Chat Noir gently patted the hair of the man who was staring at him with unnerving intensity. His pupils were so dilated they almost swallowed the pale blue around them, and yet they were still pinned on Chat with unerring focus.
The fae's skin crawled and the gentle smile strained his muscles so hard it was like his face was about to split in two. Chat was a predator, and like all predators, he hated nothing more than being stared at. Being stared at meant he'd either failed an ambush or he was being sized up by a rival.
Don't hiss at the human.
You'll give yourself away.
So Chat busied himself with the blanket, drawing it higher over the king's shoulders.
Who was still staring.
"You should rest, father. Close your eyes." The last he said with a touch more force than needed.
"My son," the king whispered, his roaming gaze greedily drinking in Chat's Glamor. Those were two of the three words that were all the human had said since he'd drawn Chat to his chest and squeezed him so close the fae had almost choked. My, Adrien and son.
His Lady had told him that she'd been forced to drive the king to madness to prepare for Chat's arrival. People who knew the prince were needed to lend him legitimacy, but those who knew him best were most likely to discover the deception. So measures had to be taken to keep them at bay.
The prince had two childhood friends, and the plan had been to replace one and enslave the other. But to Chloe's great dismay, the Changeling going by a stolen name had been unable to enthrall the girl's fiancé. People who had the will to resist fae charms were few and far in between, but he was one of them. Keeping him enslaved would have required constant effort.
So she'd ostracized the Lord, and instructed Chat to give him the cut direct when he saw him. The cut direct was apparently part of this court's social arsenal – to pointedly ignore a noble in full view of others, turning away from them like they were air when they tried to speak. To have it done by the prince would seal the ruin of Lord Lahiffe's reputation.
Chat would look at a memory of this man later. Chloe had described him as having dark skin and darker hair, but that was not much to go on. He hoped Lord Lahiffe had some distinctive feature because Chat still had not quite learned how to tell humans apart reliably.
"Adrien." Fingertips at his jawline startled Chat out of his thoughts and he belatedly remembered to bare his teeth. Smile. Make it pleasant.
Looking at the king hurt. Chat wanted to blame the staring, but maybe it was the wrinkled skin, signs of the decay humans went through, or maybe it was his almost skeletal thinness… but some fae were much bonier than that, and it had never bothered Chat.
Whatever it was, Chat didn't like it, and he wanted out of this suffocating room right now.
But he couldn't. Because he had a part to play and couldn't disappoint his Lady.
"Adrien, I'm so sorry," the king whispered.
Oh, good. He still remembered some other words. So hopefully Chat had not overestimated the dose of the medicine designed to keep the king's wits dull. Too much, and it was deadly.
The king dying mere hours after the prince's arrival would just raise all sorts of eyebrows Chat did not wish to deal with.
"I'm fine, father," he said. "Nothing to be sorry for."
"But it's my fault. My fault you were taken."
"Of course not. Political rivals will always stalk our family, blame that ancestor of ours who first declared himself king."
The human shook his head, eyes wide. "My fault," he said hoarsely. "Adrien, forgive me. I didn't know."
Poor wretch. Had it truly been necessary to draw out his suffering like this? His Lady should have ordered father and son to be devoured together, that would have been better. But she hadn't wanted the crown to pass elsewhere. Chat could follow the reasoning, it had made so much sense when his Lady had explained it all to him, but…
Chat avoided hunting mothers with their cubs. The cub was doomed to a slow death without her, and Chat Noir could not stand to hear the heart wrenching wails the mother made when searching for her lost offspring either.
This man's cooing over him was equally unbearable. How long was he to endure this?
Suddenly, the king clutched at his chest. Oh no. Overdosed after all? Alarm shot through – ah. The man was only drawing a pendant over his head. He held it out to Adrien with shaking fingers.
Iron.
Even with Chat's weakened senses, he could smell it. Iron Kissed he might be, but some primal fear still awoke when faced with the poison to his kind. The metal was shaped in a curiously winding pattern.
"Charm against fae," the king said hoarsely. "Please take it, Adrien."
Chat Noir's smile was growing truly strained. "Father, we've talked of this, your nightmares are just–"
"Adrien, please. Just give me that peace of mind. I'll sleep easier knowing you're wearing this."
How could a man be drugged senseless and still possess such a sharp gaze? He must have been a force to be reckoned with when he'd been in his prime.
Pity and respect warred within. It was like gazing at a majestic predator facing its end, limping, blind in both eyes and fur torn apart by scars of battles past. One could not help but bow before such a great beast. Humans chose their leaders well.
"As you wish," Chat said softly. "But only if you sleep now."
The pendant dropped into Chat's palm and he exhaled a soft sigh when his skin did not catch fire. Fae instinct still half-expected it. He draped the necklace around his neck, tucking it under his shirt. A greater shudder of relief ran through the King's body and he grew still, finally closing his eyes.
Without King's Gabriel's strong will animating it, the body looked impossibly frail.
He – he wasn't dead, was he?
Gripped by sudden terror, Chat poked his father's arm.
The king startled awake. Smiled. And resumed his staring.
And so began another impossibly long hour of sitting by the king's bedside.
Chat Noir rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles aching from spending hours hunched over. His true body could hold its position for days when preparing to ambush, but this one hit its limits fast. No wonder humans relied on sheer numbers and iron. Couldn't even manage to sit still for a few hours without doing themselves injury.
Still, he could not help the pleased smile playing on his lips. His first true test, passed! The king was convinced, not just of Adrien's return, but of his own insanity. He would be easy to keep placated now. Chat had promised to visit him each morning, would make sure to get the 'laudanum' dosage right, and the king would be docile for the rest of his days.
A year or two, his Lady had said.
Adrien's steps slowed.
…the death would be mercy. No need to dwell on it.
He resumed his path and–
Wait.
Where was he?
He'd been aiming to return to the council waiting for him but had sunk so deep in thought that he hadn't much paid attention to where he was going. His feet had carried him around entirely without his input. Chat squinted at his surroundings, trying to identify some familiar landmark. But he hadn't yet had the chance to truly explore his new territory.
Hm.
Perhaps… that way? Yes. His gut said that way was a good direction, and Chat trusted his instincts. So deeper he went into the winding halls, turning when his feet told him to, until he came upon a balcony overseeing the gardens. His eyes brightened at once at the sight of nature but dimmed within a heartbeat. The hedges had been cut, mutilated and tamed into unnatural shapes that looked like skeletons now that winter had stripped them of their leaves.
…though he supposed the maze looked fun. He could chase prey in there, let it run itself ragged and finally corner it in a dead end. But no, he couldn't do that. Humans weren't hunters and there were so many eyes on him.
Although the air smelled nice, carrying a hint of the sea. Even from here he could hear the cry of seagulls and the rumble of waves cresting against the cliffside.
"Adrien?"
Chat Noir startled and whirled around to face a man who was looking at him with what had to be an equally shocked expression.
"It's really you," the dark-haired man whispered.
Oh, how pitiful were his senses that he hadn't noticed a stranger standing right beside him?
Wait. He should respond. But that man was wearing finery that marked him noble. Chat wasn't ready for human courtiers yet! He'd practiced his script for the king, studied key memories with the man, but he'd planned on malingering to prepare for facing human aristocracy.
Still. Nothing to do now but improvise. Clearing his throat, Chat Noir dug deep into the rather truncated etiquette lessons for introductions to other courtiers.
"Yes, it is I, Prince Adrien. Bow before your liege, for I have returned."
Golden eyes blinked at him.
Then the noble burst out laughing. Chat Noir swallowed a yowl when he suddenly found himself being squeezed, the man wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Hissing, spitting and fighting being all off the table as acceptable reactions, Chat stood frozen while the man dampened his shoulder.
Why were humans' eyes constantly leaking? Disgusting. Even his own were trying to do it as some sort of instinctive mirror response, but he willed it away.
"Adrien. Gods, Adrien." The deep voice shook, and the man squeezed him again.
Chat tentatively tapped the stranger's shoulder. Was this a successful introduction? Somehow it struck him as inappropriate. He didn't want all the courtiers to touch him every time he announced himself.
Although.
It did feel nice.
The Nightmare Court was sparse on closeness. Nightmare fae kept a respectable distance for fear of knives, poisons and curses that were activated by a careless touch. Chat Noir lived for those moments when his Lady petted him.
"Hello," Chat said softly and tried to catch a whiff of the man's scent, letting his Glamor retreat just a little. He was much better at telling creatures apart by scent than by looks, and he wanted to be sure to recognize this one again.
Greens and forest and den.
The man who smelled like safety drew back, beaming. His lips moved soundlessly. So humans didn't always find words right away, too. Somehow that was almost comforting, that Chat was not alone in that regard. The Nightmare courtiers were silver-tongued in a way he'd never managed to be.
"I've missed you," the noble said at last.
"I've missed you, too," Chat said, because it seemed like the kind of sentiment one ought to return. Clearly this man knew the prince and Chat would consult the mirror later, his gaze committing his features to memory. Skin like rich earth, golden eyes, prominent nose and hair as black as Chat's fur. The similarity pleased him immensely.
"How are you, Adrien? Gossip has it you were injured during the rescue."
Such concern in the man's voice. Chat got a brilliant idea.
"Hit my head, yes. Speaking of. Can I confide something embarrassing? I'd rather nobody hear of this, though."
The man nodded. "You know I keep my lips sealed."
Yes. Chat did know that, his nose detecting no lie. Although it was not his nose leading him to confide. No, it was his instinct that was whispering that this man could be trusted to have his back, and his instinct never led him astray. No matter what kind of silky lies Nightmare courtiers tried to weave around him with speech so opaque Chat could not follow, his instincts always saw right through and warned of danger.
"The head injury leaves me kind of, ah, disoriented sometimes." He paused, and then sheepishly added, "I got turned around while trying to return to my quarters. Help me back?"
The man's eyes widened briefly, but then softened. "Of course, Adrien. Follow me."
Chat Noir did, happily walking behind his new ally as the man navigated the passages. Allies were a vital part of the game of whispers and calculated shows of vulnerability were an important part of bonding. This noble would feel favored by the prince and be eager to earn more now that he'd had a taste.
The noble kept glancing back over his shoulder. "How are you, Adrien? Apart from the head injury."
"Purr-fect," Chat said absently, committing the path they were on to memory. He'd rather liked the view of the maze, might revisit that balcony.
The man snorted. "Some things never change with you, huh?"
Chat smiled prettily to hide his confusion. What did he mean?
His ally's gaze grew thoughtful and Chat's smile faded. "Adrien, I mean it, are you–? Captivity takes its toll on any man, you know you can talk to me."
"I know." Lie. "But don't want to." Truth.
The black-haired man accepted that with a nod. "Alright. But I'm here if you need me."
"I might revisit that offer," Chat Noir purred.
A tentative smile. "I hope you will."
Chat was growing increasingly impressed with his own politicking abilities. Making allies out of enemies was easy! Or maybe humans were gullible. Either way suited him fine.
But he liked this one.
Chat would ensure his death was swift and painless, to spare him the agony of seeing his home burn to ash.
Chat retrieved the mirror from his sparse luggage and curled up on his bed, letting the Glamor fall just enough to make that position comfortable and to tuck his tail under his chin.
"Mirror, mirror, in my hand," he murmured. "Who's the fairest in the land?"
He cackled at his jest, though he did not quite know what made it so funny to him. Then he sobered and looked at the prince's reflection. The first priority was finding out the identity of his new ally. They'd parted ways as soon as Chat had recognized his surroundings, and he had promised the man to see him again soon. It would be prudent to know his name by then.
"Show me how that noble and the prince know each other."
"You're going to land on your arse."
Adrien slowly raised his head, taking the measure of the boy on the opposite side of the shore. The stream separating the two of them was shallow but wide. Left to his own devices after finally escaping his guards, Adrien was making a game of jumping on some flat stones without touching the water.
"I mean it. I know it doesn't look like it's that far, but that last jump is impossible."
Golden eyes were staring at him with concern.
"Oh, ye of little faith," Prince Adrien said confidently, and leaped forward.
Water soaked through his trousers, and the boy had the audacity to laugh. At him! The crown prince! Adrien scrambled to the other side of the shore, wading through ankle-deep water.
"Ah, ah, ah. You stay right over there. You're a guest of the Bourgeois household, right?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
"This brook is the dividing line between their estate and ours." The boy flashed him a cocky grin. "Respect our borders."
So, naturally, Adrien had no choice but to climb up the incline and grab a wooden branch. Brandishing his new weapon, he cried, "Then defend them, villain!"
"Villain?" The boy gasped in mock outrage. Adrien patiently waited while he looked for a suitable branch of his own. "You are the invader here, that makes you the villain!"
"I am only defending my honor from an insult in the form of cruel laughter. En garde!"
Chat Noir came up for air with a wide grin on his face.
Littermates.
Or something like it, at any rate. Playful battles to prepare for true ones in adulthood. His smile sobered. The little humans had been practicing with wooden weapons to one day swing iron ones. Raised to unwittingly destroy Underhill from youngest age.
He shook the morbid thought away and dove into another memory. And another one after that. The way those children played reminded Chat a little of the way Trixx and he would chase each other over Nightmare's borderlands. They teased and mocked and battled, but it was always affectionate. Just like when Chat buried his fangs in the fox's neck fluff, but always took great care to be gentle when biting down. And Trixx returned the favor, forever vexing Chat with their illusions.
But the aim of the game was to win and have fun, never to hurt.
Melancholy swept over him. He was alone now and would be for many seasons to come. Chat hadn't minded being alone when he'd been wild, a lone predator stalking his territories, but now he was tamed. A pet needed company.
Humans were a poor substitute for true friends, but he supposed – well, this one seemed fairly likable. The prince's fondness for his childhood friend was palpable even through the distant lens of the mirror.
Childhood friend.
Oh no.
Dark skin and darker hair.
He was supposed to stay away from Nino Lahiffe.