Moonflower #17
Masterpost
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Warnings: implied domestic abuse
Iris woke up with a throbbing headache. She had been tucked into bed, which she didn’t remember doing.
The morning light filtered through her windows, and it made her head pound.
But in order to close the curtains, she’d have to get up.
Iris groaned and pulled her blanket over her head.
“Oh good,” said a quiet voice. “You’re awake.”
It took her a moment to recognize that it was Kit. “What time is it?” she mumbled.
“Twelve after ten.”
Alarm ran through her, and she shot up. She winced.
“Take it easy,” said Kit. “It’s your day off.”
“Oh thank god.” Iris fell back against her pillows, vaguely nauseous. Kit stood next to her bed, amused.
“Did you even go to bed?” she asked.
“I slept.”
“In your room?”
“You were drunk. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”
“Thanks,” she said, closing her eyes. “Could you go get me some breakfast? With orange juice?”
Iris was aware she was whining, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. She could have asked Kit to magic away her hangover, but she deserved it for drinking so much. Served her right.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Kit left, and Iris lay in her bed, trying to will herself to shower.
The need to use the bathroom eventually forced her out of bed.
Showering did make her feel better, and the floral soap lifted her mood.
By the time she had finished and gotten dressed, Kit had breakfast waiting for her.
“Have you eaten?” she asked, uncovering the french toast and pouring herself coffee.
“Yes,” he said.
“Good.”
Kit sat on the floor as she ate, and Iris could see a strong dark green coming in at his scalp.
“Your hair isn’t black, is it?”
He seemed startled by the question. “No,” he said simply.
“It’s changing color,” she continued, “You’ve got some green coming in. I take it that’s good?”
A faint smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Mhm.”
Slight disappointment coursed through her.
It seemed that for every day Kit had a conversation with her, he’d be nearly silent the next.
“Let’s get some sun after breakfast,” she suggested. “I’ve been inside all week, and you need to pick out where your garden will be.”
“I get to choose?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
Kit shrugged halfheartedly. Getting words out of him would be difficult today; she could tell.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he had said that first evening. Maybe he just needed a topic.
“Have you thought about what you want to do with it?” she asked.
“A little.” Iris waited, taking a sip of her orange juice.
“I… I’d like it to look like home,” he explained, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “Just a bit.”
“Are you going to plant some wild roses?”
Kit nodded. “If I’m allowed.”
Iris stood from her chair. “You can plant whatever you want, Kit.”
“Even a tree? Ivy? Berry bushes?” he asked, following her out the door.
“I did say whatever you want.” Brennan greeted them with a nod, and they headed down the hall. “I’m not particularly interested in gardening, Kit. I don’t care what you plant; go wild.”
Kit brightened beside her, and Iris hid a smile. He was sweet, and he deserved a place that was his; that he could choose himself.
The late morning air was warm, slightly humid, and she assumed that was good for a plant fae like Kit.
He seemed to soak in the sun, and he truly looked much better than before.
Jeff was weeding a flower bed, wheelbarrow beside him and trowel in hand.
“Good morning, Jeff.”
Jeff looked up, and squinted in the bright sun.
“Morning, your majesty.” His eyes slid over to Kit, who winced. “Morning… you.”
“Hello,” said Kit.
“I’ve offered Kit a spot on the grounds. Something just for him to look over.”
Jeff didn’t look pleased, but he knew better than to argue with her. “Fine with me,” he said tightly.
“Great,” Iris gave him a sunny smile. “Thank you for understanding.”
Jeff softened a little before turning back to his work.
They wandered the gardens; Kit looking around for the perfect spot.
“Anything catch your eye yet?”
“Sorry,” he said.
“No, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “I don’t mind. I could use the exercise.”
They rounded a corner, and Kit stopped.
“What is it?”
“I, uh, I like that corner over there.”
Iris followed his gaze. The high garden wall met the castle, and the castle wall curved inwards, creating a small nook. It was empty, save for a tree that created a patch of shade against the sun.
“What do you like about it?” she asked lightly, curious.
Pink tinged Kit’s cheeks. “It’s quiet,” he said. “And out of the way. And, um, it looks nice for a nap,” he added quickly. “And the walls… I don’t have to worry about someone sneaking up on me.”
Iris recalled how James Harbor had boasted about catching Kit with an iron-laced net while he slept.
“Then it’s yours.”
___________________
Three days later, and Kit dozed under the oak. It was the perfect temperature; warm but not hot, and he curled into the protective roots of the tree.
A robin sang sweetly in the branches, and Kit hummed along.
Iris was busy in a meeting, and he had wanted a nap to pass the time.
He was right about how peaceful it was.
It seemed like this spot had been forgotten about, and he liked it that way. The perfect little oasis; where he could be left alone.
“Mr. Kit?”
Or not.
Kit yawned, stretching out. “Hm?”
“I- I need some help.”
Kit’s eyes flew open, and in front of him stood the red-haired maid from before. David.
He had a black eye, and he was holding a rucksack.
Kit sat up. “What happened?”
David sniffed, lip trembling, and Kit noticed his slight sway.
“Hey,” he said, softly. “Come here.”
David sank into the grass, and Kit scooted over to sit next to him.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” said David. “I- I should b-be at home. But I don’t want to go home anymore.”
His breath smelled like alcohol.
“Have you been drinking?”
David nodded, resting his chin on his legs. “I thought it would help,” he said. “It always helps Dad.”
“It doesn’t really work that way.”
David burst into tears.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he sobbed. “My face hurts and he takes all my money and now we don’t have anything for food because he spent it all and he gets mad at me for it and-”
David gasped for air, and Kit pulled him close. David wept into his shirt.
“I-” Kit worked his jaw, trying to sort out what he could and couldn’t say. “Are you hungry?” he settled on. Food never hurt anyone.
David nodded. “Y-yeah. We- we ran out of… I really tried. I really did.” His voice was so small, and anger bubbled in Kit’s chest.
“Let’s go get some lunch, and we’ll figure something out.”
David sniffled. “Okay.”
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