[Title] Nuestro Pasado
[Author] Jadedsilk (Mara D.)
[Series] Castlevania: Curse of Darkness
[Pairing] HectorxIssac (Not yet, but it will be.)
[Rating] NC17
[Beta] yubberducky looked it over. I think I got all the mistakes, but if I didn't, please forgive me.
[Spoilers?] Yes. Violence warning. Yaoi warning for later chapters. Spoilers galore.
[Chatter] Growing pains between Hector and Isaac.



~*~

He sat with the young man until he spit out the leaf and finally seemed to doze off in the cool and comfort of the castle infirmary, nestled under a heavy blanket. Hector rested patiently by the red-head’s side, hardly moving or breathing. Thinking, considering. He hoped he would not have angered The Lord by rescuing this young man, but he could not see any reason not to have. Besides, there was something about him…something that Hector recognized and felt as called by as he was repelled. Something that called to the power inside of him, lying dormant and cold.

It was almost the way that magnets reacted if you pressed one end to another. Some stuck, and some you could not force to touch if you tried. Hector was somewhere in the middle, and very confused. That was why, when The Lady returned, he was relieved.

It had taken one servant seemingly ten seconds to inform her of all that had happened, and she had come into the room at a trot, Adrian on her heels. The young man looked terribly ill, probably from the exposure to the sunlight, and he barely gave Hector a glance before he locating some herb or another to stir into a drink for himself. It was only as Adrian was doing that, and Lisa was standing at his side, her hand supportively on his shoulder as she glanced over the wounded young man, that he realized the real enormity of what had happened today.

He had spoken.

His thoughts had not been for himself, but for the beaten and wounded being lying on the cot beside him.

Hector helped her lift the blanket and tend to the red-head, she checked Hectors suturing, his bandaging, his makeshift splint and gave him tiny and approving nods until she had declared the young man before her “well on his way to recovering.” And Hector had smiled shyly at her praise. Learning these things from her was also part of his studies.

“Now what is this that I hear of you speaking?” She asked him with a warm smile as she settled the other boy when he stirred, tucking him more tightly under the blankets. Hector turned to more fully face her, resting his cheek against the top of her shoulder, the gesture both respectful and confused. He thought about it in that moment, that he could do so while standing. Perhaps he was growing again.

Her warm hands fluttered to the nape of his neck, stroking there reassuringly. He let her because he lived for his Lady’s affections.

When she released him, he realized that Adrian was now standing beside him, having finished whatever he had been drinking.

“Is it true?” The white haired youth asked him, a smile in those eyes.

Hector swallowed hard, a bit nervously.

He tried to remember how it had felt to speak, how it had felt, the need to communicate had been so strong. If he could just remember how…if he could…for them.

“T…T’is true.” He said softly, jumping a bit at the sound of his own voice.

He was not expecting the kindly hug form a normally fairly sober and taciturn Adrian, nor was he expecting his Lady’s delighted laughter, soft and sweet in consideration for the dozing patient on the infirmary cot.

“This is wonderful news!” Adrian said as he hugged Hector to death, and then pulled away quickly, sobering. Yes, Adrian was weak from the sun and was no doubt craving blood desperately. Being so close to Hector had to have been trying. Hector gave him a reassuring nod, one that said that he understood. Adrian gave him a tiny bow in return.

“You all must be as hungry as I…what say you I find out if something might be put on in the kitchens?” Lisa asked softly.

“I would be…grateful…M’lady.” Hector murmured, showing off his new skill a bit, and winning himself another proud smile that he tucked away in his memories despite the blush painting his cheeks. Still after a year, praise was a new concept to him.

“Yes, that would be wonderful.” Adrian echoed softly, giving his mother a slight but respectful bow.

~*~

It was sundown when the red-head stirred on Hector’s bed, now dressed in a spare pair of Hector’s oversized sleep clothes (They were tight on the stranger.). Hector had been patiently perched for the last ten minutes, no longer attending his studies. He had figured that his charge would probably wake with the change in light.

Lisa had gone early to bed, no doubt to spend time with her husband, and Adrian was somewhere, still soaking in a tub of cool water, trying to recover good humor after a long day in the cloying heat of the village. Hector had called for a bowl of soup and a cool herbal drink heavily laced with mint, ginger and catnip to wet a dry mouth and soothe an aching stomach, which had been brought immediately.

He had the shutters open to cool the room of the summer heat, and he wearily wiped some sweat from his brow and then wet a cloth down with some water from a bedside basin, using it to soothe the red-head’s tear and bruise swollen eyes open and cool his forehead.

Blue eyes fluttered open, and were immediately frightened, trying to focus on Hector. The young man tried to sit up, but Hector gently pressed him back to the mattress and pulled the cloth away.

“You are safe…my name…is Hector, and you are within the castle walls. The villagers will not hurt you anymore.”

The red-head sat up more slowly, and Hector let him this time. The strange young man was suspiciously holding the light sheet that had been covering him to his chin, blue eyes terrified, intelligent, sharp, looking for an escape. Hector watched the fear go to pain and from pain to memories. A tiny bit of anger seemed to spark in that gaze then at that. Yes, the other young man knew where he was now.

“What do you want from me?!” That surprisingly gentle voice asked, despite the anger and suspicion there.

“I want nothing.” Hector said, “Other than for you to know that you are safe here.”

The young man turned on him, a snarl painting that bruised face, a trapped animal snapping at its ensnared foot.

“Everyone wants something, don’t lie to me!”

Hector wasn’t that taken-aback by the aggression. He simply had to treat this young man like he would a wounded animal, speak with his heart until he understood that Hector meant him no harm.

Hector made slow and careful eye contact, and as he met that blue, something low in his stomach coiled, jumped, tugged at his power. The red-head felt it too, obviously, and he sat back so fast he smacked his head into the wall next to the bed.

“What are you?” The young man asked warily.

“The same as you, I believe.” Hector said softly, and then raised an eyebrow at himself. He didn’t remember thinking to say that, he didn’t even really remember considering it at all. “Though I have never met another like myself before.”

Those eyes considered him, and Hector reached out with his soul, like he did when an animal was angry and frightened, and the red-head seemed to calm.

“You aren’t going to kill me, feed me to the monster?”

“What monster?” Hector asked softly.

“The monster that lives here, that drinks blood!”

“The Lord?”

“If he is the one that drinks blood.”

Hector shook his head.

“He has yet to kill me.”

“I see.” The other man said, reaching up with an aching hand to touch the side of his face and wincing.

“Are you thirsty?” Hector asked gently.

“Is it drugged?”

“No…” Hector said, laughing softly as he poured a glass from the pitcher and then took a deep draught. “No poison, not drugged.” Hector said, his voice loosening with the cool drink and now the practice as he handed the glass to the other young man.

He sniffed it thoughtfully, and then took a hesitant sip followed by a small sigh.

“If you feel well enough after you’ve slaked your thirst…perhaps you would like something to eat?” Hector asked.

Something was uncoiling between them, brushing back and forth between their skin like an overzealous kitten.

The red-head took another draught, this one a bit deeper, and something seemed a bit less angry in his gaze.

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

Hector smiled at the young man. “You have done me no wrong…and I have been right where you are now, wounded and in bed, afraid, rejected…angry at the world. You are like me, and they did not want you…though there is no reason they shouldn’t.” He said as he sat, relaxed. His posture open, inviting curiosity and denying that he hid anything.

“Do you…” The red-head began.

“Talk to animals? Yes. Can I control life and death to an extent without trying? Yes.” Hector said calmly.

The redhead nearly choked on his drink, and then regarded Hector with a new emotion. Curiosity.

“Is there…a name then…for what we are? I’m not a…”

“A monster, devil-spawn, a witch?” Hector suggested, obviously taking the words from the other man’s mouth.

The young man held his glass out to Hector, and Hector refilled it with an easy smile.

“…yes.” The red-head said softly.

“There is a name…and I will explain everything when you are rested…but for now…might I know your name?”

“My name…is Isaac Laforeze.” The red-head said softly.

“Have you any family?” Hector asked softly.

Isaac looked away to the blanket spread upon the foot of the bed.

“My family…they carried me here, to be sacrificed to your…Lord.”

“I assure you, he really will not hurt you…he is not a cruel man.” Hector said softly.

“You seem to trust him much more than the villagers do.” Isaac said lowly.

“The villagers do not know what they throw away, when the ban us, kill those like us, shun us…we do have gifts. My Lord saw that in me when he rescued me at the gates of this very castle. That I was not what the villagers say. He is a good man, who would not harm you.”

“He kills some, draining them of their blood.”

“That is what My Lord does to survive. He must eat, and he only kills criminals.”

“He /will/ kill me then.”

“No.” Hector said patiently as he took the now empty glass away from Isaac, instead, handing him a bowl of soup which was directly inhaled.

“You are no criminal, your family, they are mistaken. So they…they bound you, beat you, and brought you here to die?”

Isaac nodded slowly, eyes slightly wary again, picking out patterns in Hector’s quilt rather than think about what he was admitting.

“I am sorry.” Hector said softly.

“Do not be. I am not.” Isaac snapped as he bounced back to anger, taking another careful bite of soup, swallowing with some effort past a swollen throat.

Hector shrugged then, and as he watched the last of the soup disappeared from the bowl, rewet the cloth.

He took the bowl then from Isaac, and began to touch the cloth to a scab that was beginning to bleed again on the young man’s throat.

Hector thought for a minute he might be struck, but after a moment, Isaac settled under his touch. Despite all of his bluster, he watched the red-head’s expression crumple at the kindness, watched the masks of anger, fear and suspicion give way to the tears. Hector blotted at the bleeding until it stopped, and then slowly slid his way further onto the bed on his knees. He wiped a few tears, and then pulled Isaac to his shoulder. The bigger young man collapsed there, beyond his anger and his fear and clinging to Hector like he might a missing part of his soul.

“I’m afraid my sister is dead.” The redhead murmured miserably. “She is a witch…they were going to burn her at the stake.”

Hector held the bruised and battered young man closer, trying to comfort. He hummed low in his throat, a sound that he remembered from his youth that seemed to comfort any animal. Apparently it worked on humans too, because after a time of Hector’s sword-calloused hands stroking through Isaac’s hair and the soft sound, the bigger young man quieted.

“How old are you Isaac?” Hector asked, trying to distract the red-head from fear and pain.

“Seventeen summers.” Was the soft reply.

“I am but fourteen, perhaps there are things you can teach me about these powers we both possess?” Hector asked gently.

“I would have thought you older.” Came the reply. “Though you are not as tall as I.”

“I appreciate the compliment.” Hector said softly, enjoying his not quite answer. “And for now…get some rest, things will be a bit better with some respite and a few good meals. In the morning, if you feel better and want to try walking, I can show you the castle? And you must meet The Lady and her son, Adrian.” Hector said kindly.

“I have seen them come and go in the village.” Isaac said softly as Hector helped lower him back to the bed. “They are viewed with suspicion, though once your Lady helped my sister when she was ill; I have no hatred of her. Perhaps it might be good…to meet her again. I might convey my thanks.”

Hector nodded, arranging the blankets across the bigger young man’s shoulders again, and helped comfort him with the placement of a pillow under his aching leg.

“I have more leaves for the pain, if you would like one.” Hector said softly.

“If I am to meet them, then when do I meet The Lord of this castle?” Isaac asked as Hector crushed another leaf for him, then handing it over.

“When the time is right, The Lord…is busy often.”

“You mean, when he is ready to meet me?”

Hector nodded as Isaac put the leaf under his tongue. There was something grateful in those blue eyes studying his so intently.

“Hector?”

“Hmm?

“Thank you.”

~*~

Hector slept at his desk, or at least, tried to. He was thoroughly exhausted and yet he could not do more than doze, waking to study the redhead in his bed. The candle light from his desk flickered, bathing that pale skin in a strange gold, turning crimson hair to the color of autumn leaves.

So angry on the outside, and understandably so. So broken and wounded on the inside. Hector got the feeling that the young man did not normally share his hurt with anyone…there were cuts on the inside of those muscular thighs and lean forearms that were not caused by beatings or normal injury. No, they were intentional. Hector understood the pain, the rejection that drove someone that far. And yet still, why would this Isaac share this with him? This hurt? These fears? It was as if they had known each other always, and something between them was already binding them closer. Two halves of a whole. Light and dark. Passion and compassion. Fire and Ice.

It was nothing like Isaac not having a choice. If Hector was a good judge of character, than this Isaac probably would have spoken to no one else…so why him? What would make the proud and broken young man even trust him this far?

When he did finally drop off in his chair, face down in a book, there was only the sound of night animals and the occasional whimper from the red-head in his bed to lull him.

~*~

When he woke again, it was deep night, and someone was stroking his shoulder.

He opened his eyes wearily to find the stately figure of his lord. He stood up quickly and bowed low, his unbound hair falling freely around his shoulders.

“You did not meet with me tonight Hector? I hear you have something to tell me?”

“Forgive me…My Lord.” Hector murmured from where he is bowed. “I wished to not interrupt you, and as you can see, I was instructed by M’lady to watch over him.”

Hector gestured with a graceful hand to the bed.

Intelligent eyes met Hectors then, and Hector flinched as he straightened up. If The Lord wished to punish him then he would accept that. He had not attended as he had been asked.

“I am not angry with you Hector…no…I am glad for you. I wondered how long it would take this one to come to me…to you.” The man said, the smell of his cologne making Hector’s knees weak.

He was always afraid of this man, and probably rightly so. He was, after all, a predator, even if he was a fair Lord. Hector was quiet, considering for a moment.

“You knew of him? Why did you not rescue him before they did this to him?” Hector realized then, what he had said, and paled in the low candle light. “Forgive me My Lord” He whispered. “I do not mind my tongue.”

The vampire smiled at him, a flash of ivory fang in the dark. “At least you have a tongue to mind now.”

“Forgive me.” Hector apologized again.

“There is no need Hector. Tell me about this one.” The Lord murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed and drawing long and gentle claws through tangled crimson. The young man stirred slightly, and the Lord bent, pressing a kiss against that bruised forehead. Hector recognized the gesture, and felt a strange shudder slide through his body at the memories that went with that. It took him a moment to find his tongue, to find the right words, and the Lord did not seem to mind. Instead, pale hands pulled back the sheets, were cautiously touching the areas over wounds, and tugging clothing aside respectfully to do so. When they reached the splint, they removed it, deftly laying it aside on the floor so that they might touch where the bone was broken, or to glide softly over intentional wounds.

“His name is Isaac.” Hector murmured softly.

“And you know that he is like you?”

Hector nodded.

“Do you understand yet?”

“Forgive me my Lord; I know not what you mean.” Hector whispered.

“No matter, in time it will come to you. When it is time. Your voice has found you now; perhaps you will find yourself when this one does.”

Hector was confused, and then silent. The Vampire Lord leaned over the young man, and then using his claw, pricked his wrist deeply.

Hector gasped, and then blinked in surprise.

“My Lord!”

“Hector, he must heal, he cannot stay in bed for months, or he will go mad with boredom. With his leg as it is…”

Hector nodded. He did understand but…

“He will always have a limp, if I do not do this.” The Lord murmured, tilting the sleeping Isaac’s head back until his mouth parted, and then aimed several drops of his blood onto those chapped lips. Isaac stirred sleepily, licking his lips and swallowing reflexively. The lord gave him a bit more, and Hector watched that pale skin gain some color back, watched the wounds on that beautiful face recede.

“Will it turn him?” Hector worried.

The Lord turned his head and gave Hector a glance.

“Forgive me, if I am out of place.” Hector backpedaled, bowing low again.

“No. No, you are concerned, you do not judge, you simply ask fair questions. That is no crime Hector.” The Lord answered. “Come here.” The lithe man patted the bed beside him, and Hector went, cautious and somehow grateful at the same time. He sat. “You have done well with his wounds, but look…they have healed…would you remove the sutures so that I might heal him completely now?”

Hector nodded, and then drew a slim blade from a sheath at his waist.

“May I ask of you?” Hector asked softly as he leaned forward, beginning t nip sutures away from the pale skin of Isaac’s forehead with the tip of the blade.

“Of course.”

Soft velvet brushed against the slightly rougher fabric of Hector’s shirt.

“It is not that I would ever desire to do so, but I am curious…how does one…create a vampire? You say your blood will not turn him?”

The Lord laughed softly as the wound at his wrist closed and he finally drew it away from Isaac’s mouth, wiping the last few drops of the black stuff from the young man’s lips.

“A vampire is made when a vampire drains his victim unto the point of death, and then feeds him his blood, and quite a bit of it. This process must be repeated at least three times before the human crosses over, and even then, it is traumatic every time. Many do not survive such a thing. And sometimes, when the process goes wrong, a revenant vampire might occur…acting much like a ghoul and at service to its maker.”

“Ghouls…hunt in packs…often lead by their creator; they are more intelligent than zombies, and faster. They have an intense fear of fire?” Hector repeated, thinking about some of the books from the library.

“Correct. A revenant vampire acts much like a ghoul. As for a Vampire’s blood, you know that a vampire may drink blood to access memories, may drink to control a human, bewitching them, and as you see now, a vampire’s blood, when applied to a human injury, or drunk by a human, can heal even lethal wounds.”

“I see…” There was a long pause as Hector thought that over, hands still busily removing sutures. “May I be so bold as to ask one more question?”

“Hector, I do not have you taught so that you do not ask questions!”

“True, My Lord. Forgive me, but if you could have healed me completely…why did you not?”

The lord smiled as though he had seen this question coming miles ahead of Hector.

“Because you never seemed as uncomfortable as this one, and his wounds are worse than yours were.”

“That…is true.” Hector said, giving his Lord a nervous smile.

“Hector…you are wanted here, appreciated. Do not think it is not so.” A clawed finger reached out and gently stroked against Hector’s cheek.

Hector gave his Lord another, more contented smile.

“Forgive me my lord.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

~*~

When sleep would not come to Hector, he found himself in the bath tub, after haunting the kitchens for three of the blackest cups of tea he could find. He laid there enjoying the hot water, the smell of soap and fresh towels.

What had his Lord meant? He would find himself when Isaac found what? Found Hector? That made no sense. What was it that his Lord knew that he was not telling him?

When he heard the sounds of Isaac stirring awake, he quickly got out of the tub, dried off and dressed, making his way back into the room. He was exhausted, but that didn’t mean Isaac would be.

“Good morning.” Hector murmured as he found the young man blinking at him suspiciously. “How do you feel?”

Isaac narrowed his eyes suspiciously, tangled crimson falling into his fierce gaze.

“I feel much better.”

“The Lord healed you last night.”

Isaac’s eyes got suddenly larger.

“He touched me?!” Isaac was looking around frantically then, pawing at his nightclothes, checking wounds that were now healed to only pink scars. “You said he would not harm me!” Suspicion was in that voice now.

“And he did not…he healed you.”

Isaac glanced about the room, as if it held answers to his dismay while looking extremely confused.

“I thought he could only…”

“Kill?” Hector asked. “No, one cannot kill without being able to cure. He did not want you bedridden, and he was concerned you would have a limp if he did not heal your leg. Would you like a bath? The Lady brought you some clothing earlier this morning.”

Isaac grunted, and then sat up and stretched slowly, wincing a bit.

“I just bathed and the water is still hot? If you do not mind sharing bath water with me, that is.” Hector said.

Isaac stood, and then unsteadily made his way to Hector’s side. He was a bit taller, but Hector wasn’t concerned with that.

“That will be fine.” Isaac said, looking a bit numb.

Hector picked clothing up from where it rested on the edge of the vanity mirror, and handed it to the red-head. As he did so, their hands brushed, and warmth curled between them. Both of them jumped a bit.

“I am sorry.” Hector said lowly.

“Don’t be.” Isaac murmured before slipping into the bathroom.

~*~

When Isaac emerged, Hector was now neatened up, his hair tied back in wet curls at the nape of his neck, his boots were polished, and he was reading a book.

Isaac was dressed in a white cotton shirt, and a pair of button down leather leggings that had probably been the Lord’s at one time or another. The knee height boots also seemed to fit quite well. Hector smiled.

“That is quite an improvement.” He said, standing gracefully and then handing his comb to Isaac. “Do you want help getting the tangles out?”

“I don’t need your help.” The red-head snapped before perching on the chair in front of Hector’s vanity, tilting his head forward into the mirror so that he could see what he was doing.

Hector just smiled and shook his head before buckling his sword on and wriggled into a pair of gloves. He had a swordsmanship lesson today, and he had to turn in his research to his Alchemy Master. Already he was exhausted. Too exhausted to even bother to argue with Isaac, almost too exhausted to show the other young man around. So he tried to ignore the hissing of protest from in front of the mirror as Isaac yanked the knots out brutally.

Hector listened to the sounds of frustration for a while longer before he finally turned on the red-head and forcibly took the comb from his hands.

“Isaac, you cannot force the knots. Work with them, and then you can pick them out without shredding your hair or yanking it.” Hector said softly.

“Well if you’re so good at it, why don’t /you/ do it.” Isaac grumped.

“As you like.” Hector said quietly, remembering his previous offer and Isaac’s rejection of it.

He moved behind the young man, and using the comb and the rough edges of his leather gloves for traction on the silky stuff, he picked the knots out.

~*~

The tour of the castle ended in the gardens, with Isaac sitting down a bit wearily on one of the benches, sulking in a pool of sunshine.

Hector recognized the sadness in those eyes, even if it was masked behind a simmering sort of rage. He sat beside the other man, close, but not too close. Close enough to feel the hurt and fury against his skin like pins and needles.

“I am not so foolish as to think it is other than what you have been through…but what troubles you?” Hector asked gently.

“Why do you care?!” Isaac asked, his eyes narrowing as he crossed his legs, defiantly, defensively.

“Why should I not?”

“You have nothing to gain from me…humans only care when they can gain something from your misery!”

“So you /are/ hurting.” Hector said patiently.

“It’s none of your business what I do or do not feel! I cannot feel! I am a monster!” Isaac said angrily, his posture growing tenser by the minute.

“Is that why you punish yourself with a knife?” Hector asked. “Because pain makes you feel like you are alive, like you are a human being that can hurt, that you have a right to hurt about something?”

“Do not speak of what you do not understand.” Isaac hissed.

“You have asked no questions of me, you know nothing of my life, why would you judge me? Perhaps I do understand!.”

“Just because you and I share an ability does not mean we share the same feelings!”

“So you admit then that you have feelings!”

“Do not…” The young man struck like a startled snake, grabbing the collar of Hector’s shirt. “…presume to think we are the same.”

Hector was unafraid. If this was how Isaac had to express himself, if he had to get angry to grieve, than so be it. He would accept the consequences. There were many days he felt like this himself, except he hid behind a shield of his belief that he deserved to be treated vilely. He hid behind his self-pity.

“Isaac, you are not a monster. You are a Forgemaster. You have a gift that can help both humans and animals…you can ease suffering.”

Isaac tackled Hector off the bench, both hands fisted in his collar, slamming the younger man into the dirt, his expression twisted with rage.

“You know /nothing/ of my suffering. Who cares if I can fix the world when I feel like this inside?” White teeth were bared in Hector’s face, the body above him trembling. He picked Hector up, and then slammed him back down into the tanbark of the garden pathway, knocking the wind from him.

“I want to know.” Hector said between coughs for air. “I want to help.”

When Isaac finally burst into tears, Hector was expecting the abuse to be over. Of course, it was not.

The young man drew back, and then slammed his fist into Hector’s jaw so hard he saw stars and tasted blood.

“How /dare/ you!” Isaac hissed as he jumped back off of Hector, his eyes squinted in rage, his sotto voice choked with tears. “How /dare/ you!” he choked, backing away.

Hector stood, and then offered his hand out towards Isaac reassuringly.

The red-head swatted it away, taking further steps backward.

When Hector had backed him against the wall, he reached out, drying the tears on those pale cheeks with the edge of his glove.

Isaac snarled and in retaliation, drove his fist into Hector’s gut.

Hector grunted, and a moment later, and after catching his breath, he straightened. To his surprise, he found himself returning the gesture. He drove his fist into Isaac’s stomach so hard he knocked the other young man to his knees.

“Don’t be an ass!” Hector wheezed, licking the blood from the side of his mouth before he knelt in front of the crumpled red-head.

When he slipped his arms around Isaac’s shoulders, drawing the gasping older boy closer, he was rewarded by a tired and damp head lying in the crook of his shoulder.

“Why?!” Isaac sobbed loudly, his fist coming up to pound on Hector’s back and shoulders as he clung. “Why do humans have to be so cruel! I did not ask to be born this way! Why! God! Why!”

Hector began to gently stroke that silky hair, nuzzling against that broad jaw as reassuringly as he could muster.

“It is the way of things. Human nature is to destroy what it doesn’t understand. It is few and far between that know that secret.” Hector murmured. “They had no right to treat you as they did, they have no right to treat me as they do. Or Adrian, or My Lord or Lady. They have no right, but that doesn’t mean we should hate them.”

“I do! I hate them!” Isaac hissed, curling closer and giving up beating Hector’s shoulder for tangling his hands into the fists in Hector’s vest.

“In time, you will understand that hating them will not make anything better…but for now, if you must hate them, I do understand.”

“/No/ you /Don’t/!” Isaac grunted.

“Do not presume Isaac, to tell me what I do or do not feel or know.”

For the longest time, the kneeled there together. Isaac crying, and Hector holding him. The power was awake, coiling restlessly between them, and Hector was rejoicing at even being able to help in the slightest. The sun was warm, and Isaac was warm, something soothing against the coolness of Hector’s skin, against his melancholy mood. Something about this felt strangely right, strangely noble. And despite the bruise forming on his jaw and along his back and stomach, Hector felt he had done the right thing.

~*~

Adrian held the piece of fabric filled with ice against the slick oil on Hector’s jaw.

“Where is he now?” Adrian asked lowly, eyes promising vengeance.

“He is resting in my room…he cried a bit for his sister, and then fell deeply asleep. I think eating was of some help to his mood though…”

“You should rest, you are weary, and I can taste it in the air you breathe.” The young man said softly. “You should not attend your lessons…simply rest. Father will understand.”

“No, I cannot miss a lesson…I have many things to learn still!”

Adrian rubbed something cooling and green smelling on the bruises covering Hector’s back, and Hector winced.

“He should not be so cruel to you.”

“I don’t think it will happen again.” Hector said softly. “He was hurting…you would not punish a frightened or wounded animal for biting you, would you?”

Adrian shook his head, “No, I suppose not.” Was the younger man’s reply, his gradually deepening voice cracking, and making Hector smile.

~*~

Isaac awoke with a low cry of fear, shaking frantically.

Hector slipped into bed beside the older young man, and wrapped him into a reassuring embrace before lowering him back down to the bed.

“Things will seem better in the morning.” Hector soothed. He then curled closer to the red-head, pulling him onto his chest as they lay down on the narrow bed, Isaac’s legs tangled with Hector’s nervously.

After a while, Isaac finally fell back to sleep, and a bit after him, so did Hector. It had been a long last few days. Hector was all but dead on his feet after his last lesson. Sleep would not hurt him either.

~*~

Next Chapter:

~*~