Butterfly Reign

23. And I'll Tell You How Mine Went, Was Okay

"You should go ahead and continue without me,” he tells Dream. “I need to speak with my brother first.”

 Dream frowns with a whiff of uncertainty, as if he isn’t so sure about leaving him alone with Techno, but in the end, he nods. "Alright." He puts a hand on the front of Tommy’s shoulder as he goes by. “And Thes… I’m right around if you need me.”

A feeling of warmth rushes through Tommy; gone as fast as it appeared when he falls under the mercy of Techno’s chilled purple eyes. Tommy takes a long exhale; thoughts crawl into his mind against his will, all in Beau’s voice… It’s just his brother who he’s going to talk to, so why does he feel so on edge?

Techno's expression is unreadable as Tommy takes the seat next to him. He lifts a cup from a silver tray, sips out of it, and opts to stay silent, eyes trained on the rich red liquid as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. Neither of them says anything until one of Aimsey's assistants pipes in, “Would you like something to freshen up with, Your Highness?”

“I’ll have the same of what my brother is having,” Tommy says. 

That makes Techno pay attention. “You’re not drinking wine,” he pins Tommy a hard look. 

Tommy isn’t sure what a more appropriate question is: why is Techno drinking, or why in a tea cup. 

“If you’re having some I don’t see why can’t I,” he says instead. It’s not like it would be the first time he tried alcohol. As a child, he was allowed a small glass of cider on a celebratory occasion, or some wine diluted in water to ease the pain like that one time that he fell off a tree and broke his arm. 

Tommy reaches out to snatch Techno’s cup from under his nose and barely brushes his finger against the handle when his wrist is caught in a tight grip. Tommy looks up to Techno staring into his eyes. 

“I said no,” Techno repeats.

He tries to free his hand, but he’d have better success breaking out of a metal shackle. 

“Feeling overbearing today, I see,” Tommy states dryly. Techno’s grip tightens, and only when he hisses in pain that he feels it loosen and disappear. Tommy glares daggers at his brother while rubbing his wrist soothingly. “Fine. Fetch me some black tea instead," he says if only to get rid of the watching eyes. 

“What are you doing here, Theseus?” Techno grunts as soon as the woman is out of earshot distance. 

"I could ask you the same thing," Tommy says. "Are you here to try on the dresses? Because don't take it as an offense, but I doubt that you would fit into any of them." 

“Ranboo wanted to get his hair dyed, so I tagged along for company.” Techno’s deadpan look prickles Tommy from the corner of his eye. “Nice hairpins, by the way.”

Tommy involuntarily touches tiny glass flowers at the end of the hairpins, needling the longest strands to keep them from falling to his face and neck. “I got them from my aide, Marchioness Beau,” he says, his tone akin to the dagger resting next to his heart – sharp but not dangerous, not while it's sheathed. “You know, the lady that you had offended a few days back.”

Techno draws out another sip of wine; Tommy knows that, behind the nonchalance, he is being observed with attentiveness of a smith inspecting a weapon. 

“To my memory, it was the lady who offended Ranboo first,” Techno shrugs. “Picking on him without a reason, using his lack of knowledge and experience to insult him… it was lowly. I had more than a fair reason to reprimand her.”

“Fair?” The word feels weird on his tongue, foreign – an empty sound in a society where unspoken rules are that you praise the powerful and slander the weak. Tommy grimaces. Techno really has little experience maneuvering in court intricacies, and it shows. “It isn’t about fairness, Techno. Marchioness Beau is of higher birth and standings, a good-reputed socialite, and one of my own servants on top of that. You shouldn’t insult her because of a misplaced feeling of justice.”