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chaotic-orphan · 2 months ago

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A Benignant Mischief (7)

Read part one here // continued from here

This part is dedicated to @paperprinxe — I am working on your ask (you sent ages ago), it is difficult but fun, so while I am finishing it, enjoy the next part of the story ^.^

*~*~*~*~*

A hand on his shoulder and Cosimo woke with a start. Cosimo’s eyes flew open and landed on the boy’s large, whiskey-coloured irises. He pressed a finger to his lips and gestured over his shoulder at Henrik who was still asleep in a chair.

Cosimo shook his head. “We’re okay,” he told him. “We’re safe.”

The boy frowned. He looked back at Henrik, studying him and then shook his head, pointing at Henrik’s ears. Cosimo swallowed, suddenly aware of his heart beating like a drum in his chest.

“I know,” Cosimo said, and the boy turned back to him. He was still pale, but not the deathly grey he was in the Elfbow, and his cheeks had a pinch of red colouring him alive and breathing. Cosimo sat up in his bed and grabbed the boy’s hand. “We had to leave the Court,” he said, putting on his best smile. “We had to go on our adventure, didn’t we?”

The boy frowned. “Cosimo…” the boy said, his voice hoarse from illness.

“I know, I know. It’s okay. We’ll be okay here, I promise. Come on, let’s get you back into bed, hmm?”

The boy rubbed his eye and Cosimo smiled as he helped him back into the bed beside Cosimo’s, pulling the blankets up to his chin and tucking him in. The fox stirred and stretched before cuddling up against the boy’s stomach.

The boy didn’t question her. His small fingers settled into her fur and gently stroked her as he stared at Cosimo. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll be right here.” Cosimo said, smiling at the boy. He leaned over the bed and touched his forehead to the boy’s. “I promise. I’ll never leave you.”

He pulled back then, smiling a winning smile and walked the step back to his bed, never letting his eyes leave the boy’s, just to show him he was telling the truth; reassure him about his promise.

The boy smiled weakly as Cosimo got into his own bed under the covers. He must have looked like a wreck, covered in dirt and mud and probably twigs and branches sticking out from his hair, but he didn’t care. He and the boy were safe. Cosimo’s eyes went to Henrik who was still sleeping soundly in his chair, like the silent Guardians of the Court’s library. Cosimo would be lying if he said he didn’t miss home, Ludwig and his ramblings, Nestor and his boldness. His family. His…

Cosimo’s gaze settled on the boy again, his eyelids heavier, shuttering closed as he watched the boy’s chest rise and fall, his fingers now unmoving in the orange fur of the fox.

It was a necessary sacrifice, he told himself. It would all be worth it in the end. He thought of Oreste, what he would have to say about Cosimo being free of irons or chains and lying in a bed instead of a cot. What he would think of the boy, if he could accept— but he quickly shirked that thought from his mind. What would he care what a criminal thinks of the boy? It didn’t matter.

Without any ceremony, Cosimo drifted into sleep once more, his shoulders light but his heart heavy.

*~*~*~*~*

The next time he woke birds were singing and the medical room was flooded with light that reflected off the white stone. It entered from the arched windows behind Cosimo, with criss-crossed design on them making a pattern of square shadows on the ground that cut through the light. He blinked awake, the boy still sleeping soundly across from him, but Henrik was no longer watching over them.

The fox looked at Cosimo as he stirred and sat up, stretching his long limbs. His head felt lighter, better and his muscles relaxed. He needed that sleep, he realised with a sleepy compassion, and by the looks of it so did the boy. He was happy to see him conscious again, but he wished he was able to stop the boy from worrying.

“Ah, Cosimo,” Nikolas said from the entry his voice hushed, leaning against the round arched wall. “You’re awake. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Better,” Cosimo replied with a smile. “Thank you.”

Nikolas smiled back at him. He nodded and stood straight, gesturing behind him. “May I show you to your room?”

Cosimo hesitated. His eyes darted to the boy, afraid that during the interaction that he had somehow disappeared, that Cosimo had made this up in his head, the rescue, the King’s kindness, sleeping amongst humans. The enemy.

“I can’t leave him alone,” Cosimo said quietly.

“I’ll look after him,” came Henrik’s voice from behind Nikolas, and Cosimo looked towards the soldier. He looked tired, bags under his eyes and a steaming cup of something that smelled rotten in his hands. He smiled his reassuring smile at Cosimo. “You need a shower, Cosimo. It will do you good. Trust me.”

Cosimo was silent as he deliberated. He really did need a shower, if not to wash all this dirt off, then to see if he had any wounds from the last few days. His hair was sore, sticking in clumps together with what Cosimo could only imagine was a mixture of sweat, rain and muck.

He nodded, surprising even himself as he stood. Half of him wanted to stay, was telling him to stay, to not trust the humans, but trust worked both ways. One of the lessons Ludwig had taught him. Cosimo needed the humans to trust him. He needed to keep them satisfied that this relationship wasn’t a mistake, that their decision to trust him and protect him and the boy was right.

Besides, apart from Artzet, Nikolas and Henrik were probably the only humans who wouldn’t immediately think of killing him or throwing him in irons. He had to appease them a little, to make sure the boy, and Cosimo himself, remained safe.

Cosimo followed Nikolas out the archway, and with one last look over his shoulder, down a new hallway he hadn’t been down before. The carpet was the colour of wine and soft under his feet, finely crafted, and he felt bad for dirtying it as he followed Nikolas up another set of stairs.

“It’s a bit of a walk,” Nikolas said, apologetic. “But the living quarters are at the top of the castle. Furthest from the entrance.”

Cosimo didn’t have to ask why. He knew it was because of the story Henrik told him. It was safer to be above the chaos and have word get to them so they could prepare, rather than be surprised by it and killed living on the lower levels of the castle.

“It’s okay,” Cosimo replied. Then, hesitantly, “I’m sorry for dirtying the floors.”

Nikolas waved him away. “Floors can be cleaned, Cosimo. As can you.”

He escorted Cosimo to a giant, heavy, dark wood door. It was twice the size of Cosimo, and when Nikolas opened it Cosimo had to fight not to open his mouth in shock. It wasn’t a room. It was like its own floor of the castle. Bigger than the Hospital that he came from, bigger than the throne room where he had his trial. Not as tall but that was fine because it made the space feel warmer, not as imposing.

“Well?” Nikolas asked.

Cosimo stared; his eyes wide with wonder. He stepped in after Nikolas gestured for him to do so, walking to the centre of the room where a stone fireplace was prepared with logs and turf, and there were two cloth armchairs facing the fire with a table on each side of them. Bookcases in the small alcoves beside the fireplace and Cosimo couldn’t believe his eyes. Paintings of faces he never met, and landscapes he’s never seen, and a wide, blue field that rolled itself over.

“I will bring in more plants to liven it up for you, Cosimo. I want it to feel like a home — I—” Cosimo looked at him. Nikolas had flushed red, and he cleared his throat. “I mean, I want you to be comfortable for as long as you wish to stay. I’ll understand if you want to lea—”

Cosimo’s feet moved before his mind did and he was beside the King, wrapping his arms around the King’s waist and squeezing him with all his strength, cutting him off. Nikolas let out a soft grunt from the impact, staring with wide eyed surprise at the chocolate curls of the elf. His surprise ebbed to warmth that flooded his face, and he smiled softly, hugging the boy back tightly.

“Thank you,” Cosimo whispered wetly. He sniffed and Nikolas held him tighter. “Thank you for everything. I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Easy, Cosimo,” Nikolas said, grabbing the boy’s shoulders and pulling him back. Cosimo gazed up with tears in his eyes, tracks of tears cutting a trail through the dirt on his face down his cheeks to his jaw. “You do not need to earn this. You already have. There are no conditions to living here. I want you to treat it like it’s your court.” Cosimo hesitated and Nikolas quickly added, “as if it’s your home. I do not expect anything of you, or your brother. Or the fox,” he said. Cosimo laughed lightly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing tears across his face.

Nikolas’s smile was warm. “Except maybe a shower,” he said, and Cosimo laughed again, nodding his agreement. “I will leave you to it so. Don’t worry. I will wait outside your door until you are ready.”

“You don’t have to—”

Nikolas placed a hand in Cosimo’s curls, silencing him. “I want to. It’s no trouble. Take your time. Okay?”

Cosimo nodded. His smile small and a little embarrassed. “Okay.”

Nikolas nodded and stepped away from Cosimo, turning his back and walked to the door leaving Cosimo alone. Cosimo’s heart leaped into his throat, and he stepped forward, his hand reaching out before he thought better of it and tightened it into a fist and shoving it by his sides. He couldn’t appear weak, or needy, not when the King was doing so much for him already.

Nikolas paused at the door, smiling over his shoulder at Cosimo before he left and shut the door the heavy wooden door behind.

Cosimo took a breath and turned on his heel. He was fine. He was fine. There was no iron, or cells, or Rochus. He was safe, and Nikolas was outside if he needed him. He should just focus his attention on showering and stop freaking out.

The eyes of the portraits seemed to follow him as he wandered through Cosimo’s living quarters. Were they judging Cosimo being in the castle? Would they have killed Cosimo outright if he was found on their grounds? Cosimo ignored them as he walked past the wide, open fireplace and two cosy couches to the door directly in front of him.

He opened it to reveal a room with two beds pushed to the walls, a small table between them with a cluster of unlit candles on top of it. The beds looked soft, the blankets the colour of dried holly berries in the colder months. Cosimo couldn’t resist walking to one of them and sitting down. It was like laying on a bed of leaves piled high so you couldn’t feel the forest floor beneath you.

He immediately shot up, aware that he was filthy, and the bed was clean. Master Ludwig would have scolded him for ruining such finery. Cosimo saw two wooden doors at the end of the room which when opened revealed different types of human clothes. A tunic and trousers like what Niko wore, comfortable enough to move around but still showing his status and wealth. Cosimo stared at them.

Was he supposed to look like a human now? Is that what this meant? His living here? He supposed it was, and if it was what was expected of him so he and the boy could be safe then Cosimo would endure it, even if the fashion was a little restrictive for his tastes. Oh god, did he have to wear shoes as well? How would he be able to feel the earth beneath—

He stared at his feet, a frown growing across his lips. Oh. Right. There was no earth beneath his feet. It was stone. Cold stone and treated wood and warm carpet. Human structures were dead, Master Ludwig told him. They weren’t like court, a living, breathing thing to be treated with respect and care. Instead, it was cold, dead, something that functioned with a sole purpose rather than something sacred.

Cosimo’s ear twitched and he looked towards the door of his room, but the sound wasn’t in front of his door. He could hear King Nikolas’s breaths, but it was past that, a hitch in a breath and Cosimo sprinted across his quarters and grabbed the handle to the door. He yanked it open; two surprised forest green eyes found his and frowned.

“Cosimo?”

“He’s awake!” Cosimo gasped, and then he took off running through the halls. He didn’t know the way back to Artzet’s room, but he could hear the boy’s frantic breaths, the fox’s subtle growl and he was there then, bounding towards the bed where Henrik stood.

The boy was standing on the bed, his back to the headboard, hissing at Henrik who had placating hands up towards the boy. Panicked whiskey-coloured eyes went to Cosimo as he ran in, and the boy faltered slightly.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m sorry, I was— uh, relieving myself.” Cosimo heard Nikolas’s footsteps come up behind him and the boy’s eyes flickered to the King and he hissed in warning again. “It’s okay!” Cosimo tried, holding his hands up like Henrik did, trying to plamás the boy into calming down. “They helped us.”

“They’re human,” the boy croaked.

“I know,” Cosimo said as he moved delicately around the bed. He extended his hand to the fox who sniffed it and settled a little, her heckles lowering a fraction. “It’s me. Trust me.”

“Why are we surrounded by humans?”

Cosimo stiffened as he felt all eyes go to him, because that had to be question on everyone’s mind, right? Why had Cosimo risked their lives to get away from court?

Cosimo swallowed. “We got lost,” he began, licking his dry lips. “In the woods do you remember?”

The boy straightened and tilted his head to the side regarding Cosimo with a piercing stare. His whiskey eyes narrowed again. “You’re lying,” he said after a beat. Cosimo frowned.

The boy didn’t give him time to answer or come up with another lie before he jumped off the bed, landing gracefully on his bare feet. He stepped closer to Cosimo, his gaze turned inquisitive, imploring and cautious.

“Why are you lying your majesty?”

It felt as if all air left Cosimo’s lungs, as if the boy had reached down inside and grabbed his breath and held it hostage with his question. From the silence that followed Cosimo could tell Henrik and King Nikolas felt the same.

Cosimo straightened to his full height; his gaze fixed on the boy’s face. “I need you to trust me.”

“Then tell me the truth!” The boy argued, shoving Cosimo’s chest with his hands. Henrik let out a disgruntled noise at that, but Cosimo held up a hand to tell the human not to interfere.

“Can we not do this here?” Cosimo pleaded.

The boy’s expression hardened. “I am not going anywhere with you until you tell me why we are so far away from court?!”

“Please, I will explain everything—”

The boy’s voice only got louder, more desperate and punching. “Explain it now! Tell me why we’re amongst humans, Cosimo!”

“Because they were going to kill you,” Cosimo hissed. The boy faltered back a step, his whiskey-coloured eyes going wide. Cosimo ran a nervous hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath, turning away from the boy and palming at his temple.

“W—what?”

“Cosimo?” Henrik asked, but he didn’t answer. Instead, Cosimo walked to his cot and sat down heavily into it. If they were to stay here… everybody should know why Cosimo acted so rashly. Maybe they’ll understand why he had to flee from his duties, and responsibilities, and his people.

Nikolas focused on the boy who looked lost and confused, still pale from whatever illness he caught in the woods, but his eyes were bright, cat-like and incredibly expressive that Niko found he couldn’t look away. He watched as hurt, disbelief and fear flashed across his gaze until the boy’s eyes went to Niko’s and hardened.

Cosimo held his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. “The Elders,” Cosimo continued, his voice hollow. “On your name day… they—” Cosimo didn’t want to repeat it. He didn’t want to tell anybody, let alone the Boy, the awful things that he had overheard the Elders say.

A hand settled on Cosimo’s knee, pulling him from a trance he didn’t know he was in. Henrik was crouched in front of him, smiling up at Cosimo encouragingly.

“It’s okay, Cosimo. You’re safe now. The both of you.”

Nikolas glanced between the boys, catching Cosimo’s eye with a resolute nod. “Nobody can harm you here.”

The boy’s lips drew back into a snarl. “Have these humans been polluting your head with nonsense, your majesty? Is that what’s wrong?”

“No,” Cosimo said, catching the boy’s gaze over Henrik’s head, imploring him to calm down, to just listen to him. “What’s wrong is that your ears aren’t like mine!”

The boy frowned. He reached up to his cheek, small fingers going to his ears. He felt the conical shape of the bottom like a pebble that went up into a point. Maybe not as sharp as Cosimo’s but everyone looked different.

“I’m still growing,” the boy stammered.

“No,” Cosimo said again. “You should be grown.”

All colour seemed to drain from the boy’s already pale face, leaving his skin a papery, spectral grey. The colour of wild mushrooms that Master Ludwig said were poisonous to elves.

“That’s…” the boy began but faltered. Cosimo stood from the bed and walked over to the boy who was shaking his head. “That’s— no, no! Don’t touch me!”

Cosimo’s hand froze in the air. “I’m—”

��No!” The boy howled, pulling at his ears now. “I was raised in the court! I grew up with our laws, with our customs! I- I-” the boy looked around the room wildly before switching tongues to elvish. “I am an elf. Tell me that it’s true.”

“It’s true,” Cosimo replied in their native tongue, going to his knees in front of the boy. “It’s true you are elven. You know our way, but The Elders assumed that you are also part—”

“Human,” the boy whispered, tears pooling in his eyes. He looked so defeated in that moment that Cosimo just wanted to reach out and hug him and tell him everything was a cruel joke and that this was a dream, or a nightmare. Cosimo didn’t know how the boy knew the Elders thought he was half human, but maybe the boy just knew somewhere deep down. The boy’s bottom lip trembled as he looked at Cosimo. “I — they didn’t- I don’t even have a name…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Cosimo whispered, pressing his forehead forward and squeezing his eyes shut. “I had to take you away before your naming ceremony because they planned to execute you, and I couldn’t just stand by and watch. I— I— please. Please forgive me. I promise we will celebrate your name—”

Two small arms wrapped around Cosimo’s neck and jerked him forwards. Cosimo’s eyes widened in surprise at the boy’s strength.

“You saved my life,” the boy whispered. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Cosimo tried to swallow the emotion in his throat, but it was too much to suppress in the moment because he was so worried that the boy would hate him; shun him when he awoke and then Cosimo would be left with nobody of his kind. That he would be alone in a foreign world that spoke a foreign tongue. All the stress bubbled to the surface and Cosimo wrapped his arms around the boy, squeezing him tightly and tried not to let the tears fall.

It wasn’t all for nothing.

He didn’t abandon his home for nothing.

A throat cleared behind them and Cosimo stiffened, forgetting that they had an audience. Cosimo pulled away from the boy and smiled at him.

“We are in a local Kingdom,” Cosimo said. “Like the court only… bigger and this is King Nikolas and his General, Henrik. They… well,” Cosimo said, feeling his face flush pink at the very violent encounter that led to them meeting. “They offered us a home here, in the Kingdom. In the palace to stay and sleep and be safe.”

The boy stared at Cosimo as he spoke, something hard in his expression that Cosimo couldn’t quite discern, and it unsettled him.

“They promised we’d be safe here. That no…” he swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought of their court coming to find them and drag them home. Since when had his mind decided that his kind were the enemy? His people. His friends. His teachers and mentors and family. “…elves will find us.”

“But what about your court, Cosimo? Your people? How can you just abandon them like this?”

It felt as though a branch had broken beneath Cosimo’s feet and he couldn’t save himself from the harsh and long fall to the ground.

Any words that came to his mind turned to ash on his tongue and Cosimo was lost again, floundering in the darkness for any speckle of light.

So, when the King spoke Cosimo wanted to cry out in relief. “It has been a long few days for you both,” Nikolas said with a measured tone behind them. The boy’s eyes cut into the king, but Cosimo couldn’t really blame him for his ill-ease around humans. Even if he was half human. “I think it would be best if you rested. We can discuss next steps when you have both eaten and had a full night’s rest.”

The boy stepped out of Cosimo’s hold and walked over to his cot, sitting down heavily. The fox curled into his side lazily and his hand went to her fur absent minded.

Cosimo stood and ran both hands through his hair before he schooled his expression into one of hopeful neutrality. To the boy he was still royalty, still his superior so he had to act like it if he wanted this transition to be as smooth as possible.

“I agree,” Cosimo said with a smile.

Henrik looked at the boy. “What’s your name, lad?”

The boy didn’t look at him when he spoke. “I don’t have one yet.”

Cosimo felt Nikolas’s eyes on him. “You don’t have one?” Henrik asked, baffled.

“I’m sure the boys will be able to figure it out themselves, Henrik,” Nikolas said eventually. Cosimo felt the tension uncoil in his shoulders at the closing of the conversation. “For now, I think you both should rest. I will summon Artzet, the doctor, and have him look over you now that you are awake.”

Cosimo smiled gratefully at the King. “Thank you, your ma—”

Nikolas held up a hand cutting Cosimo off, and smiled chidingly at him. “If you don’t want me to start calling you that, Cosimo, I suggest you stick to my name.”

Cosimo felt the blush tinge his ears pink. He nodded slightly. “Thank you, Nikolas.”

Nikolas nodded bowed to the fae boys before he made his leave. Cosimo looked over at the Boy whose eyes were trained on the spot that Nikolas disappeared around.

Feeling Cosimo’s gaze the boy looked at him and scrunched up his nose. “What kind of name is Nee-kol-louse?”

Henrik barked out a laugh, startling the boy. “Mmm, Gods knows. Be sure to tell him that when he comes back.”

Henrik winked at Cosimo who laughed with him. “He’d get a laugh out of that.”

“I wasn’t trying to be humourous,” the boy scowled.

“Good on ye,” Henrik replied, conversational and friendly, taking no offence to the boy’s sour mood. “You must be naturally funny, like Cosimo here. You’ll both fit right in. Trust me.”

Cosimo smiled and hoped, no prayed, that Henrik would be right. That they could be safe here, and fit in as if they were actual citizens of the Kingdom. As he turned his head to gaze out the window he felt an uneasiness settle in his gut, like an ancient power had just awoken within him, and turned his stomach into a storm.

The Kingswood flashed across his vision and he quickly looked away, a ghost-like wisp of smoke rising to his nostrils. He swallowed down the ill-omen and kept the smile on his face. He was safe. They were safe.

Henrik and Nikolas would keep them safe.

Maybe if he kept saying it to himself, eventually, he could believe it to be true.

*~*~*~*~*

Tag-list: @tippytappytyping @annablogsposts

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