Chapter Text
At midday, Zandik reclined upon a sumptuously soft sofa. It was, of course, situated within Pierro’s opulent chambers.
The scholar mused, pondering the vast expanse of the man’s possessions.
Clad in an oversized, woolen tunic, Zandik was bundled warmly against the harsh Snezhnayan winter, a thoughtful gift from Pierro. His cerulean locks, once tousled by the icy wind, now gleamed with a healthy sheen, a testament to Pierro’s meticulous care. Though Zandik chafed at the older man’s touch, his slight frame was no match for Pierro’s strength.
And then he awoke in his bed, clothed in soft woolen garments, with a hearty dinner laid out on the bedside table.
More importantly, "I've a rather busy day ahead," Pierro had said, "I'll have another harbinger watch over you."
Zandik felt no particular distress at the news, nor any longing for Pierro's company.
He'd spent the day pondering the strange blend of gentleness and force he'd experienced, because what kind of men that would pound into Zandik's hole till he bled and sobbed uncontrollably, while his nose dripped ceaselessly.
And afterward, he would treat him like a prized doll, feeding Zandik delicacies while cradling him in his arms, or dressing him in the softest woolens.
Just two days prior, for instance...
---
"You're so soft and sweet like this,"
Pierro murmured, his fingers tracing Zandik's jawline.
"I think I prefer you weak and helpless."
Zandik's eyes narrowed as he glanced up at Pierro. Pierro chuckled, ruffling the scholar's hair.
"Oh, don't you like hearing that? I suppose I enjoy it when you resist, too." Rising from the bed, Pierro moved to the wardrobe.
"I'll be right back. Don't try to escape." He arched an eyebrow at Zandik, a knowing glint in his eyes. "No, you won't. Better stay put and rest."
With that, Pierro disappeared into the wardrobe. Zandik was left alone with his thoughts, his heart heavy with a sense of impending doom. Pierro was slowly molding him into something he didn't recognize, and Zandik was powerless to stop him.
---
The scholar shifted, burrowing deeper into the thick fur coat. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, his dreamy crimson eyes peering out from beneath.
Zandik was silent, but his heart pounded with a strange unease.
He'd been informed that Pierro was indisposed and had entrusted him to "The Captain", a figure he knew little about beyond his reputation for stoicism and justice.
A steady rhythm of footsteps sounded, followed by the creak of a door.
Capitano entered, carrying a small, ornate box. "Dottore," he greeted, his voice deep and soothing. "Pierro has left you in my care for the day and tomorrow."
Zandik didn't reply, his eyes squeezed shut as he pretended to sleep. The crease between his brows betrayed his feigned slumber.
"Don't play games," Capitano sighed. "You know what Pierro will do if you're not compliant, don't you?"
Zandik flinched at the threat, memories of past punishments flashing through his mind.
"Are you going to do the same?" Zandik asked, slowly opening his eyes.
He turned to face the Captain, taking in the man's imposing figure. The mask covering his face was cracked and weathered, like an ancient statue. To his surprise, Capitano shook his head.
"Perhaps, but not in the same way Pierro would."
"Hm," Zandik grunted in response.
Capitano remained silent, his movements graceful as he sat beside Zandik. "Are you hungry? I've brought some refreshments," he offered.
Zandik glanced at the tea table, where a box of golden syrniki pastries sat, their sweet aroma enticing. Beside it was a delicate Charlotte Russe, adorned with fresh strawberries and a crumbly biscuit crust.
"Can I decline?" Zandik inquired, his curiosity piqued.
"You may, but I suspect you haven't eaten since morning," Capitano replied, his tone even. "I noticed the untouched plate."
Zandik glanced back at the untouched breakfast in the table and sighed.
"You're very observant."
"Let's not dwell on that, focus on something more pleasant,"
Capitano replied, opening the box of syrniki. He carefully cut a piece, the knife gliding through the soft pastry as if afraid to mar its perfection. Dipping it into the honey, he held it out to Dottore.
"Here, try this." Zandik hesitated before sitting up and leaning closer. He took a small bite, the sweet honey and crispy crust melting in his mouth. Capitano chuckled to himself as he saw Zandik's eyes widen in surprise.
"How is it?" he asked.
"It's..." Zandik chewed slowly, his voice soft. "...very good."
"I'm glad,"
Capitano replied, continuing to cut the syrniki into bite-sized pieces and feeding them to the Dottore. Gradually, without realizing it, Zandik found himself leaning closer to Capitano, who had wrapped an arm around his waist.
(i) Syrniki Pancakes:
(ii) Charlotte Russe Cake: