Chapter Text
The conference and organization for the public trial goes as smoothly as it could. It will be taken place two mortal weeks from now, and Morax is advised to be the one to handle the questioning of the dream eater. He does not want to, but he must – his people are either too repulsed to be in the same room as the little bird, or too afraid. The leash, the one he now holds that controls this adeptus’ entire being – its still wrapped snugly around his hands, and the feeling of power he feels over the little bird is… uncomfortable. Nauseating, even.
Yet time and war does not halt for your circumstances, and Morax instructs his forces as usual, fills out papers as usual, and goes back to his resting place as usual – with a very unusual, hunched form of a bird resting on the floor rather than the bed provided for him. Perhaps that is now usual too, for the adeptus seems to refuse sleeping on the bed as if... waiting for Morax to command him to go on it, or afraid of doing the wrong thing.
But he supposes this is better than seeing a mess of blood and gore on the floor like what had happened in the prisons.
Now for the difficult part; questioning the adeptus. A list of questions were discussed and written down during the conference, questions that would further ease the people of the truth and dictate the little birds’ punishment – public execution, or execution at all was immediately erased from the drawing board after some arguing across the table. Morax skims through the written details for a final time and looks at the little birds now bowed down posture upon his arrival.
“A questioning is to be done before your trial.” He speaks as gently as he knows, frowning at the adeptus’ lack of reaction. “Do you wish to know your rights?”
Silence.
The little bird lifts his head up with eyes that have long accepted fate. He opens his mouth to speak, voice quiet and cautious, “This one does not understand your question, Master – is this a test?”
Morax lifts a brow, “A test? No, nothing of the sort. Knowing your rights in this land before questioning is an important part of the process. There is a reason why those soldiers have faced penalty, despite you being classified as an enemy.”
It is… almost awkward how the adeptus looks at him as if he grew a second head with those words. The adeptus makes a noise, one expressing further confusion, and speaks once more, “Master, why is this one to be treated in such a way? This one is willing to accept any punishment given – a trial is unneeded and this one does not wish to waste your resources or precious time –”
“It is absolutely necessary.” Morax argues harshly, interrupting the little adeptus and sighing when their form lowers impossibly further in response. Patience, you must be patient, Morax. “I apologize. Such harshness was not needed from me.”
It hurts to see someone cower at the mere idea of being apologized to, as if such basic decency was new or unheard-of enough to be fearful. The adeptus lifts his head up again, bewilderment painted on his face and asks,
“Master, forgive this one’s ignorance – but this one still does not understand. This one is but a weapon to be used at your disposal and is suitable for other things too should you desire it.”
Morax wishes he could understand the little birds mind. He wishes he could understand the process of his thoughts, and how he couldn’t understand a simple thing he was trying to convey. “Is it so odd to suggest that you are an individual?” He finishes the thought out loud, continuing before the little bird could begin speaking, “Is it so crazy to think that you are not a weapon, but someone with rights and who deserves decency? That you are an individual who was mistreated, and not a monster?”
“Please...”
A whimper – one small, barely heard, comes out from the adeptus’ mouth. He stops his next words, aching at the sight of the little adeptus’ eyes filled with hurt. As if… as if he wished to cry but did not know how to. “I do not understand, I do not understand – master, please make this one understand.” And the little bird’s tone is pained with desperation, and his gaze clouded with confusion.
The little bird truly did not understand the mere idea of not being owned. Of having a choice, of being treated as someone rather than something. And the leash Morax now carries is not helping the fact.
“You don’t have to.” Morax says sadly, nearly overwhelmed with a new emotion he cannot describe. “It is okay. Just… just know that for the questioning, you are not to be treated with disrespect. I will be the one doing the questioning, and I would never break my own written laws – but it still essential for you to know.”
“If this ones Master says so, this one will listen and obey.” The bird speaks softly, clearly still not understanding but trying his absolute hardest to. Morax coaxes the adeptus from his knees and guides him to sit on his bed. Before that question can be asked, he begins to recite his rights, alongside other laws in his territory. He continues, not stopping despite the pang of hurt felt at the little bird seeming more and more confused with every question asked.
“Again, I will be doing it. Some questions may be… difficult to answer, and I do not think it’s wise to... have anyone else handle it.” And Morax forces the image of the little birds bloodied arms and distant eyes at the prisons from his mind. The adeptus nods in faux understanding after the explanation, despite a question looking as though it was on the tip of his tongue.
“I encourage you to ask more questions.” Morax reassures, hoping to ease any untrue thoughts. The little bird frowns, tilting his head in a way Morax would find adorable if not given the current situation and the reasoning behind it.
“This one. please forgive this one’s continued ignorance, Master. But this one does not understand – you know this lowly one was the one who had killed her, your people know if from the whispers this one had overheard on occasions – everyone knows this one had done it… Beloved Master, tell this one why a trial must be taken place, why this questioning must be taken place, when there is nothing to be proven? Please forgive this one’s ignorance, please forgive this one’s irrelevant worries – this one only wishes to not waste Master’s time.”
The little bird releases a heavy breath after his confession, worry striking his features as though anticipating a blow.
Morax’s body moves before his thoughts can, and before he can register what he’s doing, he pulls the small adeptus into a hug and continues to hold on despite the shaking from what he knows is shock. He doesn’t know why he had done that so suddenly – but perhaps it was the guilt of now holding the leash, even if it was not given to him willingly. Maybe it was the reminder of Guizhong, and how she had urged Morax to be gentle, especially towards those who had never experienced it before. The hug is… at an awkward angle and came suddenly and certainly not gentle by what would be her standards, but it’s a hug, nevertheless.
The shaking body in his arms encourages Morax to hold him closure, more securely and whispers, against the little birds hair, as if a secret were being told.
“After the questioning… after this trial… I hope to help you believe that you are someone, not something. That you are someone and not simply an attachment to another. When you have given me your name, you bond yourself to me. The bindings that got had set for you are deep and got passed over to me by right. I... I wish to give you a name, one that is not the name you had given me. A name that is used as an acknowledgement of your individuality, unlike the one used to control you as an extension.”
The adeptus’ shaking does not halt but intensifies at Morax’s words.
“Dream eater, will you allow me to give you this?”
Xiao does not understand. Does not understand the reasoning for giving him such a name, nor does he understand the apparent reality that his Master, his owner, had said that he was not a something but a someone. He does not understand, and a deep part of him is afraid. Is this not rejection, of some kind? An unnecessary kind way of abandoning your tool? Of saying that he is too broken to be of use?
He does not need this name – but he uses it for himself regardless, lest his master get angry at him rejecting such a gift. Xiao – a name for one who had endured hardship and struggle… What hardship had he endured? He does not ask, only accepts, because to judge and question whom you are bound to comes with a price he is all too familiar with paying.
His master’s kindness is never-ending in the way he decides to completely reschedule the questioning, Xiao dimly registering whispered arguments through the walls of how he wasn’t ready yet. Yet another thing that confuses him, and another way he had potentially erred. And as the days go on, Master continues to treat him with respect, continues to treat him as though he were a someone and not a prisoner awaiting their inevitable punishment.
Yet despite his wariness, Xiao finds himself slowly getting... comfortable around his Master. Of course, comfort is a false concept to someone like him – comfort is but a false promise and security that will eventually shatter, he had experienced that many times with her. So he tries to not indulge in the warmthless within him, and tries to ignore it trying to lull him into that false sense of security in comfort. His Masters patience is far greater than Xiao had seen in any god before – and this is not a comfort, but another fear of the unknown.
When the day of the questioning truly comes with no further ways of delaying it, Xiao is completely compliant in his answering. His Master sits calmly on a chair with two guards behind him who bore their eyes filled with hatred into a monster’s soul, and Xiao ignores it while focusing on his task at hand. Such looks are given to him by everyone here – everyone except his Master, who smiles softly when Xiao continues to give information.
“Okay, Xiao... This is the hard part, and the part I do not wish to do but must. Do you know how long you’ve been bound to her, and why initially?”
Xiao furrows his brows at the question, searching long in deep through horrific memories that were stored in his brain. Ah, yes – “I was young and naïve.” He starts, his gaze falling on the table as he speaks. “This one does not remember where they come from, but this one can recall trusting her promises of hope and dreams. This lowly one was desperate and clung onto anything that could be a potential light at the end of the tunnel. This one had no purpose, and she had freed this one by using this one as a weapon. Many years ago – forgive me Master for my vagueness.”
It is silent, and Xiao’s eyes flicker back upwards to face his Master who sighs. Had he frustrated his lord with his answer? Was he lacking details? As if sensing Xiao’s confusion, his Master sets down his clipboard in an emphasis of conclusion.
“We are done, I have gotten all that’s needed for the court. I will see you later this evening – I have somewhere to be.”
His Master leaves with haste, the guards stumbling behind him and following with confusion that Xiao very well shares. He remains seated, not moving until the maids come in the room with food and urgency to rest.
His Master doesn't come back in the evening, and Xiao does not question it.