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Upon the balcony, Scar and Grian watched the moon set.
Dawn would soon be breaking in the Kingdom of Sand. Grian stifled a yawn as he listened to Scar’s rambling words ebb and flow around him. He tried to stop his eyelids from shutting, but before he knew it, his vision slipped into murkyness and his head dipped down in exhaustion. Before he could fully nod off, Scar leaned his head into Grian’s line of sight, slipping his hand onto his bare shoulder. The tattered red gown was slumped over only one of Grian's shoulders, leaving the other skin bare.
“Grian? You alright?” Scar asked softly, a small amused smile on his lips.
“Yeah,” Grian rubbed his eyes. “Just asleep on my feet. Is it time to go to bed now or what?”
Scar’s shoulders slumped down to the ground, and Grian chuckled as he realized he was not alone in his exhaustion from the past twelve hours.
“Yes, I think so,” Scar said, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head with a grunt.
Grian shifted where he sat at the stone bench. Scar got to his feet shakily, clearly feeling the sleepiness.
“Wanna call it a night?”
Scar was illuminated by the setting moon, stars twinkling. He held out his hand to Grian.
Grian almost hesitated.
“Yeah. Yeah, I need to go check in with Pearl. She’ll be worrying about sleeping arrangements for the flock.”
"I can help with that," Scar assured.
Grian took Scar’s hand, feeling the warmth of it in his palm. They didn’t let go as they walked through the palace, calm and quiet after the rousing party of the treaty celebrations. Some royals passed them, shutting doors to bedrooms and stumbling on their feet. Grian discovered more than a couple of his flockmates snoozing in the rafters in the halls.
Once in the ballroom, Scar and Grian found Pearl carrying a half-asleep Jimmy slumped over her shoulder. Gem was at her side. With a wave of Scar’s hand, Gem darted away. Sleeping mats and pillows and blankets and cushions were brought out for all of the visiting Avian guests. By now all of the royals had retired to their arranged chambers and guest rooms of the palace, leaving the ballroom empty for the flock's refuge.
Done her tasks, Gem bid them goodnight. Grian helped Pearl get the flock settled in for the night. When he was finishing up, watching over the giant-blanket-nest the ballroom floor had become, a tentative tap on his bare shoulder brought Grian back to the present tiredness of his body.
“Everything working out good?” Scar was right behind him. “Blankets sufficient? You know I can still make rooms up for you all if you’d like-“
“This is perfect Scar,” Grian assured the royal. “Avians prefer to sleep together with their flocks. Splitting us up can cause some anxiety.”
Scar looked suddenly crestfallen at Grian’s comment, which was confusing. Perhaps Scar still felt bad about all that had happened. Grian placed a hand on his shoulder.
“But I appreciate the offer, really.” Grian said, meaning it.
Scar nodded. He looked at war with himself, struggling to move his mouth to form the words he wished to say. Grian watched him work out what to do, waiting patiently.
“Uh, Grian,” Scar began nervously. “Would you like to…”
Scar took a shuddering breath.
“…stay with me tonight?”
Grian’s heart stopped. Stay with... Scar. In his bed. In his private chambers.
Oh. Oh.
Grian knew he was staring at Scar with an expression he couldn't control. He tried to focus on the blood that needed to be pumping through his arteries right now.
“Oh.” Grian said.
Scar looked very worried at his reaction, and that just wouldn’t do, so Grian shook away his nerves and gave Scar a toothy grin.
“You mean today?” Grian smirked, amusement bubbling up into his chest.
“Today?” Scar repeated, confused.
Grian tipped his head up to the broken skylight. The sun was just beginning to rise, feeble rays shooting across the darkened sky.
“Oh! Snrk-“ Scar snorted out a surprised laugh. “Yes, today.”
Grian laughed, feeling butterflies flutter in his stomach. This was something he wanted, right? After everything, he could give Scar this. He deserved this after everything that had happened, and how much he had helped Grian. And Grian wasn't naive to the blooming of something warm in his heart when Scar smiled at him. If he thinks too much about it he struggles to breath.
“I…”
Grian looked back at his flock. Back at Pearl, who was whispering hushed goodnights to the last of the flockmates at the far ends of the giant blanket nest.
“I need to check in with Pearl.” Grian prefaced, and saw how Scar wilted. But he reached forwards to meet Scar nose-to-nose, staring intently into his eyes.
“But I would love to, Scar.”
With a chaste kiss to the forehead, Grian left Scar breathless as he went to say goodnight to Pearl.
---
“Ugh, I need a nap!” Scar exclaimed as he fell into bed. “I could sleep for a thousand years.”
Scar and Grian were now in Scar’s private chambers. Glancing around at the familiar gold detailing of the walls and glittering jewellery hanging on every surface, Grian was struck by a hidden modesty. Scar's room - despite the glamour - had a warm and comforting atmosphere to it. Clothes littered the floor messily. The four poster bed was smooth dark oak. The shades of the furniture were deep sandstone yellow and peaches and sage greens, reminding Grian of the desert landscape.
Scar was splayed out across his bed, green sheets tangled. He had changed into sleeping wear already, his chest bare.
Grian stood motionless at the foot of the bed.
“Well come on in!” Scar beckoned. “No need to push and shove!”
Scar patted the space beside him with a hopeful smile.
Grian hesitated.
Did he know what he was getting himself into?
“Um.” Scar faltered, nerves showing on his face at Grian’s obvious hesitation. “Need anything? Water, extra pillows, oh! A change of clothes maybe?”
He said the last item with terribly hidden regret, eyes darting over the tattered and torn scarps of red gown clinging to Grian. The gown that Scar had forced Grian to wear.
Grian felt his cheeks heat up at the offer of wearing Scar's cloths. But he was tired and the gown was still itchy, so he nodded silently.
Then he immediately felt guilty as Scar almost fell to his knees when he got up from bed to walk to the dresser.
“Whoa!” Scar braced the bedframe with his hands. “Almost took a tumble there! Hold on one moment, I can get the-“
“Scar, it’s fine, nevermind,” Grian replied fast, rushing forwards. He was tempted to push Scar down onto the bedsheets so he wouldn't hurt himself, but thought better of it. That would lead them to dangerous places. “Just tell me what drawer it’s in and I’ll get it.”
Scar pouted, but then carefully sank back into the cushions of the bed.
“Fine. Second last drawer in the big gold dresser.”
Grian opened the drawer as he was told, and was met with an explosion of soft satin fabrics of every colour.
“Pick anything you want,” Scar offered.
Grian told Scar to look away, and he did. After Grian slipped on the pj’s, he felt the soft cold fabric envelope him like a chilly hug. It was nice, and made him that much more sleepy. He had grabbed an overshirt in the drawer, but it did not possess any wing slits, and Grian didn't want to risk ripping Scar’s clothes. He decided to let his wings breath, and left the shirt on the dresser.
His tattered and dirty gown lay forgotten on the floor.
He was aware of how exposed his wings were now. They were fluffed up with the underlying nerves rushing through Grian’s veins, and because of that Grian noticed how messy they were. Dirt and grime and dried alcohol was spread across his primary and secondaries, and so many feathers had been bent out of shape from dancing at the party. (Or was it from the frantic, wild flight he took to Lizzie’s? Scared and injured and terrified for his and Pearl's life?)
He attempted to shake out the worst of the dirt - and his dark thoughts - as he approached the bed again. His wings were spread out wide, feathers fluttering.
They were due for a preen, Grian realized.
His wings… needed a preen.
His stomach dropped.
“Ouch-“ Grian couldn’t help but flinch from the itchiness provoked by shaking his feathers. He looked up at the bed to see Scar staring at him with impossibly wide eyes, quietly watching him and his wings on display.
“Everything okay?” Scar asked gently. “Are your wings…sore?”
Grian pushed down the icky bad feelings of being perceived, watched, naked, even though he'd finished putting on Scar's cloths. He gave Scar the brightest smile he could muster. He wouldn’t ruin this night for Scar because of some itchy wings. They could do one more day without a preen. Grian could last.
After everything, all he wanted to do was stay in this moment with Scar. Preening right now would just make a mess. It would be a mistake.
“They’re fine,” Grian said easily, and he folded them up tight. The dirt had been mostly brushed off anyway.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, it’s alright Scar. Just sit there and look pretty.”
Scar blushed deeply at Grian’s comment, leaving all wing talk forgotten. He quickly busied himself with making space for Grian, smoothing out blankets and sheets in embarrassment.
The Avian clambered into bed carefully, moving slow as a snail's pace. He was feeling nervous again. His hands trembled as he laid down on his side next to Scar, eyes level and gazing at the other.
Scar rolled over to meet Grian’s eyes, expression full of wonder.
“Hello there,” Scar said with a wobbly grin.
Grian’s mouth crumpled into a smile
“Hi Scar.”
They stared at each other for a while, simply basking in the warmth of eachother's company. Grian tried to quiet his racing worried mind, and slowly, eventually, he felt sleepiness tug at his eyelids. He sank into the soft bedding, gazing at the man he loved. Maybe things would be fine. Maybe this was it.
“I’ve had a nice time tonight,” Scar’s voice was low, boarding on hoarse.
He reached out a scarred hand to cup Grian’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the feathers marked on Grian’s face. Grian unabashedly leaned into the touch. Scar’s hand was warm, and scratchy from the valleys dug into the skin. Grian’s heart pulled in his chest at the thought of all the wounds this royal had, how many sharp and cruel things had punctured and hurt him.
He turned his head so Scar’s hand lay over his mouth, and pressed a kiss to it.
“I’ve had a nice time too,” Grian murmured into Scar’s palm, and was not deaf to the small intake of breath.
He continued to press soft lips to the twisted lines on Scar’s wrists and forearm, taking his time to follow the scars up his arm. With each kiss to the tender skin, Grian tried to flood the intentions he had, of healing and good and safety and comfort.
No more pain for his Scar.
Grian had just reached Scar’s bicep when a scarred hand tilted his chin up to meet golden brown eyes.
That same magnetic magic energy was pulling them together, and before Grian knew it, Scar was rushing forward to kiss him. Deeply. Intensely, with all the love and passion that Grian couldn’t begin to comprehend.
He let himself be swept up in it, the fuzzy exciting electricity of it shooting through him. He gave back what he could. This was fine. This was good. Grian couldn't lie to himself about how good it felt.
Then Scar broke away from Grian’s lips and instead began to plant kiss after kiss along Grian’s face, his jaw, his cheeks and down his neck.
“Scar!” Grian laughed in shock, drunk with the sensation of affection.
Scar chuckled, and Grian nearly shrieked as he felt the rumble of it against his throat.
By now Scar had turned him over onto his back. His wings were pinned under his spine, pushed into the bed.
As they dove back into another kiss, Grian tried to ignore the growing discomfort. He was having fun, wasn’t he? Why be a bother, why ask to sit up, and break apart this wondrous, delicate moment between them? It felt good a second ago...
They continued to kiss and breathe, give and take, touch and feel.
This was what Scar wanted from him. And this was what Grian wanted too, right?
But then they ended up in a position that made Grian more vulnerable than he thought. More vulnerable than he had prepared himself for.
Scar was on top of him. Out of breath. His perfect royal hair was messed up, stray hairs falling over his eyes. They'd just broken apart from a longer kiss, where Scar started making noises that Grian hated made his blood freeze like ice, and had wandered his hands near places Grian had never let someone else touch before. Pushed into the bed cushions, Grian's wings were screaming at him in protest from splintered feathers and twisted up preliminaries.
Grian huffed out a pained breath he disguised as a tired one, cheeks warming. Scar’s gazed at him intensely, eyes wandering along every part of Grian exposed. There was a hunger in his eyes, Grian knew. He could see the glimmers of it in the ocean of Scar’s irises.
Scar, ever so slowly, drifted his hands down to rest on Grian’s sides, right above his hips. He rubbed small circles into the sockets, feeling the feathers that peeked out of his pj shorts, the feathers that creeped all the way down to his talons.
Grian gasped sharply.
He was frozen.
Scar couldn’t tell that something was wrong. Because why would he? Grian wasn’t pushing him away. He wasn’t saying no. He wanted this, right?
Grian's lungs seized up as Scar carefully moved his hands down his side, over his hips-
Down, down, down-
In blind panic, Grian’s hands shot to Scar’s wrists. An iron grip held them in place from wandering any further.
Before anything could happen.
“Wait. Don’t. Please.”
The world stood still. Grian’s heart beat faster and faster as the seconds passed.
Then Scar short circuited.
Blinking rapidly, he spasmed his hands away from Grian in an instant, eyes wide. He leaned back, and climbed off of Grian without a word of question. Grian quickly gathered himself again, trying to quell his racing heart. He could feel it pumping out of his chest when he placed his hand over it.
He sat up and sighed a pained breath as his wings resettled on his back after being squished. They were really aching now.
“Woah…” Grian huffed out a breath, looking at Scar apologetically. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”
Grian attempted to right his wrong, and reached out to pull Scar back to him by slinking his arms around his neck. But Scar intercepted, instead taking Grian’s hands from his neck and holding them comfortably in his lap.
“Grian, are you okay?” Scar asked quietly, eyes searching for something.
“Yes. I’m fine,” Grian said immediately. He laughed, staring at the pretty, flushed Desert Royal sitting in bed with him. “I’m great actually.”
“Okay…” Scar said carefully, missing Grian's teasing comment. He linked their fingers together. “Just… you seem to be in pain right now. Are your wings in pain?”
Grian blinked guiltily. Leave it to Scar to recognize pain in another, being so well versed in it himself.
“…no?”
Scar raised an eyebrow at him.
“Oh gosh, I can’t lie to you, can I?” Grian let go of Scar's hands and burrowed his head into his knees, curling up like an armadillo. “It’s really not that big a deal-“
“It seems like a big deal to you,” Scar guessed, leaning forwards to place a hand on Grian’s knee. “And if it’s a big deal to you, then it’s a big deal to me.”
Grian looked up though his hands.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” said Scar, his expression illustrating a want to understand.
Grian shuffled his wings uncomfortably. Scar deserved to know. Grian could push this aside all he wanted, but it would surly come back to bite him when Scar eventually found out he was making himself suffer like this. Despite the way his heart raced at the thought, Scar deserved to know, hell, he needed to know if they were both seriously committed to this relationship. Grian took a shuddering breath before he spoke.
“My wings need to be... preened every now and again."
"Preened?" Scar asked neutrally.
"Like... cleaned. Groomed," Grian clarified. "I haven’t been keeping up with it because of… well… everything thats happened. But they are pretty bad right now, and feel really itchy and uncomfortable.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Scar said in shock, clearly piecing together their previous position.
“Because-“ Grian choked on his words, surprised to feel a lump in his throat. “Because this is for you, Scar. I didn’t want to ruin the night by preening. I get all loopy and sleepy after I do it. I’d literally pass out in seconds. I-it’s not what you deserve. You deserve all the love that I can’t give you. At least I can give you this before I go away.”
Grian slumped his shoulders, not meeting Scar’s eyes. He felt incredibly exposed, so out in the open, all his faults clear for Scar to see. Shameful tears burned the corners of his eyes.
Scar leaned into Grian’s line of sight, eyes kind. There was nothing but kindness in his next words.
“Grian, I want you. Not sex. I’m sorry if I phrased this…request in a way to make you believe that. I honestly just wanted to spend as much time as I could get with you before you leave for migration.”
Scar held out his palm to Grian, an offering. Grian tentatively placed his hand in Scar’s. Scar lifted it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to it. Grian stifled an embarrassing warbled-sob.
“I don’t care what you can give me. I love you and I want you. And I will always be here if you need me; here in the desert, or out there, flying across the world.”
Grian felt like crying. A weight on his heart had been lifted, and he felt freer than he did when Scar agreed to the treaty conditions. He launched himself into the wonderful royal's arms, hugging tightly. Scar let out a surprised “oof!” that made Grian break into laughter.
Scar laughed with him, and wrapped his arms around Grian to hug him back. But Scar hugged him a little too tightly, causing a spasm of pain to flare up Grian’s spine. His wings were determined to not be swept under the rug or ignored, that was for sure.
Grian hissed in pain, flinching away from the embrace. Scar jumped his hands away, lightning fast.
“Oh sorry sorry!!” He said in panic, hands flapping. “I didn’t hurt you more did I?”
Grian shook his head.
“No, I just need to preen these asap!” He said in frustration. "It'll just take a little bit."
The Avian pulled away and started to busy himself with preening. Taking one wing into his hand, he began to sort through his lower feathers, straightening out the worst of the bent and smushed ones from earlier. Scar watched his every move with terribly hidden interest. After a beat of silence, he spoke.
“Do you… want any help?”
Grian stopped dead in his tracks. He looked up at Scar with weary eyes.
Preening was a sensitive subject. Normally Pearl and other flock members were the only beings allowed to touch his wings. Grian had never had a human preen him before. This was something extremely personal.
But why should he be afraid, when it was Scar?
“I-uh,” Grian fumbled his words, heat rising to his face. “Uhm. If you want to help, I wouldn’t mind…”
“You sure?” Scar asked, eyes wide. “I don’t want to overstep again-"
Grian’s scared expression cracked into a fond grin.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll tell you if that ever changes. Come here, let me show you how to do it.”
Scar scooted closer to Grian to watch over his shoulder as he demonstrated. Scar paid attention to every word, and mimicked the movements of Grian’s hands as he explained. It was overwhelming to have someone listen to Grian talk about a topic so personal to his entire being.
Hesitant, but willing, Grian laid down on his stomach and spread his wings out for Scar to work. Which he did. He did so with so much care and concern and patience that tears threatened to spill down Grian’s cheeks.
Each pull on his feathers was incredibly gentle, and not once did Grian wince in pain at the removal of broken ones. He sank into the soft cushions, feeling his body melt into jelly under Scar’s touch.
He let himself relax, if only for this brief period of time in Scar’s company, peace settling over him like a warm blanket.
He was safe. There was no catch.
There was only Scar, caressing his fingers through his feathers.
There was only love, tender and sweet, raw and real.
“Done,” Scar said quietly. He removed his hands from Grian’s feathers and leaned back on his knees. Grian felt Scar’s subtle hesitation to pull his hands from between the feathers. He could tell Scar had enjoyed the softness of them.
Grian let out a long sigh of relief, and ruffled his clean wings.
“Thank you,” Grian slurred his speech together.
“Happy to help,” said Scar.
For some reason, Scar was not beside Grian. Leaning back on his knees, he was nowhere near the Avian. The chasm between them was so cold, and Grian longed for Scar’s warm touch again.
“Why are you so far away?” Grian mumbled in confusion. His face was still squished into the bed cushions, for the preening had left him too tired to sit up.
“Oh uh-“ Scar stuttered.
Scar’s voice sounded shy. It was incredibly adorable.
“Do you want me to be close?” Scar said, voice shaking with tenderness. “I thought after preening you’d want some time alone. I can even sleep in another room if-“
“Get over here and cuddle with me,” Grian demanded poutily. He reached out his hand to Scar, and when Scar slipped his palm into his, Grian yanked with all his might.
Scar yelled out in surprise, and scrambled not to crush his whole body weight onto Grian again. They ended up side by side, but this time Grian army-crawled his way to Scar’s chest, shoving his face into Scar’s neck.
He spread his wings over both of them, wrapping them up in a little cocoon of warmth.
“Oh,” Scar said softly. “This is nice.”
“Yeah,” Grian whispered back, breathing deeply. “It is.”
They laid there in silence, settling into the feeling of each other's skin. Scar’s breathing slowed down, Grian smiling at how he rose and fell on Scar’s chest. Their breathing synced up, deep and relaxed. Sleepiness returned.
“I love you,” Scar whispered out on the breath of an exhale, half asleep already.
Bubbly fuzzy joy sparked to life in Grian’s heart. He raised his head with sizeable effort, gazing at Scar’s peaceful expression and closed eyes. He kissed Scar’s cheek.
“I love you too,” Grian murmured into the skin. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”
The morning after the Banquet, Grian and Scar fell asleep. They slept the whole day, getting up and laying back down, napping until sunset again.
They both knew that things would never feel this way again. Grian had to leave for migration. Scar had a Kingdom to run. Life’s big plans were splitting them apart.
But for one day, they soaked up as much of the other’s company as they could carry, packaging it away for later lonely days to take out and hold, and feel the dying embers of its warmth.
Life would move on. Time would not stop for them.
(But at least this tiny blip would be remembered.)
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