March Trope-A-Thon (Day 5) - SERVANT'S SERVANT
[Masterlist] - there are also the OCs described in much detail
Trope: Fevers + Comf: Blankets & a Hot Drink
OCs: Adam x Setia (canon to Vermillion arc)
CW: injuries, LGBTQ+ themes, slavery
Setia was able to see only one thing in Adam at first - his status. Status of a servant slave he himself was just so lucky to lose for the low, low price of giving up his love to Larat. And Adam was kind of like him, scare, skittish, defiant, but smart and observing. The state he was in left no doubt, Setia would do everything to put his previous owner to prison. Shiroi must pay. But now, instead of being served coffee at his new, royal study, Setia was sitting on the verge of Adam's bed, carefully cooling his forehead with a damp cloth.
Setia was just stuck in his original role, circling between kitchen, bathroom and his bed, the only reason being Larat treating him the same way all those years before. Now that his younger counterpart went down with a fever from all the stress of landing as a prospective left hand of the future King of Vermillion, he didn't allow any other slave near him. It was just his job to make sure the younger man, with all his scars and bruises, will be nursed back to health.
Setia just knew, he mentally never lose the black collar Queen Merahtua so ceremoniously took off his neck in her.. in their bedroom. He would tell this lengthy tale of rise to power he never wanted, if only Adam was conscious enough to listen. For now he was grippling with the silk sheets, his knuckles almost white. All this in stark contrast with black waves of hair which needed constant brushing off from his sweaty face.
Setia felt phantom pains when he gently opened his shirt to cool his chest as well. So skinny, he could easily count each rib. He fought all the temptations in the world no to cry out. To ground himself, the tall blonde stood up, approached the window and started humming a tune of an old religious hymn for Ubisi. He did it so unknowingly, that it will take a few weeks for him to regret it, in the steel embrace of another god he promised to follow to get them all free. His bet was made, but his habits and ticks betrayed him in the small space of Adam's chamber.
Setia proceeded to clean and dress any fresh wounds he was able to found, looking for the furrowed brows on the pale face before him. Shushing Adam broke his resolve more than his heart. He wanted scented oil on that pale skin, he wanted all the rings and gold given away for an even more comfortable bedding for this here slave. His slave now. And there would be no freeing him until his job in the palace, and probably elsewhere, is done.
Setia saw in that feverish, sick, broken man all the things he will have yet to sacrifice, all the compromises, lies and murders he will have to go into, head first, until the system collapses, but country survives. Like in the body beneath his slim fingers, the only way was forward, forward into a coup. With no political prisoners and public hangings. Just people he trusted would do good enough job at all the right places, and him, in his collar, with his bottled up feelings. He didn't know better than to lean in and kiss Adam, begging with all his soul to suck all his nightmares and trap them in his own chest, deep under all else.
Adam woke up to warmth and security. Disoriented he opened his eyes to see his future King, coiled around his body, asleep, laboured breath. On the nightstand - two steaming cups of coffee.