Chapter Text
Brink’s marketplace was bustling even as the shadows grew long across the rocky landscape. Dozens of people streamed through the stalls looking for the best deals on furs, leathers and whatever else the shopkeepers had procured. Shio didn’t mind the noise and jostling of the crowd - it felt almost like Before. A dark shadow flitted across his thoughts as it always did when he thought of home, of his real home, but he sighed and shook it away. Looking forward was his only option now. No point in worrying about what could’ve been.
“Still with me, love?” A hand grasped his wrist and Shio straightened impulsively. Many masters would’ve struck him upon seeing him move without an order. His current one, a noble scorchlander named Garreth was downright kind compared to most, but Shio chided himself internally for losing focus. He had to stay in Garreth’s good graces, had to keep up appearances. It was the only way the Plan was going to work.
“Please forgive me, Master,” Shio murmured, lowering his head demurely. Garreth's laugh was boisterous as he patted the hiver's crown placatingly. Shio endured it as he always did, leaning into the pet like a domesticated bonedog. He hated it, hated debasing himself like this, but he’d been in the UC rotation long enough to know that he had it much better than others as long as he behaved. He would sometimes dream of a mountain of hiver corpses, seeing the faces of other slaves he’d once known. The ones who didn’t behave.
He would occasionally see Shiver’s face in the pile. Those dreams were the ones he awoke from barely holding back his screams. She couldn’t.
“Now now, my Prince, you simply must relax,” Garreth was saying as he distractedly ran his manicured nails along Shio’s antenna. The hiver bit back the involuntary spasm at the sensation. “I’m going to go try on that luscious robe we saw a bit ago. You should pick something out, and I’ll get it for you.” With one final scrape of his nails the noble was waddling off in the direction of the clothing store, leaving Shio alone in the crowd. Garreth was one of the few slavers who didn’t keep as tight a leash on their folk, allowing them to wander within a certain radius. Others viewed this as a foolish move, but they didn’t get to see the punishments Garreth doled out to those who disobeyed him, every manic torture the squat, fat noble could come up with. Shio had seen, though, and he'd played the part of a perfectly docile hiver the entire time he’d been with Garreth. It didn’t stop the touches, or the insistence on sharing baths and beds, but at least Shio could retreat into his mind during those activities. It was a little more difficult to dissociate when your fingers were being chewed off by a landbat.
And, at least with Shio as his plaything, that kept most of Garreth’s other slaves out of his greasy bedsheets. The hiver was comforted by the knowledge that little Shiver would be safe from them every night he wasn’t.
With Garreth occupied, Shio drifted through the marketplace, pulling the thick bulk of his robes tighter around himself. He’d always appreciated Brink for its crowds, but he also liked how distant it felt from the Empire. It was still under the United Cities' jurisdiction, of course, but the air felt lighter there somehow. Less oppressive. He hadn’t heard any screams from beaten slaves that day, which made up most of the background noise back home in Heng. If it weren’t for the steel belt around his waist connected to the chains keeping his knees together, he could almost believe he was just another noble in the crowd, spending a leisurely evening shopping. He let his eyes rove over the various goods and services the stalls boasted, his eyes drinking in the brightly colored fabrics. He wouldn’t mind getting a new headwrap, especially if the Master insisted on buying something for him.
He continued on until a low groan interrupted his thoughts. It came from his left, from the quickly darkening space between the armor shop and a saloon. He almost turned away when he heard the moan again. He knew the sound of pain well, but there were no cracks of whips, no demands shouted to the rhythm of shaking chains. Against his better judgment he shuffled away from the marketplace and into the alley, his eyes having to adjust to the sudden loss of sunlight. For a moment he saw nothing, and then he noticed a small pile of clothing and sand next to the armor shop wall. A thin brown appendage he instantly recognized as a hiver leg was protruding from the bundle alongside a large, rusted skeleton foot. Shio halted a few steps away, wondering if he’d seriously misjudged the noises. In a panic, he made to hurry back to the market when the pile sat up and a pair of hazy red eyes tried to focus on him.
“W-water,” a voice creaked, dry and dusty. It was difficult to tell, between the deepening twilight and the ratted wraps they wore, but after a moment Shio realized that the person was indeed a hiver and, due to the reddish coloration of the skin around their eyes, a southern one at that. They were rarely seen outside the Hive. He wasn’t sure if that was as a result of their unending loyalty to their Queen or because one does not simply leave the southern Hive. He supposed he was grateful that he was at least allowed to leave, even if he hadn't truly wanted to.
The hiver scrabbled at the ground near where he stood, and he took a step back. He needed to get away from here. Either this was someone's runaway slave or they would be soon, and he didn't need to draw any additional attention to himself. He shuffled backward as the hiver advanced, their shaking hands carving lines in the sand. "Water, wa-water-!" Their cries grew more shrill, and Shio panicked. After a cursory glance behind him to make sure they hadn't already been noticed, he knelt down and grabbed them roughly by the shoulders.
"Shh, shut up. You're gonna get us both in trouble," he hissed. The desperate edge didn't leave their eyes and their mouth hung open, but they at least stopped making noise, hands coming to cling at his silk robes. He batted them away and felt bad about it, reaching to his belt to untie the canteen that hung there. "Here-" The word had barely left his lips before they'd seized upon the canteen, bringing it shakily to their mouth. After a short pull they stopped to breathe, savoring the taste.
"Thank you," They whispered, voice still raw. Now that he had a minute, Shio inspected the hiver more closely. The brown, tattered rags they wore were stained a rusted brown in places, but there were no obvious open wounds that he could see, which was good. They also didn't cover the hiver's waist or hips well, and he was surprised to see no chains. So not a runaway slave, he thought. Just another hiver down on their luck. A pang hit low in his chest when the thought that they wouldn't be free for long once again crossed his mind. Sitting outside, clinging to their head and begging for sustenance, they'd be an obvious target for any slaver who paid any attention. Or worse, they could be caught by the Heroes. Shio shuddered, and knew he needed to do something.
Praying that Garreth was still occupied, he began to shuck off his outer robe. He had been gifted several nice ones in his time as a plaything, and he'd worn two on this outing knowing that Brink nights could get chilly, not to mention he was cooler by nature. His under-robe wasn't as lavish as the outer one, being older, but he hoped it'd still do the trick.
"Stand up," he insisted, pulling at the hiver's arm. They groaned and tried to push themselves up, limbs shaking with the effort. He helped them upright and got them propped against the armor shop wall, then pulled the robe up their arms and around their shoulders. They were several feet shorter than he was, and he folded the waist over a time or two to account for their height.
"What… What you doing?" Their voice was still faint but sounded a little stronger, and they took another quick swig from his flask. He knotted the robe around their waist and stood back. Sure, they obviously wouldn't pass for a noble, but properly dressed, perhaps they could at least avoid some of the scrutiny they'd get here.
He reached up, pulling at the scrappy headwrap to tuck into the robe's collar. "Keeping you free," he huffed. With his outer robe back in place, he pulled the canteen out of the hiver's hands. They made a weak noise of protest, but stopped when he shoved a small string of cats into their empty fist. "Can you walk?"
The hiver looked between his face and the money, blinking stupidly. Shio growled and grabbed them around the waist, earning himself a surprised squeak. "You sleep out here, you're gonna get enslaved." He started walking them out of the alleyway, and to their credit they did their best to support their own weight. Their gait was ungainly with their skeleton limb, and he wondered how long they'd had it. How did they end up here, collapsed in a dark alcove? How did they survive leaving their Hive? He burned with questions, but knew he had no right nor the time to ask them. Shuffling quickly, he pulled them around to the front of the saloon and stopped before the door. The crowd in the market had thinned considerably as the sun set, and if the noise inside the building was any indication, a good portion of the crowd had stopped by for a drink.
"Go inside," he muttered, careful to keep his voice down. "They might not have a room this late, but if they do, that string should get you one. If nothing else, it'll buy you food and make you look like less of a target."
The hiver looked up at him, and though their brow was still creased they seemed to be cognizant enough. Still trembling from the exertion, they unwound their arms from around his waist and hobbled over to grasp at the railing. Standing there, backlit by the windows, they struck him as almost pretty. The shape of their antennae was incredibly distinct, forming five soft points at the back of their skull, and he slowly came to the realization that they had to be a Princess. What the hell was a Princess doing away from the Hive? Not that hiver roles matter out here, he thought, closing his eyes against the sudden wash of nausea at his own pet name, mocking in tone more often than not.
Her rasping voice tore him from his reeling thoughts. "Who are you?"
He stopped short, unsure how to answer that question. Who was he, anymore? Did he give his name? Some slaves weren't allowed the use of their Before names. Garreth didn't seem to mind, but introduced him only as his Prince. He was no longer a Prince, not really. Dead to the Hive with a still-beating heart, now just some eastern noble's plaything. He shivered, and opened his mouth.
"I'm no one." He turned away without waiting for a response, shuffling toward the center of town. With his thoughts in such a turmoil he couldn't remember where the clothing store was, and so he deigned to wait in the marketplace until Garreth came to collect him.
"My my, what a delicious little thing she was!" An arm looped with his own and suddenly Garreth's face was all he could see. He resisted the urge to reel away and let the noble pepper him with kisses. "Who does she belong to?"
Shio’s heart sank, realizing there was only one person he could be referring to. How much had he seen? "I'm not sure, Master," he purred, rubbing his face along Garreth's cheek the way he liked. He even chanced a tug at the man's belt, knowing that it was inappropriate in public but desperate to distract him from the topic at hand. There would be no saving the situation if the noble had recognized the robe he'd gifted, or had seen him slip his quarterly allowance into her hands.
Luckily, Garreth was predictably swayed as he giggled into his hand. "Ohh? My little Prince was lonely at market, hmm? Why don't we retire to the Bastion, then? I've got us a cozy little room downstairs. No one will be able to interrupt us."
"Please," Shio cooed, relief and dread flooding his system in equal measure as they turned toward the upper-class side of town, headed to their hotel room and yet another long, painful night. He kept himself distracted through it all with thoughts of the Plan, of Shiver, and of the strange street Princess with a metal leg.