[Title] Nuestro Pasado [Author] jadedsilk (Mara D.) [Series] Castlevania: Curse of Darkness [Pairing] HectorxIssac (Not yet, but it will be.) [Rating] NC17 [Beta] [Spoilers?] Yes. Violence warning. Yaoi warning for later chapters. Spoilers galore. [Chatter] The Yaoi starts here. Enjoy. Again, yubberducky, if it sucks, let me know ^_^ (I tried to be good with my punctuation in dialogue ^_^) ~*~ While Hector had been taught many things in his time in the castle, he had never learned anything like this. In the five months after his first forge, it had been a near constant trial. There had been many close calls with his companions aggression, hunger, and curiosity. Deera was a constant companion if he did not dismiss her, and he began to understand how very useful an ID could be, as well as how much responsibility. She was mostly into just about everything she shouldn’t be. She had shredded priceless tapestries, stolen jewels from statues, helped herself to food left unattended in the kitchen, and once, had stolen and hoarded Lisa’s knitting needles. It had taken Hector and Isaac nearly two days to locate them, only to find a multitude of shiny things that had mysteriously gone missing throughout the castle in the space behind the gutters above Hector’s window. The one thing Hector would give the little terror, was the fact that she was fiercely loyal. She followed all commands given to her with an eagerness to please that was almost heartbreaking at times. The real problems came when Hector forgot to give her commands. She could think for herself quite well, and many times she had done things far smarter than Hector had initially given her credit for. She really was quite obedient though, well, for the most part. When it came to food or being locked out of Hector’s room she tended to become distractible or distraught. This brought up another thing that he had learned. ID’s wanted to be with their masters, as close as they could get. And thus he now understood not to pit himself against a being that /wanted/ to be with him desperately and was intelligent enough to communicate telepathically with him. Deera had learned that if she could not materialize into the room because Hector set up a magical shield or blocked her from his mind, or she could not get in through a door or window, that she could go down to Isaac’s room and howl at his door until he stomped down to Hector’s room, and demand he let her in to shut her up. And once Isaac was there, he tended to stay there for some time, even crawling into bed next to Hector (Hector was fairly certain this tactic was just to be annoying). Thusly, Hector lost. Since the point was to keep /Deera/ out of his bed, (She hogged the covers) but when he locked her out, she brought Isaac and then he had to share one bed with Isaac, Deera and sometimes even Otto. And The Lord had asked him if he would be willing to try to summon another! What was the man /thinking/! Hector smirked into his book before turning the page, having to lift the tome to do so because a dragonling leg was stretched out in front of the page, making it impossible to turn without picking the book up. Well, The Lord was delighted, and not angry with the progress that the Forgemasters were making. Hector was glad. It meant they were even more useful now, instead of just another pair of mouths to feed. The strange thing was that, up until now, this moment when he sat in front of the stone fireplace in the library, stroking Deera’s scaly head, he had never questioned /why/ The Lord would have such a use for them. For protection? Certainly. Otto had already killed a vampire hunter this month, had protected both The Lord and The Lady, and Hector was almost glad for Isaac. That meant the other man had proven he was better than Hector in The Lords eyes. He could be the more senior between the two of them now. Isaac was older, it made sense that he had more experience, though time and again, Hector would catch the older young man doing things that all but begged for Hector’s approval. As though, sure of himself as he seemed, Isaac was still more insecure in himself than Hector. Knowing Isaac, Hector had expected him to compete. To try and one-up him at every turn, but the other man never had. Instead, he had seemed to be more interested in forming a partnership with Hector. Isaac had the practical knowledge and security of someone who had a long head start practicing a Forgemasters abilities, and he leant that confidence to Hector; while Hector gave Isaac the personal self confidence he needed to make it through a day, provided a deeper knowledge of what went on in a Forgemasters studies. They did suit each other rather well…Hector was the thinker. Isaac was the one who put the knowledge into play. Isaac knew what his ID’s were for, and he made sure that Hector knew every day. That violence and hunting was the way of most forges. Hector just was not aggressive, and he did not want to ask that of a being that was part of himself. He knew he could ask his ID to hunt for him, he knew he could ask her to kill, but it was not in his nature. Isaac had no problem with violence; he had taken to The Lord and The Lady both, and now displayed a loyalty that was as fierce and vengeful as it was blind. Hector’s was simply blind. He knew that now; and even considered it. It wasn’t his place to question, but he did feel a bit strange about the thought of committing violence. Especially with all the violence’s committed against himself. That was the major difference between himself and his red-headed Forgemaster companion. Isaac would take any advantage given him, and turn it into a weapon of war, revenge for the wrongs done him fresh in his mind. Hector took his advantages and used them to make peaceful decisions, knowing full well that violence only birthed violence. As much as humanity had hurt him, he could never hate them completely. He viewed them with a pity. A pity that they were so frightened and so unwilling to conquer their fears. He shook his head then, trying to clear it. Too much thinking would just give him a headache. He couldn’t help it though, something was changing. Something between he and Isaac was changing, something between he and Adrian was changing. The whole castle felt vaguely unsettled, and so did the town nearby. It was the feeling of destiny closing in, of the wheels of fate turning. Hector did not know why, or what would cause such a thing, but he did not like it, and he found himself inadvertently beginning to stay closer to Isaac. There were many things he felt oddly about recently. And Isaac was one of them. The red-head was strange. Broken and passionate all in one brush stroke onto the canvas of life. He was all power and muscle, brilliance and fervor, raw energy and intensity. There was a fire burning in that soul that Hector could never begin to match with his own. Isaac was loud, showy, seemingly sure of himself. And Hector was nothing like that, and yet he was strangely drawn to, and comforted by, Isaac’s self assurance whether it was a façade of not. He even took consolation, right now, that Otto was in front of the fireplace, snoring contentedly. It meant Isaac had not gone far. It had been a long day. He was concerned for Adrian, who had been sulking and cranky, showing the characteristic change in temperament that went with his age and adjusting to a body that, at the moment was clumsy and strange and prone to fits of desire that were at the least, potentially embarrassing. It was probably twice as bad because of the dark blood flowing in his veins. To vampires, blood was another thing to become…passionate about. He was fairly certain that just being near anything that breathed was putting Adrian through fits of emotional hell. Poor gentle, quiet Adrian. Hector understood all too well, and he was just barely out of that stage himself. To Hector, his body was a mystery, his feelings, his desires. And he had noticed something that alarmed him a great deal. Usually he ignored Isaac when the man did odd things, or brushed up against him, or slept beside him in bed, or sat on the corner of his desk. But lately, he had found himself studying that body, watching in a way that was….not appropriate, nearest he could tell. He would never look at The Lady the way he found himself looking at Isaac. It just wasn’t respectful somehow…and so very different. Just two days ago, when Isaac had been prattling on about something from a book, Hector had found himself noticing the spaces where the snaps of the other young man’s pants gapped and the cream of smooth skin had shown through. This had lead to ten minutes of blushing and refusing to get up from his desk until the tension in his pants had abated. Hector still did not understand why such a thing would happen to him. As a Forgemaster, he understood life and death, conception and birth. That this sort of thing was a normal response of a male animal to something it wanted to mate with. That something was normally quite female. And so there had to be something absolutely wrong with him. And it lead to even more shyness on Hector’s part. ~*~ It was later that night that Hector discovered a new way to add stress to his day. Isaac was odd. Everyone in the castle agreed with that, and it was not uncommon for Isaac to use Hector’s bathroom, claiming it was “nicer than his.” Hector did not mind this normally, but then again, he had never walked in on Isaac in his bathtub before. He had been meaning to use the toilet, and it was late and he was tired, having been up all day trying to console a grumpy Adrian, and he had walked into the bathroom to find Isaac lounging in his tub by candlelight. The response from his body was immediate and severe. For a moment, Hector thought he might faint, and he leaned against the edge of the sink to stay upright. Isaac smirked at him, and then raised one eyebrow. “Is something the matter Hector?” The young man asked. Hector tried to reply, but all that came out was a surprised sound gasp. He ended up trying to nod and shake his head at the same time. Isaac smiled at him again, the look clearly stating that he knew something Hector didn’t, before he arched his back and stretched, sitting up further in the tub. Hector watched muscles ripple, the expression on his face nothing less than stunned. “Are you sure you are all right…you look ghastly?” Isaac sang sweetly. “I needed to…to…use the…” “Than go?” Isaac said, sighing impatiently. “I’ll close my eyes,” the redhead said, giving Hector a smirk that said very plainly how ridiculous the younger man was acting. “I….I’ll…go later!” Hector said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to relieve himself when he was this…hard. He bolted from the bathroom back into his room, and stood there for a moment, trying desperately to breathe. What was wrong with him?! He sat on the edge of his bed, and rested his head in his hands, trying to get his body to calm down, but it just wasn’t working. ~*~ It was then that he heard the sound of bare foot on stone, and glanced up to find Isaac in pants, but wearing no shirt toweling his hair dry. He couldn’t help it. He glanced up at that beautiful body, and he burst into confused tears. “What are you being a woman about now?” Isaac asked as he paused, halfway to the fire in the fireplace, turning to give Hector a quick glance. When Hector did not respond, the bigger man made his way to Hector’s side, and knelt, putting his hands on his broader companion’s knees. He pulled Hector’s hands away from his face, exposing the tears to the firelight. Hector could not glance up; he did not dare, because a sharp intake of breath from Isaac meant that the other young man had seen his…predicament. “You could just take care of that,” Isaac said softly, touching Hector’s tears with curious fingertips. “But I…but when I…it’s…wrong…of me to…” Isaac just shook his head, and then stood effortlessly, moving to sit beside Hector on the bed. He slid an arm around Hector’s waist, turning the shorter young man towards him. “Hector,” Isaac murmured. Hector did not glance up; he just kept staring at the tops of his boots. “Hector,” Isaac murmured again, and this time, was tilting the silver haired young man’s face up, forcing their eyes to meet. And then Isaac was leaning closer and closer, until his nose brushed Hector’s tenderly, and Hector mewled in uncertainty. Isaac was so close and his stomach was aching, his need trapped under the fabric of his pants was throbbing… And those warm lips touched his. Hector was buried in a curtain of wet crimson and the sensation of Isaac. Those broad hands were cradling the back of his skull, strangely careful. And Hector was trembling as he leaned into the gesture. Nothing had felt better, more right… Isaac broke away only for a moment, eyes narrowed to passionate slits; Hector gave him a drowning look just before he was plunged into the sensation again, as Isaac pressed their mouths together for a second time, this time sucking at his bottom lip. The sensation made Hector cry out lowly, made him open his mouth to gasp. And then Isaac’s tongue was sliding into his mouth, tasting of nothing but warmth and humanity, sliding against Hector’s, stroking him in places inside that he had no idea could tingle with so much pleasure. He couldn’t help it when his own hands finally came up to shyly rest on Isaac’s bare shoulders, couldn’t help it as he leaned forward, trying to get closer, trying to let Isaac inside further. The kiss lasted until Hector thought he would die for lack of air, and Isaac finally broke away, kissing the wetness from Hector’s lips until they were only a damp shine in the low light. Isaac pulled him to his chest, against skin that smelled like soap and something spicy that was unique to Isaac’s bare skin; and Hector went, yielding without complaint. He was dazed, not really certain about what had just happened. “Did that feel wrong to you…Hector?” Isaac asked quietly. No. It had not. But Hector had no idea what the ramifications of that discovery meant. He tried not to stare down at the perfection of Isaac’s well muscled chest. He tried not to feel the strange ink marks on Isaac’s back that he had noticed the first time he had tended his injuries. All the things that he loved about Isaac…things he was learning to enjoy, to appreciate more and more every day. “I…It…” Isaac hushed him with a finger against his lips just before he slid away and off the side of the bed, dropping to his knees between Hector’s thighs. “Be quiet,” Isaac soothed, just before careful fingers began to undo the buckle that held Hector’s pants on. “It’s all right,” Isaac soothed, fingers kneading over the tops of Hector’s thighs. He could barely breathe as Isaac slid him carefully from the confines of his pants, exposing him to the air, to Isaac. Hector shivered and tried to pull back, but warm and calloused fingers closed around him, and he was frozen in place with pleasure. “I…I…Isaac…” Hector gasped, trying to find some way to flee while his body steadfastly refused to obey his commands, his member deciding that it liked Isaac’s palm a little too much. “What…are you…are you doing?” Hector gasped as Isaac began to stroke gently at his need. “Making this a little more comfortable for you,” The redhead replied just before his hands stopped /there/ and slid around Hector’s bare hips, his fingertips began to knead at the tops of the firm globes he found just barely within the confines of those tight leather pants. It felt good…unbearably so, anywhere that Isaac touched like that, and Hector tilted his head back and moaned, struggling not to embarrass himself. “Just wait, you’ll really like this. And just so you know…I don’t expect you to last long,” Last long? What did Isaac mean by that? When a warm mouth engulfed his manhood, Hector understood. He cried out lowly, fisting his hands in the sheets of his bed, and tried not to arch his hips, fearing he would choke Isaac. Tears of pleasure were streaming down his face now, tears that he could not stop. As Isaac slid his mouth up and down his need, as that warm tongue touched him so intimately, Hector did not know if he wanted to leap out of his skin, ask Isaac to stop, or fist his fingers in that crimson hair and beg him to do this until the end of time. Instead, he settled for sobbing and gently running his fingers through Isaac’s hair, needing to touch that warm and wet silk. The sensation came as a sudden surprise to him, his body trying to move reflexively against the tight and wet enclosure of Isaac’s mouth. Isaac did things in a matter of moments that made Hector feel like he was going to explode out of sheer sensation. There was a strange pressure just behind his eyes a few minutes later, a numbness creeping into his hands and face that he belatedly recognized as… “Isaac!” He cried the name out vulnerably, unable to stop the lunge of his hips, the jerking that shook his body as he emptied himself into Isaac’s mouth. When he was through, he slumped limply back to the bed, still crying piteously. Isaac reappeared beside him on the bed, licking his lips like a cat caught dipping a paw into a glass of milk. “Better?” Isaac asked lowly. Hector nodded, just before he began to blush ever shade between pink and scarlet, shaking still, and embarrassed, even though he did not know why. “Don’t cry Hector,” Isaac whispered, using the edge of the sheet to dry Hector’s tears. “This is how your body is supposed to work. It’s supposed to feel good.” “It goes against…nature…I should not feel like this!” Isaac sighed wearily, and shook his head. “Humans should not be able to summon devil’s either, but we do,” He said lowly. He was right, but Hector was still afraid. Still afraid of his body, and the way he felt for Isaac, even more powerfully now. Hector tried to get up, tried to leave the room. Fine. If Isaac wanted to sleep here, he would sleep in Isaac’s bed. “Don’t go,” A voice whispered in the silence of the room, a voice that Hector barely recognized as Isaac’s. “Please stay?” Isaac asked again, eyes bright blue with some emotion Hector did not understand. But he did sit down again. “Fine…” Hector said lowly, voice still rough with tears. “…but if you steal all the blankets, I’m going to beat you until you give them back!” He said before re-buckling his pants. He was still weeping, shaking, uncertain what to make of all this when Isaac pulled him back down to the mattress beside him, curling him close, draping one powerful arm over his waist as he slid the quilt up over them both. “Isaac…I shouldn’t…I can’t…” “Hush. Just enjoy it,” Isaac murmured quietly, resting his chin on top of Hector’s head as the silver haired young man squirmed, trying to get comfortable. Isaac molded himself easily to whatever position Hector chose, sleeping much closer than he normally did. Hector kept thinking this would be strange, that it would be wrong and making him too nervous to sleep. Isaac sharing a bed with him to be an ass was one thing, but this…this was different… And still he fell asleep. More quickly than normal actually. The extra body warmth was comforting, and that strong heartbeat against his ribs lulled him quickly. ~*~ The next morning, it was as if it had never happened. Life went on, lessons went on, Adrian kept being moody and melodramatic, and Deera had managed to eat a pair of The Lady’s silk stockings. (This would not have been such a big deal except for the fact that she had gone to Isaac’s room to vomit them onto his rug. Isaac had been a trifle miffed to say the least.) Isaac had showed no outward changes of behavior towards Hector, still as critical, spiny and defensive as he normally was. So different from the young man that had brought him to careful completion last night with…no…he couldn’t think of that. Not with Adrian nearby and already cross. He swore the younger boy could smell an erotic thought. All things considered, he probably could. It was just that most men probably didn’t fantasize about other men. He was doing fine, doing some research in the library, when Isaac slid up beside him, seemingly out of thin air, to perch on the edge of the table. The snaps on those pants were loosely done today, moreso than usual, and Hector had a feeling that was on purpose, though he didn’t understand what that purpose might be other than to drive him to distraction. Which he wouldn’t put past Isaac to do to anyone just out of spite. “What do you want?” Hector asked lowly, trying not to look up from his book while taking as good of a sidelong glance as he could. “Hector, Hector…since when do I want something?” “Since always,” Hector said drolly, turning a page. Isaac leaned down then, gripping the edge of the table tightly for balance so he could lean over Hector’s shoulder to read what Hector was reading. Hector could smell Isaac’s spicy cologne, the warmth of fresh linen, and could study all too well the lean flex of Isaac’s hands on the table edge. The same hands that had… Lips brushed his ear, silky crimson stroked the back of his neck, making him shudder as Isaac whispered something softly into his ear. Hector jerked away and blinked, shoving Isaac of the table. “Leave me be,” Hector said, his hands holding the book trembling at the memory…looking down on that beautiful back, muscles chiseled in the moonlight, crimson tickling the insides of his thighs, the warm and slick sheath of that mouth taking him in… “As you wish,” Isaac said teasingly, shooting Hector a burning glance over his shoulder as he sauntered away. Hector watched him go. And glowered to himself because he knew Isaac was certain he was watching. ~*~ It was two months later, in the dead of the second winter Hector had passed in the castle, that Isaac dropped into his room and asked him for a strange favor. He needed something rubbed onto his back. Hector blinked as the red-head offered him a tin of salve. “I can reach everywhere else, but I cannot reach my back and she just finished with it.” Hector wrinkled his brow at the other man. “What do you mean? He asked lowly. “Do you want to see?” Isaac asked lowly, giving Hector a conspiratorial look. Hector was blinking at Isaac in confusion from where he knelt on the rug, tin still held tight in his outstretched hand. Isaac began to strip his winter layers off, one after another, until Hector was left gaping. Those marks were almost completely covering Isaac’s chest now, not just on his back. But they were not the marks of the church…no…they were ancient symbols of Forgemasters of the past, and they slid in circles of dark brown ink, up and down that chest, abstract, sinuous, across shoulders. Slices of brown inked skin slid across broad upper arms, spiraling down to wrists. When he turned around, his back was bright pink, and the Forgemasters crest appeared to have replaced the Christian cross once adorning his shoulders in a skillful cover up. “Isaac…what did you do?” Hector asked, touching spots that had scabs, eyes worried. How long had the other man been working on this? What /were/ they called? “Isaac…what is this?” “They are tattoos…you take a piece of wood with tiny sharp needles in the end, and dip them in ink. Then you tap them against the skin, and it leaves a permanent design under the skin.” “You…you are bleeding!” Hector said, voice worried. “Are you sure that…this is permanent?” Hector asked, sounding horrified. “It certainly is beautiful but how did you…who did?” “I used the mirror and did my chest and my legs myself…Lenna did the rest that I could not reach.” “The servant, the one from Jerusalem?” Hector asked, worried. “Her people tattoo all the time, she’s quite good at it,” Isaac said softly. “Doesn’t it…didn’t it…hurt?” Hector asked, still trying to make sense of this change that Isaac had obviously been busily making to his body while no one could see because he was wearing heavy layers of clothing against the cold. “And your legs! Your legs too?!” Hector asked worriedly. “Do you want to see?” Isaac asked, obviously preparing to continue stripping. Hector’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of Isaac completely naked. “Nono…just…let me put this on your back…your skin is raw…” Hector murmured, sounding worried. “Oh don’t be a woman Hector,” Isaac said, smirking at him and making the silver haired Forgemaster’s stomach tie in a knot. Just Isaac’s looks could do that to him now. Nothing more had happened since that night so long ago, and yet every time he saw him, he couldn’t help it. He remembered, his body remembered. And he couldn’t help the way he felt, whatever this feeling was. Whether it was right or wrong. He had to try and keep from wincing as he began to smooth the stuff from the tin onto Isaac’s back. The artwork was beautiful, but it looked so tender, and he didn’t know what he thought about it. He didn’t like the thought of Isaac hurting at all. Maybe he was as weak as a woman. By the time he was done, Isaac looked more relaxed, and was scratching Deera’s ears. Deera had long ago evolved, leaving Hector with a beast nearly the same size as Otto with long horns and ears. A forest dragon. She was also just learning how to breathe flame, so there had been some renewed incidences in the castle. Some of slightly more titanic proportions than kleptomania of her youth. “How is your other ID coming along?” Isaac asked, sensing the uncertainty in Hector, and not as Hector might have first thought when he knew Isaac, trying to avoid the subject. Isaac was trying to comfort him. He had simply been enthusiastic about showing Hector, and Hector had not reacted the way he had hoped. Making Hector worry had not been his intention, that was clear now, though to say he didn’t like the attention would be a lie too. Hector had been very withdrawn throughout this winter, hardly ever leaving the castle, staying close to his work, staying close to his research and feeling very strangely lonely. He tried to avoid emotion, his friends because he did not want to feel. There was an ache inside of him, and a gnawing worry. There were stirrings of riots down in the village, the plague spreading out of control as well as hunger and poverty. They had burned dozens of ‘witches’ in the last month or so, hoping to appease their god, and in doing so had killed their only midwives and healers. In desperation, they had turned to Lisa, and she went to them every day. Even The Lord was objecting to her going now, and Adrian lived in a near constant state of anxiety. Hector just couldn’t…leave his room for the memories. It had been worse as of late. “Alik? He’s doing quite well. I pitted him against our esteemed sword’s master the other day.” Hector replied finally after his long and introspective delay. “And?” Isaac asked a bit scathingly. “He won.” Hector said lowly. “I bet Master Jessup was scandalized.” Isaac said, smirking at Hector. “Most definitely…so do you…want to put your shirt back on before you freeze?” Hector asked, not just worried about the draft in the room. “What, cannot bear to look at me Hector?” Isaac asked, raising an elegant eyebrow as he eyed the tightness in Hector’s pants. No, the problem was the Hector liked looking at Isaac a little too much. And Isaac knew that damn well. “No…I just don’t want you to catch cold.” “And what about you Hector? You who lie in here at night and cry alone for your mother and shiver in cold? Don’t you want me to stay the night?” Hector stood up then with a growl. He was aching and hurting, and now worrying about Isaac’s idea of body alterations. “Get out,” he hissed, throwing Isaac’s shirts at him one by one as the red-head laughingly retreated. Hector hated being laughed at when he was angry. The last thing he threw before Isaac shut the door behind himself, holding his hands up in surrender, was the tin of salve. He threw it as hard as he could, and it was a direct hit. He savagely locked the door and slid back under his blankets while Deera arranged herself somewhere dangerously near to halfway on top of her master. Hector wasn’t complaining, she was fireplace warmed. ~*~ It was that spring, when the moat had just begun to thaw and the snow had just given way to dry ground; that the unthinkable occurred. Adrian came pelting back into the castle, chest heaving, blood tears streaking his face, blood soaking every inch of his white shirt, rends in the fabric telling where wounds had been. Hector had been halfway between the dining hall and the library, and was obviously the first person Adrian had run into. “Hector!” he cried frantically, colliding with Hector and making him drop his book. Hector had no idea what was wrong, but he had a sinking feeling. Adrian was back…without his mother. “Hector! Hector!” The younger man sobbed, curling close and trying to hide in Hector’s heavy leather over-tunic. “Adrian…what is it…” “I couldn’t…I couldn’t they….they…I couldn’t save her! Hector!” Adrian was shuddering now, sagging dangerously weakly until Hector lowered him to the floor, holding him close. He could feel the heat of tears against his chest, the wetness trickling down his throat and…the press of fangs. Adrian was so weak, he needed blood! Of course! Hector tore the buckles of his vest open, shoving the heavy leather away to expose the side of his neck. He pulled Adrian closer, pressing him against his throat encouragingly. “Drink, you are weak…you can tell me when you can stand,” Hector said lowly. “I cannot…I cannot!” Adrian sobbed, each wracking sob shaking his form a study in abject misery. Hector tilted his neck up tantalizingly, feeling the edge of fang against the artery there. He had to give Adrian strength; he had never seen the other young man so weak. He knew he would object, but there was no other option he could think of. Adrian however, did not have the patience of a god, and his resolve snapped quickly. Hector felt a hand come up to his other shoulder, holding on tightly, as though fearing Hector would escape. A predator clasping its prey before a fangs sank into the artery in his neck. He gasped in pain, struggling not to fight. What he had not been expecting, was the fact that when a vampire fed, it was a true way street of knowledge. As Adrian drank Hector’s blood, his terrible memories spilling over into Hector’s mind /The first blow took him in the temple, knocking him to his knees, and before he could struggle a sword pierced his chest, holding him into the frozen ground. He gasped, crying out in pain, but it was not the last blade. Another sank home, and another, and he was pinned to the ground, unable to raise himself even an inch. “Kill the witch! Kill her while the devil sleeps!” “No!” Adrian sobbed, blood spilling out of the corner of his mouth. A booted foot to his skull brought the blackness. When he woke again, she was screaming, screaming and she was tied to a stake, a bonfire beneath her. Her eyes rolled frantically to him as she clawed at her bonds, twisting to avoid the flames. “Do not hate them! They do not know what they do! Adrian! Swear to me!” She gasped. He stared at her in mute horror, unable to move to defend her, to save her. He screamed for her until the flames consumed her, screamed until his helplessness consumed him, and the blade closest to his heart twisted with his struggles, again, guiding him into the blackness. The second time he awoke, the blades were gone. The villagers had left him for dead, taking their weapons with them. He had brought her down from the stake, burning his hands on hot bone, and he held her close. Sobbing into the charred remains of his mother, grieving for her because it was his fault…he had only been able to watch, helpless…his father had trusted him to protect her. He had trusted himself to protect her. The attack had been unprovoked, an ambush. When they returned for what was left of her body, Adrian had had to flee, too weak from his wounds to fight. He had run back here, as fast as he could, not knowing what else he could do…/ For a moment, his pain was Hectors, and when fangs pulled away, when Hector found himself lying dizzily in the hall, Adrian sobbing against his chest again, all he could do was cradle the younger man and sob himself. Sob for Lisa…sob for his Lady, whom he too had failed. “It is not your fault Adrian…it is not your fault,” Hector murmured, his head throbbing. He finally managed to sit them both up, and when he could see straight from the blood Adrian had drained from him, he carried the lord’s son upstairs to his own bedroom. Hector thanked whatever deity that was listening that Adrian’s rooms were much warmer, being that they were located on the leeward side of the castle. The fire was still burning hotly as well, and that helped. Hector set Adrian on the rug by the fireplace, and ran into the bathroom to start the bath filling, also thankful for The Lord’s clever invention of running water that could be heated by lighting the fireplace. He helped Adrian undress, looking on with worry over some wounds that had yet to heal, but found himself thankful for Adrian’s strong constitution enabled by vampiric blood. “Hector…It does not matter…leave me.” “I have lost someone who was like a mother to me. I am not losing her son, my friend, as well,” Hector said, rubbing his temple against the headache he had from blood loss and emotional stress. “I will not die, I can tend myself.” Adrian said wearily. “I will disobey you Adrian, hate me as you will. Do not ask me to leave your side, because I will not.” Adrian gave Hector a very slight and watery smile. ~*~ Adrian was clean, bandaged, in a pair of warm sleep clothes and tucked securely into bed. Deera had been sent to fetch Isaac, and Adrian was still shaking, staring up at Hector like he was the last sane thing in this world. “She told me not to…not to hate them…but I do…I do!” He murmured, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye to fall to the pillow. Adrian was too weary to even really cry. “I don’t blame you.” Hector said softly. “Right now, I hate them too.” “But I don’t hate all humans.” Adrian whispered. “I could have killed some of them, but the women had children with them…I saw my mother’s face in every woman there. They were afraid and desperate. And I cannot hate them any more than I could hate…a wounded animal for fighting…” And Hector understood that all to well, as well. By the time Isaac arrived, Adrian was asleep; no doubt his body protecting his mind. Hector stared down at his sleeping friend, pulling the blankets closer before turning tear swollen eyes to Isaac. “What has happened?!” Isaac asked lowly, eyes focusing on Adrian’s sleeping face with worry. “The Lady was murdered by the villagers, Adrian was nearly killed.” Hector said still shaking. Isaac gasped, and then reached out, touching the dried blood on the side of Hector’s neck. Hector turned worried eyes to Isaac. “He was so weak, so wounded…some of his injuries still have not closed despite my blood,” Hector said softly. “Wait with me…for The Lord to wake?” Hector asked Isaac, feeling frightened, uncertain, alone. Even Isaac looked shaken, but Hector was surprised when a warm arm slid around his waist, when a lean jaw rested on top of his head. “I will stay with you both.” Isaac said softly. Hector leaned back into Isaac’s broad chest, drawing comfort momentarily from the fact that Isaac was a bit taller, a bit wider than he was. His whole world had just shattered yet again, and he couldn’t even grieve because she was not his mother…he had no right to this pain…When Isaac encouraged him down off the bed and onto the floor, when he pulled him completely into his arms, Hector gave in and told him everything that had happened, from the moment Adrian came running back into the castle, to now. Isaac listened in cold silence, and when Hector was done, Isaac buried his face in Hector’s shoulder and cried quietly himself. The Lord yet slept, and they feared his reaction as much as they desperately needed the reassurance of his presence. Deera and Otto had found their way into Adrian’s room, and were now sleeping at opposite ends, keeping watch. Deera by the window, and Otto in the doorway. All Isaac and Hector could do was cling close to each other for reassurance, watch over Adrian, and keep the fire going. The sense of doom was heavy within the castle. ~*~ As night fell, Hector watched Adrian’s strength return to him. He got a bit of color back, even as he slept on. He woke once, shivering and crying for his mother, but Hector soothed him back to sleep easily enough. Hector’s dread was growing, and Deera began to pace, sensing Hector’s worry. When the sun was below the horizon, and The Lord awoke, there was no one in the castle who did not know he had. The cry of despair tore through layer upon layer of stone. Hector and Isaac both sent their ID’s into hiding then, by silent and mutual agreement. This could mean nothing good. Even Isaac flinched when the vampire lord appeared in the doorway. Hector had moved to sitting at Adrian’s side as the younger man had showed signs of waking, but as the lord approached he swiftly backed away, trying to ignore how dizzy he was. “Leave us!” The lord commanded. Hector and Isaac fled. ~*~ “You should eat…” Isaac said as Hector’s knees buckled in the hallway, adrenaline failing him at last. “We do The Lord no good when we are weak.” “I can’t eat,” Hector said softly. “You have to…she would not want you to become ill grieving over her,” Isaac said reasonably, scooping a protesting Hector up and dragging him to the dining hall. ~*~ The night was oddly silent, and Hector had taken to pacing while Isaac tried to read a book. They both were waiting, waiting for their Lord to call to them, to ask for them, but in the end, he did not. And by dawn, Isaac had to coax a strung out Hector into bed. Isaac had talked momentarily about destroying the whole village, but Hector had told him he should not act without The Lords permission, and now, now they were lying close in the cold of a Romanian spring day and Hector was exhaustedly curled close to Isaac. As much as he hated the other man for making him feel for him sometimes, he couldn’t push him away forever. Isaac did not know how to take no for an answer, and Hector did not know how to say yes, and probably wouldn’t have out of pure stubborn pride even if he did. For now, they slept next to each other, heavy with grief, heavy with the weight of fate, crushing down heavily upon the castle. ~*~ Next chapter: