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Remembering he no longer had a room to sleep in was the last thing on Evan’s mind the past few days. It wasn’t a priority with Roland assuring their stays at Inns and the such, and everything around him had happened faster than he could properly stop and react to. It wasn’t much of a thought, if any at all. It wasn’t much of anything until he was shown to a proper new room. A King’s room.
-
It was evening when they had returned to what was now going to be Evan’s own kingdom to rule. The sun had bled orange across the horizon and seeped into the endless flaxen fields. It was eye level, and almost too bright.
Goldpaw - or, that is, Pugnacius, was exposed. Even after all the fraud, the cheating and the lying, Evan knew he couldn’t have been all bad. He was right, and it felt good to affirm so. What didn’t feel so good was the shadow Doloran now hung over everyone’s heads. From what Niall had spoke of him, all Evan could piece from it was that this man sounded an awful lot like the villain of one of the many storybooks he had read to him back home. Back home. And there it was, a reason for him to stop and think.
Nobody gave him that chance, though, when he was swept up in awe. He left a patch of grass and returned to a community of building blocks. Power works in many ways, and both Batu and Niall had used theirs for the sake of Evan and his dream. Watching all those people, working to build the kingdom, working to help him, to help each other - it was overwhelming.
If simply looking had overwhelmed him, the speech given to Evan’s new people was something even he didn’t think he could do. Few times in the past had Arnella given him speech lessons - they were inevitable, he was to become King, after all.
Any and all rule and reason that came with those teachings were tossed the moment Evan opened his mouth. It wasn’t about proper etiquette, it was about heart and cause. And at that moment, Evan was overflowing with it.
-
It was a young Grimalkin who showed Evan to his new room. Batu was off with Tani speaking to a few crewmates that had joined the cause. Roland was his sole companion at the moment. The girl was eager to show what had been developed. But something churned inside of Evan that was far from eager. It began when he set foot in the castle, and all the all too familiar decorating styles. They wanted him to get a taste of Ding Dong Dell.
He did get quite a taste, a whole mouthful of nothing but ache.
“Well, do you like it? I know it’s not the biggest room, but we got more resources coming in soon! We can change and upgrade it as much as you like.”
The room was quite big, actually. Plenty big enough for Evan. It had the same fish embellishments across the walls as the rest of the castle, as his home did. A window, wide and full, as well as a small bed, a writing desk, and a wardrobe. There was a nightstand with a basin of what Evan guessed to be water, a small cup, a brush and a handheld mirror.
“We even managed to sneak a few things back from Ding Dong Dell. A few of your books, little trinkets such as that. It was a bit tricky, though.” The Grimalkin was sincere, and thinking someone would go to such dangers just to help him feel a tiny bit better, was enough in itself.
“A mighty fine room for a king.” Roland chipped in, eyes roaming. He gave a firm nod.
Now both of them were looking at Evan, expectant.
“It- It’s wonderful,” Evan breathed, hands coming up to clutch the front of his tunic, “It’s wonderful, thank you.. Thank all of you.” He shook his head, unable to find grand words. None of this felt real, still. Not one bit of it.
The bushy Grimalkin didn’t notice, but Roland caught the droop of Evan’s ears.
-
Night came quick, filled everything with the chirp of crickets and the still smell of lumber and stew. Still, absolutely astonished by how much these good people had accomplished in so little time. Evan would never truly be able to thank them all properly.
He had since retired to his new room. When he had been introduced to it, he wasn’t given much time alone before Gatu bust in, started asking his opinion on future investments. After that, it seemed like the moment Evan solved an inquiry, another popped its head in.
By the time Evan slipped into his bedroom, he deflated with a heavy sigh.
Two sconces had already been lit, and warmed the room with flickers of orange. They danced off the golden fish, giving them the illusion of movement. The window showed just a fraction of an unbounded sky of stars. The little ache in Evan’s bones grew to spread through his chest, and he removed his cloak, set it neatly on the foot of his bed. Nella put so much care into the detail of stitching, and Evan could notice the stains that have already been accumulating.
After the cloak, came the rest of his attire after Evan had found himself a crisp, white nightgown in his new wardrobe. It was only a tad too big.
Wandering to the bedside table, he slid the drawer open. There was a single book in it, and by the title, Evan knew instantly it had been a book one of his people had snagged from Ding Dong Dell. It was a story book. One of many.
Taking it out as if it were more fragile than glass, Evan set himself down on the edge of the bed. He let out a wary breath, and went to open the frayed cover. The knock at his door shook him startled.
“Yes?”
The door creaked open a peak, “Evan? May I come in?” It was Roland.
It was almost silly to ask, and just as silly to answer, “Yes.”
The room felt a bit smaller with Roland’s tall presence, and felt a bit homier, too. He made his way to the foot of the bed and gazed down at the blond boy, who did not share his gaze. He frowned. This had been eating away at the back of his mind all day.
“Is everything alright?” The question was finally posed, carefully, quietly.
Evan considered it, trained eyes stuck to the embroidered, curling letters of the book’s title. Everything? No, he supposed not everything was alright. Maybe, just maybe it was him, especially, that was not alright.
“This.. This is my room now,” Evan stated, tail lightly coiling and uncoiling against the sheets of his bed. It was an obvious statement, and Roland furrowed his brows thoughtfully.
“Yes,” The man agreed, “It is. Do you not like it?”
Of course he liked it. It was the perfect size, had everything he needed, and even one of his old story books. How could he not like it? He liked it very much. But, Evan wondered if that was why it upset him so greatly.
“No, I like it,” Evan disagreed, small fingers tracing over words, “But.. It’s not my room.” And saying those words felt like he had just swung a hammer at a cracking dam. It was all bursting out, “It isn’t my room, this isn’t my home,” The dam was reduced to crumbles of rock and ruin, “Father isn’t here, Nella isn’t here,” Evan choked on his words, tail now hanging limp. He couldn’t help himself from feeling so selfish, “How will I sleep here, knowing it isn’t home? I-I was fine at the inns we stayed in, but this.. This is supposed to be permanent now.”
Evan lifted his head to look to Roland, and his eyes were wet. The older man’s throat tightened, and he couldn’t move an inch.
“Roland,” Evan mustered, “I want to go home,” Finally, his shoulders heaved as he let his head fall back down. He cried quietly.
Roland had seen Evan cry once before, when Nella passed. He couldn’t have done much for him then, and still wishes he had soothed the boy, given him more time to grieve. But in the peril they were in, there was no time to stop and mourn. It still stuck with Roland, and he couldn’t imagine the damage still done to Evan.
But now, now it was still. There was no immediate death to run from. There was just the steady light of the candles and the faint chirps of insects outside. The night was young, and the moon lay lazy and low within the stars. There was time, there was eternity in that little king’s room.
Roland sat himself down beside the young boy. A hand came up to wipe a stray tear, and slid back to brush blond hair out of Evan’s face. Somehow, the action only brought more trembling. He sighed, and decided to stay silent for a moment. Focusing his attention on the heavy looking book, Roland then attempted gently to pry it from the desperate grip Evan kept. It slipped from the other’s hands, and Roland set it on the sheets beside him.
Evan continued to cry. It was private and shaky, filled with whimpering sobs. Roland gave him the time, gave him all he needed. He knew early on, that he would give Evan anything, if it meant his happiness.
Another moment passed, and Roland had his arms around him. He pulled Evan to his chest, and held him there. His grip was firm, reminding the younger one that he was here, that he was stable and definite.
“I don’t know what it’s like to lose so much, Evan,” Roland whispered into his hair, “I don’t, but you know what I do know? I know that you’re still here. You are alive, and you’re so strong,” His gaze was distant as he set his head on top of Evan’s, staring out the window, “Everyone is so proud of you, and they grieve alongside you. It is you that keeps them strong, you have so much, Evan.” A sigh shook through the both of them, and Evan stayed silent.
“You’ve got a lot of responsibility on your shoulders, Evan.” Roland rubbed deliberate circles into the boy’s back, closed his eyes, “But you aren’t alone,” He held Evan tighter, “Batu, Tani, Niall, all of them, they are here for you. I’m here for you, and I’ll never leave you, Evan. Do you understand?”
When his grip loosened to meet Evan’s eyes, the small king clung to him in response, pushed his face into his chest.
“You’re okay,” Roland murmured, “You’re okay.”
They stayed, wound up against each other, for a long while. Often silent, though Roland consoled Evan through more bouts of sobs, kept his reassurances low and steady.
Once Evan’s breathing steadied, slowed down, Roland almost thought he had fallen asleep. The blond lifted his head. His eyes, their shade of blue brightened by the redness left from his cries, were heavy with exhaustion.
“I’m sorry, Roland,” Evan exhaled, and the older man brought the boy’s hand back down when it raised to rub at an irritated eye, “I supposed this is not very fitting of a king to cry like this.”
Roland smiled, shook his head, “Even kings need to cry sometimes. I know I have had my share. Now, it is late. Kings need their sleep, too.”
That brought a small giggle out of Evan, and it was enough for Roland to relax.
“I suppose you’re right,” Evan smiled with him, very much tuckered out for the night.
Roland turned and reached for the book at the foot of the bed, “Now, what are we reading tonight?” He carefully opened the front cover, regarded the first few pages.
For a short moment, confusion washed over Evan’s face.
Then Roland began to read the story aloud.
It was like clockwork, Evan shifted up and slid himself underneath the covers, pulled them to his chin. Roland had settled at the edge, beside him, continued to read.
So much was akin to nostalgia, but at the same time, the deep lull of Roland’s voice was real and now and brought Evan much more comfort than he could have imagined. It didn’t stop, either. Even after reaching the end of the chapter, he kept going. He kept going until his voice guided Evan to a sound sleep.
Roland’s eyes flickered above the pages, and finally did not get a peaking pair staring back at him. Evan had fallen asleep. Closing the book, the man regarded him. An ear twitched, and he held back a quiet chuckle as he stood, quite full with nothing but love. Setting the book on the nightstand, Roland blew out both candles and allowed the room to immerse in the soft light of the overhanging moon. It shown gently upon Evan’s face, and he bent over to brush bangs back, and place a kiss to a warm forehead.
Just as he reached to open the door, something held him there, and he turned back around instead.
Pulling up the wooden chair from the small writing desk, Roland set himself down, leaned back, and found himself staring up at the stars until sleep, too, overtook him.