[Title] Nuestro Pasado
[Author] Jadedsilk (Mara D.)
[Series] Castlevania: Curse of Darkness
[Pairing] HectorxIssac (Not yet, but it will be.)
[Rating] NC17
[Beta] yubberducky
[Spoilers?] Yes. Violence warning. Yaoi warning for later chapters. Spoilers galore.
[Chatter] A few moments of warm fuzzies before the world ends. >.>' I'm serious. Quit looking at me like that.



~*~

He scoured the castle top to bottom, lurking all the way to the locked lower corridor entrances to the upper spires where it seemed the whole world was laid out before him, a patchwork of greens and gold. He had found the gardens, lush and multihued and sunny, and had napped briefly beneath a rose bush, watching the butterflies and hummingbirds with curiosity and more than a little joy. They had told him about the castle, about the people within it. They had told him many things as they had dined on flowers and tangled themselves in his hair.

It was towards the third chiming of the castle clock after breakfast that Hector found himself in a library. Books were stacked to the ceiling, or on vast shelves, colorful and neat. The carpet was so thick it muffled his footsteps, and he found reading chairs and tables everywhere. The décor was all in crimson and mahogany, dark, and yet somehow comfortable. A refuge.

He did not understand books…or reading. His mother could not read, or she would have taught him. He felt as though he should not be here. Books were for God’s people, not for a devil like himself. Knowledge was forbidden of peasants…

But still, the stained glass windows impressed him, and it was in attempting to get a closer look that he noticed that he was not alone in the room.

A boy sat by the dappled light filtering in through the library windows. He was dressed in crisp blacks and whites, polished shoes upon his feet, and long perfectly groomed silver hair was held back at the nape of his neck by a blue silk ribbon.

Perfectly manicured and pale hands clasped the edge of the book he was reading, and the skin of his wrist and part of his hands were covered by the lace at the end of his sleeves. He was beautiful, perfect…nothing like Hector…

Hector froze, watching ice blue eyes trace the words on the page, moving in a pattern that he did not understand. The boy looked almost exactly like the man Hector had met last night, though obviously much younger. He still felt as though he were trespassing. It was as he turned to go, that a quiet and gentle voice stopped him.

“So there you are. Mother told me of you, but did not say where I might meet you.”

Hector turned around slowly, bowing low out of reflex. This was the Lord of the Castle’s son. Surely it must be.

“You need not bow to me.” The young man said, standing with a grace that was inhuman before gliding over to Hector, offering him his hand.

Hector shyly took it, still not daring to straighten up.

“Come now, am I that frightening?” The young man asked him.

Hector tried to apologize, to reply. His lips moved, but again, silence.

The cool hand shaking his in greeting moved until he was righting Hector with the grasp alone, looking into Hector’s eyes with a gaze that was strangely knowing. Hector again had a flashback of the castle’s Lord. Truly this could be no other than his son. The young man frowned at him.

“It is no matter, you look weary…your wounds, they do not pain you much?”

Hector shook his head politely.

No, they hardly hurt. He had been given a tea for that with breakfast and it had brought him relief from the aching.

“I am Adrian.” The young man said, unperturbed by Hector’s silence, strangely knowing about it somehow. “And you are?”

He mouthed the word Hector.

Adrian gave him a tiny smile. “Perhaps you might write it for me?”

Hector shook his head again, giving the taller boy an apologetic look.

“Oh, you cannot write?”

Hector nodded.

“So then you certainly cannot read?”

Hector nodded again, staring at his feet abashedly. He was just a peasant.

“Well then, I am reading a book of short stories…they really are quite good, would you mind if I read aloud to you? I would like the practice.”

Hector was not ashamed that a boy a year younger than he could read and he could not, no, he was delighted because he loved stories, and he could think of nothing better than to rest his weary body in a chair and listen to Adrian read. He had a pleasant voice, like his mother, like his father. He glanced up, a optimistic expression painting his face. This Adrian seemed to be kind, like his mother…perhaps they might be friends after all?

Hector turned shy and hopeful eyes to the other boy before moving to sit carefully before the chair Adrian had previously occupied, eyes hopeful and curious.

“You need not sit on the floor, have a seat in the chair next to mine.”

~*~

It was an hour later that Hector discovered that he was far from a stupid peasant. He had watched Adrian’s fingers trace over the lines as he read, and had begun to understand already that letters each had their own sound. Soon he found himself recognizing sounds before Adrian said the word, and that had lead into Hector’s splinted hand resting on the page, and finger pointing to a word. Adrian would say the word, and Hector would smile when he found himself right. When he was wrong, Adrian would sound the word out for him, pointing to the letters until Hector understood.

Hector couldn’t believe that his new found friend would be so patient; would bestow such a gift as this upon him. But the other young man possessed the same wonder for learning that Hector was discovering he had a taste for. It was a strange common interest, or perhaps it was just because Adrian was contagiously curious. Perhaps that was the reason. Adrian loved to learn and he shared that joy with Hector

It was when the clock struck two that he got a brief lesson on telling time, and then a few books. Adrian gave Hector books to read! Hector could not have been more excited. Adrian trusted him to borrow something, and something that the church would not have given him! Adrian must not think him devil-spawn. Adrian treated him like a person!

At lunch, Hector listened politely to the discussions between Adrian and his mother, Adrian had told her that he was learning to read and that he was smart! The praise of course, made Hector blush, embarrassed.

~*~

It was three weeks later that Hector was finally able to write his name for Adrian.

Three weeks of long nights crying for his mother, three weeks of fear and slow adaptation. Three long weeks of learning and understanding. He had latched on to Lisa, needing her love and kindness desperately, and she had never scolded him. Some nights, when he sobbed so hard he nearly made himself sick, she would come into the room, hold him until he ceased his tears. She would wipe his eyes, give him a cup of tea and put him back to bed. Three weeks of solid meals, and gentle care. He didn’t need his splint anymore, or many of his bandages. His ribs were still wrapped, but they only bothered him when he slept. All in all, he spent most of his time playing games in the castle with Adrian. Showing the younger man how to call animals in the gardens or by the moat. Adrian drank up the knowledge as hungrily as Hector had his lessons in reading and writing.

And it had come down to this moment now, when he held a dripping quill pen, and had shown Adrian his sloppily scrawled name.

“Hector? Your name is Hector?” Adrian asked as Hector nodded enthusiastically.

Adrian had clasped him into a boyish and friendly hug. “There are so many things I want to ask you, can you write answers for me?”

Hector nibbled shyly on his bottom lip, before he nodded. He would certainly try.

“How old are you?” Adrian asked curiously.

Hector wrote “13”

“So you are older than me! I knew it! Where are you from?”

Hector thought hard. His village had not had a name that he remembered, but then again, he had not really lived in it…more along the outskirts.

He gave Adrian a sad shrug.

“All right…no,no, that’s fine. What is your family name?”

Hector thought hard, he didn’t know how to spell it exactly. He penned it uncertainly, Adrian reading over his shoulder as he wrote.

“See…eh…el…Syldra?” Adrian asked him, trying to sound out what Hector had written.

Again, Hector nodded enthusiastically.

“Why do you not live with your family anymore? Mother says your parents are both dead?”

Hector swallowed hard and nodded.

“Forgive me…how did you come to be here then? Have you come from far away? Beyond Cordova town?”

Hector nodded again, and then thought very hard about what he should tell Adrian. But the other young man was his friend…

It would be his first attempt at a sentence. “I can talk to animals.” He wrote. He wasn’t sure he spelled animals correctly, but the silence over his shoulder told him he must be at least comprehendible.

Hector braced himself, uncertain if he would be hurt or not for sharing his secret.

“They threw you out…didn’t they?” Adrian murmured then, his voice sad.

Hector turned to glance into those ice blue eyes, suddenly expressive and gentle.

Hector was not expecting a backwards hug, but he got one.

Adrian touched Hector’s shoulder then carefully. “Hector, you can talk to all the animals you want here…what a gift! What do they tell you?!” Adrian asked, eyes excited and not the least bit frightened.

Hector let out a breath he hadn’t know he had been holding and gave Adrian a mischievous smile, setting down his quill resolutely.

“You won’t tell me?!” Adrian laughed. “They must say some scandalous things then?”

Again, Hector smiled secretively.

His lack of communication in that regard eventually dissolved into a game of tag and later hide and seek that Hector won because a sparrow gave Adrian’s hiding spot away; and for once, someone understood him when he pointed to the twittering little bird. Adrian had had a good laugh before he told Hector that that had to be cheating somehow.

~*~

A month later he was awakened by a knock at the door, Lisa stood there as he opened it and he bowed low in respect.

“Hector, Adrian has had a shock. One of his pets was tortured by the village children before it crawled back here wounded. It died in his arms…I wondered, perhaps…if you wouldn’t mind sitting with him but a moment? Perhaps he might find some comfort in a friend?

Hector had immediately been stricken with grief for his friend. He had followed her quickly to Adrian’s room.

Hector winced to see Adrian holding his pet cat, stroking his fingers through bloody fur while crimson stained tears soaked his cheeks. Hector did not know why Adrian cried blood, but it hardly mattered to him a moment later. It was merely a consideration before he knelt in front of his friend. He put his hand on top of Adrian’s, stilling it where it was petting the matted fur.

“Why are humans so cruel?” Adrian asked him then while Lisa came and sat on the window ledge next to her son and his fallen pet.

Lisa shook her head.

Hector did not have an answer, and for once, he was glad he could not speak, because to tell his friend that there was no reason would have done no good in the moment. But he could do something. He glanced up at Lisa, and gave her a sad smile that she returned a bit nervously. Something about her posture told him that she knew he was trying to tell her something.

What it was, was goodbye. After he did this thing, he would be killed, at the least thrown out of the castle. But for Adrian…for his friend, he would do this. It was the right thing to do.

He patted Adrian’s hand, and then gently drew the silky and limp animal away from his friends grasp and into his lap. Adrian was looking at him curiously now as Hector leaned down and pressed his cheek to that still ribcage and closed his eyes. He felt it then. The soul had not yet flown the body, and it was simply a matter of reaching down into the earth and touching the heavy heartbeat there…touch it and drawing it up and up, until the sunlight brushed it and the breeze called it back, until the rains soaked the wounds, and the pure white light of the stars healed the gashes. He called out humbly to the universe to hear the pleas of this one tiny being, this one worthless, miserable and beautiful creation of God’s. He called and called until the heavy heartbeat of the earth made the chest rise and fall, made the heart start again and the blood sing again through once still veins.

He heard someone in the room gasp, just before he passed out and hit his head on the floor.

~*~

“Oh Hector…” Someone whispered. “Oh no wonder.” She was saying.

“Mother…she’s alive…the wounds are healed…” Another voice said. Adrian…that was Adrian?

Hector sat up, confused, his head aching. It didn’t take him long however, to have a pair of gentle arms around his shoulders. He looked up into Lisa’s eyes, his gaze blurry and barely focused. He had tears in his eyes when he realized what he had done…

She hugged him to her shoulder.

“Hector, Hector, what a wonderful gift!” And Hector relaxed, though he was still wary. He tugged gently at her blouse sleeve as he sat back and looked upwards, watching her expression for any sign of anger. “Oh Hector no, no one here will hate you…heavens no…” Hector nodded uncertainly, tears still falling because his head hurt. Someone was touching his hand then, and he glanced up again. Adrian was looking at him with awe, and joy.

“You saved her!”

Hector nodded.

It had not been her time. He had defeated death easily enough.

“Thank you.” Adrian murmured, and something in those beautiful blue eyes told Hector that the other knew what it had cost him to do this.

Gentle fingers covered in blood held pressure on his forehead and he winced. He must have hit his head quite hard…

~*~

He sat in his chambers waiting for nightfall. The Lord was coming to talk with him. He was dead. That was all there was to it, despite Adrian’s reassurances, despite Lisa’s gentle words, Hector was absolutely positive that he would be killed tonight.

He would have run, but he didn’t dare. Something told him that no matter how far he went, it would never be far enough, and that if he didn’t fit in here, then he never would anywhere else.

He left his windows open so that he could watch the sun set. The Lord always rose at that time. For a moment, he consoled himself with listening to the pigeons under the eaves chattering about bugs and eggs. But even they fell silent as the sun sank below the horizon. Hector pulled his blanket to his chest, and closed his eyes, trying to pretend that he didn’t exist, that it didn’t matter, that he wasn’t afraid, and still, by the time the door opened, he was shaking.

The Lord stood in the doorway, one graceful hand on the jamb as he glanced at where Hector was curled in his bed, and smiled. A touch of fang showed. Hector sunk lower under the blanket edge.

“Hector, I will not hurt you, I merely wish to speak with you.”

Hector was out of bed and kneeling on the floor, pressing his face to the heavily polished stone. Maybe if he promised to never do it again?

What he had not expected was for the lithe man to kneel beside him, and long and sharp fingernails to gently raise his chin, raise him from where he was prostrate on the floor. Hector was swallowing hard, and he was certain all the color had left his face.

“Adrian has spoken with me…about what you did today.”

Hector started to cry.

“Do not cry Hector…I will not harm you, I swear it.”

The back of a cool knuckle came up to trace a tear away. Hector could barely breathe for fear.

“Hector, I simply need you to tell me how you did what you did…I believe I have an answer for your question regarding what you are.”

Hector wanted to answer, and still he couldn’t. His Lord was waiting and still he could not speak. The tears fell harder. He tried to tell the man with his eyes that he was sorry, that he wanted to speak he just /couldn’t/.

“Hector, look at me.” He commanded, and Hector barely glanced up before returning his gaze, ashamed to the floor. “Look…at me.” The Lord commanded, this time more gently, fingertips pushing Hector’s chin up. Hector grit his teeth and closed his eyes. That was it. He was dead. When he opened them obediently, there was just drowning blue and peace.

His tears ceased, and the trembling stopped. Cool arms gathered him to a well muscled chest, and then there was the brush of soft fingertips along his neck, stroking his hair away… the touch of lips along the side of his throat. It wasn’t bad, or even that scary. There was a sharp pain, enough to make him twitch, but a strong hand was soothing at the nape of his neck, and quickly he forgot the hurt. The hurt became an ache, and something tugged at him, like sleep at an exhausted mind. He yielded, because sleep had to be better than knowing you were dying. As he gave in, it /was/ as if he were dying, every memory, every thought played through his head again, and yet, the memories weren’t scary because he wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to feel them, someone else did that. He was drowsy when they finally stopped, stopped just now with the touch of pain to his throat, and there was more then. He winced, and a hand gently soothed through his hair.

“Rest Hector. Rest for now.”

And he did. Because that voice told him to.

~*~

When he woke again, someone was touching his face gently.

He opened his eyes to see Lisa looking over him, blue eyes worried.

“Oh, you’re awake now?” She said softly.

He sat up, and glanced out the window, seeing stars still in the sky though they were fast fading to the sun. He winced as he turned his head, and his hands found two raised and hot bumps on his throat. He blinked. They were tender.

Lisa would not meet his eyes.

What had been done to him? He leapt a bit unsteadily out of bed and made his way to the mirror on the dresser, and moved his hand. He stared in disbelief at the two puncture marks there. And he knew then. The Lord was a vampire! No wonder he only came out at night…no wonder his son, only half human, wept blood tears and avoided the gardens when the sun was hottest...

He should have panicked, but he did not. Part of him was certain that he wasn’t human, so what did it matter what type of monster he became?

He turned to Lisa, who was watching him sadly. He glanced up at her impassively. He made no gesture then, just made his way back to her side where she perched on the edge of his bed, and with a tired sigh, sank into her embrace.

He wanted to tell her that it was all right. That he understood what it was like to be different. That he didn’t judge her, or her husband. Vampires drank blood, it was in their nature. Cats ate mice. Wolves ate sheep. It was the nature of things, and he comprehended.

“He had no choice, because you could not speak to him…you will not become a vampire. He did not turn you, he simply drank so that he could see your memories. He told me to tell you he leaves his humblest apologies. He would have explained to you in person, but you fainted, and dawn was near.” She said softly stroking Hector’s hair.

Hector glanced up at her, shaking just a bit. His memories…so now the Lord knew all of his memories…all of his pains…knew what a monster was. He must have told Lisa what had happened, because she was glancing at him with something akin to empathy. He wanted to tell her she was much too pretty to look so sad, especially for a monster like himself. But he couldn’t. Even if he had had his voice, he was choked up on fear right now.

“It is no small wonder, Hector, that you do not talk. Do not worry. Time will ease your pain, and you will no doubt find your voice again. What happened, it was not your fault. The villagers were cruel, narrow minded and frightened. You did no wrong, and you are still welcome here.”

Hector didn’t quite believe her, but the words at least comforted him a bit.

“You won’t hate Adrian will you?” She asked, her voice worried.

Hector glanced up at her again, and then shook his head vigorously, his brows knit with consternation that she would even think such a thing of him.

“Hector, you are the sweetest boy in the world, did you know that? Never have I met someone so forgiving. I expected you to be angry. Or even more frightened.” She told him honestly. He just rested his head closer on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. It wasn’t her fault…none of this was.

“Do you think you will be able to sleep?”

Hector sat back and away, and then nodded even though he wasn’t so sure.

“Oh good, because you have a swordsmanship lesson after Adrian’s tomorrow afternoon.”

Hector sat away quickly and gave her a strange look.

“That is, if your ribs aren’t paining you too much. I was told I am also to take you into town, take you to the tailor, and then to the leather shop. You are to have more than Adrian’s cast off clothing…you are also to take up lessons with the master alchemist who teaches Adrian as well. My lord says you have a very special gift…one that you should learn to harness the powers of. He wants you to have the best that you can. So that you might better serve him. What a man to have in one’s service, yes? One who speaks to animals and understands the magic of life and death.” She smiled proudly down at Hector, as if he were her own son who had won favor and pleased his father.

He was shocked, utterly shocked. What had he done but been an early morning snack for the Lord? But then again…he felt a bit easier. Everyone wanted something. At least he knew what was required of him, and he didn’t mind. At least he would serve a purpose…not many had the privilege to serve a Lord or Lady directly. He did not feel deserving. Especially a Lord and Lady like this…

But the clothes he had were fine, and he was used to bare feet…surely the fuss was not needed…and he could barely read half as well as Adrian, how would he even manage to keep up with a master of alchemy? And never before had he held a sword…what if he disappointed the Lord, what then?

He gave her a worried look.

“Do not fret so, Hector. As long as you try your best, he will never be displeased with you.”

As she tucked him back into bed, and rubbed his shoulders until he was drowsy, he couldn’t help but be afraid a little. So much had happened…and who knew what tomorrow would bring?

~*~

By the time he was done with his lessons, he was completely exhausted. He had a large stack of books on his desk that he was supposed to read and understand before his next lessons with the Master Alchemist, he had a small sword, balanced perfectly for learning, resting across his vanity table in a sheath, and he was rubbing his arms and the back of his neck in distress. He was very sore.

He had had a bath, and was now dressed in the absolute finest set of clothes he had ever owned. His Lady had clipped his hair, trimming it neatly, and brushed some sort of light and green smelling oil through it before pulling the now highly defined curls back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

He could not help but stare at himself in the mirror for a long moment. He barely recognized himself. Yes, the shoes were stiff and hurt his feet, and the shirt was starched and scratchy, something that would go away with wear but he looked respectable.

He turned to glance at Adrian then, and winced at the pain in his neck. (the collar thankfully covered the punctures there.)

“You lessons went well?” Adrian asked quietly, watching Hector tug at the starched collar.

The reply expression that he gave the other boy told him quite unmistakably ‘please help me!’

“The clothes look wonderful on you, though I bet they are a bit stiff…as are you, how are your arms?”

Hector gave him a look that clearly said he was in agony.

“Yes, Master Jessup is a bit harsh on new students. I bet you have bruises everywhere, he isn’t a patient or forgiving swords-master.”

Hector nodded, and then turned his hands slowly over for the other boy. They were covered in raw blisters.

“Oh! You should soak those…here…come with me…”

Hector glanced worriedly at his homework on the table. Adrian shook his head and tugged at Hector’s sleeve again, yanking him out of the room before he could even object.

“That will keep, come with me, let us fix your hands up, yes?”

~*~

He was sitting at the table in the infirmary while Adrian poured cold water into a basin, and then began to sprinkle something into the water from this or that jar on the shelves. When he was done, he slid the pan over to Hector

“Let me help you roll up your sleeves, and then just soak your hands in that.”

A moment later, Hector was in heaven. Whatever was in the water soothed the pain almost immediately. At first he had tried to jerk his hands back, objecting to the strange tingling sting of whatever was in the water, but Adrian had held his hands down and back into the stuff patiently. He was still holding them when he leaned across Hector’s shoulder, and then wrinkled his brow, staring intently at Hector’s collar.

Adrian wiped his hands dry on the towel, and then reached up, pulling the fabric away. His breath caught in his throat as he did so.

“Oh…oh no…” Adrian whispered lowly.

“He didn’t…did not force you to drink any of his blood, did he?”

Hector shook his head no, and Adrian relaxed just slightly, his eyes guilty. Hector understood. It very well might have been Adrian who bit him, the need for blood probably was not far, even for a half-breed. Hector just smiled at his friend, and then leaned his forehead against his shoulder for a moment.

Adrian stiffened momentarily, and then stepped back, cupping Hector’s cheek in his palm.

“You understand…don’t you? I don’t even have to say a thing, do I?”

Hector nodded with a tiny smile.

“Are you sure you can’t read minds too?” The younger man asked as he searched the shelves for a tin of salve that he dipped his fingers into, soothing the cream across Hector’s bite marks before letting the collar fall back into place.

Hector shrugged.

~*~

A little under a year had passed since he had begun his lessons. He had grown taller and broader already. His birthday had come and gone, and he was now already half a head taller than Adrian. He was mostly legs, but that was all right. He had outgrown his clothes twice, and occasionally he was clumsy, but already he was overcoming that.

He sat now, facing a test tube and a burner, watching the contents change color. He swirled it with a pair of tongs, crimson now…interesting.

He quickly jotted something down on a piece of paper, his study notes for the tutor, and turned the burner off. His homework was finished, and he had plans for several gleefully unadulterated hours of sleep before nightfall when he would meet with the Lord. The man did not seem to mind that Hector did not speak, instead simply spent hours giving a knowledge hungry Hector all the information he could find about those with his young charges abilities.

They were called Forgemasters. It was an ancient and very rare ability…but all the books did though, was briefly describe it as such. That a Forgemaster could control the powers of life and death, could summon souls of the dead to create a being that served their will.

Hector didn’t know what he thought about that, and it certainly didn’t provide instructions, so he was a bit uncertain about it. The Lord pressed him to try, but Hector was honestly afraid of what might happen. It was an ability that tugged at him in little ways every day, and the older he had gotten, the more aware of it he was. He just wasn’t certain he should be treading in God’s territory. He certainly did not want to make a mistake. Already he had found out how fickle alchemy was and how quickly things could become…problematic. It served to make him more cautious, not less. He was no god, if anything…he was a devil, and an occasionally clumsy one at that.

He still had not outgrown the pain of his mother’s loss, or the belief that he was a forsaken being. Adrian often felt the same way, sometimes sitting in silence at the foot of Hector’s bed and just loathing himself. Hector understood, and so in those times, he would sit nearby and read. Close enough for comfort, but too far away for pity.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes before he precisely stacked a packet of parchment, neatened an armful of books, and then picked it all up, heading for his room.

It was as he was setting them down on his desk by his burned down candles that he heard a commotion down by the bridge. His window faced the city, as well as the heavy bridges that lead to the castle.

He had his sword and was bolting through the stronghold before he even had time to think. He would protect his Lord and Lady to the death if need be.

By the time he got to the bridge, he realized that the noise was a group of rioting city folk, and that they were kicking and thrashing a boy whom they had tied up with chain and rope, gagged and possibly stoned too, from the look if it.

Hector drew his sword, and the ring of the blade leaving scabbard made all heads turn to look at him. As he progressed towards them, they backed away, leaving the bleeding boy.

Hector was sickened. He knew all too well how the young man lying in a twisted heap on the ground, felt. Blue eyes met his, and Hector was surprised by the look of abject /nothing/ in that pale blue. The young man had shut himself down and off, so that he did not have to feel pain or fear.

Silently he promised the young man that he would help him. But first he stepped over him and kept going. The townspeople people backed up further. They were all silent, regarding him with judgmental and righteous eyes.

Hector’s blade sang through the air faster than eye could trace, and as it did so, it ended a moment later next to a peasant’s belt.

The man’s shirt fell open, the cloth the only thing having been cut. He blanched, and Hector raised an eyebrow.

The men and women slunk away, back towards the city, abandoning the other young man.

Hector watched them go until one of the ravens nearby told him that they all were gone. He stroked its feathers appreciatively before he knelt by the young man who was curled up and bleeding on the very edge of the bridge. Angry eyes followed Hector.

He did not flinch when Hector cut the rope binding him with his sword. The blue eyed boy simply sank to the bridge, his spine relaxing from the unnatural position it had been held in by his bindings. He groaned as Hector removed the gag, and then tried weakly to get up, which he failed at, collapsing so quickly that Hector had to keep his head from hitting the hard wood.

The chains were still on the boy’s wrists…and Hector didn’t dare try to use his sword. Instead he called on the powers of his alchemy, combining the discipline of the study and his magic to melt the chain. He had made a chain once for his Master, for practice. It was a simple process then, this deconstruction.

The metal fell away with a clink.

The boy could not get up, and Hector knew that. Instead, he went to the moat and dipped a handkerchief in, wetting it well, and then returned to the prostrate young man.

He slid his head onto his knees, and began to dab at the cuts and bruises there. The young man moaned, the sound halfway between a sob and a growl. Hector kept cleaning, soothing, until he could see all of that porcelain skin, until the worst of the caked blood had come away from the other man’s hair. He could tell it was crimson now, not just the blood. Crimson and beautifully so. He could now even tell that the boy had beautiful eyebrows, arched high and noble despite the bruising that went to the bone, that had made his face swell. This was one of God’s children…how could anyone do him this cruelty, and why had the townspeople brought him here?

Hector picked him up then, and carried him carefully inside. He was bigger, heavier, and it was some strain but he managed. The Lady was away picking herbs for a man in the village who was sick, and Adrian had accompanied her for protection. He would have to take what he had learned of healing and put it to as much use as possible. Luckily for him, the servants were gathering now, much more timid even than Hector, but helpful. A few of them held doors all the way to the infirmary.

By the time he got the other young man to the medicine room, he seemed a bit more alert, though not by much. He was looking around in confusion.

Hector laid him on a nearby cot, and then began to peel bloody clothes away from the bigger boy, finally having to use warm water heated on the fireplace hearth and a knife to strip them away. It was the only way he could check for wounds… He washed that crimson hair clean in a bucket, and then worked his way down a chest beginning to muscle heavily while a servant stood in the doorway, wringing her hands nervously.

Hector was careful, reverent. The boy was beautiful, and so sore. He cleaned out wounds, washing, drying, and bandaging as he went. The other boy lay there, looking stunned as Hector continued, wincing when Hector dampened down his right leg. Hector looked carefully, a probe of his fingers against the wound proved to him that the bone was probably fractured at the least.

He created a splint out of two steel bars used for propping the windows open on hot days, and several strips of bandages.

A few lacerations needed suturing, but he took care of those rather quickly. Still the young man on the cot never flinched, just simply stared.

When Hector had washed him and cleaned him, tended his wounds as best he could, he covered the young man’s naked body with a heavy wool blanket, rubbing those shoulders that were so much broader than his carefully.

“Momma?” The young man whimpered.

Hector winced, the frightened pain in that voice, it reminded him of the night he had come here…how he had cried for his mother.

“Momma! Don’t leave me here!” The voice was slurred, aching and frightened.

Hector bit his lip, not certain what to do, he could feel something building low in his throat, something he could not stop, nor could he think twice about for fear that it would somehow go away if he paid it mind. He wouldn’t leave someone else to suffer as he had…suffer alone and afraid. The Lady had made certain that he hadn’t.…he had to…

“Rest easy….you aren’t alone.” Came past his lips, past a voice cracked with disuse.

Hector startled at the sound in the room, the sound of a voice he did not know. His own. It was deeper, a bit gruff, but it didn’t sound…bad? He could almost hear the servant blinking. Yes, it shocked him too.

“Momma! Don’t leave me!”

“No one… is leaving you.” Hector said softly, sitting down on the cot beside the younger man, and stretching to reach the counter where there was a jar of leaves sitting, unopened.

He slid the jar open, and then crushed one of the fragrant things under his fingers.

“Here.” Hector said softly. “Open your mouth… put this under your tongue and hold it there…it will help the pain in your head and… the rest of you too.”

He pressed the leaf past those bloody and chapped lips, and the younger man obeyed dazedly.

Hector than stroked those shoulders again.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He got confused silence in return and a low moan of pain.

“Keep it under your….tongue…” Hector murmured brokenly. He could hear the servants talking the hall, the excited sound of feet up and down the stairs. The whole of the castle was in a muted uproar. “Try…and rest…” Hector whispered as his charge squirmed in discomfort.

~*~

Next Chapter:

((Chapter Three))