Thieving Thrones

Chapter 1

The servants aren't allowed to speak.

Aster sits in silence, perched on the corner of the balcony. The breeze threatens to push him off the railing, but he sways with it anyway. It's easier to be moved by a force of nature rather than to fight it.

The cursing and offensive slang has been rising for the length of the sunset, but no words fight back against it. Only the unpredictable thumps of punches and a body hitting the floor break the flow of drunken insults.

The servants aren't allowed to speak, no matter what circumstances they're under. It's very rare they're even allowed to open their mouth, and if they do have the permission there's still a chance it won't be good enough for their master.

Aster doesn't move even as the servant falls from the doorway, landing hard on the balcony floor in front of him. The boy opens his eyes- he can't be any older than nineteen- and despite the darkness of night spots Aster waiting in the shadows. His almost glowing violet eyes can see how Aster doesn't fit in with the surroundings, even though he's as still as a statue now.

White hair falls in his face, hiding some of his bruises and split skin. Blood mattes the tips of hair around his swollen ear, making the jewelry pierced through the tissue look infected. A Shion; this family is wealthy. Not like he didn't know that already.

The boy pushes back as his master bellows a slur from inside, fear finally ruling his expression as he presses against the railing. If he really wanted he could push through the gap, he's small enough, but he only curls into himself and shields his face. He hadn't run or resisted when inside, so why is he acting out now?

Aster grips the railing as a heavy set man storms from the doorway, making a direct line to the Shion without turning to look in the corner; he doesn't expect anyone to be up this high. He blindly pulls back his closed fist, muscles so tense shadows form on the skin of his bare arms.

He swings hard, but the Shion ducks and his fist rings against the railing instead. He curses as the Shion crawls beneath his figure, stumbling to his feet and diving into the corner under Aster. He wants protection, but why would he expect it from a thief?

The master spins and freezes, heavy foot sending a tremor through the floor as he spots the figure perched on the railing. Aster squints, tilting his head. Blending with the black sky behind him he looks like a gargoyle, thin and possessive over the territory it guards. What is he guarding now, though? The Shion?

Sure, if it means he gets to scavenge inside.

For a moment Aster can almost see steam erupt from the man's ears. Fuming, he lunges forward in an attempt to throw his new target from the railing, but he doesn't make it more than a step before he himself is thrown to the ground.

Aster stands up as the Shion opens his eyes, not having noticed Aster jumped from the railing and onto the floor of the balcony. His eyes widen as he sees his master on the ground, slack jawed and limp, but stumbles to his feet and chases after the figure that slips into the open door.

On any other night he would have been in and out of the building already. Why did the man have to blow up on his servant tonight?

By the time the Shion finds him digging through the bedside table his hip pouch is already full of glittery coins and jewelry. He slinks over the bed just as the boy tries to touch his shoulder, making him breathe out a sigh of stress. Aster glances over, catching the glowing violet in the now nearly pitch black room.

The Shion crawls over the bed, landing on his stomach as he reaches out and catches Aster's bicep. He doesn't pull away but rather tilts his head as the boy silently pleads. He can't speak.