Whatever qualms Viola had about physically injuring Domino, Harper had thrown to the wind. Apparently, age was extremely irrelevant.
Octavia screamed. Harper laid into the smaller boy far too ferociously relative to his stature. More striking was the way by which Domino hit back, shaking off the initial blast to his cheek with incredible resilience. The way they postured was the same. The way they leveled their fists was the same. The way they braced against the gravel, the way they balanced, their postures, their movements, the vibrant fury between earthen-brown and sky-blue glares, it was all identical. They didn’t just fight the same way--they’d done this before.
“My God, Harper, knock it off!” Viola shouted, her own eyes wide with terror.
Her words were useless. Harper swung at Domino again and again. He twisted his body sharply sideways on occasion, sending one foot careening into Domino’s torso. He went low. He went high. He went in every conceivable direction, and Domino followed just as effectively despite his size and age. Their brawl was as physically impressive as it was outright brutal to witness. It was doubly so, given the sounds of blows that left Octavia recoiling with each connecting strike.
“Do you ever know when to shut the hell up?” Harper yelled above the chaos. Not once did he cease his relentless assault.
Domino cut upwards with his left fist, digging into Harper’s abdomen. “I hate you! I wish you’d never come back! Get out of my life!”
Harper staggered, gritting his teeth. “I leave you alone for a month and you go right back into the same circle that convinces you I’m the embodiment of friggin’ evil!”
Domino tensing his muscles did little to shield him from Harper’s kick to his side. It wasn’t enough, and the older Maestro skillfully twisted his body as he readied a second blow. “I thought you were better than this! I really did! I wanted to give you a chance, and you proved them right! They were right about everything!”
“What the hell were they right about? You’re talking about the same people who’d ruin someone’s life if it meant making their own better!” Harper shouted, landing the following kick with too much success. Domino coughed, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily.
“This is…exactly what I’m talking about! You think there’s a right way and a wrong way! Everybody's just trying to survive, idiot! Not everyone is as lucky as you!”
“You can survive without hurting other people,” Harper spat, shoving the knuckles of one hand deep into Domino’s jaw from below.
“You’re not a saint!” Domino screamed. One knee, lifted high, buried itself harshly into Harper’s stomach.
It was Harper’s turn to cough. “I know I’m not! I’m just trying to keep you safe!”
Octavia was a horrified spectator, powerless to intervene not far from their battle. She was rooted in place, cursed to watch the two Willful Maestros tear each other apart. There was something incredibly ironic about Harper’s words as he relentlessly attacked the young boy. She didn’t exactly know Domino that well. Still, this seemed to be a far cry from keeping him safe.
“Octavia, do something!” Viola cried, gesturing wildly towards the brawl.
Instead, Octavia only shook her head. When Viola reached for Silver Brevada’s case, Octavia raised one hand in opposition.
“Don’t. Let them…do what they’ve gotta do,” she protested.
Viola bit her fingernails, practically growling in aggravation. “This is so stupid!”
“You honestly think I’m safer with you than with them? At least with them, I know I can get by for the day! They don’t even know I’m coming here! I have to keep my mouth shut just to live in both worlds! Do you have any idea how hard that is?” Domino cried, his voice wavering.
Harper wrapped his fingers around Domino’s wrists, gripping hard enough that Octavia feared he’d crush them into dust. “You don’t have to! You don’t need either of them! Just stay with me, please!”
“Stop making me choose!”
“This shouldn’t even be a hard decision!” Harper shouted, struggling to keep the squirming boy in place.
Futile or not, Domino’s flailing was ceaseless. “See? You're doing it again! They’re not bad people, Harper, as much as you want to pretend they are!”
Harper shook his head, physically shaking with the effort of maintaining his restraints. “Holly and Ivy will get you killed one day,” he said, his low voice dripping with ire.
His sharp words did nothing. Domino didn’t hesitate. With one swift motion, the boy swung his entire body forward, bashing his head against Harper’s. Harper cried out in pain as they collided, and he released his grip with such force that Domino stumbled. His hands raced to his forehead, clenching his skull in the aftermath of the crushing blow.
Domino panted heavily as he staggered. One trickle of red trailed down his swelling lips. He swiped futilely at the stream with the back of a bruised hand. “I’ll take my chances,” he spat. “It beats dying with you.”
He was gone. Again.
In the wake of Hell that had erupted in every conceivable way, Domino sprinted towards the twisting alleyway that Octavia could never hope to navigate alone. It was sudden enough that she could barely track him with her eyes. For a child, he was surprisingly fast. She kicked herself for forgetting that much. With two quick turns, he was out of sight. He would hardly be out of mind. In exchange for the absence of biting words, Harper’s quiet groans of pain filled the gap. She could’ve sworn there were aggravated growls in there, somewhere.
“Are you two always like that?” Viola snapped.
“Stop it,” Octavia chided, waving one hand dismissively. “Harper, are you okay?”
If she listened closely, she could hear him scrambling to catch his breath. “He’s done…worse than that before. He’s…rusty as hell if that’s…all he’s got.”
Viola sighed. “Just…get yourself together, please. Are we dealing with this stalking thing, or are you gonna keep picking fistfights with kids?”
Harper chuckled disdainfully, content to let Octavia peel his own hands from his head. “He’s not that much younger than me.”
“How are we gonna catch these people in the act, anyway?” Octavia asked. She narrowed her eyes as she peered at his injuries, one by one. Blood dripped steadily from a gash just above his left eyebrow, and she winced.
Harper shrugged. Whatever pain came with the movement was enough to make him wince for another reason. “Wait around, I guess. Sounds like they just show up whenever. Be on our guard, hide if we have to.”
Viola put her hands on her hips, shifting her weight onto one foot. “The ‘why’ is pretty important, you know.”
“I think that comes with the territory,” he said. “Figure that out once we get to it. Why the hell anyone would start a problem with a homeless camp full of kids is beyond me, but this whole city is a mess.”
Viola scoffed. “Preaching to the choir.”
“So, like…waiting here? For how long?” Octavia added. As delicately as possible, she parted the bangs veiling Harper’s eyes. She could’ve sworn at least one of them was blackening in the slightest.
“Honestly? Might need to stay overnight. I kinda wanna stay the night anyway, just to see the kids again,” Harper said. To his credit, he was doing well at tolerating Octavia’s curious prying. Still, the way he recoiled beneath even fleeting touches across sensitive areas wasn’t lost on her. The aching aftermath was probably starting to settle in.
“Do you…mind if I stay with you?” Octavia murmured, her question almost inaudible.
Harper’s smile was hindered by whatever pain came with curling bruised lips upwards. “Both of you can, if you want. Can’t guarantee the lodging is gonna be quite as comfortable as what you’re used to.”
Viola tensed. “I-I mean, would we be intruding? This is your home.”
Octavia’s eyes flickered to Viola instead. “There’s something you should…know about, actually, before you commit to staying here tonight.”
When Viola raised an eyebrow, Octavia continued. “I’m not trying to kick you out or anything, but there’s something that happened today that I think you should be aware of. It’s kind of its…own problem, and he’s--it’s--currently at your place. You might wanna go…address it.”
“You’re being cryptic. Also, are you sure you’re not trying to kick me out?”
She couldn’t stop the tiniest of smirks from crawling onto her face. “Only slightly. I’m not joking about the other thing, though.”
For a moment, Viola only stared at her. “I don’t know what the ‘other thing’ entails, but you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
“What?”
It was Viola’s turn to grin. She dropped Royal Orleans to the gravel unceremoniously, making for the alley instead. “See you tomorrow.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
With careful steps in reverse, Viola playfully flicked one finger back and forth between Octavia and Harper. Octavia gathered as much gravel as she could fit in one hand, launching the clumps of stone in Viola’s direction. To her credit, she got fairly far. Several too-close-for-comfort pebbles were enough of a catalyst for Viola to run, the Soulful Maestra outright laughing as she escaped.
“You’re so weird!” Octavia called after her.
When she returned her attention to a blushing Harper, adjusting his cap uncomfortably, her best attempts to regain eye contact were in vain. “You’re not allowed to be weird, either,” she chided.
“Does she even know where she’s going?” he asked.
Octavia shrugged.
“Also, why did--”
“It’s…gonna sound stupid,” she began. “She’s…affluent. People know her. She’s got a target painted on her back. If these people are anything like you or Domino said, she’d be in more danger than any of us. I don’t wanna risk it.”
Harper nodded. “That’s…fair. I didn’t think about that. You don’t think Viola can stand up for herself, though?”
Octavia winced. “I mean, she can, but I just…I don’t know. Just in case. We don’t know who these people are, or what they’re capable of.”
“So we can die, but Viola can’t die. Got it,” he teased.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Octavia elbowed him in the ribs playfully, well aware of the way she'd earn a groan of pain for her efforts. She was entirely correct. She didn’t feel particularly bad about it. “We’re not gonna die, stupid. If we die, I’m killing you first.”
Making the decision on Viola’s behalf felt uncomfortable. Octavia kept that much to herself. For the most part, she was relieved that Viola had accepted her haphazard rationale and departed with grace. It wasn’t as though she was lying about the lightning-flavored concern that awaited on the opposite end of Coda. She’d cross that bridge when she got to it.
For the time being, she was burdened with the responsibilities of a good-decision-maker. Granted, it wasn’t the worst obligation she’d been shouldered with as of late. Battered and bruised as her accomplice was, she hoped her new title would serve her better than him for the rest of the night.
----------------------------------------
The sun took an eternity to free her of the day, dragging the chaos in her wake down over the horizon. She’d hardly had a moment to breathe since sunrise, by which she’d all but forgotten her bell-born torture that morning. Newborn night brought along the soft songs of insects, the twinkle of stars dimmed by city lights, and dozens of tiny smiles in a tented village. Their happiness was as abundant as it was contagious, and the return of a guardian so beloved was a cause for delight.
Of the little orphans that embraced Harper dearly, Octavia recognized several. They, in turn, occasionally recognized her. Louise had remembered her name, somehow. The smile Octavia earned was far less vibrant compared to her protector, and yet still every bit as polite.
Several weeks of absence hadn’t shaken Harper in the slightest. He’d held fast to his guardian crown, once more a blessing to those much smaller than himself. He cooked. He cleaned. He reclaimed his role with grace, even for one night alone. He brought stories of comfort to guide little dreams, collectively offered and softly told. Octavia was on edge for most of them, given what tales he came a bit too near to sharing.
Per his words, every child had been made aware of his prior departure. She highly, highly doubted he’d ever revealed the truth of his voyage, let alone the scorching prowess that called his hands home. The moment he began piecing together fragments of their travels, Octavia's heart nearly stopped altogether. To Harper's credit, he was careful, pruning the harrowing and destructive details away like wilting flowers. Riding a train was fine. Attending an auction was exciting. Witnessing the devastation of entire cities and abetting the murder of a conservator were stories best left unshared.
It was all she could do to trust him with treading a fine line. If he painted a rosy journey suitable for bedtime, that was fine. If he spilled the secrets of the Maestro world to children too young to spell “Stradivaria”, she really was going to kill him. He’d hidden Royal Orleans for as long as he did, and she liked to imagine he’d have the common sense to keep biting his tongue.
The idea of sleeping in his tent was, truthfully, enough to elicit a blush. Octavia hated to admit it, although Harper wasn’t immune to the same. Still, he’d highlighted a lack of spare lodging. Octavia should’ve known better, regardless. His canvas abode had always been sizable, anyway, and she had plenty of room to breathe. He gave her the cot. He took the floor, and she felt awful. Supposedly, one pillow and two thin blankets sufficed in tandem with what flimsy canvas passed as carpeting. For how sore he was going to be tonight, sleeping would be the least of his problems.
She spent at least a full hour playing doctor, channeling her inner Josiah the entire time. She made due with what haphazardly-cobbled-together medical supplies the camp had collectively available. Octavia had no qualms about stemming blood with peppered cotton and coating a reckless Maestro in bandages. She did, at least, make doubly sure to remind him of how he’d reaped what he’d sown. There came a point when she did so nearly once per wound, and Harper only laughed in the face of her chiding. He didn’t seem to disagree.
Harper had, in fact, been burned. His right ankle hadn’t been spared of his rash actions. Just above his sock, his skin had been charred in passing, graced by a flame cleared in a moment of hasty reflex. Octavia couldn’t gauge the degree of the burn, necessarily. Even so, it blistered enough to leave her mildly recoiling at the sight alone. Her reaction, too, was enough to make Harper laugh. For that, she tied the bandage tighter than she should’ve. He winced. It was a satisfactory punishment.
Don’t be mean, he’d joked, beaming. I’ll let you beat me up next time, instead.
She’d rolled her eyes, although not without a reluctant smirk. Don’t tempt me.
The cot was surprisingly comfortable. She cast her eyes high at the canvas ceiling, just as she’d done once before. There were no embers to chase with her wondrous gaze this time. Within four soft walls, Royal Orleans had once sung so sweetly to her as searing rain ignited before her eyes. It was a nostalgic thought, and it kept her warm. For as worrisome as their current circumstances were, she felt at home in a home not her own.
“I know it’s not exactly Viola’s house,” Harper apologized from below her.
She closed her eyes, indulging in the songs of chirping insects outside. “I’m low-maintenance. You know that.”
“Oh? How low-maintenance are we talkin’, here?” he teased.
Octavia couldn’t fight the stupid grin she always had to battle around him. “I could…probably get by with less than this.”
“Untie your braids.”
“There’s a line to be drawn somewhere.”
“Medium-maintenance, then.”
“Whatever,” she scoffed.
In the silence between them, she could hear him shuffling slightly on the floor. “Today was…a lot,” he offered.
“Mhm.”
“For both of us.”
“Yeah.”
She rolled onto her side, one braid dangling over the side of the cot. Harper’s head had settled into his arms, every sandy strand of hair scattering against his fingers. It wasn’t often that she saw him without the cap. Tethered to what was almost the ground or otherwise, he seemed comfortable enough. He never met her eyes as he spoke, content to leave his own glued to the ceiling.
“Do you think I was too harsh?”
“To who? Domino?” Octavia asked.
He nodded.
Octavia trailed one fingertip along the fabric of the cot. “I mean…I think I kinda followed along with what you guys were talking about, even if it wasn’t really my business. I heard Holly and Ivy’s names. I remember them. They’re still an issue?”
“They’ll always be an issue,” he said disdainfully.
“But I thought they were just two stupid girls. You made them sound so…silly the first time. And at the auction, the bickering. It was just that, right? You guys just…don’t get along, right?”
Harper paused for a moment. “I’m trying to think of a way to say this nicely.”
She was silent. At last, he inhaled.
“I…lied a little. Well, not really, but they’re a bigger problem than I wish I had to admit. They’re a bad influence on Domino, that’s correct. They’re both idiots, that’s also correct. Everything they do usually screws up in some capacity, and they’re so blinded by greed that they have no idea how stupid they actually look when they slip up.”
Octavia nodded. “That’s more or less what you told me the first time.”
“They have gotten people put in prison before.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Lying about bounties, mostly. Painting the wrong people in the wrong light if it means claiming reward money for turning criminals in. Things along those lines. They have gotten people seriously hurt, they’ve gotten people in serious trouble, and they’ve put people in serious danger. They’ll sell out anyone and anything that benefits them in some capacity. That’s just how they are. They’re selfish, and in the dangerous way.”
He propped one knee up comfortably. “They lie and steal like it’s their religion. If they were two random people, I wouldn’t give a damn, and they could screw themselves over as much as they wanted. The problem is that Domino cares about them, and I can’t get him not to. I can’t even really blame him. They’re cousins by blood.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Octavia interrupted, “how did he…end up with you?”
Harper sighed. “He never really ‘ended up’ with me. He technically lives at the camp, yeah, but he disappears a lot. I know he’s with them, and I don’t actually know what he’s doing when he is. I hate that I don’t believe him about the self-defense thing.”
“You think he killed people intentionally? With his Harmonial Instrument, I mean?”
Harper squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “God, I wish the thought didn’t even have to freakin’ cross my mind. I want to believe he wouldn’t stoop down to their level. If he didn’t care about other people, he wouldn’t have stuck around to care for the kids. I’m sure of it. He tries to help in his own way. It’s just not the right--I mean, the…safest way.”
Octavia hesitated to prod him. “Do you know how he ended up…you know…?”
His eyes flickered to her own for a moment, piercing and strict. She tensed. If it was a sensitive subject, she regretted the question immediately. Regardless, he continued.
“Mom got sick and died. Dad went down the alcohol route. He’s not actually an orphan, he’s a runaway. At least, he was, until we confirmed his damn dad actually did drink himself to death later. Holly and Ivy, their parents died in an accident. Out on a river and the boat capsized or something, I don’t remember exactly what it was. Both of them and Domino ended up on the street roughly around the same time, by sheer coincidence.”
He exhaled loudly. “And then there was me. Dunno where I am in that little timeline, but Domino wasn’t that wrong about me getting lucky. That florist you saw me with a while ago, he and I go way back. A family friend, before…you know. He couldn’t take me in, but he gave me work where he could. Taught me a trade skill, paid me, gave me food. Gave me enough food that I could give others food. If I didn’t have him…”
Harper trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “I met a few of the kids before I met Domino. We all started kinda grouping up in one part of the city over and over. We met up a few times a day. Eventually, we just started sleeping there together. Safety in numbers kind of thing, kept us from going missing or waking up with everything we owned gone. Kept us waking up at all. We got tents, eventually, but it took longer than you’d think. It just grew from there, and now here we are.”
He laughed, an ironic sound devoid of joy. “Domino actually stole from here. That’s how we met him the first time. Kicked his ass that day, and he barely fought back. Almost felt bad about it. Taught him how to fight later.”
“Honestly suspected as much,” Octavia said. “The way you two fought looked the same.”
“I just don’t want him to go down this hole of…not caring about other people. Their lives, their safety, doing whatever it takes to scrape by at the cost of screwing others out of doing the same. Is that so ‘evil’ of me?”
Octavia shook her head, her braids ruffling against the pillow. “I don’t think it’s evil at all. I don’t think you’re a bad person in any capacity. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I think he’ll see that one day. You’ve gone through way too much for anyone to make you feel like that, and I’m sorry you’re having to go through this on top of…everything.”
Harper closed his eyes slowly. “Thank you.”
“I mean, plus the weird people apparently sneaking around this place at random, can’t forget that. Domino, the tolls, Maestro stuff, Orleanna, me dragging you into this whole mess, all of it.”
With his eyes shut, he smirked. “Some of it’s fun.”
“And that’s…on top of the stuff with your parents. For all of that, I’m sorry.”
Harper shook his head. “It’s okay, really. It means a lot to me that you care, though.”
She sighed, fidgeting with the edge of her blanket. “And I’m…Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m…sorry about your sister.”
His eyes popped open. “What?”
Octavia winced. “I know I probably shouldn’t have seen it, and it’s not really my business, but it was in your tolls, and I--”
“No, seriously, what?” Harper asked again, quickly rolling onto his side. He propped himself up on one elbow, peering up at Octavia with absolute befuddlement.
She blinked. “Your…sister? She was your sister, right? Was she, like, a different relative? I’m sorry if I’m wrong, I’m just guessing based on what I saw.”
“My…sister?”
“It was at the…your…parents’ memories?” Octavia offered nervously. This was becoming incredibly awkward.
For a moment, he was quiet, staring at her blankly. Harper scoffed. Then, he grinned. He chuckled. He laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed so hard that Octavia thought he might throw up. Tears poked at the edges of his eyes, and he curled up into a ball against the floor, arms wrapped around his stomach. She blushed in fervent embarrassment, apparently incorrect.
“Oh my God,” he finally said in the midst of hysterics, “that’s how you took it?”
Octavia winced in silence, her cheeks splashed with red.
At last, he settled down somewhat, rubbing away his stray tears. “God, you’re so cute.”
Now she was really red.
Harper took several deep breaths, the same residual smile still glued to his lips as he averted his eyes. “I never had a sister, but my parents had a daughter. That daughter…grew up to be someone else. Does that make sense?”
Octavia shook her head. Harper tilted his own.
“I don’t…hate her. She was a different child with a different name, but she was the only child they ever had. And I know they’re gone, but…I just…”
His gaze, even cast far away from her own towards the floor, still shimmered in a way that didn’t escape her. “I hope they can be proud of the son that child grew up to be, wherever they are.”
Octavia’s own eyes widened in just the slightest. Still, she returned his smile not long after. “I have no doubt about it. Wherever they are, I know they love their son to pieces.”
Harper raised his eyes to hers at last, entrusting their shine to Octavia. “And I’m…still the same Harper I’ve always been. Right?”
Octavia laughed. “You’re still the exact same bad-decision-maker you were ten minutes ago. And you’re an idiot if you think anything’s gonna change that.”
He returned a soft chuckle, the glistening in his eyes ceaseless as he gazed at her with warmth unspoken. “Like I said, you’re supposed to be the smart one between the two of us.”
In the past several weeks, she’d been forced to don far too many masks, roles, shoes, and eyes--be they of the Ambassador, a leader, a stranger, or otherwise. By comparison, doing what she could to preserve fleeting joy was a responsibility she could handle. Octavia preferred it, much the same as she preferred Harper’s smile over his tears. That, too, she’d fight to preserve, for all he’d seen and suffered through.
Whether or not her decisions were as good as she could claim remained to be seen, given that her record very much spoke to the opposite. For now, indulging in his company was the best decision she could’ve made. In every conceivable way, he deserved to be happy.