selfish for trying to keep you here. You have a home down South. And a family.”

Lucio nods against the other man’s chest in agreement but says nothing more.

“I thought that… If I sent you to work elsewhere in the castle it would be good for you. You wouldn’t be trapped in this room all day. You would not have to deal with me. And-... It would be easier for me when I finally let you leave.”

“I didn’t mind dealing with you. Or being cooped up in here,” Lucio hesitates, remembering the last week he and Akande spent together. The man’s overbearing clinginess. His possessive and controlling nature. His bad attitude. “Not at first,” he adds on slowly.  “I didn’t want you to send me away… When Hana came to get me… I told her I didn’t want to go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But me and her are friends now,” Lucio says, taking on a lighter tone for only a moment. “So I guess something good did come out of it.”

Akande only hums in response.

“Me and her and her friend Dae-Hyun,” he elaborates, remembering the young couple fondly. They were the only reason that he had been able to put up with being separated from the prince for so long. “They’re really good people. But-... They also told me-...” He does not know whether or not to breach the subject. There are things that he is unsure if he actually wants to know. “There are a lot of… rumors… about you.”

“I know there are,” the older man does not seem surprised at the news.

“Are they true?”

Akande does not answer at first and for a moment, Lucio thinks he might have fallen asleep. “You’ll have to be more specific,” he finally says, chest rumbling with his low voice.

The golden eyed boy hesitates. He does not know where to start. Would Akande grow mad at the questioning? The things that the servants said about Akande… None of the rumors were good. The prince described by Talon’s subjects is incredibly different from the prince Lucio has come to know.

“You can ask. I know the things that are said... I promise to tell you the truth.”

Akande’s reassurance does little to quell Lucio’s nerves. Perhaps he should start simple.

“They say you take servants to your room at night.” Lucio knew Akande bought prostitutes. He had witnessed it on several occasions during his time in the cage on the prince’s dresser.

For some reason, the question pulls a quiet chuckle from the prince's lips. It makes Lucio’s face burn. He does not find it funny at all.

“I used to. When I was younger.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” Akande says simply. “None of those men were unwilling if that's what they told you.”

That is what they told him. And Lucio believed them.

“I never liked women, Lucio. You can imagine it was quite difficult for me to bed someone as the son of the King… Back when my father was more observant-... I had to hide my preferences from him.”

“But you had a wife.”

“I did.”

“Is that why you-...” Lucio trails off.

“What?” Akande’s voice takes on a more serious tone. He knows what question comes next. It was one that hurt him more than any of the other accusations. It had been practically accepted as truth from anyone who heard the rumor. He hated it. And he did not want to hear it from Lucio’s lips. “I didn’t kill her.” The words come out like ice, sharp and cold.

Lucio shivers with the sound of them. “You didn’t?” He asks slowly. “But then-... What happened?”

Silence fills the room and Lucio is almost sure that Akande will dismiss the question.

“I never loved her,” Akande says suddenly. When Lucio looks up at the older man, he sees Akande’s eyes trained up at the stone ceiling. “Her name was Dayo… She was a remarkable woman. She was kind and smart and honest. But I could never love her… She didn’t love me either of course. Royal marriages… They aren’t ever out of affection. Sometimes people get lucky and the love comes later on. But not with us.

“We were good friends though,” He continues slowly, “I have never had many friends in life… But she was one. And she was one of the bests… She knew that I was gay if you can believe it,” he lets out a quiet, solemn chuckle at the admission, “walked in on me fucking a stable boy. She was surprised of course but... She never said a word about it. Honestly, I think she was relieved.”

“She sounds very nice,” Lucio interjects quietly, still a bit disbelieving of what he is hearing.

“She was.”

“How did she die?”

A deep sigh leaves the prince’s lips and he closes his eyes. “One night I was returning to our chambers after spending the evening in the garden reading… I walked into the room and…” His voice chokes up and he has to take a moment to compose himself. “I thought she was sleeping.”

Lucio winces, having never heard his friend sound so pained. He wants to drop the subject. But he knows that if they do not continue, he may never get the cha nce to ask these questions again. “They said that she was-” Hana’s words play in Lucio’s head. He killed her… The Royal Guards found her in his majesty’s room. She was-

“She was raped,” Akande finishes his thought. “Her dress was torn up and there were bruises on her throat… I know it was the king." He cannot bring himself to claim the man as his father. "He never admitted to it of course. But I know it was him."

Lucio does not doubt the prince's claims. He has seen first hand just how perverse the mad king was. He reaches out, grabbing ahold of Akande's hand and pulling it close. His fingers graze over the older man's knuckles. He knows that there is nothing he can say to lessen the other man's anger or his pain.

"He has always been the worst part of my life."

"He hits you."

"He does."

"Why don't you fight back?" He never understood it. He is small and weak, easy to take advantage of. But Akande… Akande is big and strong. He could easily defend himself.

"He's the king." Akande does not need to explain what this means. Even if he were to fight his father, the older man could jail him or have him killed or worse.

Lucio pulls the large hand up, pressing a kiss to Akandes palm. "Has he always hit you?"

"Not when I was young. When my mom was still around."

"And he killed her too?" That rumor seemed far more likely than the others.

"Probably," Akande says dismissively. "I was young. I don't know."

Lucio keeps his lips against the other man’s hand, a silent show of his support. He stays quiet for a long time, trying to think of anything he could do to lighten the mood. “You said you never liked women.”

“That I did.”

“How did you know?”

Akande lets out a quiet laugh. His free hand comes up to wipe at his teary eyes. “How did I know I was gay?” He lets the hand drop after a moment to rest it gently on the Faerie’s back. “I just never had an interest in women.”

“But you had an interest in men?”

“That is usually what being gay entails.”

Lucio looks up at his prince again. Stable boys and prostitutes and servants. All of it seemed so very temporary. He wonders for a moment if the other man has ever been in a relationship. “Who was your first?”

Akande does not have to think about it long. “Gabriel Reyes.”

That has Lucio’s attention. “The knight?”

“He wasn’t always a knight of Overwatch,” Akande explains, “He used to work for my father years ago. He was the first man that I laid with.”

Lucio’s mind struggles to wrap his mind around it. The knight and the prince did seem very close. They spoke to each other casually, unlike many of His Majesty’s other lovers. “Will you tell me about it?”

“What? Tell you about my first time?”

“Yeah.”

Akande shifts a bit underneath his Faerie, trying not to jostle the other man too much. It is not a story that he has ever told anyone. “I was seventeen at the time… I saw him flirting with a diplomat’s son. The young man did not seem to have any interest in Mr. Reyes and so he turned him down. I saw the whole thing. Of course, as the prince, I was technically Gabriel’s employer. When he realized that I knew his little secret he begged me not to tell my father. I think he was the first gay man I ever met. And so I took an interest in him. I was a little shit back then. I told him he could keep his job but I wanted him to-... teach me.” Akande lets out a huff of laughter at the memory. “He sure put me in my place. I guess in a way he taught me everything I know. We kept seeing each other after that.”

“He taught you…” Lucio trails off and then grins up at the older man. “I guess I should thank him.”

Akande snorts at the joke, squeezing onto Lucio’s hip. “Please, do not. He does not need a bigger ego than he already has.”

Lucio curls forward, resting his head against the other man’s broad chest with a content smile.

They sit in comfortable silence for a long time, listening to each other breath and bathing in one another’s warmth. For the first time in weeks, Lucio feels comfortable. He feels like he could rest easily in Akande’s protective arms. He wants to let himself slip into sleep. But there is one last thing he wants to discuss though he has trouble finding the words.

Finally, he gives up on thinking the matter through. Gives up on tact. “Don’t marry her.”

Akande’s mouth falls open, having not expected the forward request. “Lucio, I don’t-”

“Please.” Lucio does not know why he is asking such a thing from Akande. “Tell them no. You can do that.”

“I can’t-”

“You can.”

“No, Lucio I can’t!” Akande grits his teeth, having not meant to raise his voice at the other man. “I can’t, Lucio. I have to. I-... King Akinjide and I have a deal… He did something for me so I have to do this.” He struggles through the explanation. He does not want to give too much away.

But Lucio already knows the bulk of it.

He gathers up his courage. “I saw her,” he says quietly, trying to keep his voice even. The other man says nothing though and so he has to explain. “Moira. I saw her in the dungeon.”

The prince sits up suddenly. He keeps his hands on Lucio’s hips to hold him steady and he stares down at those beautiful golden eyes. “Lucio-”

“I don’t care why you did it.” The Faerie says, shaking his head as he talks. “It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s gone. I let her escape.” He watches as Akande’s eyes go wide. He should not have to explain himself. But he does. “I don’t want anyone else to have to go through what I went through… Not even her.” Lucio takes a deep breath before narrowing his eyes up at the prince. “And I don’t want anyone else to do horrible things like she did… Especially not you.”

Akande’s mouth hangs open still as he tries to understand. This woman was pure evil. She needed to be punished for what she did to him. Did Lucio not want revenge? He said that she tortured him for months on end and that he had been mentally, physically, and sexually abused in Vishkar. She had killed his friends. But still, Lucio set her free.

He holds still before finally reaching out, cupping both sides of the Faerie’s face. “You-... You’re too good Lucio. You’re too quick to forgive. She has done awful things to you… I have done awful things to you.”

“But she’s gone now,” Lucio says quickly, bringing his hands up to rest atop Akande’s much larger ones. “And you’re here… And I want you here. I want to stay with you… I don’t want you to marry that woman.”

Akande sighs quietly, leaning in to rest his head against Lucio’s. “I have to… I don’t want to but I have to.” They sit in silence for a moment. “I wrote a letter to Gabriel,” he says slowly. “It should be reaching him any day now… I asked him to come at once. I want him to take you home.”

Lucio’s eyes blow wide and he pulls back. “What?”

“He should be here before the seasons change, hopefully not long after the wedding. He’ll come up here and take you out of the castle the same way he sneaks in. That way the king will never know. He agreed to take you all the way back to your home. You will have protection and someone to guide you.” Akande meets Lucio’s eyes again, frowning at the shock that he sees there. “Is that not what you wanted? I cannot take care of you anymore Lucio. I can’t keep you safe. I just-”

“Thank you.” Lucio rushes out the words, squeezing onto His Majesty's hands. “This is what I want… Thank you, Akande.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to the prince's lips, trying to ignore the way that his stomach churns with the knowledge that within a few weeks, he will never see Akande Ogundimu again.

Chapter Text

Lucio found himself in a permanent daze over the next week.

Hana and Dae-Hyun noticed of course, but after being told firmly that he was ‘fine,’ they both opted to give him the space that he clearly needed. 

And so Lucio tried his hardest to continue his work in Talon. Sweeping the halls, serving dinners, cleaning windows. Like a mechanical doll toy that had been wound up, performing the same programmed motions until finally slowing and dying away. All the while, dreading the day that had finally come.

He did not want to get out of bed this morning. He remains on his cot in the servants' quarters long after the others had gone to work, his scratchy blanket held up to his chin, a protective shield against reality. He knows that the head servant will chew him out for missing work if she finds out but he cannot bring himself to care.

It is not until the sun is high in the sky that Lucio finally brings himself to leave the servants' quarters. 

Ogundimu castle is incredibly busy. Men and women walk through the halls, hurrying about and chattering about today’s big event. Lucio has never seen this place so lively. He has not seen so many smiles, never heard so much laughter and conversation. It seems that everyone in the castle is in a good mood aside from the Faerie.

In a week, Sir Reyes will arrive in Talon and Lucio will leave the Ogundimus and the volcanoes and smoke behind. And so why should he be bitter about today’s marriage? It is not as if he wanted the prince to himself. He simply cares for the other man and if Akande does not want to marry this woman then he should not have to. He should be given a choice. 

He walks aimlessly through the pristine halls, keeping an eye out for any chore that may need to be done. He draws the attention of many guests of course. Curious eyes follow him down the halls, lingering on his pointed ears, his golden eyes, his wings.

“Lucio!” Hana calls out to him. He hears her before he sees her, her auburn hair and brown uniform hardly stand out amongst the crowd.

She practically skips down the hall, a silver tea tray in her hands. It is a wonder that she can balance everything while moving so recklessly. Abruptly, she comes to a halt, bowing to a pair of seemingly important guests, dressed in vibrant colors and expensive fabrics. She keeps her head lowered until they have crossed her path entirely before hurrying toward Lucio again. “Hey, are you doing okay? I convinced the boss to let you keep sleeping this morning. But you still look pretty rough. Do you think you’re getting sick?”

Lucio says nothing to his friend, only shaking his head ever so slightly. He feels a bit bad for having worried Hana over the past week. But he has not been his normal self and so a gap was forming between them. Perhaps it is for the best. He will be leaving soon after all. Having connections such as these can do nothing for him.

“Oh, check this out! Hyun says that after the wedding ceremony there will be a huge feast! And then if there is any food leftover, the servants are allowed to take as much as they want! Maybe we will even get some desserts!” Her smile is bright and her eyes are kind. Lucio knows that the girl is trying her hardest to cheer him up. But he cannot help but be annoyed. This is the kind of thing that makes her happy, finishing off the scraps of royalty once in a blue moon. Would he eventually become like this if he were to stay in Talon?

Hana must realize that her efforts to brighten Lucio’s mood are futile because in just a few seconds she begins to dismiss herself. “Well,” she starts, lips twitching as she strains to keep smiling, “I need to take this to the prince’s chambers. I will see you at dinner, right?”

“Wait.” Lucio steps in front of her as she tries to walk past him. His hands come up to grab the sides of the tray and he holds on tight. This may be his only chance to meet with Akande privately. They had not been able to do so since that night a week ago when they both had finally sat down to talk. Since Akande finally kissed him. “I want to take it.”

His golden eyes meet Hana’s dark ones and they lock together, unwavering. Hana seems as though she will not consent. Her fingers hold onto the silver platter just as tight and she even tries to pull it away gently from Faerie’s grasp. She does not trust the prince. Especially not around her Fae friend. Finally, she lets go with a hard sigh, one that sounds defeated and frustrated. “Okay,” she says, caving in. “Okay, Lucio. Be careful.” She frowns down at her shorter friend, eyes full of concern. She cannot argue with him right now, not with how strange he has been acting lately.

Lucio nearly expresses his gratitude. A ‘thank you’ is on the tip of his tongue but he is quick to swallow it down and turn his back on his friend. It is too difficult for him to even talk to her now, ashamed of how cold he has treated her lately.

His chest feels impossibly tight as he comes to Akande’s door. He does not know what he will say to his friend when he sees him. In just a few hours, the prince will be married to a beautiful and rich lady from the south of Talon. A fitting bride for a soon to be king. Lucio cannot help but feel as though something precious is being stolen from him.

He tries to push the feeling down, balancing the tea tray in one hand as he reaches out to knock on the door. He hears his prince's voice. A quiet “Come in.” Lucio is quick to enter the room. A hundred thoughts rush into his head at that moment. He has so many things that he wants to say to Akande. But when he enters, he goes completely still in the doorway, staring inside of the room that he and the prince once shared.

Akande sits on the edge of his bed, dressed up more magnificently than Lucio has ever seen him. He is adorned with robes and jewels and a golden crown. He looks very much like paintings of royalty that Lucio has seen in books, though this painting seems much more solemn than the others. He looks surprised to see Lucio, having expected the younger servant that had been assigned to him nearly a year ago.

In the corner of the room, sitting at the rosewood table, in the same spot Lucio had claimed as his own many times before, is a tall, slender, and pale woman. Amelie Lacroix. Her eyes are dark, staring out the window just as Lucio has done hundreds of times. The Faerie cannot help but stare and wonder what is going through this woman’s head. He has never come into contact with someone so difficult to read before. Or someone that he has hated so venomously without having even interacted with them.

Lucio is quick to serve tea to the royal couple, keeping his eyes trained on the cobblestone floors. He cannot bring himself to meet Akande’s eyes, nor the eyes of the soon to be princess.

He waits beside the door, knowing better than to leave without being dismissed first. But the order never comes and he finds himself waiting silently for several long minutes. He feels as if he is suffocating with the tension in the air. Neither of the two royals say a word and Lucio wonders how long they have been sitting like this. And why.

Amelie does not touch her tea, staring out the window as the amber liquid grows cold. Finally, ten minutes later, she stands from the table and leaves the room without a word, only offering the slightest of bows to her fiance.

Lucio thought that he would be relieved when she left. But he cannot allow himself to relax. He still grips the tea tray tight in his hands, glaring down at his own reflection in the perfect silver. He watches the image get blurry as his eyes water up.

He feels foolish, crying over a man that was never truly his.

Within a few seconds, he finds himself in Akande’s arms, sobbing into the older man’s shoulder. And he cries out as Akande kisses him for what will likely be the last time.

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful wedding.

The throne room was entirely redecorated for the event. Banners of gold and red lined the walls, illuminated by the newly hung chandelier. Lucio does not know where all of the bouquets of flowers came from. Had they stripped the garden of all of its life or imported flowers from elsewhere in the kingdom? Knowing how Talon operated, both options seemed just as likely.

All of the royal guests were dressed in giant ball gowns, intricate woven tunics, and suits. Each piece must have taken months to sew, reminding everyone present that this was a party for only the richest of Talon’s families.

Every man and woman wore a bright smile. Lucio was unable to tell which were genuine and which were forced for the sake of appearances. Even King Akindije seemed pleased with the event, though he sat high on his throne and did not interact with the lower class families. 

Servants lined the walls, standing at attention, their dull and neutral uniforms adorning them like shadows, making them invisible to the party-goers. The only one who harbored any attention was Lucio, the foreign, exotic, and rare Faerie that the King claimed as his most prized possession. He was given a spot toward the front of the room, not fifteen feet from the altar in which the prince and princess gave their vows. He did not know if he was placed there to be shown off to the wedding guests or to be taunted by being given an excellent view of the ceremony.

Everything seemed so far off to Lucio, like a dream. Akande standing straight and tall at the end of a red carpet, emotionless face reminding everyone so much of his father. Amelie practically gliding down the aisle with more grace than all the women in the kingdom. Her dress was made of silk and lace and hugged her slender form. It had a slit that ran up to her hip, showing off her long spider-like legs.

Lucio held his breath as the priest addressed the congregation. He hoped and prayed that at any moment the prince would come to his senses. That he would storm out and leave the wretched and beautiful woman standing alone at the altar. 

Or that he would, at least once, tear his eyes from the woman in front of him to look at Lucio instead.

When the phrase, “You may kiss the bride,” reached his pointed ears, the Faerie squeezed his eyes shut tight, deafened by the roar of a cheering audience.

The party and feast commenced immediately. Akande and Amelie took their places on the thrones next to the King as they watched the crowd celebrate their union. 

Lucio could feel eyes looking his way ever so often but he could not bring himself to look up from the ground. He was pretending to be anywhere but there. He was in the forest south of Vishkar, laying amongst a bed of leaves, staring up at the streams of light that forced their way through the canopy above. He heard birds and frogs and the laughter of his fellow Faeries, rather than that of a hundred royal pigs.

It went on far too long. But finally, around midnight, the guests began trickling out of the throne room, bellies full of meat and wine.

Lucio keeps his eyes trained on the ground. Far off, he hears one of the royal council’s elder members, a familiar voice. It announces the end of the event. The birth of a new area. Congratulates the new prince and princess on their union.  And dismisses them to consummate their marriage.

It was something that the Faerie has never even considered. But now that the image has entered his mind, it stirs up his insides and makes him nauseous. He has held it in all evening, but now, he feels the bile raise up from his stomach, threatening his throat. 

Without being dismissed, without warning, and without thought the Faerie hurries from the throne room, shoving his way past angry men and women, and taking a sharp right down the hall toward the nearest commode.

He barely makes it in time but finally finds himself falling to his knees in the bathroom stall, heaving up what little he had eaten that day into a porcelain basin. His body is covered with sweat and it feels unbearably hot. He empties his stomach entirely before wiping the excess from his mouth and resting the back of his head against the bathroom wall, crying silently into his arm.

He does not know how much time passes in that bathroom stall. He resigns himself to staying here for the rest of the night, unable to face the rest of Talon, knowing what exactly the prince will be doing with his evening.

How could Akande?

He has no interest in women at all. No interest in Amelie Lacroix. No interest in anyone but Lucio. At least, that is what the Faerie tells himself. Whether it is true or not he cannot say. But either way, he still feels as though the prince is somehow his. 

It is there, curled up in the bathroom floor that Lucio comes to terms with something. It breaks his heart and he wishes it were not the case. But perhaps his feelings for Akande ran deeper than a master and his servant, deeper than friends, than sex partners. The word love comes to mind. And the more he mulls it over, the more fitting it seems. It is sick and twisted and wicked. But it is somehow the case. And he realized it too late. But would it have even mattered? Could things have been different?

Lucio’s mind swirls with thoughts of love and his prince and of a rotten marriage. He hardly registers a pair of men entering the bathroom until they begin to talk.

Lucio wants them to be quiet. Wants them gone. Wants to be left alone to grieve for his lost love.

“Lacroix is more beautiful than people say, yeah?”

Lucio shuts his eyes tight. He does not want to hear about the new Princess of Talon.

“If you say so,” another lower voice responds, “I guess that depends if you like skinny women. I like them more on the plump side.”

“Seriously?” the voice man asks with a laugh, slurring his words a bit. He is clearly drunk. “I’m just jealous that the prince is going to get a piece of that cunt.”

Lucio grabs at the dreads in his hair, silently begging for the men to hurry and leave so that he can escape back to the servants quarters. This is too much for him. He does not need these vulgar images pervading his thoughts.

Just a week ago he had been the one in Akande's arms. And now he has been replaced by another.

“Don’t get too jealous. He ain’t going to enjoy it for long. You know what happened to her first three husbands, right?” The other man only responds verbally with a grunt. “The bitch is crazy. Poisoned every single one of them.”

Suddenly, they have Lucio’s full attention and he feels his stomach drop to the dirty bathroom floor.

“You don’t believe that.”

“Of course I do. It’s not a coincidence that they were all offed with Nightshade. The only thing those lords had in common was their murderous bitch of a wife. I heard she’s got some kinda potion in that purple lipstick of hers. One kiss is ‘spose to be enough to drop a horse.” More silence. “What’re you making that face for?”

Purple Lipstick. Lucio is trying to figure out is he is hearing things right. He squints his eyes shut hard, trying with all of his might to remember what color the woman had been wearing when she kissed Akande earlier. He now wishes that he had paid more attention to Amelie during the wedding ceremony.

“I’m just trying to figure out if I’d be willing to chance it.” The two men howl with laughter. “But it’d be poetic justice, yeah? A man murders his first wife and then gets killed by his second? I don’t think anyone will mourn for him. Though I don’t know how Talon is going to function without a proper heir.”

“It’ll all fall to the Lacroix family, yeah? That’s how they’ve done things so far. Hundred years ago no one knew the name Lacroix, now they own a third of Talon’s southern territories.” 

Lucio shakes his head to pull himself from his daze. He cannot wait here any longer. He cannot take any chances. Purple lipstick or red or none at all. Lucio cannot stand for anything to happen to his prince. Perhaps these men are wrong. Perhaps Akande is not in any danger. But Lucio will not chance it.

His eyes glow for only a minute as he shrinks down to the size of a thumb. He darts out beneath the bathroom stall’s door, praying that neither man will see him as he leaves the room.

He flies through the castle, staying high above all of the visitor’s heads where they do not think to look.

It is not until he reaches the prince’s hall that he takes his larger form once again. He stays completely silent, only rethinking his choice for a mere second. But too worried for the man he loves, he hurries down the hall.

He is only a few doors away from His Majesty’s bedchambers when a sharp pain runs through his arm as he is yanked into an adjacent room.

The door closes with a heavy thud and Lucio is plunged into complete darkness.

Chapter Text

Amelie Guillard’s life had never been fair. 

It was not fair that as a child she was groomed to be the perfect wife. Beautiful, intelligent, graceful, and obedient. It was not fair that on her eighteenth birthday, her hand would be promised to the richest lord that would take her, regardless of any of his other traits. It was not fair that lord ended up being nearly three times her age. And it was not fair that during the wedding ceremony, the man she truly loved had to watch her promise her life to someone else.

Gerard was the youngest son of Alexandre Lacroix, sixth in line for his father’s wealth. He lived in the shadows of his older brothers. He was not the oldest, the smartest, the strongest, or the best looking. And so he was often forgotten by his family and never received the attention of his father.

But from the moment Amelie met him, her attention could not lie elsewhere. He was different from the other lords that she knew. He was humble and kind and spoke to her as if she were a person, not just a woman whose purpose was solely to wed and bear children.

She met him the same night that she met her promised fiance. While Victor Lacroix, the eldest of the brothers, spoke business and arrangements with Amelie’s mother and advisors, the young woman was quick to excuse herself from the room. She needed some air. She had been prepared to live her life exactly as her mother instructed until she saw the old man she was to marry. She had pictured a young, handsome, and intelligent lord. What she received instead was an arrogant old man. 

It was that evening, walking through the empty halls of Chateau Guillard, that she ran into Gerard. The young man was only four years older than her and was dressed so simply that he did not appear to be a lord at all. He saw her distraught expression, her rigid frame, her glassy eyes on the brink of tears. And he did all he could to comfort her. He held her as she cried and the two found a quiet place in the castle’s halls. They talked all night and it was not until hours into their conversation that Amelie even realized that she was speaking to the younger brother of her betrothed.

She fell for him quickly and began spending much of her time with the simple lord. She saw this as an opportunity that needed to be seized and by the end of the week, she confronted her mother, asking to marry another.

Eleonore Guillard was a cold woman. She had little to do with Amelie’s upbringing, opting to leave her child in the hands of a wetnurse. With her husband’s death, she became the sole authority of the Guillard fortune. And with only one child of her own, she had no other goal than to make sure that their family’s fortune expanded through matrimony. She acted as Amelie’s financial advisor rather than a parent. She had been the one to arrange her daughter’s marriage.

The sixth son of a wealthy man was not enough for Eleonor. Her daughter's happiness was irrelevant. In her eyes, there was no one more perfect for Amelie than Victor Lacroix. While her daughter was disgusted by Victor’s age, being a man of nearly 60 years old, Eleonore saw it as his greatest asset. Not only was the eldest Lacroix the richest of his family, but he was in poor health. And the sooner his life came to an end, the sooner Amelie and the Guillard family could claim his fortune. Her daughter never saw the wisdom in these choices. She simply saw a man older than her mother and would not give the decrepit man a chance.

But Eleonore was certain that one day Amelie would come to realize that love was not a reason worth making decisions such as these. And so even as the young lady pleaded at her feet, crying and grasping to her mother’s dress, Eleonore remained firm in her decision.

By the night of the wedding, Amelie had promised her hand to Victor and her heart to Gerard.

She had never felt so isolated in her life, standing at the altar, head down and eyes locked onto her betrothed’s feet. All of the eyes in the room were on her, including Gerard's, as she ended the ceremony with a kiss.

She thought that the worst was over. Until her mother mentioned sending her to get cleaned up for her wedding bed. The very thought of sharing such an intimate act with her new husband made her nauseous. And so the second her mother turned her back, she ran.

Her knuckles wrapped quickly on Gerard’s chamber room door and the second that it opened, she pushed her way inside, collapsing in her lover’s arms and crying. There was nothing that could be done for them now. From now on, she would be at her husband’s disposal, a mother to his children and a lady of his house.

And so Amelie decided that she would spend one last night with her lover. She locked the door and pleaded with him to make love to her. Hardly an adult, she did not know much about sex. But she knew that she could not allow her first time to be with a man who she did not love. 

Gerard held her close. He kissed her face and whispered sweet words to her beneath the sheets. He held her hand and cried with her and promised his undying love. Never had Amelie felt so treasured. 

Those few hours were the best of Amelie’s life.

She would regret them for as long as she lived.

The castle’s guards did not knock on Gerard’s door. They stormed the room without warning, pulling the naked woman and her lover out of bed with forceful hands. Amelie’s screams and sobs echoed through Chateau Guillard as Gerard’s blood spilled on the bedroom floor. His head was removed from his shoulders with one drop of an ax. It rolled across the floor and landed at her mother’s feet.

Eleonore’s eyes were as cold as ever, not showing an ounce of emotion. Behind her stood Victor Lacroix, whose expression was very different. It was filled with rage and betrayal, both from his new wife and his brother.

He did not show Amelie any mercy. He had the guards drag her naked and bloodied body, screaming and flailing down the halls of the castle to his own chambers. He had them tie her to the bed. And he consummated their marriage with her tears soaking into their wedding bed.

Gerard was not given a proper funeral. His body was discarded like a common peasant. Stories in Talon circulated about how Alexandre Lacroix’s youngest son was executed for treason. He stole Lady Guillard from her husband on their wedding night and raped the innocent young woman.

Amelie Lacroix did not speak out. She hardly said a word for nearly a year. Until she finally took her revenge. 

It took much too long for her to organize and even longer for the perfect timing to come. But finally, on the evening of her wedding anniversary, the time had come. Every member of the Guillard and the Lacroix families came to feast and celebrate the union of their houses. Five sons of Alexandre Lacroix, two daughters, the royal advisors for both houses, Amelie, and her mother.

The only thing more satisfying than watching her guests drink their glasses of wine was seeing their slowly paling faces and hearing their coughing and sputtering breaths. Victor was the first to fall. Blood ran down his bearded chin and he grasped at his throat. His face went blue and when he fell to the floor, all of the others began to panic. One by one, royal men and women met their deaths. 

But it was Amelie’s mother that held her attention. The older woman’s voice was hoarse and cracking as she tried to speak through her constricting throat. She demanded to know what was happening. Demanded to know what her daughter had done to them. She stood from the table and took a step toward Amelie before crumbling to the ground. 

It was that death that brought Amelie the most pleasure. And it was not until the life had left her mother’s eyes that the young woman let out a quiet and cold laugh. She could hear guards storming up the hallway, attracted by the panicked sounds coming from the banquet hall. It was then that Amelie finally took one last deep breath before tilting her head back and taking a long drink from her own chalice.

Her plan did not go as intended.

Two weeks later Amelie found herself waking from a deep slumber in the castle’s infirmary. Her skin was tinted a sickly blue. She was told that she was the sole survivor of an assassination attempt against her family. No one could understand why that grave news made Amelie smile.

Chapter Text

Akande is usually good at tuning the world out. He is a prince after all. It is often easy for him to put the world below him and focus only on himself.

But tonight, that task has been anything but easy. There were too many other people he could not push out of his mind. 

Lucio, the poor Faerie, has been standing in line with the other maids and servants all night. His eyes are glassy and his eyebrows furrowed. He is not happy. Akande knows this though he cannot quite figure out why. He and Lucio have a strange relationship. But that is all over now. It won’t be long now until the Faerie is free to leave Talon forever. He should be happy. But still, he looks miserable.

And then there is his new bride. The woman is admittedly gorgeous. She is known for her looks throughout Talon’s kingdom. Any man would be lucky to have her as their wife. Any man except Akande. When he sees her walk down the aisle, wedding dress hugging her slender frame, not a hair out of place from her intricate updo, and thin lips painted red, he feels nauseous and anything but lucky.

But most of all he could not ignore his father. The older man remained silent throughout the ceremony but a smug smile could often be seen creeping over his face. It was frustrating, to say the least. Akindije exudes superiority, making his son feel small and his situation helpless. The old king has won. He got exactly what he wanted: his son’s obedience. Akande has finally bent to his will. 

The words “I do,” feel like shackles chaining him to an inescapable fate. He had evaded this situation for many years. The wife. Children. Commitment to ruling Talon. It was never something that he wanted. But his need to take care of Lucio led him to agree to anything that his father proposed. 

The prince is not surprised at the mention of his and his new wife’s consummation. This is an integral part of all royal marriages. The first step in rearing heirs to inherit their father’s kingdom. But the process was easier said than done. 

Now he sits at the edge of his bed, waiting anxiously. Lacroix disappeared into the bathroom as soon as they entered the room, claiming she needed to “freshen up.” Akande could not understand but he was grateful to be left alone for the time being.

His hands are sweaty and he can hardly sit still. He is not sure that he will be able to do this. Akande had only attempted to bed a woman once before, in his much younger years. It had not been a pleasant experience. He made a fool of himself and severely insulted his partner. He runs his hands over his face, trying to calm himself. He could always come up with an excuse. Tell Amelie that he is tired. Tell her that he was not in the mood tonight. That had worked on Dayo. He continued to postpone consummating his marriage with her for weeks until finally, the secret of his sexuality surfaced. 

Somehow he doubts that Amelie Lacroix will be so understanding.

He remembers what Gabriel Reyes told him many years ago when he first complained of the sexual aspect in his first marriage. To grin and bear it. Pretend he is elsewhere. Think of a man if he must.

And so he does just that. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, letting his mind wander. A faceless man. Flawless skin. A thin waist. Soft thighs. He thinks through all of the men he has bedded over the years but one, in particular, haunts his mind. He grips tight to thick black hips. Runs his hands up the man’s sides. Lets his fingers trail against fragile translucent wings, feeling them flutter in his touch. But when his dark eyes meet Lucio’s own, they are filled with tears, yanking him from his fantasy.

His head falls to his hands and he rubs at his face in frustration. He cannot separate the body from the person, cannot focus on an idealistic sexual fantasy when he is so close to losing someone important to him. There has never been a man alive that confuses him as much as Lucio does. He cannot even define their relationship.

They are friends.

They have sex.

Are they lovers?

Akande lets out a huff of air at the thought of it. As if anyone, let alone Lucio could have feelings for him. But somehow Akande wishes it were true. No one but the Faerie makes Akande feel this way. As if his stomach is in knots in the most delightful but frightening way. He is not sure if it is love but he cannot think of a different word to describe his feelings.

Not that it matters now anyway. Soon the Faerie will be gone from his life, traveling south to his home country. And Akande will be condemned to live out his days with a woman who he certainly does not love.

“Akande.”

The prince startles at hearing his name and stands up straight, turning to face his wife.

She stands in the doorway which connects the bed and bath chambers. She wears nothing now save for a silky black robe. It is thin and drapes off of her pale shoulders, barely concealing her from her husband’s sight. She has let her dark hair down and it flows off of her shoulders in loose waves. Even her makeup is different. Dark purple eyeshadow gives her a mysterious appearance and matches perfectly with the color of her lipstick and nails.

Akande says nothing. Even if he were to postpone this tonight, it would have to happen eventually. He might as well try and get used to it now. 

Amelie approaches him and drops that tiny robe to the floor, letting it fall to her feet. The torchlight of the bedroom flickers against her pale skin. She’s skinny with wide hips, definitely not unattractive, though blue veins are clearly visible along her arms and chest. Again, Akande is reminded of how coveted this woman supposedly is. He thinks it is a shame that she is being wasted on him.

“Is something wrong?” The woman steps in even closer and lifts her arms in favor of letting her long slender fingers work the front buttons of Akande’s shirt. “You do not seem to be happy about our arrangement.” 

This is the most Amelie has spoken since she and Akande met. Her voice is ice cold and entirely unreadable, coated in a thick accent. She slips the heavy tunic off of the giant man’s chest, leaving him in nothing but his undershirt. “Even so, we must fulfill our duties as a husband and wife, oui?” Her hands begin to unlace the beige cotton shirt and she stands on her toes, gently trying to guide her prince into a kiss.

Akande meets her instead with two large hands, grabbing ahold of her naked shoulders. He steps back, holding her at arm's length. His mouth gapes open, unsure of what to say. His wife seems to mirror the expression, clearly taken off guard by his rejection. 

The room is silent as the two royalty stare at one another. Too many emotions soar through him. Guilt is just one of many. He lets out a frustrated sigh. He cannot do this. Not yet. He needs to see Lucio. He needs the other man to understand what is going on. And he needs to apologize. And so after a moment of consideration, he leans in and presses a brief kiss to Amelie’s forehead, a promise that he will return. With that, he leaves her in his bedchambers, ready to go out in search of the man that he only now realizes he loves. 

Lucio did not scream at first. Did not even fight it. He was too confused and disoriented. Too focused on the task at hand: finding Akande. When his own safety was compromised, he did not even notice until it was too late.

He is yanked into the dark room by his arm. He does not even see his attacker but he feels something heavy and metal clamp around his neck, pinching at the skin there. It is not until he is pushed to the ground that he realizes what is happening. The golden-eyed boy yells out for help but a giant hand clamps down on his mouth. He tries to shrink out of the attacker’s grasp but cannot seem to control his magic. Instead, all he can do is bite down hard on the hand on his mouth.

The hand disappears for only a moment before it comes back, this time striking the side of Lucio’s head and snapping his head against the cold stone ground. 

“Hold still-” The gruff voice is cut off by a series of heavy and wet coughs.

Lucio’s blood runs cold, recognizing the voice immediately. He cannot see but feels the king shoving his way between Lucio’s legs, yanking at his thin trousers and tearing the cheap fabric. “Be good. I own you,” the voice rasps out, pulling the fabric away and reaching down to grab ahold of Lucio’s flaccid member. 

The Faerie cries out, fighting for his life, kicking his legs and squirming. This has happened to him many times before. But it is different this time. This is not Vishkar. He is not a prisoner. This time he can escape. And he needs to escape. He reaches up and scratches at the King’s face, finding the opportunity to dig his fingernails into one of the old man’s eye sockets. 

Akinjide yells out in pain but does not stop his assault. Instead, he grips Lucio by his wrist and flips him over onto his stomach. 

“Help!” Lucio screams out between his sobs, praying that someone will hear. A servant, a maid, a guard, one of the royal guests. But even if they did, there is no guarantee they would come to his rescue. Akinjide is the king after.

Lucio flaps his wings frantically, trying to rise up to his knees. The pain that shoots through his back is excruciating. It is not until he sees pieces of his own wings fall to the ground beside him that he realizes what the feeling is. His whole body aches and he can hardly breathe through his cries but refuses to give up. He continues to struggle, not making it easy for the old man.

“Shh,” Akinjide actually laughs at Lucio’s struggles. He grabs ahold of the Faerie's dreaded locks and pushes his face into the floor. “You should blame him. That stupid son of mine and that whore mother of his. Always conspiring against me. Gonna take everything from him.” 

Lucio cannot process the words through his panic. He cries with the stinging pain as he feels the older man enter him, fighting until his body goes limp. He reaches up to his own neck now, scratching and yanking at the metal collar there, knowing it must have something to do with the restriction of his power.  If he could just remove it, he could be rid of all of this pain.

He does not know how much time passes. His voice is hoarse from screaming and his fingernails bloody from fruitlessly scratching at the metal collar by the time the room’s door opens, flooding the room with torchlight. 

He recognized Lucio’s voice. A scream. Sobs. The shuffling and banging of a struggle.

When Akande opens his father’s bedroom door the sight he sees makes him feel sick. 

Lucio is laying face first on the floor, naked, face swollen and coated in tears. His wings are shredded on the floor, leaving his back bare and bloodied. Worst of all, on top of him is King Akinjide, who stops his rape for only a moment to send a smug and evil grin his son’s way. 

Akande’s body moves without his control. In a second he has lifted his father off of the Faerie and slammed his old body to the ground beside Lucio. He is on top of the old man immediately, fists taking on a life of their own. His mind is a haze as he bludgeons his father with his fists, hitting him over and over. He is yelling in anger, but he cannot hear himself, cannot process what he is saying or doing. Even when the king begs for mercy, Akande does not stop his assault. 

“Akande-”

Even when the old man goes lip and still against the stone floor.

“Akande, stop!”

Even when Akindije’s face is beyond recognition. 

“Stop it! Please Akande! Stop!” 

It is far too late when Lucio finally gets through to him. The Faerie wraps his arms around Akande’s broad shoulders, hugging him tight from behind and sobbing into his shirt.

Akande finally stills, breathing heavily as he stares down at what he has done. His arms ache and his knuckles are split open and bleeding. He cannot bring himself to look at his crying friend and instead keeps his eyes locked onto his father’s own lifeless ones.

“Lucio," His mind is hazy and his voice comes out as a whisper, "We need to go.”

Chapter Text

The air is cleaner in the South of Talon. Lucio can see all the way to the horizon without his vision being blurred by the smoke and ash of the northern volcanos. It is an incredible sight, unlike anything he has seen. To the north are the mountains and volcanoes far off in the distance, reminding the Faerie of the palace he had escaped. To the east is the town of Valport. Akande called it a small village but Lucio had little to compare it to. It certainly was not as big as The City of Light, but there were more people there than Lucio has ever seen. When he looks to the west he sees an ocean. The water looks black in the darkness as it crashes against the shore. It is an eerie sight but the sound of waves is calming and has lulled him to sleep for the past few nights. Finally, to the south is a barren land. A desert that he heard several men call ‘The Wasteland.” He knew nothing of the area except that he could find peace at the desert’s edge. 

It is quiet here, away from the manmade sounds that surround him in Valport. And though the air still smells vaguely of sulfur, the gentle breeze feels amazing against his skin. It is cool on his face and he closes his eyes, hearing nothing but the rolling waves. He holds his eyes shut, standing barefoot in the ashy sand for longer than he can count. 

Finally, he feels his skin begin to warm. The sun is rising. When he opens his eyes, he sees the sky turning gold above Valport’s rooftops, telling him it is time to go. He reaches down to pick his shoes out of the sand and tug them back onto his small feet. Finally, he heads back toward town, pulling the hood of his cloak back over his head.

He wishes he could stay longer. Wishes he could spend the day outside. After having been cooped up in a prison and then a castle for so long, he would give anything to relax outside. To feel the sun on his skin. But Akande would not permit it. 

The Prince has not been himself lately. He constantly has to have his eyes on Lucio, afraid that if he were to look away for even a minute, something terrible would happen. But it already had. And while Lucio wanted to move past the sickening event, Akande clearly could not. To Lucio, this had happened many times before. King Akinjide was only one more in a series of men who had abused him. But for Akande. It was different. This was his father. And he had never seen such an awful thing before. And the prince completely lost it.

Lucio tries to push the thought from his head. He has been replaying the scene in his head too often lately, hearing the prince's grunts and the crack of the King's skull. Akande had been out of control. He killed his own father with his hands alone. It was terrifying and the thought alone makes Lucio sick. He wants to forget. But ever since that night, Akande has been estranged. 

He did not say a word as he took Lucio’s hand and guided him out of Akijide’s room. The next hour was a blur. Akande was quick. He packed a bag with food, money,  and a few other items. He retrieved two oversized cloaks to hide their appearance. Lucio could do nothing but follow as Akande guided him down to the dungeon, through a tiny corridor and into an underground tunnel that led away from the castle. 

The trip to Valport was three days on foot. Surely, by the time they arrived someone must have found the King’s body. And with Akande missing from the castle, he would be the number one suspect. And so they hid away, renting out an attic over an unsavory establishment.

The whorehouse was not an ideal living situation. It was quiet during the day but the sounds at night could be heard from below their sleeping arrangements. They definitely annoyed the prince, who would pace back and forth anxiously throughout the night until finally resting during the earliest hours of the morning, just in time for Lucio to sneak away and watch the sunrise.

Lucio keeps his head down as he enters the town, just as Akande has instructed him to do. He needs to avoid drawing attention to himself. With his inhuman golden eyes and pointed ears could easily be mistaken for an Elven man but even they were a rare sight this far north. His identity was much easier to conceal without his wings being in the way. He is still in an immense amount of pain from his wings having been ripped apart but the silver lining was that he did not have to worry about concealing the large appendages.

The metal collar around his neck still chafes at his skin. It is engraved with sigils that prevent him from using his magic. Despite the prince and Faerie’s desperate attempts to remove the collar, they had no luck. This left Lucio’s body aching and bruised, unable to heal itself. He had not felt this amount of pain since Vishkar. He could not sleep with his body aching.

“Wow aren’t you a pretty one?” Lucio grimaces and tries to ignore the drunken man as he enters the whorehouse. He had grown used to men flirting with him as he came and went from the establishment and had gotten quite good at ignoring the compliments. But this man is different. He is persistent. And Lucio can hear the man’s footsteps echoing behind his own. 

“I’m talking to you.” The man’s voice is slurred from a heavy night of drinking. He has not quite sobered up yet. He is fat and is slowly balding, with thin hair and a red and sweaty face. “Hey, come on.”

Lucio grits his teeth as the older man moves in closer and grabs ahold of the Faerie’s hood, pulling it off of his head. He turns around to warn the other man off but the drunkard does not let go of the cloak’s hood. His eyes are trained on the Faerie's pointed ears.

“Wow, you’re even prettier than I thought. How come I haven’t seen you around before?” Lucio does not want to talk to the man and so he purses his lips shut, hands coming up to try and pry out of the man’s grip. “I guess you’re probably busy with other customers. I know plenty of men that would give their last coin to get an elf in their bed.” 

At the man’s insinuation, Lucio steps forward, shoving the man hard in the chest to push him backward. The ensuing brawl happens quickly. Lucio curls his hand into a fist and hits the man hard in the face. The drunkard reaches out for him again to catch his balance and Lucio kicks him hard in the gut, sending him to the ground.

“Lucio!” 

The Faerie barely hears his name being called in his anger. The man before him now is not evil or cruel. He is only a drunk fool. But Lucio is tired of men like this. He does not want to put up with unwanted touches ever again. He lands a kick in the fat man’s stomach for good measure.

“Lucio, stop.” A pale hand wraps around the Faerie’s arm and pulls him backward gently.

Lucio does not shy away from the touch as Charlie pulls him to the side. “Hey. It’s fine, okay? I’ll deal with him.” The blonde man has been nothing but kind to the Faerie since he and the prince arrived. The young prostitute had been surprised to see them. Having spent many nights in Akande’s bed, he was familiar with the prince but had never seen him outside of his sleeping chambers. He had been even more shocked to meet Lucio, the same Faerie that he had seen trapped in a golden cage on Prince Ogundimu’s dresser.

He did not ask any questions. Akande told him that they needed a room but said nothing else to the blue-eyed boy. Since their arrival, Charlie had been the one to bring food and blankets and any other necessities up to the attic. He and Akande seemed to have an unspoken agreement that a favor was owed. 

“Did he hurt you?” 

Lucio shakes his head quickly, but his golden eyes stay locked on the now angry man.

“You’re crazy,” the man groans out, trying to right himself but he stumbles against a wall. “Where is the owner?”

Charlie’s eyes are filled with worry and he grits his teeth. “Mr. Barlow,” he turns to face his customer as he speaks, keeping his body between the old man and Lucio. “You should head home to your wife, shouldn’t you?” The subtle threat does not seem to phase the man. “Unless you’ve got some extra time,” he tries again, stepping in closer to the older man. He helps him to his feet before letting his hands rest on the other man’s chest. “If you’ve got another hour to spend, I could take you upstairs… In fact, I insist. My treat.”

Lucio averts his eyes, ashamed of having dragged his newfound friend into such a situation. He keeps his head down as Charlie leads the drunk down the hall by his hand. He owes the blonde an apology. 

In the meantime, he knows he should head back upstairs, climb the two flights and the ladder which leads to the attic and crawl back into bed before Akande wakes up. He does not want the prince to get wind of this incident. There is no telling how he would react to hearing of yet another man laying his hands on Lucio.

“You’ve gotten feistier since I last saw you.”

Lucio’s golden eyes widen as the familiar voice catches his ear. In an instant, he is face to face with an older man, likely in his fifties if his greying temples are any indication. He has light scars across his face. Dark skin, full lips, black hair and eyes. And what looks to be a deceivingly pleasant smile. The former bounty hunter is dressed in a cloak of his own, concealing his weapons beneath the fabric.

“Sir Reyes,” the words are almost a whisper on Lucio’s lips. He did not expect to see this man here of all places. How did Gabriel even find them? Despite all of the questions that race in Lucio's head, the familiar face is a relief. He does not know Reyes well but he knows that Akande trusts him, at least more than most.

“You can call me Gabe,” The older man corrects the Faerie as he approaches. When he reaches out to Lucio, the younger man does not flinch, standing up straight and confident. He steps in close to the other man's space and gently takes the golden-eyed boy’s hood in his hands to pull it up over his head, careful to cover his pointed ears. "That looks nasty." Gabriel frowns at the ugly gash on Lucio's temple and touches it gently.

The Faerie winces at the touch and is quick to push the gloved hand away from him.

“Where is Ogundimu?”  The way that Gabriel whispers tells Lucio that the knight already knows a part of the story, though how he cannot be sure. At the very least, Sir Reyes knows that they are in trouble.

“He’s upstairs. We’ve been staying in the attic,” Lucio says. He looks away as the older man rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. He cannot decide whether the touch is comforting or awkward.

“Let go check up on our Prince Charming then, shall we?”

Chapter Text

As soon as the door to the attic opens, all hell breaks loose.

“Where the hell were you?!” 

Lucio knew this would happen. He was out for too long this morning. He should have come back sooner, as soon as the rays of sunlight started to peak over the land, before Akande woke up. Now, the prince is angry beyond belief, thick eyebrows cinched together as his voice rings throughout the attic.

“Do you know how dangerous it is to be outside!? You’re supposed to stay put!”

Yes, Lucio knew this would happen. But he is not willing to take all of the blame. He clenches his jaw before trying to respond in a casual fashion. “I just went out to the edge of the desert-”

The explanation only seems to make things worse. “You- It’s not safe over there!”

“It isn’t safe anywhere! I’m sick of being stuck inside all day! I don’t need you to protect me, I can take care of myself!” The Faerie is finally free, but still he is being pressured to remain captive.

He does not realize the volume of their voices until Gabriel steps between the two men. “Keep it down,” the knight hisses out, grabbing a hold of Akande’s shoulder. “You were lucky to find this place. Don’t ruin the only hiding spot you’ve got.” 

The room goes silent with the warning. Lucio and Akande’s eyes are still locked onto one another. Akande’s expression is difficult to read. It is angry, worried, sad, grieving, scared. 

Lucio turns his back to the stare, walking toward the corner of the room. Gabriel is right. Their first priority needs to be staying hidden. The two runaways are going stir crazy and have found it difficult to talk to one another in the past few days. They have not discussed the rape or the murder. Neither of them wants to recall the moments. Lucio takes a deep breath to calm himself, untying the cloak from around his shoulders and draping it over the foot of the bed.

“What the hell happened, Akande?” Gabriel’s voice is quiet and concerned as he questions his friend. “I got your letter asking me to come up and get the kid. When I got to Talon, I saw flyers with your face everywhere. You’re the most wanted man in the kingdom right now.” He waits for the younger man to respond, to explain where everything went wrong. But Akande does not say a word. “They’re saying you killed the King,” Gabriel adds on, trying to prompt the prince.

Akande raises his head, meeting Gabriel’s eyes, finally pulling them away from his Faerie companion. “He really is dead, then?” It is not much of a question and instead comes across as a disbelieving realization. He pulls away from the older man’s grip and moves to sit at the edge of his own bed. His dark eyes are locked onto the old wooden floorboards, his expression unreadable.

The knight stays silent for a moment more, allowing the Prince time to process the words. “What happened?” he asks again.

Akande shakes his head and Gabriel sighs. He turns his attention away from the taller man and toward Lucio, who also averts his gaze. Gabriel can tell that he will not be getting the full story anytime soon.

“That looks bad,” he says, changing the subject to the metal collar clamped and chaffing around the Fae’s neck, and the ripped up wings that stay plastered to his back with blood.

“I can’t heal myself,” Lucio explains, voice quiet, embarrassed by his own helplessness. “It has something to do with these pictures.” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers tracing the indents of the engraved sigils in the metal. 

Gabriel approaches, looking at the carvings. Symbols that, in all of his travels, he has never seen before. His attention then shifts to the lock holding the collar together. He carefully takes it in his hand, looking over the sturdy padlock. ‘“Well, this is one thing we can fix. It’s well-made so you’re going to have to go see a blacksmith to get this off. Put your coat back on and come with me.”

Those words bring Akande back to his feet. “He can’t go out.”

“Why not? It’s you they’re looking for, not him.” Gabriel’s argument is sound but Akande does not like it.

“He needs to stay with me. Anything could happen to him out there.”

Akande begins to raise his voice but Gabriel is quick to shut him down. “He’ll be with me. Nothings going to happen. Besides, the kid wants some fresh air. Some time outside will be good for him. Better for him to go with me than to wander around on his own, right?”

The prince holds his tongue, unable to argue with the other man and unable to conceal his own doubts. He watches without a word as Lucio quickly wraps the cloak around himself again, eager to leave the brothel for a bit longer.

“You need some rest,” Gabriel says. “Get yourself some breakfast and go back to sleep for a while. You and I need to have a talk when I get back.”

Akande’s hands ache as he squeezes his fists, unable to do anything as Gabriel ushers Lucio back out of the door and out of his sights. 

“He listens to you.”

“Hm?”

“How do you get him to listen to you?”

“Well, I’m older and smarter than him,” Gabriel flatters himself with a laugh. “In seriousness though, Ogundimu is not stupid. He listens to reason. He’s just a selfish person sometimes… Most of the time.”

Lucio thinks back to all he has gone through with the prince. He cannot believe that Akande is entirely selfish. There have been times when Akande has put him first. Maybe he is learning.

“Pull your hood up, kid,” Gabriel instructs, “Elves aren’t uncommon up North, but they’re rare enough to draw attention.”

“I’m not an elf.”

“You are.” The words are commanding and final. “At least that’s what you’re going to say if anyone asks.”

They do not speak for the rest of the walk. Lucio follows closely at Sir Reyes’s heels, though his eyes wander throughout the streets as they pass through them. Lucio has never been in a town before. He is amazed by the numbers of people going about their day. They pass a group of children kicking a ball in the street. A pair of women washing their clothes by a well. Two men arguing over the price of a pair of shoes. A bakery which makes the nearby air smell of flour and sweets. 

Finally, they come to a standstill outside of a shop. The lettering on the sign is curved and stylized. The unfamiliar font makes it impossible for Lucio to read the name of the store.

“Let me do the talking kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Lucio reminds him with a hard frown.

The air is hot inside of the blacksmith's shop. An open furnace burns against the furthest wall and an old man hammers away at a hot sword over an anvil. He is fat with a blonde, greying beard pulled into two braids. The most noticeable thing about him, though, is his height. He is almost a head shorter than Lucio, which the Faerie immediately finds odd. The word “Dwarf” comes to mind, though he cannot be sure. After all, Lucio has never met one before.

The worker’s expression is gruff and focused on his craft. He does not look up and for a moment, Lucio thinks that the old man must not know that they are here.

“What can I do for you?” The man finally asks, his voice thick with an accent that Lucio cannot place.

“We need help with a lock.” Gabriel approaches the shorter man, waving for Lucio to follow him.

“Hah,” the blacksmith laughs, “There’s a locksmith down the street. If you need armor or weapons then I’ll be here.” Without even looking, the man deems this task too trivial for his skill level.

“I need you to take a look at this lock, Lindholm.”

The dwarf finally sets down his hammer and fixes the two visitors with a hard stare. His eyes narrow at Gabriel, as if he recognizes him, before zoning in on the collar around Lucio’s neck.

“What brings you this far North, Reyes? It is not possible that news of the King’s death reached Overwatch so soon.” The blacksmith says Gabriel’s name with a tone of resentment.

“Jack didn’t send me. I’m here to help a friend. Now will you take a look at this lock?”

Lindholm seems hesitant to help at first but his eyes roam back over to the Fae. Finally, he motions to the young man to come closer. “Take a seat,” he instructs, nodding to a soot covered stool on the ground. When he finally gets his hands on the lock and gets a chance to look over it, he shakes his head. “This was crafted further north, in the capital. Do you want to tell me what business you’ve still got with Talon’s royal family?”

Gabriel clenches his jaw. It was not a secret to anyone that the knight had once been loyal to Talon. “I wouldn’t betray Jack-... King Morrison, or Overwatch. My business here has nothing to do with the Ogundimus. Now can you help him or not?” The knight's patience is wearing thin.

“Don’t you doubt me, boy,” The blacksmith says, his thick eyebrows busheling together in annoyance. His calloused fingers trace along the metal for a moment more before grazing against the tender skin of Lucio’s neck.

The Faerie winces, a hiss of sharp breath rushing to this throat. He hunches his shoulders and leans away from the touch, shutting his eyes tight for only a moment. When he opens them again, he is met with concerned, old eyes staring him down. 

“Hold on, kid. We’re going to get this off of you and get you healing up real quick.” He turns his back to the Faerie and heads over toward the furnace, shuffling through a variety of tools.

“But not too quick,” Gabriel tells Lucio with a wink.

Lucio gets the hint, he does not quite understand the importance of concealing his Fae identity. But given how much trouble it has caused him in the past, he is willing to do whatever Gabriel says to stay safe.

The next hours drag on. The Gnome, Torbjorn, Lucio learns, locks his focus into his work. He goes back and forth, jiggling a slender piece of metal into the collar’s lock, heating the iron over the furnace, and shaping it with a clamp more and more until it begins to resemble a key.

Lucio can feel sweat running down his back and neck. The stuffy workshop and the heat of the furnace begin to make him light headed. He glances over to Gabriel, watching as the knight shrugs off his coat, holding it in his hands. For a moment, Lucio wants to do the same for his cloak but he knows the extent of his injuries will only raise many questions and so he shuts his eyes tight and tries to imagine himself elsewhere.

A quiet click jolts him back to the present. It’s followed by a brief shifting and then in a second, the collar around his neck is gone. 

“There she goes,” Torbjorn says triumphantly, pulling the metal away from the young man’s neck. 

The unlocking on the collar opens a floodgate. Lucio’s eyes well up with tears and he is quick to cover his face, crying into his sweaty hands. He wipes at his eyes before hunching forward, resting his forehead against his knees, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself. He cannot pay attention to anything else in the room. He can hear Torbjorn express pity for him, but the old man does not ask any further questions.

The Knight and the Blacksmith discuss payment but Torbjorn refuses the younger man’s money. He instead says he will keep the collar and lock, claiming that the expensive metal is worth more that Gabriel could offer.

“Take care of him,” The old man says with a nod toward Lucio. “If this collar is any indicator, this lad has made enemies with some powerful folks up North.”

“He has,” Gabriel agrees, though he does not indicate who. He does not have to. “I’m taking him home on my way back to Overwatch. He’s got family South of Vishkar.”

“Be careful passing through there. Sanjay’s armies have torn the land apart trying to expand their territory.” 

Their goodbyes are brief and without a word, Gabriel grabs a hold of Lucio’s arms and pulls him to his feet.

Chapter Text

Lucio has to pull himself together before they head back to the attic above the brothel. He knows that if Akande sees him like this, eyes swollen red and cheeks stained with tears, he would worry. Or worse, he may never let Lucio out of his sight again.

The brothel is not nearly as crowded at midday. There are a few guests that pop in and out for quick meetings with the young men who entertain there. But for the most part, the ground floor is quiet. Maybe that’s why Gabriel stops at the bar to buy Lucio a drink and a small meal. They sit in silence as the Faerie picks apart the bread, staring into a goblet of brown ale.

He takes his time, chewing the dry bread and washing it down with the bitter drink. Gabriel waits until he is almost done to speak up. “Do you know where the washroom is?”

“There is one in the back that the workers use,” Lucio says slowly. Charlie had mentioned it on their first day there, though neither he nor Akande had made much use of it.

“No customers in there?”

“They aren’t allowed.”

“Good,” Gabriel says with a nod. “We don’t want a repeat of this morning. I’m going to go take A- I’m going to go take our friend some food. You should clean yourself up. Get the blood off of you. Then come talk with us upstairs.”

Lucio nods slowly.

“Do you need me to stay with you?”

“No,” the Faerie says quickly. The time alone would do him some good.

Almost an hour later and Lucio is feeling better than he had all week. He ducked into a shower stall and knelt on the ground. He could feel warmth behind his eyelids as his eyes glowed golden and finally, after a week of constant pain and soreness, his wounds began to heal. He could feel a weight on his back as his wings, formerly tattered, mangled, and torn, began to take shape. They flutter gently, flicking water off of the tips of them as he stretches them out.

He scrubbed his skin hard, not letting up until all of the dirt and blood was down the drain. His dark skin flushed just slightly with the pressure from the harsh treatment, but it made him feel a sense of relief as he watched the reddish tint of his skin disappear as the raw skin healed. He had never taken a proper bath until he arrived in Talon. But now, he is grateful for soap and running water.

Once he was done trying himself off, getting dressed proved to be more difficult. It isnot an easy feat to keep his wings forced downward in order to be covered by his long robe. There is a slight bulge on his back that he hopes no one will pay attention to.

Lucio ascends the brothel’s staircase with a newfound confidence. He pushes all the thoughts of the horrors that he has been through aside and forgets about the murder he watched his good friend commit before him. Instead, he focuses on the future. What is their next step? Will he really be returning home soon? Perhaps Akande will come with him? But is that what he wants?

His mind brakes to a halt as he reaches the door to the attic. Something is not right. He is used to hearing perverse noises from the below, but this sounds as if it is coming from right behind the wooden door. His body goes hot as he narrows his senses in on the sound. He leans forward, pressing a pointed ear to the old wood.

“Hurry up, ah-”

“Shut up.”

The creaking of the bed frame is unmistakable, so too is the faint sound of skin slapping against skin, and both Akande and Gabriel’s strained, out of breath voices.

Lucio cannot explain why the sounds make him mad. He feels betrayed. Sad. Annoyed. But most importantly, powerless.

He has plenty of options for what to do next. He can barge in and break things up. He can pretend he hears nothing and walk away. He can wait patiently for the two men to finish. But none of these options will satisfy his need to take actions into his own hands. 

Akande cannot explain what brought him to this point. He remembers bathing in a small basin with a cloth in the attic. Then asking for a service boy to bring him a bottle of wine as he stewed in his anger.

Next thing he remembered, Gabriel was back, trying to pry the bottle from his hands. They broke out into a fight. Arguing turned to shoving, then to a punch in the jaw, then to Akance pinning Gabriel to the bed, forcing his hand down the other man’s pants. 

He wants to feel in control. Sex has always been the easiest way to do that. And Gabriel was always willing to comply.

He seems hesitant today though. “Fuck, are you serious?” He snarls out from a clenched jaw, shoving Akande in the chest. Maybe it is out of pity for the prince, or maybe due to his own libido taking over, but after a moment he gives in. “Be quick,” he urges, struggling to pull off his own shirt and pants from beneath the giant man.

Their hands work quickly, exploring one another’s bodies, finding a vial of oil in the nearby dresser, preparing Gabriel for their joining.

Akande leans over the other man, baring his weight on an arm on the back of Gabriel’s neck, forcing his head down and his ass up. Everything from then on is animalistic. Akande chases after a climax that feels a million miles away. It is not enough for him. Gabriel is not enough. 

“Hurry up!” Gabriel tries to sound commanding though he can hardly catch his breath through the assault.

Akande growls out his response. A quiet “Shut up.” He screws his eyes shut, trying to forget who he is doing this with. Trying to separate himself from the situation. He is so focused on his own pleasure that he does not hear the attic door creak open. 

“Akan- Akande, stop!” Gabriel’s voice has changed tones entirely. 

When he looks down at the knight again, he sees Gabriel’s eyes wide open, staring in horror toward the entrance of the room. Akande follows his gaze and his stomach drops when he sees Lucio, clean and healed, standing in the doorway. His mouth is dry and his head is spinning, unable to process the situation. He feels guilt and shame stir up inside of him.

“Fuck, kid, I’m sorry.” Gabriel is apologizing, forcing himself up onto his hands and knees, pulling away from the prince behind him.

Lucio does not look mad though, he does not even look surprised. “Why are you sorry?” His voice is calm. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you two do it several times already.” Akande knows he should say something but he is speechless. The Faerie steps into the room and begins to untie the collar of his cloak. “And I’m not a kid,” he adds on as the long fabric falls to the floor. He seems to wait for a response before continuing. “It’s not fair if you two do this while I’m not around.”

Both men are stunned into silence as Lucio approaches the bed. “Are you going to make room for me or not?”