A White Rose (Pt 4)

(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)

There has been a time skip. Shea is now 19, Nicholas 23.

Continued from here

@sparrowsage

CW: Stockholm syndrome(?), knife, blood, vague threats, death, disease, dehumanization

Shea knelt by his master’s bedside, not daring to lift his eyes even now. Likewise, Nicholas sat in a chair by his father’s bedside, although his attitude was far from reverence.

“Well, Father, I suppose this is it for you, then? Finally done fighting fate after all these years?”

Master Wilson did not answer— could not answer. The disease had taken its course and there was nothing to be done now. The man had fought his end for days now, but… something was different today. Shea could sense it. The man had mere hours left. Of that, Shea was certain.

Shea said nothing, even as Nicholas continued to speak ill to his father. Eventually, the master’s son grew bored of this and stood, making his way to Shea. Shea did not stir— did not make a sound as Nicholas tangled his fingers in Shea’s hair and pulled hard.

“Look at him. Fucking pathetic. You two are just right together.” Nicholas spat.

Shea closed his eyes as Nicholas tried to force him to look at Master Wilson. It was not his place. It was disrespect. He would not disgrace the dying.

When Nicholas released his hair, Shea let his gaze fall back to the ground. A moment later, the door slammed as Nicholas walked out.

“Shea…”

The sound of his master’s voice made Shea jump.

“Sir?” He lifted his eyes a little, as he often did when spoken to.

“There’s not… much time left for me…” Master Wilson gave a slight cough. “Before… before I go, I wanted to tell you… to tell you that you’ve been better to me… than my own son…”

Shea’s heart stopped in his chest for a moment as his eyes widened. “S-sir— I’m only an embellishment on your already perfect life— su-surely you don’t mean to speak so highly of me.”

“Don’t… interrupt a dying man’s last words…”

Shea brought his eyes back to the ground, shame sweeping through him.

“If only… if only you had been human… I would have adopted you as my own and… bestowed upon you glory and gifts as on no one else…”

Shea felt faint. He dared not interrupt again, yet he couldn’t help but feel an immense weight of guilt for even listening to these words. Surely his master would never have said these things were he in his right mind. His last words should have been a benediction to his son— not praise to someone as unworthy as he.

“You… you have been good to me… I only wish… that I could do more for your we-wellbeing after my passing… You know you shall pass into the care of my son, yes?”

“Yes, sir.” Shea said softly.

“I am sorry…” And Shea’s master spoke no more.

Shea sat by his master’s bedside for several hours yet until Master Wilson finally passed. When it finally happened, Shea rose silently and left the room.

“M-master Nicholas—” Shea let his gaze fall to the ground again, surprised to see Nicholas leaning on the wall outside Master Wilson’s room. Before he had looked away, Shea saw that he held a knife, turning it over and over in his hands.

“Well?” Nicholas asked. “I assume my father finallydied?”

“Sir, your father was a good man. I am sorry for your loss…” Shea’s voice was even softer than usual as he said this.

In a moment, Shea gasped as he was shoved against a wall, Nicholas’s knife at his throat. He turned his face aside so as to not meet the eyes of his new master.

“That isn’t what I asked.” Nicholas hissed.

Shea didn’t attempt to make another answer.

“Look at me.”

When Shea didn’t react right away, Nicholas pressed the knife closer against Shea’s skin.

“Damn you, I said look at me!”

Shea whimpered softly, turning his face to look up at Nicholas.

“Look me in the eye you fucking coward.”

Shea obeyed, finding it difficult to hold Nicholas’s stare.

“Now. Is my father dead yet? I want you to say it. Properly.”

“Y-yes, sir. Master Wilson pa-passed away.”

“No. I want you to say ‘your father is dead’. Stop using euphemisms. Just say it.”

“Y-your… your father is dead.”

Nicholas glared, pressing the tip of the knife against Shea’s neck just hard enough to draw blood before pulling back and letting Shea go. Immediately, Shea brought his gaze back to the ground.

Nicholas turned to walk down the hall. “And I heard what my father said to you after I left.”

She felt his face pale and his blood run cold. “I-it shouldn’t have been said…” He whispered.

Nicholas laughed as he walked away. “Why not? Every word of it was true. He used it against me every chance he got. The old man never stop singing your praises.”

Pics are Shea and Nicholas from this Picrew. I edited Sheas picture and added wings because they didn’t have them as an option.