From the moment I saw it, I knew I needed the Juno Collection in my Sims 2 game as well as my Sims 4 game. At last! Here's a 4to2 conversion of @surely-sims and @ice-creamforbreakfast's Juno Collection build and buy items. In the above preview, you can see ICFB's wall art, and two selections from Country Carpets and Country Walls.
The tiki bar is cloned from the Freetime juice bar and has the same features. I made a version of the Pineapple Ice Bucket that's open. You can see it in the second preview above. It's repo'd to the Pineapple Ice Bucket. There's Surely-Sims' hot dog couch in the third preview with ICFB's Juno In The Moon wall light and wall art.
Above you see the Lobster Clock, Mind Boggling Mirror, Glove Chair, two of the Gelatin Tables, Clay UFO wall art, the Large Bust, the atomic pet bed and an auto pet feeder. I made a smaller bust that's repo'd to Surely-Sims' original size. The mirror is not shift-able. I tried to make it shift up and down and fubar'd that copy of the mesh big time and decided to leave it as is. Hint-hint to anyone that can get it done right. I put the pet dish together with the auto pet feeder. I cloned one of @jacky93sims's auto pet feeders to make the mesh.
I lost the screenshot I took of ICFB's Judith Doll but you can see the Oscillating Judith doll taking a spin around Emit and Juno as they dance. It's cloned from a ceiling fan, forget whose at the moment. Judith will plow through whomever and whatever is in her circular path. Judith is hi-poly. The Juno In The Moon wall light is a neon light. You can see it lit up in the second preview above. Throughout the previews you can see all kinds of examples of the Country Carpets in plain and patterns and the Country Walls in plains and patterns. In the last preview, we find Juno lounging on the Chilly Brunch Rug. The rug has a separate download file, It has 54 recolors. Swatch included so you can pick and choose if you don't want that many. The walls and floors are in their own download, as well.
There are swatches for all the items, the files are compressed, and there's a collection file that includes all the items from both parts of the Juno Collection.
Downloads:
Chilly Brunch Rug
Surely-Sims Juno Collection
Ice-Cream for Breakfast Juno Collection
Country Walls and Carpets.
Collection Files
***Original Sims 4 versions can be found HERE and HERE!
Juno found it when he was deep cleaning the kitchen.
Master Nikolai was at work, and the usual chores were done. He hadn’t gotten to cleaning out the pantry and wiping inside the cupboards and such yet, so now was as good a time as any. He wouldn’t need to again for at least three months.
The wine bottle was in the back of the liquor cabinet, so dusty that the black screw-top was gray.
Juno turned the bottle over in his hand, confused. His fingers left marks where he’d disturbed the dust.
He wiped the bottle clean with his rag automatically.
It was wine, certainly. The shape of the bottle told him that. But it wasn’t a red, and Nikolai only drank reds. It was pink; what must be a rosé, and it had a screw-top. Master only bought corked wines.
“Part of the fun of wine,” Master had said once, “is uncorking. And aerating, of course. It makes it feel more special, even if it’s a ten dollar bottle.” He was a chatty man, even though Juno couldn’t speak back.
The rosé had no cork.
Juno set the alien bottle on the counter, and moved on to cleaning the inside of the cabinet.
Master liked drinking. It bothered Juno at first, but soon he realized Master Nikolai didn’t drink more than two or three times a week, and never more than a glass at a time.
He drank when he was in a particularly good mood, Juno noticed. Or when he needed cheering. Always wine.
Master Nikolai had vodka, once. One shot, on what Juno learned was the anniversary of his father’s death.
The clear vodka with the Russian letters had remained untouched since. But that was a precious bottle, surely.
The pink rosé was a mystery. Nikolai would never have bought it for himself.
Juno wondered what it tasted like. He’d never had alcohol. Not even one of those ten dollar bottles.
Master wouldn’t mind, would he? It must have been forgotten by the amount of dust.
Juno finished wiping the cabinet, and carefully filled it again with the vodka, then the reds, in order of color. He couldn’t really organize them any other way, not with how he couldn’t read the labels.
The rosé was left on the counter.
Juno glanced at the clock.
Master wouldn’t be home for another three hours.
He wouldn’t miss the bottle. And Juno... he wanted to feel special. Cheery. Wine made days better. Like a candle that smelled nice, or a soap that left skin soft.
Nice things were meant to be used.
Like when Master brought home fresh flowers or fine chocolates. “A little treat never hurt anyone,” he said.
Juno twisted the cap, and Master was right. It wasn’t as fun as a pop from a cork.
He sniffed it.
It smelled… okay.
Juno set the cap down. He shifted, uncertain. He opened the cupboard with the cups.
Should he use a wine glass? Swirl it, to add air or whatever ‘aerate’ meant?
No. That would use up more dishes, he decided. He didn’t want to make more work.
Juno took a sip, straight from the bottle.
It was disgusting, almost.
He grimaced. Maybe it would get better?
Juno gulped it, shuddering. It was a little sweeter, now that he was used to it. Still somewhat unpleasant, the scent of rubbing alcohol lingering in his nose.
The third sip was much better. And so was the one after that, and the one after that-
Juno leaned against the counter.
It was good, actually. No wonder Nikolai liked wine. It went down so easily, once he was used to it. Sweet, and something more. Deeper. A slight bitterness.
It would be even better fizzy, he thought, sliding down to the floor, sitting with his back to the cabinets.
The rosé did cheer him up. Or at least, made everything rounder. The world lost its sharp and unpleasant edges, and he could feel himself forgetting.
Is this what made people happy? Forgetting?
Juno could drink to that. He would drink to that.
He lifted the bottle to an imaginary cheers, and drank again. And again.
Juno set the bottle down with a clank against the kitchen floor. Harder than he should. But being gentle and careful was suddenly difficult.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
He’d fucked up. His stomach hurt. Juno tried to stand to put the wine away but the world swam and he lurched and wobbled.
When did the room start spinning?
The wine would make it feel better. The wine had already made him feel better about everything.
Juno drank.
And vomited. It burned coming back up, and he burst into tears.
He made a mess- why couldn’t he stop fucking up- he always fucking up- useless piece of shit-
___________________
Nikolai Stellos had a very normal day, relatively speaking.
It was all relative when Juno lived with him. Juno was happy, at least, as far as he could tell, and it was nice coming home to another human being.
Maybe he should get a cat. For the both of them, but mainly so Juno wouldn’t be lonely. He’d love a kitten.
Nikolai set his briefcase down and fiddled with his keys. He finally found the proper one, and unlocked his door.
The sound of crying hit him first, alarm shooting through him like lightning. Juno hadn’t wept in so long-
Nikolai followed the distress into the kitchen.
Juno was sprawled out on the floor, sobbing into the tile. A puddle of vomit lay splattered nearby, and a mostly empty bottle of rosé had rolled just out of Juno’s reach.
“Oh, Juno,” Nikolai sighed, picking up the bottle and sitting it on the counter. He had completely forgotten about it. And only a fourth was left.
Juno whined, a soft little sound, and Nikolai’s heart twisted.
“It’s alright. I’m not mad. You drank too much, that’s all. Let’s get you to bed.”
Nikolai pulled Juno into his arms, and Juno made a terrible gagging sound.
“Then again, maybe not.”
Nikolai helped Juno to the nearest bathroom, propping him up next to the toilet.
Niko felt his forehead. Not cold, not hot. “Did you have lunch before you started drinking?”
An ‘mhm’ came out twisted and whiny in response, Juno squinting in the bathroom light.
“Good. I’m going to go get you some nice cool water.”
Nikolai stood, and Juno retched into the toilet, spitting vomit into the bowl. Poor thing.
He checked the alcohol percentage on the rosé. It was a pretty light bottle, all things considered, but Juno was small and inexperienced with alcohol as far as he knew.
Niko took a package of saltines with him to the bathroom, along with the water. They could work their way up to juice.
Juno looked miserable, slumped over the toilet and groaning.
“Here, drink.”
Nikolai pressed the water to Juno’s lips, and his throat bobbed as he gulped.
He gasped for air when Nikolai set it aside.
Nikolai could guess why Juno wanted the wine. And why he couldn’t stop himself from drinking it. But it didn’t hurt to make sure.
“Were you drinking because you wanted to feel better?” He asked quietly.
A tiny nod.
“And it worked a little too well, didn’t it?”
Another strangled whine.
“I thought so.”
Nikolai fed Juno a cracker.
“I’ll watch over you. After you’ve stopped throwing up, you’re going to bed. Okay?”
Juno closed his eyes, relief spreading over his flushed face.
“Good.”
___________________
They ended up putting a lock on the liquor cabinet. Juno’s idea, actually, drawn out on his paper since he didn’t have a specific stamp that had a lock on it.
Juno didn’t trust himself to stop drinking.
And after all he’d been through, of course he’d find it difficult.
So Nikolai hid the key, replaced the glass door of the liquor cabinet with a solid wood one, and kept his drinking to after Juno was in bed.
The small changes were nothing if it meant Juno was more comfortable.
It was the least he could do.
Aside from getting him a cat.
Nikolai got his laptop and looked up the nearest animal shelter.
Listen, Mary Margaret enjoying eating a golden statue on a hot dog bun was funnier in my head, okay?
The work and love put into all of the pieces of the Juno Collection (Surely's side) (ICB's side) is just stunning. You wonderful people absolutely wowed on this one. She is beauty, she is grace, she is this AMAZING Juno Birch CC collection!
Thank you so much, @surely-sims and @ice-creamforbreakfast!
(I may or may not stop tagging you about it now 😁)
Juno pressed play on the answering machine again. It beeped, replaying the last message.
Master’s voice was tinny on the old thing, but clear.
“I’ll be back soon, Juno. Be good and stay put.”
Juno was good. He was quiet; mindful of the shared walls of the townhouse. He obeyed, he cleaned and cooked.
But there was no more food in the house.
He ate small the first day, unsure when Master would be back. Soon, he said.
Juno had run out of rice and canned beans a few days ago, and the fridge was empty. So was the freezer.
The pantry too, was bare.
Everything was gone. Everything. There was no juice, no mustard or soy sauce even, no crackers or old onions or even honey.
Master had cleaned before he left, but Juno had assumed he was going grocery shopping later.
Instead, Master was gone the next morning, with orders to stay put.
Juno swept the kitchen floor.
There weren’t many crumbs.
He ate them anyway and drank water to wash the taste out.
___________________
It had been seven days since his owner had left.
The crumbs were yesterday.
Juno slept. There was nothing else to do. The house was sparkling and he was so tired-
___________________
He woke up at noon, according to his alarm clock, his only possession aside from his worn blanket.
He was cold. His long shirt covered down to nearly his knees, and his blanket covered the rest, but he was still cold. Unusual, considering how cozy the closet usually was.
The red numbers of his clock were a comforting familiar glow. He watched it tick to 12:01, breathing deep to calm himself. To be brave.
Juno crawled out of his pet bed and out of the linen closet where he slept. He shivered, his vision fuzzy for a moment.
The house was quiet aside from the rumbling of his stomach.
Master was not back.
Stay put.
Juno did not cry. It would make him hungrier.
He checked the kitchen again.
No food.
Juno took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. Warm, for the heat. He sipped it slowly. Once, on TV, he heard someone say that eating slower made you feel full faster. He wasn’t sure if it would work when he hadn’t eaten at all.
Juno washed the glass when he was done. He dried it.
Put it back on the shelf.
12:06 according to the stove clock.
He wanted lunch.
There was no lunch.
Juno padded slowly to the living room, and sat on the rug.
He wasn’t supposed to watch TV when Master wasn’t home.
Juno turned it on anyway, dread pooling in his empty and aching stomach.
He found a nature documentary about lions.
He had to turn it off when they started eating antelope. Too jealous.
Juno crawled back into bed.
He did not cry.
___________________
It was evening when he woke again, his head pounding.
5:37
Stay put.
Juno couldn’t do it anymore.
He peered out the closed curtains of the living room, eyes trained on the neighbor’s house.
He wanted help.
He wasn’t supposed to leave the house, ever.
The neighbor, and his car, were in the driveway. Sleek, shiny, black car. Tall man, dark hair.
He was unloading groceries.
Juno watched, his stomach turning and twisting and nauseating. His mouth watered.
The neighbor was going to eat today, and Juno was not. His kitchen and tummy would be full, and Juno’s was not.
Master hadn’t even left alcohol, not even a sip of wine in an empty bottle. Not that Juno would dare.
His eyes grew wet, and he recoiled from the window.
Should he?
Juno sat on the couch, another forbidden thing, his head tipped back. He stared at the ceiling.
His head hurt.
Juno twitched back the curtain.
The neighbor was gone. Inside, probably.
Juno swallowed, working up the nerve.
The worst they would do was beat him. He could deal with that.
He slipped out the front door and crept next door.
It was nerve-wracking, his bare feet on unfamiliar grass and the sun shining down to expose his every bruise and paleness-
He wasn’t supposed to be out here.
Juno ducked behind the neighbor’s flowering bushes, the mulch wet on his skin.
His breaths came short and quick, and he was growing dizzy from fear.
The worst he’ll do is beat you, he told himself. That’s not so bad.
He peeked out from behind the flowers.
There was no one watching, no one staring. If he wanted, he could go home and no one would know.
But he needed to eat. Food was only a doorway away.
Juno stumbled up to the front door, and knocked.
___________________
Nikolai Stellos had barely finished taking out the ingredients for dinner (chicken and pasta), when he heard a soft knock at his door.
It was barely audible over his music, so he turned down the volume before heading over.
Who could be knocking at this hour? It was dinner time, and it wasn’t like he was expecting anyone.
Nikolai opened the door.
A small boy, barely older than a teen, surely, was trembling on his front step.
His skin was as pale as skim milk, mottled with bruises, and he was barefoot. His only clothes were a ratty shirt that fell to his knees.
To make matters worse, he was bony and so thin that Niko could probably wrap his hand around his wrist with room to spare.
Nikolai stared, dumbstruck.
The boy stared back, shaking.
“Hello,” Nikolai said. “Where did you come from?”
He peered out into the street, left and right. They were alone.
The boy, with a sickeningly skinny arm, pointed to the next house over.
Which wasn’t possible. It wasn’t.
Callahan was on vacation. Nikolai had been collecting his mail for him for a week. Callahan had lived next door, alone, for years.
Who was this kid?
“You better come inside,” Nikolai told him, mind reeling.
The young man nodded, eyes wet. He was so small.
Nikolai led him in.
“When’s the last time you ate?” he asked, casting a look over his shoulder.
The boy held up two fingers. Nikolai’s heart sank.
“Two days?”
A flinch, then nod.
Fuck.
“Sit there.”
His guest sat at the table, eyes down at the wood. Ashamed, probably.
Nikolai poured a tall glass of grape juice, and set it in front of him.
“Sip on that, alright? I’ll make you some food.”
So much for chicken and pasta. He didn’t want the boy getting sick over something so rich.
Rice, probably, made with stock for extra calories. Salad didn’t have much in the way of calories. Vitamins and minerals could wait until later.
Nikolai glanced over at his guest. The glass was already empty.
Nikolai worried his lip before getting a small bowl and filling it with craisins and nuts.
He slid it across the table. The boy perked up, looking up at him with wide blue eyes.
“Dinner will be in twenty minutes, alright? Eat slowly, or you might throw it up.”
The young man nodded, relief on his open face.
There were deep purple hollows under his eyes, and a ghost of a green bruise on his jaw.
How could Callahan have done this?
Nikolai turned.
There was fish in the fridge. Rice and fish. He’d have to see how that settled in the kid.
___________________
Dinner was a quiet affair.
His guest hadn’t said a word, but he did eat slower now that he had something in his belly.
The boy almost started crying a few times, but he wiped his tears and just kept eating. Eventually he was even swinging his legs as his face twisted to try and keep his sobs down.
Nikolai collected the dishes after letting the young man literally lick his clean.
“Now,” he said, leaning against the counter. “What’s all this about?”
The boy looked up, red tingeing the tips of his ears.
To Niko’s surprise, the boy got up and tugged at Nikolai’s sleeve.
Confused, Niko let himself be pulled along.
To the door, even outside, to Callahan’s place.
He swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he would see in there. Nothing good.
They went inside.
The house was clean, tidy.
But the kitchen-
All the cabinets were open. And bare. Not even dust on the shelves.
Nikolai checked the fridge as the boy stood there.
Nothing. Scrubbed. Not even a mostly-empty jar of mayo, which even most people had lying around.
The pantry, too, was vacant.
This- this had to be planned. No one had absolutely nothing.
There was a whimper behind him, and Nikolai turned.
The boy pointed to an old answering machine on the counter. It had a blinking light, indicating a message.
Nikolai hit play.
Callahan’s voice crackled to life.
“I’ll be back soon, Juno. Be good and stay put.”
It was a lie. Callahan was supposed to be gone for three more weeks.
Juno, that was his name, was meant to starve to death in this house.
Nikolai turned, and Juno must have seen his thoughts on his face, because he began to cry.
“Oh, honey-”
He pulled Juno into a hug.
Juno stood stiff, frozen. Unused to hugs, clearly. He pushed Nikolai away a little, slumped.
“What is it?”
Juno tugged at his sleeve again, back towards the living room. To the linen closet.
There was a simple slide lock installed on the outside of the door.
Inside, there was a filthy dog bed, stained so much that the brown plush was black in places. It was horribly squished. A ratty blanket was shoved into a corner, full of holes. An old alarm clock was tucked against a wall.
Juno slept in a hall closet. On a dog bed.
Nikolai stared down at the thing.
How long had it been since it had been washed? How long had Juno lived here?
How had Callahan so easily hid him?
“You’re not sleeping here tonight,” Nikolai said, turning to Juno. “You’ll stay with me, okay?”
Juno nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Nikolai paused, cocking his head.
“Does anyone else know you live here?”
Juno shook his head.
Nikolai thought.
If Callahan could hide Juno away, so could he.
___________________
Nikolai, that was the neighbor’s name, ordered him to rest.
He was pretty sleepy after such a big meal, but..
It felt wrong not to do the dishes. That was his job.
Orders were orders. So he sat still when Nikolai wrapped a quilt around him, and obediently took the pillows offered, and listened to the sound of water and clinking glass.
Juno stretched out on the couch, a position he hadn’t been able to sleep in for so long.
It was nice, he thought, clutching one of the pillows to his chest. It was soft and fluffy. He liked kneading it.
Sleep came for him soon enough.
___________________
Juno woke up with a jolt, confused and scared. It was dark, like he was in his closet, but the air wasn’t still and stuffy-
He sat up, heart pounding.
Where- oh.
He was in the neighbors- Nikolai’s- house.
It was wrong. It was bad. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Juno untangled himself from the warm quilt and soft pillows, his feet hitting the plush rug.
He was cold already, but it didn’t matter.
Master could be home tomorrow, and the bathroom could use another scrub.
He slipped out the front door, closing it as softly as he could.
The night air was cool and clean. He breathed it in as he walked home.
___________________
Nikolai woke up earlier than usual for a Saturday.
He yawned, stretched, and went to make coffee and check on Juno.
The machine was set automatically; a steaming pot waiting for him. He poured out a mug, stirring in some milk and sugar.
Maybe Juno would want a cup.
Nikolai padded into the living room.
The couch was empty.
Nikolai blinked.
Juno was gone.
He set down his mug, slipped on the closest shoes he could grab, and jogged next door.
Callahan’s place was still unlocked.
“Juno?” he called, shutting the door behind him.
No reply.
He checked the closet. No Juno.
Niko went room by room, and found him in the en suite bathroom.
Scrubbing the tile grout. It already looked pristine, but the smell of chemicals was strong.
“Juno,” he said quietly. The boy looked up, sitting back on his heels. “I- I’m not sure you know this but… Callahan went on vacation.”
Juno stared.
“He’s not supposed to be back until next month.”
Juno ducked his head. His hands, cracked and dry, clutched the scrub brush.
Nikolai crouched down.
“Juno. Please. Come with me. You don’t have to stay here. Let’s get breakfast, okay?”
Juno sniffled, wiping his face with his hand, which still stank of bleach.
But he nodded, and stood, shaking-
And fainted.
Nikolai lunged, catching him before his head hit the hard floor.
He was so light.
Nikolai scooped him up.
Fuck this place. Fuck Callahan.
Juno was his now.
___________________
He woke up in Nikolai’s house again, tucked into the makeshift bed on the couch.
The warm scent of hot coffee floated around the room, and he could smell the beginnings of bacon.
Juno’s stomach rumbled. Even after last night, he was still hungry.
He sat up, his vision swimming with blackness.
“Take it easy,” Nikolai said. “You’re underfed and tired.”
Juno didn’t disagree.
Nikolai set a plate on the coffee table, and a glass of more juice.
“Here. Breakfast.”
Juno nibbled on the bacon and buttered toast.
He wanted to scarf it down, to shovel it into his mouth as quickly as he could.
He just didn’t have the energy.
Nikolai sat in an armchair across from him, mug of coffee in hand.
“How about a hot shower after you eat? I have a spare toothbrush, comb, and towels, and you can use my soaps. I’ll buy you your own bottles and such soon.”
Juno nodded, mouth full of bacon.
It had been ages since he’d been allowed to clean himself up.
But if Nikolai was going to buy him soaps, did that mean Nikolai was his new owner?
___________________
Juno was grinning when he came out of the shower. He was swallowed up by Niko’s pajamas, but his dark brown hair was fluffy and his skin so much clearer.
“Feeling better?”
Juno nodded, shyly smiling up at him.
“Good.”
Nikolai pat the couch next to him. “Sit. I’m looking at ordering some clothes for you online. You can help me pick what you’d like.”
___________________
Juno missed his bed, and the closet.
The couch was nice, long enough to stretch out, but it was… too different.
He liked sleeping in the closet. It was like he was tucked away like a toy in its proper place. It was restful. Here, in the living room, was messy and unorganized.
Nik- Master, told him to stay. He lived here now.
Maybe Juno could disobey one last time.
The pet bed was worth a punishment.
___________________
Nikolai checked on Juno before he got his coffee, and found him in front of the couch.
Curled up on his dog bed.
He must have taken it from Callahan’s.
Nikolai wrinkled his nose.
Juno was attached to the thing, but why?
Maybe he should ask about it. The poor thing ought to be comfortable in his own home.
He shrugged, and went to go make breakfast.
French toast, he decided.
___________________
Nikolai watched Juno eat. He was slower now, and his hollow parts were already filling in.
The ratty blanket was in his lap as he ate. It was so worn in some places, Nikolai could see the pattern of the pajama pants through it.
“Juno,” he began, and Juno’s head snapped up. Tilted, like a cat cocking its head. “How would you feel about having your own bedroom? My office used to be a guest room. Would you like that?”
Juno’s ears turned pink, and he clutched his fork, looking away.
He shook his head.
“Where would you like to sleep then?”
Juno set down his dish, and stood.
Nikolai followed him, and to his surprise, Juno went straight to the hall linen closet.
“No.” Absolutely not.
Juno looked up at him, and then away.
“Do you really prefer closets?”
Juno shrugged, staring at his feet.
“Okay, why do you want a closet?”
Juno shifted, then brought his hands together like he was holding a box.
A small space then. Maybe larger rooms made him afraid.
“I have an idea.”
Nikolai led Juno to his own room, which had a large walk-in closet. He didn’t use half of it, since he lived alone.
“How about in here?”
He opened the door to show Juno.
The unused half had a shelf low enough to be a sort of roof, if they laid a mattress under it. Juno could even decorate with a curtain and string lights and pillows. Much larger than a linen closet.
“This could be your space, if you like it.”
Juno beamed up at him, nodding.
___________________
Three weeks later, and Juno couldn’t be happier.
His clothes were all soft sweaters and long shirts, socks and pajamas. Master Nikolai gifted him a mattress for his closet, and even a plush cat and lights to hang up.
Juno started waking up before Master, made them both breakfast and packing Master’s lunches, and his owner even gave him a kiss on the forehead before he left for work.
There were no punishments, no beatings, no locks on the outside of his closet. Just chores and treats and hugs.
There was nothing to fear.
Until his previous owner came home.
___________________
Nikolai read the text, a cool anger swirling in his chest.
“Juno, hide in your room, okay? Callahan will be here in a moment.”
He heard Juno scramble off to the safety of his bed, replying to the message with a thumbs-up.
He sipped his coffee.
Callahan had no way to know Juno was here, and Nikolai needed to hide his disgust at the man so he wouldn’t suspect.
As far as anyone knew, Callahan lived alone with no pets. He’d made his own trap. He couldn’t accuse Nikolai of anything.
Maybe he wouldn’t even care.
After all, Juno was meant to starve to death.
His doorbell rang. He could practically see Juno’s flinch, it was so familiar now.
He took a deep breath, and picked up the stack of mail from the counter.
Niko opened the door.
“Hey Callahan,” he said with a smile, “How was your trip?”
Callahan grinned back, but his hair was out of place and his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“It was great,” he said. “Relaxing.”
Nikolai offered out the mail. “Glad to hear it.”
Callahan took the stack from him. “Thanks for picking it up. Oh, did you happen to see anything odd while I was gone?”
“Odd?” Nikolai blinked. “Like what?”
“It’s probably nothing,” Callahan said. “Just some of my things look out of place.”
Nikolai frowned. “Anything missing?”
“No,” Callahan admitted. “Like I said, probably nothing.”
Nikolai shrugged. “Well, you have been gone for a month. Let me know if you can’t find valuables. I’d hate to think something like that could happen in this neighborhood of all places.”
“Right. Well, thanks for the mail.”
“Anytime.”
Nikolai closed the door, relief and hatred twisting in an odd knot.
It was a warmer night, almost too warm for a suit.
Nikolai walked regardless, too wound up from the day to take a taxi and risk a conversation. Besides, his apartment in Garden Towers wasn’t far enough from the financial district to justify the expense. Even if the expense was hardly pocket change.
He could use the exercise. Too much time on a computer wasn’t healthy, and with the market and paperwork all digital, he spent most of the day sitting down.
It was a nice night.
The streetlights had just come on, the sky darkened to a dim blue. Here in the city, it was impossible to see the stars, but Mother was probably enjoying the cloudless spring night at the estate.
Crickets chirped in the hedges and potted plants, growing silent when he passed by. A few birds still sat on wires, but they were quiet. Nikolai could hear the low hum of distant traffic. A slight breeze in the air carried the scent of food; no doubt someone cooking with a window open.
His stomach rumbled. Nikolai’s building wasn’t far off, but a snack wouldn’t ruin his appetite.
He kept a few options in his bag anyway.
Niko stopped to fish out a granola bar.
A sudden crash came from the alley. He dropped the bar.
Nikolai looked into the dark alleyway, wary. A metal dumpster lid was swinging, no doubt it had banged against its metal side.
A shadow moved, fast, scrambling out of the dumpster.
A raccoon? Some sort of animal-
Nikolai grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight.
Eyes reflected the light back at him, but it was no raccoon.
A foxboy- teenage? Adult?- stared, frozen. A rotten chicken carcass in its mouth.
It- he- was filthy and had no clothes. Naked and streaked with grime.
Bones jutted through his skin, and Nikolai could see every frantic pulse of his ribs as he breathed. His collarbones seemed ready to burst through.
The foxboy was trembling, black fur puffed and ears swiveled back. Tail between his legs. The white tip was gray.
Fear, Nikolai knew. There was no growling.
It was like seeing a stray bearded dragon or parrot or tiger.
Because surely this was a pet. Foxboys were far too rare, far too exotic to be anything but.
He didn’t even know it was legal to own one in the city.
Well. The poor thing wasn’t owned now. No collar. Unfed.
“Hey there,” he finally managed to choke out. “You want something to eat?”
Ears perked forward.
Nikolai slowly, without taking his eyes off the animal, bent down to pick up his granola bar.
He stayed crouched low, squatting.
“Here you are.”
He held out the bar.
The foxboy’s pupils grew wide. He dropped the carcass, thank God, and darted forward.
He snatched the bar and retreated. Sat in front of his previous prize, the chicken, guarding it.
At first, Nikolai worried about the wrapper, but no. The foxboy ripped it with ragged and broken claws and shoveled the food in so fast it would have choked a less determined creature.
Nikolai searched his bag. He was sure he had an apple too, and yes there it was.
He offered it, palm open.
The foxboy’s fur was less puffy now, his ears forward and tail happily swishing.
“You’re a pet, aren’t you?” he asked softly as the animal approached slower, eyes on the apple and nose twitching. He didn’t answer, focused on the singular mission of eating.
Now that he was closer, Nikolai still couldn’t tell how old he was. He didn’t have experience with such things. He was small, but didn’t have the figure of a child, but that just could be his boniness.
“Were you left here?” he asked. It was rhetorical. No one accidentally lost such a distinctive animal for so long without looking. Not to such a degree that their lost pet was this sick.
The smell was awful too- stank of rot and sweat and possibly urine-
The foxboy had finished the apple, core and all, and looked up at Nikolai for more.
He didn’t have more food on him, but he held out his hand, palm down and relaxed.
The foxboy carefully sniffed at his knuckles, tongue flicking out to give his hand a little lick.
Oh, he was precious. Even in this state, Nikolai could tell he was adorable.
Nikolai slowly moved to pet the animal between the ears. His dark fur was so soft, despite that it was oily and greasy. Only God knew how long it had been since he’d been washed.
The foxboy leaned into the touch, pressing so hard he nearly fell over.
“You want to come home with me?” Niko asked.
A pause. The tip of the creature’s tail flicked.
“I’ve got food,” he coaxed.
That was the magic phrase, because the foxboy headbutted his hand, rubbing his cheek on it.
Message received.
___________________
The puzzle was getting the foxboy inside.
He followed well enough, but he was nude and Nikolai was pretty sure it was either illegal to own a foxboy without a license, or it was against his lease, or both.
Maybe he could sneak him up to the tenth floor unnoticed. He prayed silently as he coaxed the animal inside, through the lobby, and to the elevator.
No one was downstairs, and the elevator was already on the first floor.
He pressed the button, the gray steel doors sliding open.
“Come on,” he said, stepping through.
The foxboy did not follow.
Shit.
Nikolai held down the open door button.
The foxboy’s fur was standing on end again, and he peered into the elevator.
Nerves.
“I know, but it will take us upstairs to my home.”
The tail curled up between the foxboy's legs.
“That’s where dinner is,” he pleaded.
The foxboy ducked his head, lowering himself to a crawl as he slinked inside.
Nikolai felt bad- he did- but ten flights of stairs was not a journey worth the risk.
The doors closed.
The elevator began to move.
The foxboy scrambled to a corner, making himself small against the wall.
Whines poured from him like crying, his eyes darting, pupils tiny in a sea of blue.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Nikolai reassured him, but it was futile.
He reached over to pet him, but the foxboy flinched.
Touch from a stranger wasn't going to help.
Instead, Nikolai felt for his keys and hoped no one else needed the lift.
Finally, after an eternity watching the numbers tick up, the doors opened.
The foxboy darted out.
Why was he so fast-
Nikolai went after him, and luckily the animal had frozen in the hall.
Still low on the ground, ears moving on a swivel. Was he confused? Never used an elevator before, probably.
It must seem like magic to him.
Nikolai could see dark letters on the nape of the foxboy’s neck, but there was no time.
“Come on, food this way,” he said, putting a gentle hand on the creature’s shoulder. He guided him to his apartment, praising him.
“Good boy,” he breathed. “Just a moment.”
He ushered the foxboy in, closing and locking the door tight.
Nikolai had promised there would be food. He tossed his bag aside. Better to fulfill that sooner than later, or there might be a problem. He didn’t know this animal.
He fetched a bowl and grabbed what fruit he had.
“Here.”
The foxboy didn’t even wait until the bowl was fully on the floor before shoving his face into the blueberries.
“I’m going to cook now,” he told him. “Then I’ll give you more.”
The letters were more visible now. They sat just below where his fur began.
Nikolai craned his neck to read them at a better angle. They were tattooed on. Perhaps the previous owners didn’t like collars?
At least it wasn’t a brand.
Juno, they read.
Nikolai let Juno eat as he got out a pan.
Then he paused.
What could foxboys eat?
Juno’s teeth- from what he’d seen of them- were not the same as human teeth.
He pulled out his phone. Thank God for google.
The list was large enough that feeding him wouldn’t be too much of an issue. It boiled down to ‘no spices’, ‘light salt’, ‘no chocolate’, and ‘less processed’.
More than he expected.
Nikolai had picked out a steak for himself earlier that week, and luckily the package came with two.
He set water to boil in a pot as he chopped potatoes. Usually, he’d heavily salt the water for taste, but not this time.
He’d make his own, seasoned food, after cooking the plain meal for Juno.
Once the potatoes were fork tender, he drained them and let them cool on a plate before searing a steak.
He added a bare amount of salt. It didn’t take long until it was rare. A little too rare for him, but that’s what was advised.
Nikolai added the steak to the plate, and cut it up for his new buddy.
He turned and jumped.
Juno was staring up at him, silently, barely a foot away.
“How long have you been there?” he asked. He only got a few blinks in response.
Weren’t foxboys supposed to talk?
He shook it off before going over to switch the empty bowl for the dinner. Nikolai rinsed the dish and filled it with clean cool water.
Honestly, he should have offered water first.
Juno was chowing down, but slower. Good.
Nikolai fixed his own dinner, and turned on the television. He sat on the couch.
The smell coming off of Juno mixed in an unpleasant way with the scent of a cooked meal.
Nikolai wrinkled his nose as he ate.
“You need a bath,” he told Juno. The foxboy was on all fours still, lowered with his tail wagging. His genitals were hanging.
Nikolai looked away, face hot.
“Clothes too,” he said aloud, focusing on his show.
___________________
Showering Juno wasn’t as hard as he thought it might be.
Juno sat on the tile, still and well-behaved as Nikolai worked a second round of shampoo into his fur.
Gray water, an improvement from black, swirled into the drain. The soap wasn’t even lathering, which meant a substantial amount of grime.
Nikolai was only in his boxers, having given up any pretense of staying clean himself.
“You’re being very patient,” he told Juno. “Thank you.”
Juno made an odd little sound, something nearly akin to a bird. A sort of… warble.
But he didn’t move, and maybe that was just a nice little sound.
Nikolai could see a lot of googling in his future.
The easy part was Juno’s fur-less skin, but his tail took ages to get clean, and the top of his head was no better.
He washed Juno’s ears the best he could (after researching how) with a damp cloth.
“At least you didn’t have fleas,” he told Juno. “We’re all done.”
Nikolai toweled Juno’s sopping wet fur the best he could.
“Do you want me to use a hair dryer?” he asked. The towels were just not enough.
In response, Juno shook like a dog, spraying droplets everywhere. Nikolai threw up his hands.
“Juno, please,” he laughed. “Alright, I get it. No more.”
Juno chirped and clicked at him, and smiled in a very human way.
Nikolai couldn’t be mad at him. He was too cute.
“Well, I’m going to shower. I’ll be out soon.”
___________________
Nikolai changed into his pajamas after washing up. It was early, but he was just worn out.
Juno wasn’t on the couch like he expected. He was curled up on the rug, tail neatly tucked into him.
“You want to sit on the couch, sweetheart? It’s allowed, promise.”
Juno’s head lifted, unsure.
“You don’t have to. I just thought you’d be more comfortable.”
Juno laid back down.
Oh well.
Nikolai grabbed his laptop and searched foxboy clothing.
There were a few promising results. Socks with the fronts open to allow for claws, trousers with slits for tails. A skirt or two with the same feature.
Shirts were all cutesy patterns, but there was nothing preventing Juno from wearing a normal, fairly priced shirt.
He ordered a pajama set too.
It was the underwear that made him pause.
Why were they all jockstraps?
He flushed, and switched tabs to get away from the pictures.
It made sense, unfortunately. Easier to accommodate for a tail if there was no true fabric to get in the way.
Nikolai ordered the underwear.
___________________
He put Juno to bed after a snack; the foxboy’s tummy bulging from fullness.
Juno still didn’t want the couch, so Nikolai gave him a pillow and draped him in a blanket. A large pet bed was added to the shopping list.
He considered taking off work tomorrow, but it was a friday. They’d have all weekend to figure things out.
Juno was up by the time Nikolai made it out of bed and into the living room. He was lying where Niko had left him, under a quilt on the rug.
The pillow wasn’t in sight, but was a lump under the cover.
“Good morning,” he told Juno, heading straight for the coffee.
Usually he’d get dressed before making a quick breakfast, but he had someone else to consider. Feeding his buddy was more important than lying in bed for a few more minutes.
Bacon wasn’t the best choice according to the internet- he should call a vet after work- so instead he cracked a few eggs into an oiled pan.
He scrambled them, forgoing salt just in case.
In the corner of his eye, he could see Juno sitting and watching.
A little further away this time; so it seemed he had learned how not to startle. Cute.
“Breakfast,” he said cheerfully. “Or at least a good start.”
He checked the fridge.
Another apple would do, and a little cheese would be okay.
Nikolai set the chunk on Juno’s plate, the apple beside it.
“I’ll leave a granola bar out for you,” he explained, stirring sugar and cream into his mug. “I’m going to take off early so I can go shopping for better food.”
Juno’s ears were aimed at him as he ate, and Nikolai figured that was close enough to attentive listening.
He fixed an omelet for himself, now that he had the time to eat properly, and headed to work.
___________________
Niko figured he would stop by the apartment before getting groceries, if only to reassure and check on Juno.
He came home to a disaster.
The couch cushions were scattered across the floor. Juno’s pillow was spilling fluff. The standing lamp was on its side.
Nikolai stepped through the doorway, dumbfounded.
“Juno?”
The kitchen was worse.
The trash can was knocked over, rubbish and food scraps all over the floor. The smell was downright gross; odd because he hadn’t left the trash for long-
And then he saw the vomit, dark bile over what used to be rotting food.
He searched the apartment for the foxboy.
It was surprisingly hard to find such a relatively large animal and yet it took him several concerning minutes.
Juno was cowering behind the couch.
“Hello,” Nikolai said softly, scooting back to give Juno more room. “How did you get back there?”
He didn’t answer. Juno’s eyes were so round, reflecting the light back at him. His face was wet.
Nikolai didn’t know foxboys could cry.
“Have you finished throwing up?” he asked. It was the most important problem.
A tiny little nod and sad little chitter.
“Alright. That’s good.”
Nikolai sat back on his heels, thinking.
“Were you worried you’d get too hungry again?”
Silence. It was enough of a reply.
“I know it’s scary,” Nikolai soothed. “I won’t make you go that hungry. You don’t need the trash anymore, okay? Today I’ll make you a box with snacks you can have when I’m gone.”
Juno whined.
“I’m going to clean up now. Come out when you’re ready.”
Nikolai stood.
He started with the living room.
The lamp’s bulb was unbroken, thankfully. Glass would have been a lot of trouble.
Niko put the lamp back in place, the cushions straightened and smoothed.
He folded up the quilt- which had a chewed on corner already- and put it on his sofa.
The pillow… could be salvaged. He had a sewing kit somewhere.
The kitchen was predictably a hazard. The broom wasn’t usable after he was done.
Juno had crept out from behind the couch, but he was still shaking when Nikolai glanced at him.
His ears were pinned to his skull, his tail between his legs; all so familiar.
Nikolai sat on the couch, on the end furthest from where Juno was trembling. He was filthy again.
“I’m not angry,” he started, which was a good place to start. “And I’m not going to punish you. You’re just scared, and you’re allowed to be scared.”
Juno looked confused.
“I don’t want you getting into the trash again. That’s all.”
Once Juno was used to things, he probably wouldn’t also knock things over. Nikolai would buy chew toys to prevent the other issues.
“Understand?”
Juno slowly nodded. There was a small piece of garbage in his fur.
“Good boy. Now, I think you need another bath.”
___________________
Ordering groceries online was the wiser choice, when it came down to it. He gave a fifty dollar tip to make up for the fact that he was ten stories up.
He ordered a large bed and an assortment of toys ranging from ‘heavy chewer’ to soft plush ones. They’d figure out what Juno liked best.
Niko glanced at the foxboy, who was dozing on the rug. He wasn’t really sleeping. Nikolai couldn’t blame him. He’d had a rough time and his anxiety was probably running high.
He turned on the television for some background noise, and Juno sank lower into the rug, tension easing out of him.
Good to know.
___________________
It was legal to own a foxboy with a permit, thankfully.
He scanned the online application.
The fee was only a hundred dollars, and the application was… sparse.
They asked Niko’s name, address, phone number. If Juno was male or female, and if he was neutered.
Was that it? Really? There was no description box, no option to fill out tracking information, no questions about vaccines or standard of care or if he’d seen a vet-
He checked the process listed on the city government site. Then the state.
It was just the permit. No one was coming to check living conditions.
What the fuck? It was insulting how easy it was.
Except that he didn’t know if Juno was neutered.
Nikolai left the application open, and searched for a vet.
___________________
“Thank you for your time.”
No luck.
It was the third exotic animal veterinarian he’d called, and none of them were able to treat a foxboy.
There were three more he could call; two actually in the city and the last an hour outside of it.
To travel that far for a vet would be annoying, but realistically a more rural exotic animal doctor would have at least seen one? From what he’d read, most foxboys lived on estates with owners who had a menagerie of large animals.
He dialed the number.
“Hello, my name is Nikolai Stellos. Does your office treat foxboys?”
“We do.”
Relief flooded through him.
“Excellent. When is the next availability? It’s somewhat of a pressing matter.”
“I can pencil you in for next week. Would you like to receive a call if we have any cancellations beforehand?”
“Absolutely.”
He gave his information, and one of his credit cards for the $500 deposit.
Nikolai checked the Garden Towers resident site.
There wasn’t anything against foxboys. Just a flat pet fee.
Note: an AU of King's Counsel where Juno does not recover. Begins after Regress
Warnings: Major Character Death (temporary), Grief
Juno knew he was dying.
The fever had left, and so had the delusions, but the deep exhaustion and aches in his bones had not.
He knew he was dying, even before his Master and the nurse sat beside him and gently, softly, told him so.
“I am so so sorry,” the king had whispered into his ear, his voice cracked. “I can’t save you, Juno. Please forgive me.”
Terry’s brown eyes, kinder and softer than anyone Juno had met, were wet with unshed tears.
Juno raised a hand to his cheek. His arm was sore.
He stroked the king’s face.
It wasn’t fair. Terry needed him. Terry needed someone to brush his hair and remind him to eat and sleep next to him so he could rest-
But Juno was dying.
Anger festered in his heart; a burning ember inside the hearth of a soul he’d dedicated to this one man.
He was going to die, because he wanted Terry to live.
Now he wasn’t sure if his Terry would survive putting Juno in the ground.
___________________
Master was not working.
Juno didn’t mind.
Master Terry spent his days by Juno’s bedside, reading to him and holding his hand.
Juno felt the aches in his joints all the time now, and he struggled not to doze through Terry’s presence. He wanted to be there, to spend as much time as he could with the man who loved him.
Terry loved him.
Terry was the only person who ever loved him, aside from perhaps Juno’s mother whom he did not remember except that she was warm and sang.
It was cruel that Juno could not stay.
“Are you hungry?” Terry asked. His voice was as soft as the feather pillows he’d helped Juno sit against.
He wasn’t, anymore. Hunger seemed like a distant memory with how little it plagued him now, even as his mind silently counted all the meals he missed while sick.
Juno nodded anyway.
Terry smiled so sweetly at him when he spooned the broth into Juno’s mouth. It wasn’t crying, but it was a smile of grief.
Juno missed the happy smiles.
___________________
Terry took Juno outside when it was warm and sunny.
Today, he had made a picnic on the grass of the royal courtyard, below the shade of a cherry blossom tree.
Juno hadn’t been strong enough to get to the koi pond to see the fish. But this would do.
“I was thinking,” Terry said quietly. “That you should see the dressmaker.”
Juno peeked up at him from his place on Terry’s lap.
He’d seen the dressmaker only a few times in his years of Terry’s ownership.
“It’s tradition,” his Master’s voice was strained. “To have something new before…” he trailed off.
Juno would like a new dress. Brides got new dresses to be married in. It made sense that the dead would have a new dress to be laid to rest in.
He nodded, slow as molasses, and pretended that Terry was not nearly weeping.
___________________
The dressmaker was solemn as she passed over fabric for Master, then Juno, to feel and touch.
He rejected all the silks, opting for soft and familiar cotton.
Juno wasn’t a noble, to be dressed in lace and silks and jewels.
He was just Juno. He would die happy, but not as someone he wasn’t.
The cotton he picked was white, in an imperfect way that reminded him of the roses in the greenhouse.
It would be the first white garment he wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning. It would be white forever.
“I’ll embroider it myself,” the king told the dressmaker.
“I understand.”
___________________
Terry worked on the dress at Juno’s bedside. It was nice to watch him move the needle and threads as the birds sang outside the window.
Juno was sleeping more now, and he knew in his heart it wouldn’t be long.
Sometimes he woke up with wet eyes and cheeks, and the king’s handkerchief wiping the sorrow away.
Every time he woke up, the dress was a little more finished, with roses blooming over the hem and birds on the vines of the sleeves.
It was the prettiest dress Juno would ever wear, and still Terry’s needle moved.
“Does it hurt?” Terry whispered to him, setting aside the fabric to take Juno’s hand. “There’s no need for you to be in pain.”
It hurt, but not in a way any pill or potion would cure.
Juno weakly squeezed Terry’s hand, and shook his head.
Terry reached with his hand to stroke Juno’s face.
His fingers were so warm.
“I thought,” Terry swallowed. “Remember your king, Jason the fifth?”
Juno remembered. The Timorsian emperor had been kind to him, unusually gracious, like Juno was a kinsman and not a slave.
“He’s sent you pearls.”
Terry smiled, and it was pale like milk.
“I thought you might like to wear them. When the time comes. Something to remind you of home?”
Juno had never worn Timorsian pearls, much less pearls from his king.
It would be nice. To have a thing from home that wasn’t a scar from pain or temporary like spices and sheeps’ cheese.
___________________
The pearls were cool against his skin, blue-green like the sea they came from.
Juno liked to twirl each one with a finger.
Terry had asked him to look at blossoms today. Branches of wisteria flowers, all of them blue but in different shades.
“Pick your favorite,” Terry offered, spreading the bundles over the quilt keeping the chill away.
Juno didn’t ask.
He knew Rhodanthians planted trees over their dead.
He picked out a delicate bloom, blue as a clear summer sky.
“It matches your eyes.”
___________________
Juno was going to die today.
He knew. It wasn’t fair.
Terry knew too. Without even trying to tell him, his Master knew that Juno was going to die.
He never felt so loved. He never felt so angry. He never felt so heartbroken.
Terry gave him a small vial of clear liquid. Painkiller, to get through the day.
Juno drank it without hesitation. It tasted like bitterness and honey.
They ate breakfast together; a savory porridge and bacon. Juno could lift the spoon himself with the aid of the drugs. He only managed a few bites of the cheesy grits, and nibbles of the rich maple-glazed bacon, so he kept to his favorite parts. They’d made the bacon chewy with browned edges, just how he liked it.
The king Juno loved then helped him out of bed. Bathed him carefully with a hot, wet cloth. Eased him into his dress, embroidered with blossoms and birds and greenery and love.
Terry carried Juno out to the garden, to the beloved koi pond. They fed the fish peas and barley grains, watching the shimmering reds and golds and whites of their scales.
Juno laid his head on Terry’s lap, enjoying the sun as Terry read to him. It was a story Juno had heard many times, a favorite, but he paid close attention to his Master’s voice. He wanted to keep it in his ears forever.
Lunch was fruit tarts and crackers with salty sheep’s cheese. The small portions were easier to lift himself and bring to his own lips.
“Here,” Terry suggested. “Have a bite of each kind.”
Juno managed a single bite of pear, strawberry, apple, blackberry, cherry-
Terry didn’t have much appetite either.
___________________
The court musicians played just for the two of them.
Music flowed seamlessly from one song to another, harp and violin and cello and Rhodanthian pipes and Timorsian chimes, and a few Juno couldn’t name.
Endless music that wasn’t interrupted by court chatter.
Terry stroked his hair and held him close and Juno was getting more tired than he’d ever been.
Dinner was a single slice of warm, rich chocolate cake, topped with cold vanilla ice cream and whipped heavy cream.
It was a summer day, and the amount of work the kitchen put into making ice cream just for him-
Juno smiled at Terry as he ate. It was the first thing he finished in a long time.
“Did you have a good day?” Terry asked him as they lay in bed after an hour of stargazing.
Juno nodded weakly.
He lay over top of Terry, his head on his chest as Terry pet his hair.
It would be soon. His breathing was slower than ever.
“I’m glad,” Terry whispered. He was so close to crying.
Juno didn’t want him to cry. Not now. Not ever again.
It was hard.
With one last effort, he raised his head.
He kissed Terry on the cheek.
He laid back down.
“I love you,” Terry told him.
Juno knew.
___________________
Announcement of Mourning
King Terrance’s beloved pet and servant, Juno of Timorsia, died in the early hours of the morning of June 30th. He was approximately twenty-three years old. The funeral will be held tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. He will be buried under a blue wisteria tree, near the royal koi pond which he loved so much. It is a private ceremony. The Crown thanks you for your consideration at this time.
Note: an AU of King's Counsel where Juno does not recover.
Warnings: haunting, minor character death
Ser Beauchene was the last to go.
Juno wished he could have picked the order of execution. He wanted more time with the others. The knight was evil, and cruel, but far from the worst. His death would have been the swiftest, if Juno had the choice.
Terry had even mentioned, once, that he was the only one who had ever hesitated.
But that was a long time ago.
“I’m sorry,” Ser Beauchene told him.
Moonlight filtered through the slit in the stone walls. It made the knight’s skin look as ghostly as Juno’s, his reddish-brown hair faded in the glow.
Where the knight was once an imposing man, full of strength and pride, now he was soft and ashamed. No doubt he was still able to fight, but stone walls and iron bars did not care. And neither did ghosts.
Juno looked down on the man, who refused to meet Juno’s gaze.
“I didn’t think they would kill you. I should have let the king go earlier.”
Ser Beauchene covered his face.
“I never should have hurt him. I hurt you, and you didn’t do anything wrong. All you did was exist.”
Juno cocked his head.
The others didn’t apologize. Not like this.
“I abandoned my vows. I swore an oath to my king, and I failed. You were a better knight than I, Juno.”
Juno bent down. He patted Beauchene’s head.
It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t forgiveness. It couldn’t be fixed.
Juno was just ready for it to be over.
The knight startled at the touch, looking up.
They stared at each other.
“Would you stay with me? Please?” Ser Beauchene asked, his voice wet.
Juno considered.
No. He would not.
He ignored the knight’s soft crying, and pretended he didn’t regret it.
___________________
Juno didn’t go to the execution. Instead, he sat with Terry in the garden, by his grave.
Terry had finally left his rooms to sit in the sun.
“It’s over,” he said. Juno knew by now that he was talking to where Juno’s body lay. But it was good to hear his voice. “They’ll tell me any minute now that he’s gone. That they’re all dead.”
Juno nodded along, looking into the pond. He could see himself in the water.
Juno dipped his finger into it, and one of the golden koi investigated the ripples.
A soft sound came from behind him.
“Sometimes I swear I can see you,” Terry whispered. “I think I must be going mad. Juno, I-”
Juno held his breath.
“I let you die. I deserve this.”
___________________
Ser Beauchene was dead.
A weight on his chest that Juno didn’t know was there had dissipated.
He felt more solid, somehow. More… there.
In the mirror, Juno looked less like mist, and more gathered. He could now see where he ended and the air began. His funeral dress even had more color to it; his pearls were no longer dull and grey.
Juno glanced behind him, away from the mirror.
Terry was sleeping, and Juno had the habit of checking the rise and fall of his chest. Juno had to make sure nothing happened bad to Terry ever again.
The king was fine.
Juno looked back at his own reflection.
The hollows under his eyes were gone. He was dead, and yet he wasn’t corpse-like.
Curious.
Terry shifted under the quilt. He was fretting again.
Juno went and laid next to him on the featherbed. The mattress dipped under his weight.
He fell asleep next to his Master.
___________________
At dawn, Juno got up.
He yawned, and drew open the curtains to let the sun in.
The king’s robe was draped over his armchair, and why hadn’t Juno picked it up last night?
Oh well.
Juno put it in its proper place on the hook. It was his job to clean up, after all.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Your majesty? I have breakfast.”
Annoyed, Juno went to answer the door. After so many years, didn’t they remember that Juno made Terry’s morning meal?
He opened the door.
The servant gasped. Dropped the tray.
It crashed to the floor, pot shattering and dishes spilling and the silverware echoing off the marble floor.
She screamed, and Terry woke with a shout.
What on earth-
Oh. Oh-
Juno looked down at his hands, translucent, and he was so very dead.
What had he done?
“Ghost!” wailed the servant.
Juno whirled, and Terry was already out of bed, frozen in place.
His eyes were wide and his mouth open with horror and relief all at once.
The servant had already fled, dark tea pooling on the white polished floor, shards dripping.
“Is it really you?” Terry breathed out.
Juno crossed the room in three strides, and hugged his Master.
Terry squeezed him tight, sobbing.
“You’re here.”
Juno nodded into Terry’s chest, tears rolling down his cheeks. He’d waited so long to be seen. To be held. He was dead; he earned it.
“I can’t believe it. You’ve been here this whole time. I’m so-”
Juno straightened, putting a finger against Terry’s lips.
No more apologies.
Terry smiled, then laughed. The sound was glorious.
Footsteps thundered down the hall, and they turned to see half a dozen guards, swords drawn, pulling up short at the sight of the living holding the dead.
Their faces paled.
“Go,” Terry told them, voice suddenly stern. “I’m busy.”
The king’s voice was cold, and hard, and the guards had no choice but to back away.
“Oh, Juno.” His Master nuzzled him, warm cheek on Juno’s cool skin. “I’ve missed you.”
___________________
Being dead had its advantages. People were terrified of him.
Juno could simply bare his teeth, and they shuddered. No one dared raise a hand to his Master, and even the new council looked away with shame.
The scandal of his death was not forgotten. For months, the newspapers were alight with it.
He didn’t care.
The guards eventually got used to him; the servants too.
It was easier, with them. He’d been among the staff halls for years before his death. They simply didn’t mention what happened. They didn’t dare get in his way when he returned to his work. Sometimes, they even smiled at him.
It was funny how death commanded respect in a way that being alive didn’t.
Juno patiently allowed the magicians and spirit speakers to ask him things. To demonstrate what he could do. That he could pass through walls, that he could lift objects, that he could even float in the air, feet never touching the ground.
The spirit speakers had never seen a ghost of Timorsia before. Or a ghost that didn’t pass on after the unfinished business was done.
But his work was never going to be finished.
He had a duty.
Juno watched over Terry, day and night. He would never be alone again; never be hurt again. Juno followed his Master as a shadow followed the sun.
There was no one to stop him. Juno couldn’t be killed twice.
And the tree, the blue wisteria planted over his grave, now called Eyes-of-Juno, The King’s Grief, kept blooming.
As long as Juno kept haunting the king, it would never stop.
