RTYY 141 - A Blue Feather

What … was that …?

ZaiWin touched the ice-cold, blue metal and grabbed it, turning it in his fingers, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of its delicate feather-like shape.

He remembered that hairpin. It had been one of the kind. ZenTar had forced him to wear it on his hair, when he'd been called to present himself at the Palace for the first time, after he had been officially recognized as the Governor of Nox.

Back then, even though he had held such an important title, he hadn't had one single coin to his name, much less fancy clothes to wear or precious jewelry to adorn himself with. But ZenTar had made a point to have new clothes made especially for the important occasion, and he had practically forced him to wear that little thing on his hair. After all, he was to officially appear before the El'Dur and the El'Dai, together with a bunch of other noble kids. Most of the royals were bound to be there as well. He had to dress accordingly to the importance of the occasion, so he wouldn't embarrass himself or his Province's name.

The small hairpin had belonged to ZenTar, the feather being widely recognized as the unofficial symbol of the Zai Clan, since most of its members were blessed with wind daitai. It had been made of a rare, precious metal from Tei but, compared to the extravagant jewelry that the nobles normally wore, it hadn't been nothing special or too expensive. Still, ZenTar had almost skinned him alive when he had told him that he'd lost it during the Seventh Year Gathering. It had belonged to someone very important to him, he had told him, and it had held a very especial meaning. Why ZenTar had insisted that he should wear such an important item to such a dangerous event in the first place, was something ZaiWin had never been able to understand.

Back then, ZaiWin had blatantly lied to him. To the day, it was probably the biggest lie he had ever told him. It wasn't as if he had lost the hairpin. He had given it away. To a small, dirty child, that had helped him when no one else had.

No more than a child himself, ZaiWin's leg had been completely shattered, probably beyond repair. He would probably never walk again. Even being able to limp for the rest of his life would have been miracle. Most likely he would simply lose his leg, if he managed to survive that long. To make things worse, he had been left behind to fend for himself, all alone in the middle of a forest. He had been in so much pain that he had feared his heart might simply stop beating. And, of course, he had ended up developing a very high fever.

Sitting all alone in that forest, his leg a bloody mess of torn flesh and broken bone, he had been certain that his time had finally come, and that he would die, like many others had died during the Gathering. The only difference was that he would die alone, without anyone even noticing it.

And then, there he was. A small, scrawny child, his short hair so dirty that it looked covered in mud. He had looked scared, at first, staring at him from a distance, his huge, black eyes watching him attentively. But then he must have eventually decided that, in his condition, ZaiWin couldn't possible pose any threat, and so he had slowly approached him.

ZaiWin had immediately recognized him as the kid he had randomly saved from being shot to death by the river. But by then he had been too sick, too in pain, to think too coherently. He had managed to ask the child for help. And he had helped him, obeying his every request, bearing his much heavier weight, helping him reach some place safer. He had even built some kind of shelter made of leaves a tree branches to shield him from the cold, harsh rain. And he had done so without uttering a single complaint. In the end, the child had insisted in feeding him some kind of strange root he had dug up, assuring him that it would make him better. ZaiWin could still recall those small, bloody fingers insistently pushing something inside his mouth. Of course he had doubted that such a miraculous root could ever exist. In fact, he had been sure that he would be end up being poisoned to death. And so he had spent the following years of his life asking himself exactly what had happened, since whatever the child had given him had actually, apparently worked.

His leg miraculously healed, he had never told anyone that he had been hurt it in the first place, not even ZenTar. And the only other person who had known exactly what had happened, had apparently chosen to keep it to himself as well. The others were only told that he had been hurt. They had no idea of how serious it had been. And when he had finally appeared before them apparently in one piece, in the middle of an event where people had actually lost their lives, they had just forgotten all about such an insignificant occurrence.

Tucking the blue hairpin inside his pouch, ZaiWin leaned forward and rested his forehead against Snow's, taking a deep breath.

So that's how it was … Now everything made sense. How a leg that had become useless had been healed overnight. And how the feimao that had infested the Province of Nox had suddenly become weaker, easier to hunt down, preferring to run away than to fight them head on. How what had seemed a bloody, hopeless battle till that point, had suddenly, and in the next five years, become a certain victory that had earned him the admiration of every Calzai of the Empire.

"So … it was all you …" he breathed, looking at the young face glued to his, Snow's warm breath caressing his skin.

Of course some muddy roots would never be able to heal his ruined leg. Likewise, there had never been any devious plot to purposely place him on his path. The truth way simpler than that. They had met before, long before that bloody day, at the Fortress.

"I looked for you, you know …? I looked for you for two whole days. I waited for your to return, but you never came back. I wanted to take you home with me … even though I didn't even had a home to take you to … I wonder if you would have come …"

ZaiWin closed his eyes and he could clearly see that small child again, those huge eyes silently staring at him. He could recall the feeling of his cold, small hands on his back, how even though he had hated when other people touched him like that, somehow, he hadn't minded those small hands at all. And he could recall how the small child had quietly nestled on his lap, leaning against his bare chest, his warm breath caressing his naked skin.

Everything about that child had been so pure, genuine and honest that he had managed to make him, a distrusting, wary young boy, unwillingly lower his guard. But now all that was gone. And the young man lying before him was as distrusting and suspicious of the world around him as he had ever been. Would any of that be different if he had managed to find him back then?

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Aww, I love little Snow so much! 🥰🥰🥰