AUTHOR: faesphinx
January 21st, 2014 - Wings
The fledgling curled its still-downy wings around itself, trying to hide and stay warm in the bitter January cold. The winds tore at him, and he tried to get lower in the dead corn, hoping the long stalks would shield him more. This was his nest. His own nest. He was his own flock. It had been that way for ever and ever and ever, as far back as he could remember.
That didn't mean he had to like it.
Hearing the rustling of someone pushing through the rough plant life of the field over the shrieking, whistling wind, he pressed himself nearly flat. Just because he was lonely didn't mean that he wanted others to find him. Others pushed, threw rocks, pulled feathers, and cried 'demon!' when he had tried to come near. He couldn't entirely blame them; they had no wings. It must have hurt when they were pulled off.
"Ah, there you are," said a voice, and leathery hands touched one golden wing. The fledgling flinched, willing himself smaller, flatter, and silent.
"Hush, little one," the voice said again, stroking gently, "Hush. I saw you from above. Your camouflage is decent- instinctive, I'm sure- but it could be better. Open up, now."
Trembling, the fledgling parted his defenses, and looked up with bright blue eyes. It was a man- a man like him, with glossy black feathers on his wings, and along his sharp cheekbones, and over the arch of his heavy brows. His eyes were bright green, made almost too-green by his dark feathers, and his white skin like snow, and the wintery sunlight of his hair. They were the greenest thing that the fledgling had seen in a long time, and green meant alive. Green meant warm and food. Green was good.
With a sharp cry, he launched himself at the man, clinging close to him and babbling in croons and trills and squawks.
"Shh, shh, there…" the man said, gently lifting the fledgling into his arms, "My, you survived all on your own out here? Well, no more."
The green proved right, the man was warm. The fledgling pressed his little, shaking body against it. His skin chaffed against the thick wool of the man's clothes, and the man nuzzled his hair.
"Shh…" he said again, "Come. We'll take you back to my nest- a proper nest- and get you some clothing and food. Would you like that, my little fledgling? To be in my flock? Look at you, you can't even speak the common tongue yet. No doubt you're still grounded. Hush, now…"
The fledgling was so concerned with absorbing the man's warmth, that he hadn't even noticed that they were moving. Walking. The man had wrapped his wings around them, and it was dark as night, but so much warmer. The fledgling crooned softly, his own wings still drawn tight against him.
"You'll need a name, of course," the man was saying as they left the fields behind. Somehow his steps seemed like they were crossing distances much to big for his stride. "Something strong, for you must be to have survived out here on your own. King of your own, untamed domain. Shall we call you Alfred? I think it suits you."
The fledgling- Alfred- nodded. Anything. Anything so long as he could stop shivering and have something to eat.
"Alfred it is, then. Well, Alfred, I am Arthur. And you are going to be my sweet little fledgling."
They were stepping into somewhere much warmer, now. Alfred heard the clunk of a lock opening, and the click of it closing behind them. Arthur unfurled his wings, and brought them towards the fire.
"Here, get warm," he instructed, setting Alfred down on the hearth rug. The fledgling's skin was a wind-bitten pink, and turned almost scarlet at the sudden heat. He cried out, sure that he would burn- for fires meant burning and destruction and black forests and fields- and tried to scramble back towards the door, but firm hands held him still.
"Get warm," Arthur repeated, his hands rubbing Alfred's arms and hands, "I know it stings, but it will get better. I'm not trying to hurt you."
Deft fingers massaged nearly frostbitten skin, coaxing the red to rise and then fade as Alfred's body settled on a healthier temperature. His trembling eased, until it was no more than the occasional shiver. Satisfied, Arthur sat back with a smile, only to find the fledgling scurrying back into his lap.
"You need clothes, and food, next," he said, lifting Alfred with ease and retreating towards his set of rooms, thankful that he had prepared winter clothing for the fledgling he had spent a fortnight trying to find. He swaddled the little one in a thick wool gown, with flannel smalls, and stockings he'd knit himself. When that was finished, the maids had readied supper and tea for the pair of them, and retreated to their quarters.
Alfred grabbed for the vegetation and meat floating in the broth with both hands, only to cry out when Arthur held him back.
"No," he said sternly, "We mustn't grab."
He lightly bounced the fledgling in his lap, then picked up a spoon, and offered some broth and carrot to him.
"Eat," he instructed, and the fledgling obeyed. Such a good boy. Arthur felt his whole body warm tenfold as they fulfilled their roles.
Three bowls of stew and half a loaf of bread were finished off in that manner. When they were finished, Alfred was dozing on Arthur's lap, a tiny smile on his face.
"There's a lad…" Arthur murmured, running a hand over the fledgling's stomach to help him digest. He'd expected him to be hungry, of course, but not that hungry. Hadn't the people left him offerings to sustain him? This New World was overly strange, and ignorant.
"Shall we to bed, now?" he asked, and Alfred cooed and squawked in the old way, bright eyes full of concern.
"I will eat when you are asleep," he promised, "It is my duty to see that you are cared for."
Alfred nodded, then lay his head against Arthur's chest. It was only a matter of moments before he was fast asleep. Arthur carried him to his quarters, laying him down in the large, soft nest he had made. He would show the fledgling how to make his own, of course, but there were so many more important things right now.
Besides, he'd been a murder of one for so long. It was nice to have something to protect, curled up in his nest.