The One You Feed × Brandrew AU

XIV

-Brandon's POV-

The season of spring came, but the king's advances towards me never stopped. Every single day, he'd find me, and find some way to run his fingers through my hair, or begin talking to me like I were a close friend. I barely got any work done.

It was around this time that Hayden had contracted an illness. He would often throw up the food he was given, or fall down whenever he stood. But, for some reason unbeknownst to me, King Andrew still demanded that Hayden work around the castle. Everyday, their hatred for each other grew.

Today was a rather concerning one. Hayden had been instructed to dust and bleach between the floorboards, and I knew the chemicals would cause his illness to become more severe. I prayed that the medics would help him, if the king allowed it. Despite my best wishes, I had a feeling the king would rather have Hayden dead than alive.

I had been told to polish the furniture in the throne room, a rather simple task. My dark thoughts had been lingering in my head for a while. With a flick of my wrist, I wiped the last bit of chemical from a small table, and I was done with my daily task. It was just a little past noon. Hayden came to mind, and I assured myself that he'd need help.

While the two of us had been working, Brent was spending the day locked in the dungeon, after swearing at a guest the previous night. It was nothing he hadn't done before. He would be fine, and I was sure of that.

I made my way down the halls, looking for Hayden. He couldn't have been far. With each step, I listened for more footsteps, making sure I wouldn't bump into the king. I knew he would hate it if I helped Hayden with the floors.

After a few minutes of walking the halls gingerly, I finally found Hayden. He was kneeling on the floor, working at a small crack filled with what looked like dirt. "Hayden?" I whispered, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I sat down next to him. I could see he was ignoring me, as he stared at the floor with bloodshot eyes.

"You need help," I told him. Hayden then looked up at me. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Before he could answer me, his eyes widened, and he jerked to the side, vomiting in the bucket of soap and bleach. "I'm getting you help," I told him. Before he could groan and protest, I was already running out of the hall.

The second I turned the corner into the throne room, I crashed directly into the king. We both kept our balances, but his eyes dawned a devious expression. The second he saw it was me, the cruel look faded away. "Hello, Brandon," he said softly. A small smirk made its way onto his face, and he reached for my hand. I pulled away. "S-sir, Hayden needs help," I told him. Despite the annoyed look on his face, he followed me down the halls without a word.

When we stopped in the hall Hayden was in, the king groaned under his breath. "Please," I whispered, turning back to King Andrew. "He needs help."

King Andrew looked me in the eye, smiled, and then looked to Hayden, who was still kneeling on the floor. "Medics!" He yelled. In under a minute, three young servants filed into the room, and slowly lifted Hayden's body. Hayden looked at me as they carried him away, as if he wished that he'd die.

I bit down on my lip anxiously, and was about to pull away, when King Andrew grabbed at my hand again. "Yes, sir?" I asked without hesitation. Clearly he wanted something. "I'm going to make sure Hayden lives," the king told me. "But I need something from you." My smile creased downwards. "What is it?" I asked eagerly, searching for any chance to save my friend.

I watched as the king played with his lip, then gripped my wrist tighter. "Just follow me," he said. Just as I was about to say something in return, I bit my tongue. If I slipped up even once, Hayden would be left for dead.

I allowed King Andrew to slowly pull me down the hallways, until we stopped at the backdoor. He looked back at me, as if to check how I was feeling. I was starting to wonder why he was taking me outside. Perhaps it was the most private location for a conversation, if we were going to talk.

King Andrew gently tugged me along, as we made our way down the stairs. The sun was surprisingly bright, compared to the gloomy downpours of the few previous days. Birds were chirping quite loudly, flowers were blooming again, and the scene was overall peaceful, compared to what went down in the castle.

I closed my eyes gently as the king proceeded to pull me into the gardens. The blanket of warmth caused by the sun was lifted from me, and replaced with a light breeze. My eyes fluttered open. I was underneath the peach tree.

I saw King Andrew reaching for one of the fruits, before he sprung up suddenly, and picked a perfectly ripe one from a higher branch. For a moment, I thought he was going to give it to me, but this thought was crushed when he took a colossal bite from the peach. I frowned, just enough to gain the king's attention.

The king chuckled, but was barely audible. Without breaking eye contact, he sprung up, grabbed a hold of another peach, then dropped back to the ground. He smiled, then held it out. "I think you've earned this," King Andrew told me, allowing me to take the peach. My mind lingered for a moment as I fantasized about the possible taste.

I lfted the pink fruit towards my mouth, then took the biggest bite I could. It was very possibly the best thing I'd ever tasted. "This is good," I mumbled, taking another bite. I lied. In reality, this was more than good. It made up for every uncooked sliver of meat or stale bread I'd been given over the past two years.

"I'll start putting those in your dinner if you want," the king commented. I nodded my head, unable to speak due to the fact my mouth was full of the fruit. I finished the food, then placed the pit on the ground. "That was fantastic," I whispered to King Andrew, so that my voice didn't carry.

I had the hardest time believing he took for out here so I could eat a peach. I had questions that desperately needed answers.

"Sir?" I choked out, the sweet taste of the peach still lingering on my tongue. "What is it?" King Andrew spoke softly to me. It was as if we were equals. I could dream, I suppose. "To be blunt," I started. The king looked over to me, his eyes drilling into mine. I faltered slightly, but carried on. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

I could see it in his eyes that he was bothered. Perhaps the answer was beyond my comprehension, or far too personal to be disclosed. The king moved closer to me, straightening his back so that compared to me, he was taller. "If you can be blunt, then I'll be too," he said. His eyebrows were raised, and his eyes were wide.

King Andrew reached for my hand, clenching it. Our eyes remained locked. What had occurred next was what all this unnecessary kindness had led up to. Before I even had a chance to speak, our lips were pressed together, and our bodies were aligned.

(It has occurred my dudes. Now time to start killing off some people, unfortunately.)