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The night was cold, dark, by the time Butler came to the library. Billiam had been sitting there while he had dealt with the bodies and the blood, tossing them quickly to the Egg and swiflty cleaning the mess they had left behind. He never liked to stray in that room too long. It always seemed to make his skin crawl whenever he looked at the Egg, the red vines that coated the room in a deep crimson that always made him nauseous.
He had grabbed the wine that had been sitting on the table beside where Billiam had been seated against his rather large arm chair. The moon hung high in the sky by now and really both of them should be asleep after such a long day. But, if his master needed him to still serve, Butler could do it.
“Today was so… interesting. Wouldn’t you say?” Billiam said as he raised his glass up. Butler knew the gesture and hurried to fill it. His master had scoffed. “So young yet knows so much about things he shouldn’t,” he mumbles to himself, taking a long sip.
Butler knew to be quiet in moments like these. The Egg was listening still, he could feel it pressing against the back of his mind in a familiar and uncomfortable pressure. If he spoke it probably would only end bad. He would be stuck back in the sea of red like he had been today, lost adrift in the Sea as red as the wine he now serves. He didn’t like floating, he hurt people when he was like that. And, right now, the only person he could hurt was Billiam and he really didn’t wanna do that.
So, he stayed silent as Billiam continued to speak.
“I always fucking hated this. All this. Never even really wanted this big of a home. Feels too… empty like this.” He simply stood there, staring out the window at the moon above as clouds began to cover it though Billiam’s words confused him. Did he… was he going to leave Butler? “I want to escape this hell hole if I’m being honest.” Oh, oh, the Egg didn’t like that. The soft reminder pushing against the back of his mind became a tidal wave of sudden pain. Butler crumpled a bit under the force of it, a hand flying up to his head as he whimpered. Billiam snarled. “Yeah, you fucking heard me you little bitch!” He shouted out to the hall. The Egg got louder and Butler feared for a moment it would take control of him again. He didn’t want that. Gods he didn’t want that.
Billiam seemed to settle once again, relaxing back to his chair and mumbling something Butler couldn’t hear and the waves settled once again.
As he stood straight once again he looked over at his master, noting the clarity in his eyes.
He… had never seen that before.
They both normally had the awful red tint behind their eyes at all times, a fog that clouded their consciousness. The sign of territory, that they were the Eggs property. He had never seen his master's eyes without the red tint to them, or, not in a long time at least. He had almost forgotten how they were such a soft, deep brown. It was, it was a bit jarring to see. Strange to see the soft, almost kindness, in his eyes.
He looked away before the Egg got mad again.
“Butler,” he hummed to acknowledge him being addressed but said nothing. “May I ask you something?” He nodded, Billiam sighed. “How old are you? Five words.”
He thought for a moment, needing to count out on his hands how long it had been. The years that had passed since that dust bowl town that had given him rather willingly to a known killer without much fuss. He had only been ten at the time. He calculated his answer on his fingers and opened his mouth to speak.
“I think I’m fourteen, sir.” His voice barely above a whisper, giving the illusion of not speaking at all. The Egg liked that, humming gently in his mind as he spoke. Billiam tensed and he watches the softness in his eyes fade before he relaxes with a death grip on the arms of his chair.
“I see,” he says, holding out his once again nearly empty wine glass which Butler quickly refills without much thought.
They go back to a long moment of silence. Not even the rain that now falls seems to make any noise. It almost unsettles Butler as he feels the tension in the room grow, but he knew he was safe. Billiam never let anything happen to him under his care.
“Butler, can I ask something else?” Billiam asks, finally shattering the tension so quickly Butler nearly gasps but he knows better than that. “What are your thoughts on this place?”
Billiam did something wrong.
He knew that there were rules set in place. That Billiam would treat him differently depending on if there were guests there as opposed to none. Butler knew how Billiam truly acted. He wasn’t as bad as many people believed, really! Billiam had given him food, a roof over his head, clothes, a decent enough education and a place to sleep. He never forced Butler to do anything and even helped sometimes with the cleaning. And, Billiam never hit him, which is more than he could say about the dust bowl town he had come from initially. They just had a… complicated relationship and Butler never really knew how to treat the other. Billiam had always said to just treat him like an equal, but Butler didn’t really know how to do that and he didn’t particularly like the idea of being equal with someone as noble and pristine as Billiam.
But, despite it being just the two of them Butler couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on his back. They were still being watched despite all other people in the house being dead. The Egg in the basement could hear their every word and would dole out punishment to him as it saw fit depending on how Butler behaved. Butler would make the Egg mad if he didn’t comply with its rules. Billiams didn’t matter now.
“How many words, sir?” He whispers so only his master may hear even if the Egg still could, it always felt safer this way. To stay quiet and keep his head down. Billiam turns to him with a curious look on his face as he lowers his wine glass from where it had been resting against his lips. A long stretch of silence grows between them before the man speaks.
“As many words as you need.”
Those simple words hit him like a ton of bricks. The air in his lungs being let out with a harsh gasp, it brings tears to his eyes. He can’t think about how many words he could say in this moment. How angry with him the Egg would be if he exceeds a limit. But, Billiam had given no limit. And, he is terrified of the thought.
“Take as long as you need, but, I give you all the words you need. Just, be honest, and please speak clearly.”
Butler nods to show he understood but he still can't comprehend the impossibility of being given such freedoms.
“I-” his voice is harsh and raspy, not clear enough. He coughs once to dislodge the sudden lump that had appeared in his throat.
When he starts again he can't seem to stop even if he wanted to.
“I like it here. I like being with you. These walls have protected me more than an entire town did. I love it here. It’s pretty, it's nice and I love living here even if it is under servitude and I can never leave. I like working for you and providing my services and company and what little words I can provide. I want to stay but,” he stops mid-sentence to swallow and take in a breath. He lowers his voice as he says, “it’s the Egg.”
“What about the Egg? Again no limits.”
“It's bad. I-I don’t like it. It makes me do things I don’t want to. I don’t want to hurt people but it makes me and I-” He has more he wants to say but he is suddenly knocked back, sent plummeting to the floor as a sudden wash of pain so harsh it feels like hellfire against the back of his eyes. He clutches his head in his hands and barely registers the voice that is screaming out in anguish as his own.
He is lost on the ocean as the Egg screams at him nearly incomprehensible words. He is back to the sea of red, left floating as something begins to dig at him. A grating pain that rolls up and down his arms as the red sea fills with more of the thick crimson. The sea seems to overtake him in waves and suddenly he is choking on what little breath he is able to suck into his lungs.
He doesn’t remember how he passed out, or when or really why. But, he does remember the waking part of the matter.
When Butler comes to it is through the haze of red to the soft sunlight of morning. Gold dances across his fingers as he grips the crisp white blankets in his fingers as he blearily tries to push past the heavy wave of sleep. They are soft, a texture he didn’t have much familiarity with beyond the occasional laundry days. He doesn’t open his eyes for a long time, savouring the silence and the warmth filling his senses.
When he does open them he regrets it for a moment as the soft golden rays peeking in through thick maroon curtains pierced his eyes, momentarily blinding him. He blinks away the sudden white and he can see.
And he sees Billiam.
And he sees the bandages covering his arms, a bit of pink tints the edges.
He decides to focus on Billiam for now.
His master is sitting there, folded over himself so he can lay half on the bed while still sitting in the chair he likely dragged over from the corner of the room. Butler imagines it can’t be too terribly comfortable but he doesn’t feel strong enough to wake his master and encourage him to move. He opts to just stare. Billiam looks peaceful. Butler knew one always did while lulled to sleep. It’s just odd to see.
There had been many a night that Butler had stayed awake with the older man, standing guard as Billiam twitched in the throes of a nightmare. And every time he woke it was with a start and a gasp as he shot up in his bed. Seeing Butler there always seemed to calm him, knowing there was safety in numbers.
Now though, Butler could see no tension in his face. It was so still that when his eyes began to twitch it almost seemed like a corpse coming back to life. It is striking when Billiams' eyes open. They are such a pure chocolate brown it almost makes Butler gag to not see even a hint of blood red in the irises.
“Sir-” his voice is hoarse and he coughs, shortly realizing his mistake and waiting for the inevitable wrath of the Egg. But, he realises belatedly, that there is nothing there. The constant pressure at the back of his mind is gone, leaving only the emptiness he felt so long ago in the desert town. He tries to sit up only for Billiam to stop him with a hand pushing him back down to the soft pillows. “Sir, what-”
“Shh, don’t strain yourself,” he watches as Billiam fills a glass with a pitcher of water that had been left at the bedside table. He hands over the glass, helping Butler to sit up as he guides the glass to his dried lips. “You’ve been out for a while now.” He gulps down the water a bit greedily, not having realized how thirsty he was until the cool liquid hit his throat.
His master pulls the cup away once it is empty.
“What,” he begins before realizing he had been speaking too loud and lowers his voice to a soft whisper. “What happened? The Egg-”
“The Egg is gone.”
No. No no no no nonononononono. This is not good. Butler doesn’t, Butler doesn’t know how to function without the Egg. He can’t, he can’t think without it. He can’t, he can’t breathe.
A hand lands on his back, begining to run a sweeping circle across his shoulders. “Breathe, it's alright.” Billiam says, but it's not, it's not alright. Because. Because if there is no Egg to serve Billiam has no more use of him and he's going to leave Butler alone. “I’m not gonna do that, you can still be of use.”
Butler thinks about that and takes a moment to breathe. Right, right he is still useful. He can still be used.
“What, what happened? To the Egg?” He asks tentatively. Just in case Billiam had been lying and it was still here and just waiting for him to slip up. He didn’t raise his voice more than a breath.
“I made a deal. It wont, it won't be bothering us again.”
“Oh,” he says, and that's all he can. Butler doesn’t feel anything about the new information. hIs gaze lands on the bandages around his arms and he begins to pick at the white cloth. Billiam watches as he does so, reaching out a hand to stop him once it looks like Butler might be about to tear them.
“Do you remember what happened before?”
“I-I remember…” He doesn’t. He just sits in wait for his master to fill him in.
“The Egg took control and tried to tear your arms apart, it tried to kill you, that's when I struck a deal. I’m passing it on to another who can care for it. Feed it. There's enough people in that town to last it a while, by then it may forget about us.” The words make Butler shiver. The town. He didn’t need to be told what town. He still can’t feel sad about it. If anything, he feels almost happy. Happy that revenge is finally being laid on the town that treated him worse than a literal murderer. He almost laughed but his nerves were still a bit too shot for that so he just grinned as he hung his head.
Billiam patted his hand before walking away for a moment before returning with a small handheld mirror.
“Just in case you don’t believe me, your eyes-” As Butler lifts the mirror to look into it he sees what Billiam is talking about.
His eyes were always the worse of the two. While his masters were a duller red with tints of brown mixed in his were always a deep crimson, none of their original colour breaking through the haze. Now though? Now they were a familiarly light blue, almost gray with heavy bags around the edges. And that made him really laugh. It was softer than it had used to be, not that he laughed much in the first place, but it was there. And that was enough.
“I’m, I’m free?” He asks Billiam with tears in his eyes. His master nodded and Butler let out a loud ‘whoop’, just because that meant now he could make noise. Be there without worry. Billiam didn’t scold him. In fact he laughed.
“Did you used to have a name?” He didn’t know. If he did it had been long since forgotten. The towns folk only ever called him ‘dirty orphan’, ‘street rat’ or ‘good for nothing bastard’. He shook his head. “Would you like one?”
He nodded his head, a childlike giddyness at the mere thought of being something other than ‘Butler’ to his master.
“Can I pick one?” Billiam didn’t hesitate to nod and Butler just grew more excited. In his free time he imagined being called a name, testing out all the types he would want. What ones felt right rolling off his tongue. He knew his answer to this question long ago. And now he could give it. “I like Atlas. I mean, if you have a better one I’ll do that but-”
“Atlas is just fine.” And Billiam is smiling at him, and Butler doesn’t feel afraid to meet his eyes and give a small smile back. He’s free. They’re free. And he won't need to worry about the Egg anymore. And, it’s just them now. He grins a toothy smile at his master.
“Of course, sir.”