Chapter Text
The floors creaked. Quiet on the wood panelling, Andor’s gaze shifted lazily about. His head was just a buzz, and not one of a beehive’s. No, beehive hums were too comforting. This was eerie, like wasps’ nests. The floors creaked more. He couldn’t quite run his situation through his head. He sat down in the ancient halls, built thousands of years ago by the most skillful Gothic architects, and leaned his back against the wall. He let the hum and the sound of a building settling lull him asleep.
“I hate to ruin the moment,”
The buzz quieted to a whisper. Andor peeked an eye open, saw himself in the reflections of the stained glass. Yellow on violet.
“But you and I have work to be doing.”
His gaze shifted right and up. A tall, domineering creature with dark gray skin, two tall horns protruding from his forehead, black hair kept well, and constantly in a state of appearing like he left a trail of smoke. Minister’s clothes, gold embroidery on black with a high collar.
“We’ve worked all day already,” Andor said. “I’ve lost my energy, Botan.”
Botan chuckled. “I suppose rest would be good for you. After all, we have a job to be doing here. And I suppose it’s been quite stressful for you these past few days. Go, sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, Your Highness.”
Andor grimaced as Botan left. He waited for the smoke to fade out, and stood.
Andor shook violet wings free of the dust, maneuvering through the halls to return to his quarters. Exhausted, dull, non-stop work. But it would be worth it. He opened the mahogany door, and shut it slowly after entering, moving to examine himself in the old mirrors of the dresser. He tugged his cheek down some to check his eyes. Yellow on violet. He blinked. It was normal, it was normal…
Bats were starting to wear at his face. He didn’t notice them before, but it was the cost of work. Soon, he’d get used to it. Botan would help him, and they both would get what they deserved.
He tugged off his tie, set his crown aside, and threw off his suit jacket. Andor ran a hand through his hair. His skin was clammy, he was sick, maybe. Burrowing himself under the bedsheets, Andor dozed off, the wasp’s hum growing louder and louder till it was nothing.
-
The castle was silent. It wasn’t an uncommon thing, and surely it’d be broken up soon by a messenger with news from the front lines. Botan had pulled Andor out of the war so he could keep things in check back in Elunore.
Elunore, the city of night, of spiraling cobblestone streets dimly lit by the glow of flame, outskirts guarded by a thin line of knights on horseback, the ground darker than the sky, everything eerily backlit gray at night. A city of great magic and science, where the most powerful sorcerers and most brilliant stargazers called home. It was night here longer than anywhere else, though the sun would break daily for less than half the day. An eternal winter, with no snow.
And Andor could gaze at it. Chin in one hand, the dim yellow glow of his pupils staring out into the night from the open castle doors. The cold breeze didn’t bother him, though by the way the hairs on his arms stood on end, he could tell it must’ve, at some point. Nothing could be more peaceful than the sounds of the silent halls and the chill. In the distance there was the sea, just off the cliffs, though the noise it made was barely existent here in Castle Elunore.
He could doze off, like this. Eyes half lidded, world simply becoming hues of purple-black-gray, it was quiet and that’s what he liked .
Botan’s heels clicked on the floor. Andor’s eyes snapped fully open, though his position didn’t change. The minister’s head was down, and he was just passing by, not speaking a word to Andor as he exited one hall, went through the throne room, and entered the next hall. Andor blinked again to his sleepier demeanor, though still perfectly awake, perfectly aware.
The sea crashed against the base of the cliff faces in the distance. The was the noise of the town as well, of people going about their rounds.
A messenger slid into the castle doors. Andor was focused again.
“Death toll,” he stated. Skip the minor details.
“Five thousand,” the messenger replied.
“Perfect,” Andor hummed. His lips curled into a smile. “And?”
“Completely disposed of, as per orders.”
“Great. We start the next siege in three days.”
“Make it two,” Botan’s voice rang from the left hall. Their faces turned to follow it, but they couldn’t see him.
“Two days,” Andor repeated, turning back to the messenger. “We start in two days.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The messenger left hurriedly.
Andor huffed. Botan was gone now, smoke in the wind of the left hall. Andor rose from his throne, and left, towards the right hall.
-
The upper floors of the left wing were eerie and dark, with only bits of moonlight shining through faded windows. Yet, Andor could walk with ease here. Approaching the end of the hall and a door to his right, Andor stopped to hear the same silence the castle rang throughout. He opened the door, and stepped inside.
Quiet shuffling ceased as Andor closed the door behind him. Something had stopped moving, and only a soft crackle of flame could be heard for a second. Andor took one step quietly onto the carpet. Something moved. A blink of yellow-orange deeper in the room, and the movement was gone.
This room was normally bright in the daytime, though in the night hours, it was a solemn gray-black, hardly ever lit, though light was available. It was occupant’s choice to keep the place so dark, and now, Andor was playing the world’s quietest game of chase.
He wandered into the kitchen. There was the sound of shuffling, claws against wood…
He looked up, and was met with the hiss of something feral, baring sharp fangs on every tooth, and the faint glow of yellow flame. Five eyes met him, narrowed into sharp glares. The singular top eye focused on the smallest movement, the other four stared directly at him.
“Benedict.” It wasn’t good enough to be considered a greeting. The star had crammed himself between the ceiling and the wall-mounted cupboards, never minding his stiff suit. He didn’t speak a word, and only tucked himself further in when Andor reached out for him. There was no place for him to go unless he managed to flatten himself out, which was surely a possibility, he was just opposed to the thought of being caught in the evil king’s hands.
Andor huffed, managing to grab him as he had nowhere else to squirm to, and tugged hard, using the counter for leverage. Benedict didn’t budge. A few more times, and Andor gave up, the star still giving him the harsh glare.
“You really got yourself stuck, hm?” Andor said, deadpan. “Well, you win, this time.”
He meandered back to the living room, sitting down on the couch. Knowing him, Benny wouldn’t budge from that spot till Andor was gone. God, he’d just have to proof the place more…
He tapped his fingers on the couch. Benedict was stubborn, wild, and no amount of Andor’s attempts could change that. It didn’t mean Andor was giving up, it’d been some time and there’d been progress, but it was slow. Eventually the time would come.
The one window had the blinds drawn tight. As much as Andor didn’t want to sit in the dark with a star cooped up in the kitchen, he wanted less to be chasing around said star in the light. Benedict had little choices, and his light preference was one of the few. Andor would let him keep it.
It was easier to know where Benedict was, and that’s why it was better this way. It wasn’t often Benny won anyway, it was never often.
And Andor could still lure him out. It was tough, he couldn’t fake leaving, and Benedict was virtually immune to his mind games.
All but one.
Andor snapped his fingers, and it was like the ventilation turned on. His abilities were little, but enough to make a difference. A cold breeze blew gently through the room, and Andor could hear Benny shift in discomfort. Eventually, that shifting turned into a slow slide against wood, which Andor could barely hear. Benny was going to have a hard time if he didn’t make a move and left his position, and by the sounds of him dragging his claws against the cupboards, he was hesitating.
Minutes passed, and Andor could only hear the creaks, till the noise stopped. A second after, the silence was so deafening that the king went to check it out on his own, only to find that Benny had pushed through, passing out in the crevice from the cold. Andor growled, calling the breeze off. It was a waste, he wasn’t fun if he was unconscious. He’d just have to leave him, he supposed Benny’s ferality was the karma for taking in an actual alien as a pet, but he figured that most likely it was just natural hostility- predators were like that, and Andor was basically keeping a caged tiger around. Albeit, a humanoid tiger constantly on fire.
Benedict had won for now, and Andor would see about rigging the game in his favor again.
-
Andor spent the rest of the night with nothing but the background hum of his own mind. Botan didn’t see it fit to bother him like this, not even with news of the wars and conquests or at-home word. He dazed mindlessly into the open night air, sitting just behind the open doors of the throne room. Guards knew not to bother him in this state, everyone knew better. Only his minister could get away with it, and even then he wouldn’t bother.
Andor seemed to acknowledge Botan’s presence, albeit a vague one, and surfaced partially from his mind. “How goes work?”
“Not any different than any other day,” he responded, gliding past.
Andor huffed. He rested his elbow on one leg, tilting his head as he put it in his hand, and eyeing the courtyard from afar.
“Who’s the person yelling?”
“Hm?”
“There’s a person in the courtyard being rather loud, is that…”
Botan strode over to look. “A member of the court, yes.”
“Ah,” Andor said, as if that helped answer the original question at all.
“A strangeling, that one, I wouldn’t pay her any mind. God knows what she goes on about.”
Everyone seemed to be avoiding her. Andor nodded. “Some people…” he disapprovingly scoffed.
“Well, there’s always one.” Botan began to leave again, down the hall.
“Always one,” Andor echoed.
Back in his room, he felt his head ring. It was like an unceasing bell, and if he hadn’t seen every doctor in the kingdom by this time, then he didn’t know what to do. The pains of it had passed him a tinnitus diagnosis, but even keeping the castle quiet wouldn’t make it any better. The migranes were hell.
Though, after a while, he was used to the pounding in the back of his skull, like every throb of his heart was a whack with a blunt object. Up and out, his brain said, it’s always up and out. He echoed it back to himself.
He wasn’t able to sleep tonight. He rolled back over in the bed, thumbing at the trinket he’d bought from a store of oddities a few weeks ago. “I need to see a doctor,” he mused for probably the hundredth time. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything new out of it, and either way, Botan was a trained doctor. He was in fine health, everyone told him, but he swore that this didn’t feel like it should be normal. Botan new when his head fluttered like that, and was quick to console him, if he was around. Andor thumped his hand lazily around the bed, looking for a raggedy plush toy he had around somewhere in the sheets. He’d tried to keep it a secret, even from Botan, who he trusted the most, but eventually he found out. Thankfully, he’d laughed it off, saying everyone needed one, frankly. He found the little thing, squeezing it in one hand lightly to calm himself down. He’d read a book, but he needed to rest.
Whatever ailed him, there was a remedy for it. He let go of the trinket in his other arm, opening his bedside drawer and digging for something. He pulled a small bottle out of it, popping one of the pills inside of it in his mouth before closing it and placing it back in. Andor sighed, rolling over again, and was out like a light.