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“Your Graaace~,” sang a very familiar voice from the floor below Wriothesley's office, right after the tell-tale creak of the door opening. “Do you have a minute?”
Wriothesley pressed his lips together to subdue his smile, putting his pen down and pushing his stack of documents to the edge of his desk in preparation for the storm named Lyney. If he'd learned anything about Lyney in the past few months, it was that he wouldn't let Wriothesley do any kind of work in peace. (And if he'd learned anything about himself in that time, it was how easily Wriothesley let him.)
Wriothesley’s ears followed the journey of Lyney's footsteps upstairs, the soles of Lyney’s boots squeaking on the worn metal. Soon Lyney's hat came into view, then his face, then his shoulders… and then his arms, holding something small, white and furry to his chest. Lyney's clothes were damp, and the exposed parts of his skin shone with moisture.
“Did you decide to swim down here?” Wriothesley teased, intrigued by the thing Lyney was carrying.
“Well, you see, there's this thing called ‘rain’, where water falls from the sky?” Lyney knocked back. “You might have forgotten because you've been holed up down here for so long.”
Wriothesley rolled his eyes. Touché.
The thing in Lyney's arms shifted, sticking out its head to look around, and Wriothesley realised that Lyney had brought a cat.
“And can you explain why you've decided to bring one of your critters along?” Wriothesley asked.
“It's not mine,” Lyney said, scratching the scruffy-looking feline behind its ears. “She was rooting around the garbage in an alley back at the Court. She looked so sad, all alone in the rain, and clearly no one had been taking care of her—I couldn't just let her stay there.”
“ ...So you thought the Fortress is a more suitable environment?” Wriothesley concluded with a not entirely voluntary grimace, already seeing where this was going. “Sorry to break it to you, kiddo, but this is a prison, not an animal shelter.”
Lyney turned his big, hopeful eyes to him. “I already have too many animals to take care of as it is—Father would get mad if I took in any more. Here she'll be warm and dry, and Mr. Wolsey could feed her whatever scraps he's got left over. Here she’ll have people looking after her, a bed to sleep in… I can’t just return her to the streets.”
Wriothesley pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Lyney…”
“I can bring you whatever supplies you need,” Lyney basically pleaded with him, lifting the kitty so Wriothesley could meet its big, wide eyes. “Food bowls, litterbox, all that stuff. Can you pleaaase look after her until I can find a different place for her to stay? It’ll take a few weeks, tops.”
Wriothesley heaved a sigh, frowning at Lyney’s display. Lyney’s innocent righteousness would’ve been endearing if it wasn’t also a massive inconvenience to Wriothesley specifically. Obviously, an orphan couldn’t let down another orphan. That’s how Wriothesley got Lyney poking holes in his composure. And it was exceedingly difficult to say no to Lyney for some reason.
“I… I suppose a little while couldn’t hurt,” Wriothesley relented. “But I still think this is an extraordinarily bad–”
Lyney refused to hear any more. “Oh, wonderful!” he exclaimed, eyes sparkling in a way only Lyney could make happen. He skipped forward and gently set the cat down on Wriothesley’s desk. “I have a show to run in about an hour, so I can’t stay, but I’ll come around with the supplies tomorrow, promise!”
Lyney had started tiptoeing backwards as he spoke, and by the time he finished his sentence he was already halfway down the stairs. “Thanks, Duke, I owe you one!” he shouted from the floor below, and a second later the door fell shut with a clang that made both Wriothesley and the cat on his desk jump.
Wriothesley fell into a staring contest with the newly acquired ward. He’d never been good with animals, but Lyney depended on him now, so he would try. When he reached out to pet the creature, though, she swatted at him and scrambled to find a hiding place under one of the couches.
Wriothesley’s hand still dangled pathetically in the air, and he decided to rub at his eyes instead. What did he let Lyney talk him into?
***
When Lyney returned with his promised supplies the next day, the little cat still refused to come near Wriothesley. No matter how he’d tried to coax her from underneath the couch, she refused, looking at Wriothesley with big round eyes and growling when he got too close. At least she seemed to have eaten a little from the meat scraps he left out for her once he’d retreated to his chambers for the night.
To Wriothesley’s almost infuriating dumbfoundment, the critter shot out from her hiding spot and meowed loudly as soon as Lyney came into view. Lyney gasped in delight when he saw her approach, putting down the boxes he carried and scooping her up with no protest from the cat whatsoever.
“Hello there, sweetie! Did you have a good night at uncle Wriothesley’s?'' he greeted her, cuddling her to his chest and scratching along her chin. The little cat started purring so loudly Wriothesley could hear it across the room. Wriothesley crossed his arms, trying to press down the feeling of something curdling in his stomach.
“Depends on who you ask,” he huffed. “She doesn’t particularly enjoy my presence.”
Lyney raised an eyebrow at him, glancing between him and the cat in his arms. A knowing grin started growing on his lips, one he tried to suppress by pressing his lips together.
“Well, I don’t blame you,” he cooed, pressing a kiss on the kitty’s head for good measure as he held Wriothesley’s incredulous stare. “His Grace does look scary.”
Wriothesley couldn’t exactly take offense to that. He just sat back in his chair and clenched his jaw.
“Just leave her be as she adjusts,” Lyney said airily, walking over to where Wriothesley had jumped his jacket on the couch. Gently he set the cat down on it, and after taking a while to examine the new surface, she lay down and rubbed her little face against the fluffy trim. “Hovering around her constantly won’t help you gain her trust.”
“I don’t need advice from a cat whisperer, thank you very much.” Wriothesley inwardly flinched as the cat got her white fur all over his black jacket. That thing would never be clean again.
“You kind of want it, though,” Lyney replied, an amused glint in his eyes. He picked up his supplies and set them down on Wriothesley’s desk, covering the paper Wriothesley was about to scribble his signature on. “Come on, let me run you through some basic kitty care.”
***
Over the next week or so, the cat started slowly warming up to Wriothesley. Well– he supposed ‘tolerating’ was a more accurate word. She mostly wandered around the office, sniffing and occasionally swatting things she came across. She kept to herself until she decided it was dinnertime, and then she made as much of a nuisance of herself as physically possible—knocking things off of Wriothesley’s desk, standing on top of documents he needed, swatting at Wriothesley’s pen as he wrote and smudging the ink, meowing at the top of her small lungs—until she got the scraps of meat she craved.
Lyney had brought him a little kitty harness, and Wriothesley used it to let her explore a bit above ground without having her escape on him. She seemed to enjoy that after having been cooped up in the Fortress for several days, so Wriothesley took her out every day during his afternoon break for a breath of fresh air. It was obvious the cat hadn’t been outside of the Court much; she was curious about every little thing she encountered. Sometimes she pranced around so actively Wriothesley almost lost his grip on the leash, and other times she was content to lounge in a sunny spot alongside Wriothesley, not close enough for him to pet her but near enough to suggest they were keeping each other company.
Wriothesley’s favourite moment, though, was when Lyney came to visit.
He dropped by to say hi to the little critter he rescued every day without fail, even if it was only for a few minutes. Usually he stayed for at least an hour, cradling the cat in his arms and chatting to her or Wriothesley, playing with her, feeding her snacks. He enjoyed throwing jabs at Wriothesley that he was obviously the kitty’s favourite, that he couldn’t leave her alone with the big scary hound for too long. Sure, Wriothesley felt a little sad when the cat that snuggled up to Lyney without question still shied away from his touch, but seeing how much Lyney enjoyed her company muted the sting of rejection somewhat.
It’s not like he’d expected anything different, considering his history and subsequent demeanour. If it were him, he’d have a hard time trusting himself, too.
His thoughts drifted again as he watched Lyney entertain his little rescue with a feather toy—holding it just out of the kitty’s reach, dragging it around until the plume disappeared out of the kitty’s view and she eagerly chased after it, waiting carefully and adjusting her position before she pounced on her prey. He listened to Lyney’s laugh as the cat jumped around, to Lyney’s words of praise when she caught the toy. What a contrast to their first meeting this was; Lyney sitting on the floor of his office, completely at ease, playing with a cat he begged Wriothesley to take in because he knew she’d be safe in his care. Lyney’s shoulders were relaxed, his smile was soft and genuine.
Lyney looked like he’d found a second home.
“... do you think, Wriothesley?”
The mention of his name shook Wriothesley out of his reverie. His stomach did its usual flip reserved for when Lyney’s attention was on him. Hopefully his blatant staring hadn’t been too obvious. “Come again?”
Lyney gave him a look that said he had definitely noticed Wriothesley staring. A little chuckle escaped his lips. “I was saying that we should give this little lady a name. She’s settled in enough now to warrant it, don’t you think?”
“I thought you said you’d find a different home for her.” Wriothesley narrowed his eyes, then barked out a laugh. “You’re getting attached, aren’t you? Archons above, I knew this would happen.”
“Hey, it’s not like I’m the only one!” Lyney defended himself. Accurate, considering Wriothesley had been growing fond of not one, but two strays that found their way into his office. But he was a grown man with a healthy portion of common sense, and it was about time that he used it.
“Lyney,” he sighed, “you know this is far from the ideal environment for a pet. I allowed it because you promised it would be temporary. I can’t let her stay here for much longer; it’s not good for her.”
“Seems to me like she’s doing just fine,” Lyney challenged him. “In fact, she’s not the only one profiting from this arrangement.”
“Oh? Care to elaborate?”
Lyney gave him a flat look, like he was annoyed at having to point out the obvious. “You’ve been way less doom and gloom since I brought her in. Having some company down here is good for you—which is something anyone could have told you, really.”
Wriothesley grimaced. He couldn’t exactly deny that without admitting that it wasn’t just the cat that had improved his mood.
“But,” Lyney continued, dragging out the word with a kind of resignation, “if she’s really too much, I can probably arrange something else.”
Wriothesley stayed quiet. The cat in question, now having tired of her toy, sauntered over to Wriothesley’s desk and hopped on up. After sniffing around the papers that covered the surface, she carefully wriggled herself onto Wriothesley’s lap and plopped down for a nap.
Wriothesley stared at her, amazed, holding still in fear that one wrong move might chase her away. He felt his lips pull back from his teeth in a grin that would make him look positively deranged. Lyney looked just as bewildered as him, and he tipped his head to the side slightly, as if to say go on.
Slowly Wriothesley lowered his hand and stroked a few fingers along the kitty’s little head. She raised her head at the touch, but didn’t make a move to jump off.
Wriothesley’s heart grew a few sizes. His chest felt so full he feared it might burst. Lyney had his knuckles pressed against his mouth, but that didn’t do much to hide the impossibly fond look on his face.
“I think she just adopted you,” he breathed, the words brimming with elated awe.
Wriothesley kept trailing his fingers over the cat’s white fur. She still didn’t seem to have any intentions of leaving. On the contrary: she shifted to lie in the dip between Wriothesley’s legs a bit more comfortably, a steady purr rumbling from her throat. Wriothesley’s heart was about to melt through the bars of his ribcage.
“I don’t want to give her away, really,” he said softly. He scratched under the cat’s chin, and she angled her little head upwards, as if she was asking him to continue. Wriothesley’s smile was starting to hurt his cheeks now. “But it’s not right for me to keep her in a place like this, no matter how much I might benefit from it. It’s not a good environment for her, not for the long term.”
“Of course it’s not a good environment, it’s an Archons-damned prison.” Lyney got to his feet and walked over to Wriothesley’s desk, peering at the little cat in Wriothesley’s lap with warm eyes. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t make it a home. You managed it too, didn’t you?”
A chuckle escaped Wriothesley’s lips. In his mind, he added and so did you.
***
“Milly, no! Not my laces!”
Lyney laughed as he jumped from one boot to another, trying to keep their rescue from attacking his shins. Milly, being the lace-fiend that she was, was undeterred; the movement only made her want to chase the strings more.
“She’s been like that all morning,” Wriothesley sighed, even as he smiled at the display. “I had to get an inmate’s file reprinted because she kept chewing on it.”
“Nothing like her namesake,” Lyney quipped in response, all too eager to make fun of Wriothesley’s choice to name her after one of his favourite teas. Wriothesley had argued that the cat nicely resembled chamomile flowers, with her white fur and amber eyes, but Lyney just called him a tea-obsessed grandpa. In all fairness, he was not wrong.
“Come on, little lady, let’s get you into your harness,” said Lyney, somehow prying Milly from his boots without getting scratched. “You get off your ass, too, old man—you’ve been sitting there for several hours now.”
“I ought to ban you from the Fortress if you keep on insulting me.” Wriothesley got to his feet with a groan. Yeah, his lower back was in dire need of a good stretch.
“And separate me from our child?” Lyney exclaimed with a dramatic gasp as he wrestled Milly into her harness. “How cruel, Your Grace!”
“Please stop calling the cat I’m sheltering in my office ‘our child’.”
“But she is!” After fastening the straps, Lyney scooped Milly up and cradled her in his arms. “She’s the cutest sweetest little baby in the whole wide world,” Lyney baby-talked her, loudly pressing kisses on Milly’s fluffy cheek until she wriggled out of his hold and jumped down. She definitely preferred Lyney’s affection over Wriothesley’s—he had yet to experience a repeat of the time she voluntarily slept in Wriothesley’s lap, regrettably—but even she had her limits.
Lyney seemed unaffected. He just fetched the leash and clipped it to Milly’s harness. “And we’re obviously sharing custody, so…” he added nonchalantly.
It was redundant to point out the fact that he and Lyney weren’t married. Bringing that to light would only prompt Lyney to say something ridiculous like “not yet we aren’t!”, and Wriothesley’s heart wasn’t equipped to deal with a prospect that was both ridiculous and strangely promising.
Wriothesley just subdued the smile that was threatening to split his face in half and intertwined his fingers with Lyney’s, lightly tugging him towards the stairwell.