Mutt couldn’t help but stare at them, until Nash’s fist collided with the table. The silverware bounced as Mutt flinched hard, falling sideways.

Nash didn’t really acknowledge it, just hauled him back up to his knees by the collar of his jacket while continuing his conversation with Norrix, which Mutt now realized was about him.

“—I saw the prettiest cage on my way through town.” Nash was saying. “I already had so much stuff that we didn’t have room for it, but I was thinking of taking him shopping anyway.”

“You know I don’t care what you do with your allowance.” Norrix muttered. “I just don’t see why you want another cage for him. He already has one.”

Oh. Well, Mutt wouldn’t exactly mind a new cage. The one he had was kept outside, and with how much time it spent in the rain, and how cheaply it was made, the iron was rusting. He didn’t spend much time there. Only when it was storming and Norrix was in a bad mood.

Wait, what? No. He didn’t want a new cage. Well, he did. And he didn’t. Did he? 

That was why he never paid attention to Norrix. It made him think he was losing his sanity. Maybe he was, but he didn’t care to think too much about it.

“Yes, I saw that one. When was the last time he used it? It’s gross.” Nash asked, his hand returning to Mutt’s head again.

“Oh… couple months ago, I think.” Norrix replied. “Didn’t you already get him a new collar? You’re going to end up spending everything on that thing.” 

Nash just grinned. “I have to! He’s my prized pooch. I can’t have him meandering about like some regular servant.”

Mutt, meanwhile, had focused back on the rolls, though his mind was now silently logging the conversation. Sort of. 

Meandering? That’s a good word. I’ll use that when the staff is being slow. 

“Alright, I’m full.” Nash announced, snapping his fingers at one of the servants, who quickly scrambled to take his plate away.

Mutt watched helplessly from the floor as he watched what could’ve very easily been his plate of scraps disappear to the kitchens. 

He was starving. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon, and even that was just a handful of mashed potatoes he had to lick off the floor. The prince hadn’t given him anything, and he’d been a good boy. How was that fair?

Did he really just think that? Yikes. Maybe he was going crazy.

“Come on, boy!” Nash called, patting his leg as he stood up like he was trying to get an actual dog to follow him.

At this point, Norrix should just give him one of the guard hounds. Mutt thought, then immediately regretted it. 

One of these times, he was going to slip-up and say something out loud. And he didn’t like the feeling that pooled in his gut when he thought about it. 

He forced himself to follow Nash out, attempting to shake the numbness from his legs as he went, but his chest felt too tight, like his heart was going to pop out of his chest. 

It wasn’t the same feeling as pain, but it didn’t feel like fear either. He didn’t really know how to describe it. He’d been afraid before, yeah, when he was younger, but eventually he’d just gotten used to the pain of the whip, and Norrix’s temper. He didn’t fear that anymore, at least, he wasn’t supposed to.

What was wrong with him? Surely Nash couldn’t be worse than his father. So what was making him feel this way?

He tried to steady his breathing as he kept pace, but Nash walked considerably faster than Norrix, which made it harder. He wasn’t necessarily out of shape, but he was used to following a cranky old man around, not a guy in his prime practically skipping down the halls. 

Okay, so he was out of shape. He’d blame that on only getting one full meal a week and living off scraps the rest of the time.

“Oh, I am just so excited to be back!” Nash exclaimed as he rounded a corner. “Mother is such a bore. Now, it’s you and me, Mutty, and I bet your little corner is already set up. Oh, I’m such a good person.

Mutt rolled his eyes before he could stop himself, but lucky for him Nash hadn’t even looked back at him. 

“Yes, Sir.”  He mumbled, quickly recovering while struggling to ignore the pang of panic in his chest.

Nash stopped in his tracks, though, so maybe he was panicking correctly, just not for the right reasons.

“What did you just call me?” He asked as he spun around.

Mutt froze, still at least five paces away. “I–I—uh—I-I d—didn’t—I—” 

Nash stormed up to him, his face a mask of anger as he grabbed Mutt by the scruff of his neck. “I didn’t ask you to stammer like a brainless insect, I asked you what you called me?”

“S-Sir.” Mutt choked out. “I–I called you s-sir, S-Sir.”

The grip on Mutt’s neck tightened, and Mutt couldn’t help the small whimper that crawled up his throat. He hated that he couldn’t stop it. 

That flicker of satisfaction on Nash’s face would haunt him probably forever, and he wished he could rip the pompous prick’s vocal box out with his bare hands.

“I am your master, and you will refer to me as such.” He hissed in Mutt’s face.

Right. Obviously. Because Mutt was supposed to know that. Well, actually, he should’ve. Norrix always got mad when he referred to anyone else as ‘Master,’ so he should’ve assumed Nash would feel the same.

Hey, he was the “Prized Pooch,” okay? Nobody ever said anything about smart. And if they did, they’d be lying. Mutt knew he wasn’t the brightest torch in the hall. He didn’t even know how to read.

“Y-Yes, Master.” He muttered. “My a-apologies, Master.”

Nash scoffed, dragging him along by his neck as he started walking again. “Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry.”

Mutt whimpered again, much to his own humiliation, but Nash wasn’t deterred. He kept dragging him, pain shooting through his neck from the iron grip.

“I–I am!” Mutt squealed, hands locking around Nash’s wrist as if that was going to make him be gentler. “I promise I am! I–I d-didn’t mean to! Please, Master, I-I’m j-just a stupid mutt! Have mercy.”

Yes, Mutt was aware of how ultimately pathetic he sounded, and while it did mortify him, he really didn’t care. As terrible as his life was, he didn’t want it to end. And he had no doubt Nash would kill him if he pushed him too much.

Yeah, he really didn’t like the feeling that thought filled him with.

“Trust me, I am aware of how small your brain is.” Nash mumbled. “But that is not the reason I am considering mercy.”

They rounded another corner, and Nash threw the door open.

It was still filled with servants who were unloading trunks and bags, and dusting the otherwise neglected room. A few were throwing new sheets on the grand, four-post bed. The pillows were scattered on the floor, but they looked as plush as ever. 

Mutt wished he wasn’t jealous. He also wished he didn’t imagine himself suffocating the brat with one of them. His intrusive thoughts were going to get him in serious trouble some time. Yeah, he was in trouble now, but that was more his mouth than his mind.

The servants had mostly dusted off the mahogany furniture, but they hadn’t gotten to the fireplace yet. What really got his heart to still, was the shiny silver chain that had been attached to the fireplace. 

Well, that didn’t look promising. But hey, maybe he’d get into trouble and spend the night in the dungeons, or the stocks. He didn’t really care at this point. Just so long as he didn’t have to spend any time near that guy’s bed. 

“Everyone out!” Nash yelled at the servants. “Now!”

Mutt was practically tossed across the room, bashing his head against the stone hearth as he hit the ground. He groaned, his vision swimming as he heard the door slam shut. 

He let himself lay on the ground for a while, as the room spun in dizzying circles but he was pretty sure he might’ve been unconscious for some of it. Either way, the next thing he knew, there was a knee on his back.

“The only reason I am being merciful is because I was in a good mood before you ruined it.” Nash’s hand found his hair and yanked his head up. “Lucky for you, I’ll still give you a present.”

Then, something tight and leather was forced around his neck. He should’ve been used to that by now. All of his clothes were black leather, Norix preferred him in that, but this… this had a buckle.

Oh. This was the collar Nash had promised. Great. Well, it would be, if Mutt’s head wasn’t splintering.

“There you go, boy!” Nash said, and Mutt could feel the large smile that was stretching across his face. “Isn’t that much better?”

“Y-Yes, M-Master.” Mutt sputtered, now tasting the blood that was slipping from his nose.

“Oh, dear. You are so klutzy. How did you hurt your nose?” Nash mumbled, surprisingly gentle. Then, a handkerchief was pressed to Mutt’s nose, though that was less kind. “There you go. Hold that there while I get you all hooked up in your nice little spot.”

Mutt complied, but whined and squirmed underneath the noble’s knee when he saw Nash reach for the chain. 

The whine cut off into a retch as the hand in his hair found the collar and yanked it back. Mutt’s eyes widened as he struggled to pull air into his already tight chest.

“Stay still!” Nash hissed in his ear. “Geez, I try to be so nice to you since I’ve missed you so much, and this is the thanks I get?”

Mutt gasped helplessly, the handkerchief falling to the floor as he clawed at his neck. His wheezing breaths sounded suspiciously like pleas, which, at this point, they probably were.

There was a soft click as the chain locked into place around the ring of his collar, but the dread was overpowered by relief when Nash let his collar go and eased off him.

The moment his weight eased off him, Mutt coughed and panted for the air he’d so desperately missed, even though he was only deprived of it for a few seconds.

He scrambled to the stone wall beside the fireplace, clinging to the ridges like they would save him from the monster that was standing above him.

He didn’t even register that he was crying until his choking turned to gasping sobs and he realized the heat rolling down his face wasn’t blood but tears.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Nash growled, plucking the cloth off the floor. “Quit acting like I’m the bad guy. You disobeyed, and you aren’t getting out of the consequences by crying.”

In his defense, Mutt wasn’t even sure why he was crying. He’d cried before, a lot, considering everything, but never over something that seemed so… domestic.

He’d cried over being whipped and the stitches, but he always tried his hardest not to cry in front of Norrix’s friends. He cried with Rivia, or with Tyus. He only cried like this when it was safe. Or… as safe as his life got.

This was ridiculous.

He was crying so hard he didn’t even really notice when Nash tossed the handkerchief onto the ground and left. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop, and the silver chain suddenly felt like safety. 

Maybe… if he was hooked to the chain, Nash wouldn’t hurt him. That’s how he used to feel about his cage… until it started raining. 

He hated that his brain had made that connection so fast, but right now, he’d take any form of safety he could manage to get, even if it wasn’t safety at all.

_

Mutt didn't really know what to do with himself when the tears stopped. He was trapped in the dark and chained to a hearth, what was he meant to do?

Eventually, he managed to fall asleep once he curled up as close to the stone as he could. Okay, so the collar and chain weren't all that bad. Except for the three times he woke up choking because he rolled too far from the hook. Whoops. He'll adjust.

This time when he woke, it wasn't to being without air, it was to somebody sitting him up. It was too gentle to be Norrix or Nash. It was pretty easy to assume that he wasn’t in danger, so he didn’t bother opening his eyes.

He was being propped up against somebody’s chest, and another cloth was pressed against his nose, prompting him to open his eyes.

Blinking, he made the image of Rivia form in his vision. 

Lovely. Just who he wanted to see while he had dried blood and tears all over his face. Well, she’s seen him in much worse states, that much is certain.

He didn’t need to look to know it was Tyus  cradling him, either. That he didn’t mind as much. Tyus  had seen him in worse condition than Rivia had.

“Well, good morning sleeping beauty.” She greeted, gently.

“Good morning, Riv.” He slurred, voice muffled by the cloth in his face. “I’m not sleeping anymore, and with the blood, I don’t think the beauty part applies.”

“Morning?” Tyus questioned from above him. “Is it morning? I’m confused. I thought it was nighttime.”

“She’s picking on me, Ty.” Mutt grumbled, patting one of his arms which were secure around his middle. “What time is it anyway?”

“You’ll have to excuse him. I found him napping in the closet again. Either way, it’s late.” Rivia said as she dipped the cloth into a bowl of warm water and began wiping away the dried blood and tears on his face. “Nash is having a party. He wants you to be there with him.”

“Oh.” was all Mutt could think to say, not having the energy to be concerned and just leaning back against Tyus. 

“He got you some new clothes to wear.” Tyus offered, but Mutt could tell from both of their tones that they were hiding something. Which was surprising, seeing as Tyus hardly understood the concept of secrets. 

Stars, he was too pure for this world.

“‘Kay.” Mutt grumbled, sitting up when Tyus prompted him to. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“I don’t know.” Tyus admitted. “I thought it was fine, but Rivia said it was ‘a tacky whore’s outfit.’”

“Hush, Tyus.” Rivia snapped, pulling a key from her skirt pocket. “You’ll see.”

A groan crawled its way up his throat, already imagining what form of torment awaited him. “What? Is it a dog costume?”

“Worse.” Rivia unlocked the padlock against his neck, freeing him from the chain attached to the stone. 

Mutt wished she could take the collar off, but he also really didn’t feel like making Nash any angrier. So for now, he was a hound with a shiny new collar. Hey, it wasn’t like he had looked in the mirror, so maybe it didn’t look that bad either.

Tyus helped him to his feet almost immediately, and Mutt was more than happy to lean on him until the room stopped spinning. Rivia, meanwhile, was pulling something out of a sack that Mutt hadn’t noticed before.

She handed him the contents, and they were… less than ideal.

A dark blue, flowy shirt that was nowhere near long enough to cover anything more than his chest. Paired with it, was a skirt, if it could be called that, as it had two slits that went up to his hips. 

At least it came with tight, black trousers, but Mutt could feel the implications that those would be optional, depending on how Nas was feeling.

“Why isn’t it black?” Tyus asked abruptly. “I thought we were only allowed to wear black?”

Mutt sighed. “Dark blue is the house color. I’m his prized pet now. Guess I’m moving up in the world.”

“Oh.” Tyus hummed. “That sounds nice.”

Mutt sighed again, more exaggerated this time, but offered a small smile toward Tyus, who was beaming in his ‘I just had a great nap,’ splendor. 

In theory, it did sound nice, but if it meant spending more time with Nash, well… he doubted it’d be as pleasant as he was hoping.

-

~Taglist~

@oddsconvert

He clung to his companion, the two of them shoved firm into a corner instead of the bunkbeds the woman had directed them to, refusing to allow him any give inside of his restricting embrace. Prince whined, animalistic and gratting, attempting to wriggle out from his never ending grip, but Mutt couldn’t let him go. He couldn’t.

What if they hurt him?

They would, they would, they would, everyone else is bad and only master is good.

Mutt couldn’t forgive himself if they did. No one could hurt Prince except for his master, as much as he hated Prince being hurt at all, that privilege was reserved to him and only him, and those were the rules. It was Mutt’s job to enforce those rules like the good, so obedient dog he was, to protect Prince at the expense of his own safety.

He… he was a good dog, wasn’t he?

Alas, the lines of his expression were scrunched with fear, his face stuck between the nape of Prince’s neck, and several times now he’d been forced to choke away an oncoming, lingering wave of emotions, something he wasn’t supposed to have.

He could nearly feel the burn of his collar, see the dreaded remote pressed between Handler Brooks’ fingers.

Show no weakness, ‘520, ain’t that right?

Fix it.

“Show no weakness,” He whispered to himself, shoving away feelings back into the drowning abyss that was his belly, evening his face to placid emptiness. “Show no weakness.”

“Squee- Squeezing-,” Prince gasped, hand pushing off his chest, a desperate and pitiful try for air. 

Mutt weakened his grip on instant, allowing Prince to collapse in a heave of a breath. He hadn’t even realized he was clutching tighter. “S- sorry. So sorry, ‘m so sorry.” Mutt apologized profusely, so very pathetically, so very soft and kind. How could he not behave so to Prince? 

“‘S okay.” His legs tightened around Mutt’s abdomen, as well did the hold around his neck. He was scared too, and there was nothing Mutt could do to stop it beside hold him, and Prince the same.

“H- hi.” 

He whipped up to the door, wide open and leaking a path of light throughout the room, and Prince’s hair tickled his throat as he turned to gaze as well. 

There a woman stood, shaded by the brightness flooding in from behind her, hands held up before her front in a gesture that said I’m innocent. “I won’t come any closer. If you don’t want me to.” She mumbled, gravel seeping into the edges of her words, a natural rasp that stuck to her voice even when quiet.

Mutt paused, swallowing, and after a moment dared to shake his head, a movement so weak it almost went unnoticed. He’d never shook his head before, only nodded in acceptance, as it was practically the same as saying no, and pets don’t say no. 

“I just… um,” she started, studying them with uneasy fascination, “You’re scared, aren’t… aren’t you?”

No response. He didn’t know what to say. Show no weakness, the little voice in his mind that sounded exactly like his handler - only warped - told him, over and over again, keeping him perfectly silent. 

But he was scared.

He had always been infected with an overbearing sore of sensitivity, a weakness, never truly fit for his designation, for the title he got to wear.

But he was good at pretending.

My champion.

“You don’t know what’s going on.” It wasn’t a question, but rather statement of knowing, as if the stranger could possibly understand how he felt. “You, um, we’re here to help you. No hurting.” 

He gradually met her gaze with eyes that glimmered in the shining light, sparking with watered down hope. “No… hurting?” 

“Nope. No hurting. I mean you’ll maybe hurt sometimes- we all do - but, not because of us, I mean, no, none of us will hurt you.” She took a soft step forward and he froze, fingers dipping marks into Prince’s skin until he whimpered, telling him without words to release. 

“Stay.” Mutt snarled, a low, bellowing growl, utilizing the last of his strength to order her around as if he had the jurisdiction, but she still followed. 

“Sorry.” She whispered, hushed, ceasing her movement. Her fingers scratched at the sleeve of her bulking sweater, the area around her arm that mirrored where his own tattoo sat. “Do you… where’s your master? What happened to them?” 

His master.

The blur that was a wound of the mind reopened, just a smidge, tearing through the walls of his brain. “Don’t, don’t know, want Master, want, need Master-” He was supposed to care for him, to serve him, to protect him, he was supposed to die for him-

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your master’s okay.” She trailed off, gnawing at her lip and itching harder at her arm.

“Rea- really?”

You’re a real idiot, mutt, and I can only guess that that’s why you signed up for this.

Did he really fucking believe her?

“Yeah, I think so. Probably.” She shrugged, biting her lip. She paused for a moment, thinking. “So… you didn’t run away, did you?”

“N- no, never run. Never run from Master, it’s a rule.” It didn’t even need to be a rule, because Mutt never had and never would even think of running, and Mutt followed the rules so very well. Where else would he go? He’d been with master ever since he finished at the facility, and he surely did not have any urge to return to there for any reason.

“Mm. I understand.” She said, and somehow, for some stupid reason, he believed it. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“No, no, sir.” Mutt didn’t know why he was answering, why he gave her any reply at all, but maybe being scared messed with you like that, like how it was to him. Scattering his thoughts and leaving him so terrifyingly helpless, in need of any possible smidge of guidance.

“We, um, well I don’t know everything, but… I guess they found you guys or something, and, um, we took you in so you didn’t have to go back to… to the facility.”

“The facility…” That couldn’t have been the only reason they wanted them. The two were high value products, that’s what his master had always said, and so the only conclusion Mutt could muster up was that these people wanted to sell them. That was only plausible.

“Yes. They would, um, re- refurbish you, and send you to a new master. Cheaper.”

Mutt detested the thought of his first time at the facility, memories coiling into a wounded ache, and the prospect of ever going back brought a foul strengthen on the fear pent up inside of him. He didn’t want any more of the white walls, and the shocking sticks, or the lumps of gray mush. He was lucky, oh so very lucky to have been bought instead of rotting there any longer.

He couldn’t go back.

She must have noticed him getting wrapped up in his thoughts, because she reached behind her, behind the wall, bringing two items into frame. “I brought you guys… I mean, you’re supposed to pick them out yourselves, but these are the only two we have right now ‘cause Isaac hasn’t gone shopping for more in, um, forever.”

“Dog… toy…?” That’s what they appeared to be, fuzzy, colorful, and stuffed like the ones his master would gift him on the most special of holidays. He wondered if they squeaked just like those did.

“Stuffed animal. They’re for you and your friend. We all get one.” She smiled, her face softening the slightest bit. “Oscar thinks they help. It… kind of does.”

Prince piped up, a shock to the ears, voice the crack of a knife slicing through butter and hitting the plate beneath it. “Thank… you.”

“You’re welcome.” She muttered, fingers pulling at the fraying strings of her top. “Anyway, you two should, um, get some sleep.”

Mutt shook his head yet again, saliva in his mouth churning like the taste of a sour candy. He’d never had candy in any form before, but somehow that’s what the stinging acid of bile slinking up to his mouth tasted like. “Can’t, can’t sleep.” He’d never talked this much before in his whole life, and each word scratched raw at his throat.

“W- why?”

“I must protect Prince.” He stated it matter of fact, just like it was. That was his duty, and Mutt was going to fulfill it.

“So, so that’s his name… okay. Well… um, you do that. I guess. G’night.” She turned to leave, but before fully out of sight she stopped. “Oh. My name’s Joey, by the way. ‘S short for Josephine.”

She left without another word.

He swallowed, again shoving down the ever so inching hiccup of confusing emotions and vomit.

All of that thinking for himself was making Mutt ill.

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated

Tyus had stammered, trying to muster some form of defense Something along the lines that Mutt had been the one to not say anything. That technically Mutt wasn’t in trouble for Tyus, he was in trouble for talking. But Rivia had just stormed off.

Tyus couldn’t blame her.

She and Mutt had been close ever since she started working, and Mutt had taken the fall for him nearly every time Tyus almost got into trouble. He didn’t know why, but every time Tyus did something dumb, or wrong, Mutt would do something dumber to draw attention away from it.

The first three times, Tyus considered it a coincidence. But then when it kept happening, he realized it was purposeful. Mutt had been saving him. Saving him from going back onto the streets.

He didn’t understand why. When he first met Mutt, he was so certain that the guy hated him. Like… a lot. Sure, he wasn’t rude, but he seemed to not want Tyus around at all.

He was sixteen when he started working for Norrix. He hadn’t wanted to, but his stepfather kicked him out at fifteen, and he had been desperate for any form of work. 

Mutt and Tyus had become close fast. Overly fast, honestly.

Even though Tyus was older by a year, Mutt had always looked out for him.

Originally, he was first hired to be Mutt’s assistant. He followed him around with a little clipboard and a stick of charcoal.  Originally, he hadn’t really been needed for day-to-day life, only when Norrix was hosting a party or a ball so Mutt didn’t forget anything.

But Norrix kept him on for day-to-day too, only thanks to a bunch of begging from Tyus. 

He remembered the first time Mutt and he actually had a conversation.

He had been chasing after him during the planning of a ball, checking everything off that Mutt shouted back at him. It wasn’t until they stopped in the doorway down to the gardens that they paused.

“Uhm… so, I know this might seem… odd, but, how would I go about… asking for an advance on pay?” Tyus had asked.

Mutt had looked at him like his hair had spontaneously lit . “You…You want an advance your second week working?”

Tyus remembered losing all nerve. “Uh–I well, I only meant—I-I’d like to be able to afford a room in an inn, perhaps? I-I am currently sleeping in a hayloft and bathing in the creek, so I just hoped—”

Mutt had cut him off with an incredulous stare, then shook his head and walked away, yelling about how the servants were moving the flowers wrong. Tyus thought all hope was lost, until he was called into Norrix’s office.

Apparently Mutt had said he wanted Tyus to have room and board at the estate, and before Tyus knew it, he was sleeping in more than hay and bathing in an actual tub, not a secluded river in the outskirts of the city walls. And eventually he was promoted to being an actual servant, which he could feel Mutt’s fingerprints all over that little miracle.

Tyus had always wanted to repay him, but it seemed his debt to Mutt grew larger with every mistake he made.

Now, his mistake had landed Mutt in much worse conditions than ever before. 

That morning, Tyus watched from the servants passage when Mutt was brought in, and Tyus thought the boy had never looked more like his namesake. 

He was still sopping wet, even though it had stopped raining at some point in the night. His hair, usually a silky, smooth, black waterfall down his back, had been pulled free of the braided style and the strands fell around his face like limp noodles. He was shivering so hard it was a miracle he was still standing.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Nash asked, utterly pleased with the state of his prized pooch.

“Yes, Master.” Mutt choked out between his chattering teeth.

“Good. Go warm up. Your chittering is already getting on my nerves.” Nash waved a dismissive hand as he turned down the hall. “You have one hour. I want you waiting outside the door for breakfast.” 

Mutt stood there for a minute after he left, then started moving towards the servant’s quarters.

Tyus was following him before he could really think about the consequences. 

He really hoped Mutt wasn’t mad at him, but he also couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t be. Tyus knew he wasn’t good at his job. He thought things too literally, and overthought everything if an order or preference was implied rather than stated. 

He knew that. Mutt knew it too. So, why has Mutt never gotten angry with him? Frustrated? Yes. Exasperated? Frequently. But never angry. Why? 

It was a question Tyus wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

“Mutt!” He called after him when he realized he wasn’t turning around or noticing he was following him.

He did, and his entire posture eased like Tyus had cut the string keeping his back straight.

“Oh, hey, Ty.” He greeted softly, letting his friend catch up before he kept moving. “How’d the rest of the evening go?”

Tyus hesitated. He couldn’t believe how domestic Mutt was being with him. Though, it shouldn’t have been a surprise, after all, this was the same guy who had a private birthday party planned for him just days after Tyus had gotten him taken to the stocks.

“Uhm, fine.” Tyus said plainly, slowing his pace so he didn’t move too quickly for the shivering servant to keep up. “I mean, Burtsie was foul, and screamed at all the staff for like… ten minutes afterwards. And Rivia is fuming at me because it was my fault you were sent out, and Norrix has—”

Mutt stopped in his tracks, cutting Tyus off. “Why is Rivia angry with you? You didn’t do anything.”

“But… it was my fault you were put out there.” Tyus admitted softly.

Mutt rolled his eyes. “It was not. Nash is just a crybaby. She’ll get over it, and if she doesn’t, tough. Technically, that’s between you and me, and I’m not mad.”

Tyus and Mutt resumed their march down the marble corridor. They went in silence, until a rather violent shudder raked through Mutt, causing him to stop again.

“Oh… how mad do you think he’d be if I just fell asleep in the hall?” He asked, and based on the dark circles around his eyes, Tyus wouldn’t put it past him.

So, he did what his father used to do for him when he was tired, and bent his knees to a crouch. 

There was silence. Then a snort that sounded like it would have been a giggle, had Mutt not choked it back.

“I’m confused.” Mutt said, voice still on the edge of a l. “You want me to climb on your back?”

Tyus glanced back at him with a grin. “Don’t sound too excited.”

“I’ll get your uniform all wet.” He protested, but the shivers were still ripping through him, which really muted his point.

“I’ll change while you’re warming up.” Tyus nodded. “Now get on before I scoop you up bridal style.”

Mutt groaned, but Tyus felt him clamber up behind him, muttering something about being called a pig. Once Mutt was securely on his back, he took off down the hall.

Mutt went boneless against his back, chin on Tyus’ shoulder. He was still shivering, but it was less violent now. Not like he had warmed, like his body was just too exhausted to remember how to function.

“I really am sorry, Mutt.” Tyus whispered. “I’ll make it up to you, though. I swear.”

“It’s really okay, Ty.” Mutt assured him with a sigh. “I’m not upset, just a little waterlogged.”

Tyus didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. They just moved in silence through the halls.

The corridors blurred past them, but the only thing on Tyus’s mind was not dropping the boy on his back. He hadn’t slept a wink, and his muscles weren’t as up to the task as he thought.

Rather than the exhaustion reigning over him, he focused on the scuff of his boots as he made it down the hall, and the polite nods he gave to some bewildered staff as he passed them. He focused on the snoring. 

…Wait, snoring?

He froze where he was. 

“Mutt?” He whispered, shifting him higher on his back.

No response.

Sweet stars, Mutt had fallen asleep.

The boy was dead weight against his back, chin resting on Tyus’s shoulder as he snored softly into his ear. Well, at least Mutt trusted him enough to fall asleep around him. Though he supposed he slept on a cot in Norrix’s room for the past six years, so it probably wasn’t the compliment Tyus thought it was.

He didn’t want to wake him, Mutt probably had gotten as much sleep as Tyus did, after all, but also, he only had an hour to be back outside the dining hall.

So, he eased his steps, but still hustled.

He knew Mutt had his private closet, and his own private bathing area, perks of being owned, Tyus guessed, but Tyus wasn’t about to just drop him in a closet and wake him up after five minutes, so instead he took him to the actual servant’s quarters.

He plopped him down on Tyus’s cot and covered him with the thin, pale blanket all the staff got. Mutt didn’t stir. He didn’t even shift, just kinda nestled deeper into the blankets.

Tyus paused before he could walk away.

Very rarely did Mutt ever look that at peace. Sure, Tyus hadn’t made it a habit to sneak into Norrix’s room just to watch Mutt sleep, obviously, that’d be creepy. 

But, even in the day to day, Mutt always had tension in his shoulders.  He talked big behind their backs, but when he was with Nash and Norrix, he never got smaller.

Maybe that was intentional. Maybe he acted small the same way Tyus acted dumb around anyone who wasn’t Mutt. 

Being dumb was safe for Tyus. It had gotten him out of more mistakes than Mutt had. Maybe Mutt felt the same way about being small. Maybe being small was how Mutt survived.

It didn’t sit right. He’d always known how Mutt was treated was wrong. He’d always hated it, but he’d also known there was nothing he could do about it. 

Now, seeing Mutt find peace in slumber while his waking world was like walking on a tightrope above fire ants, Tyus finally felt like he didn’t have a choice anymore. Something had to be done. If not by him, then by someone else.

~Taglist~

@oddsconvert

@andithewhumper

@yellowcatcallshome