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[bloodwords]

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[almostking]

True freedom is a thing that Holland has never experienced. Not even as a child. Children are owned, more or less, until they're adults. Magic owns the bearer. Duty owns the man. Royalty owns the magician. In the end everything is a prison. Some prisons are kinder than expected. Others are more cruel.

But when the shackles are released this time, there's something calming about it that isn't forced by his own will.

They've never really been close, Holland and Kell. Why should they be? They could have been, probably. If Holland had let it. But sometimes Kell could be so infuriating. And Holland didn't want the attachment. Attachments could be severed. And Kell was the kind of boy that people didn't want to lose once they got close enough, no matter what kind of headache he may bring them.

Unfortunately there was a built in attachment when it came to them. An invisible cord that connected them that no one else (save for one, now) had. No one else understood what it meat to be what they were. Powerful, and still slaves to those weaker than they were. Monsters in their own right.

Holland looked up after gently rubbing his fingers over his skin, now free of its physical binds, and met eyes that were like his own. But opposite. Like two black mirrors. But without a word, he walks away. There isn't really anywhere to go considering they're on a boat, but he goes anyway.

When he finally makes his way back to Kell, he lingers in the doorway and watches him for a quiet moment. He was tired of thinking. Always thinking. Wallowing. Alone. And Kell is bright, a sad puppy that manages to thrive.

"You're a headache," he finally says, "a frustrating thing I can't be rid of."