So, it's been quite a while since I've posted anything but this has been laying with me for a good amount of time. I hope you find it interesting and a bit of something you've never had before.
I don't own anything, nor am I making profit.
The morning rays cast a sheer over his room, illuminating the modest furniture within. Hours before now, earlier than the sun's arrival, the young man had pulled himself from his bed to prepare for the upcoming day. After he had readied his hygiene and apparel for the day, he stuck his head out his door and peered both ways down the hallway.
The manor always rose early, too early for him to comprehend. Butlers and maids had prepared the drapes and the shutters so that light was cast onto every piece of fine china and wood work inside. While he knew the owner of the house was away on a business meeting, he could not help wandering towards the man's side of the house. Within the man's chambers, he ran a hand over the surface of his desk and took a seat. On a small piece of parchment he scribbled where he could be found for the rest of the day, in case Bruce happened home earlier than planned.
Bruce managed to constantly keep himself busy or tied down to some new piece of monopoly in the small town. Because of the man's stature and charisma with the locals the man, he rarely was seen inside the manor. Day in and out, he received letters of recognition and beckoning; all of which were people pleading for his business skill or sending their recognition for some past diplomatic decision. Early in their times together, he had invited Dick to join him in his meetings but after a few years of doing so, the boy had decided he needed something different.
The day he had given Bruce his farewell, the man only looked on him with satisfaction and promised his door would forever be open to the boy. During his time away from the manor, he had traveled far and honed personal skills that he prided above those of the Wayne family line. When he became comfortable with his growth, he chose he to return and enlighten the man of all that he had come across in his absence.
Bruce was overjoyed to see the boy once more and listened to each of his stories with interest and approval. His only concern was for Dick's future. He did not wish for the boy to become so engrossed in his travels that he would forget about what would come after them. All of the questions he turned on the young man encompassed career, marriage, or heirs. For the time, he chose to ignore those important questions and fell into a quiet life.
The career he chose was laying whiskey on the tables of sailors. The tavern was a hole in the wall but business was high because of its proximity to the harbors. Hundreds of ships passed through daily and faces tended to come and go. Of course they tend to have their regulars; all the drunks of the town who only felt at ease around the sailors and sea. Dick found conversation with them astounding and tried with earnest to catch every customer's story.
Each of their stories held so much grandiosity and drama that he was left wide eyed as the story came to a close. Quite often, the men would try to recruit him for either their ship or their beds. Each offer flattered him but over the past years of his own adventures he had learned that he thrived on land and air, not within water.
Now that it was summer once more the influx of traders and merchants picked up in their deliveries to the town. During the day, Dick would monitor what kinds of ships and passengers would take dock while flipping through Bruce's paperwork. They held the information of the ship's registration, captain, and cargo. Those were not the ships that took his interest; however, his interest was in those without registration and with the more daring tales.
His scripture looked atrocious to his eyes but it did the trick of letting Bruce know that he would arrive late in the night. To not worry or wait up for him. Once he'd finished scribbling his note for the master of the house, he browsed through the older man's files but found none that caught his interest. Infrastructure and business never could hold him down like it did for the Wayne family.
Quickly, he returned to his room to collect himself for his upcoming shift. He tidied his clothes and hair weakly and rushed down the stairs.
"Master Richard, what about brunch?" Wincing, the young man turned to face his interrogator. The older man held the younger in his gaze, expecting an answer.
"I was just going to pick up something along my way." He reassured the man with a smile. "Don't worry, Alfred, I'll eat."
Nodding, he approached the raven haired boy. Just when Dick prepared for more questions, he was presented with his overcoat. Since it was the beginning of summer all he could do was blink at the offer.
"It is expected to get a tad chilly in the evening." Grinning, he collected his coat and ran out shouting his thanks.
The night was practically dragging along to the extent of Dick wiping down bottles to stifle his boredom. About halfway into his shift the rain began to poor down. The customers there sat for a little longer trying to wait out the rain before realizing that the storm was only getting heavier. Once they were gone his coworker admitted that he needed to return home to ensure that his family and animals were safely attended.
Running his fingers over the bottle labels, he placed his rag back onto the countertop. All of the labels appeared exotic to the common folk but Dick was not able to fall for their deception. The really expensive vaults of juices were all held under the Wayne mansion. They were only dabbled with on special occasions because Bruce never approved of overindulging. A loud thud echoed until it reached the musing man's ears. Directing his attention to the doorway, he calmed his thumping heart.
Beneath the archway, three bundled and soaking bodies pushed into the warmth of the pub. Blue eyes took in the new comers, studying the strange people in front of him. Judging by their apparel and mannerisms they were not from the King's guard; however, they were surely sought after by the former.
"Brandy." Without sparing a glance towards his host, the man in the middle growled out his order. The three rested in the middle of the room, pulling the dripping layer of clothing from their bodies. When they were finally down to their dry layers, Dick found his breath caught in his throat. In the small town that he was used to he had never come across people quite like the ones in front of him now.
He was shocked at the red haired scavengers because even the typical fair hair was unheard of in the harbor town. Aside from the red heads, the other man was grabbing ahold of his attention.
"Anything else?" He wiped his hand off on his apron, looking at anything but the dark haired male.
"They don't drink, kid." The other male's lips quirked upwards as he swept up his glass. "What is this town?"
"Gotham, sir." Dick offered the man a smile but flicked his eyes to the giggling woman. "Ma'am?"
"Hah! It's just Star, dear." Her glowing eyes slipped over him, resting on his hands. As he wrung them, her eyes seemed to shine brighter. "Nice rings there, boy. Let me see."
Seeing as how she had already stretched out her hand to him, he placed his hand on top of hers. She ran her fingers on top of his hand as well as the rings, humming to herself as she examined them. After careful examination she seemed to find what it was she was looking for and gave a nod to herself. The other redhead chuckled as he caught her eye and shook his head.
"You'll have to forgive her, kid." He gave her drifting hand a swat. "She likes pretty things."
"Not the only one either," the dark haired man's eyes finally leveled on Richard and his lips smirked around the rim of his glass. "I have a certain preference for them myself. Now, if you'll excuse us?"
Dick gave a quick nod, his pace quickening to distance himself from the other's deep gaze. It was an unnerving look that sent a tingle right down his spine and caused his heart to quicken. Soon enough he was out of the range of their conversation but could not help straining his ears, hoping to hear what they were so reverently whispering about. Later, after what seemed to Dick like hours of conversation, the room grew unnaturally quiet. Before he turned to meet his quests he could feel their eyes against his back.
"We've decided." The woman was the first to speak, smiling at the confusion in the other's eyes. "You're a little better off than any tavern boy we've ever met before. And, well, we meet a lot of them. Play with a lot of them too."
Dropping the rag he had been clutching, Dick placed a table between himself and the three moving in on him. His eyes drifted over them and he could find no positive conclusion to their now sinister demeanors. Not wanting to hurt any of them, he sprinted in the direction of the woman, pushing her lightly out of the way. An intense grip took hold of his neck and slung him into the table he'd just left. After the dots quit dancing against his eyelids, he gasped and tried to catch his breath.
"Easy, Star. You don't want to break the kid's neck." The woman gave a snort, crossing her arms. "Just help me lift him and we'll be off."
Shaking his head, Dick pushed away from the pieces of the table. It did him little good to move because he could not correct his vision. He could feel them shifting him and could feel the ripple of muscle and clothing against his side as he was folded into one of their arms. While he could not see, he knew the raven haired man held him because the other two were not nearly as structured.
"Cast our anchors, raise the flags, and begin firing." Dick felt the chuckle within the man's chest. "Make sure Gotham falls by sunrise."
As they walked from the other two, he knew they were in agreeance with their commands but their words fell silent to his ears. Instead, the heavy fall of boots on cobble and the light traces of rain that fell onto his face captured his attention. For a moment, he thought he was flying, perhaps again lost to the Asian hordes of the East. Smiling, he remembered his favorite encounter.
The fleet from the West was pressing into and along the islands borders, but the foreign men were unperturbed. They had their country, their culture, and their wealth to protect; all of which could not be taken by mere missionaries begging for a greater cause. Their voices soared with their demands and their cannons fired. Ropes were catapulted into the pressing force and their lithe bodies scrambled across the connection to join their enemy's crew members.
Dick stood by the mast of his own appointed vessel, smelling the gunpowder mingling with the faint spices that were to be exported to a neighboring lord. He could not help the thought that it was the best thing he'd ever smelt. Senses tingling, he turned to face a Western man bearing to seal of Gotham on his chest plate. The bat seemed to stare into Dick's core as he pulled his sword from its sheath- as the man raised his musket.
Fingers tightening, he clenched his teeth as the man's finger landed and pulled the trigger. Before the shot was made he knew not only would he have not had the time to move but that the shot was useless. The ringing never came from the barrel and he grinned.
"You know, muskets are so loose with their ability to work." He stabbed the man's armor, pinning him to the mast. "That's why I much prefer steel."
He laughed behind his mask, throwing the man's weapon overboard as a stream of curses was aimed at him. Just as he turned, he caught sight of his mentor on another ship. The man fought with such elegance that Dick could not help but feel inspired. His stealthy aim and precise foot movement took many men to their deaths. It was only the captain standing in his way now but would soon be rendered to a body among men.
As the elder man made it back to the ship, their arrows rained fire down on the conquered ship. The man turned, placing a hand on his shoulder with a smirk across his face.
"Well, Robin," the grip tightened, "we've just conquered the Eastern Sea."
Before he had chance to reply, his happiness chocked him. His eyes rounded as blood splashed across his open lips. The elder man's body fell and he could feel his heart clenching. The dark haired man stood behind the fallen body, wiping the blood onto his long coat.
"Time to wake up Princess." He struggled against the hand moving towards his face and felt himself lash out before he knew what he was doing. Blinking tears from his eyes, he frantically took in his surroundings. He was no longer on the ship from so long ago; however, he was no longer in Gotham.
"Damn kid, if I'd known you were," he met the man's icy blue gaze as he readjusted his broken nose, "a fighter I'd have strapped you to the bed."
"What do you want?" Taking a deep breath, he counted to ten multiple times before the trembling of his limbs and lips succumbed to nothing.
The man took his time answering, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand and rubbing it against his trousers. Dick grimaced at the image of the bloodied face and clothing, noticing the same sword at the man's hip as the one in his dream. The other shrugged off his coat, kicked off his shoes, and threw his sword onto his desk. Closing his eyes, he missed the remained of the man's undressing. Instead, he balled his hands into fists and was able to rein his countless thoughts into composure.
Just as his composure rejoined him, he felt the weight of the man dip the bed and his hand rest against his upper thigh. He carefully noted that he had been changed. Instead of his normal wear he had been placed in a thin nightgown. Scooting backwards, in hopes of getting away from the offending gesture of the man's fingers against his lower region, he noticed he's been stripped of his undergarments. As he moved backwards the man followed, making the space between the two of them thin.
A calloused finger lifted his chin to better cast the light on his features. Tightening his eyes, he smelt the alcohol on the other's breath.
"I already have what I want." The finger traced his bottom lip and as his tongue darted to wet them he could taste the faint blood left in their wake. He scrunched up his nose and when throaty laughter fell onto his ears he dared to open his eyes. They locked eyes, the man leaning over him, one hand at the side of his face and the other holding onto the wall behind him. "Your city is under siege, Star and Roy are well satisfied, and I've the one thing that caught my attention."
"Who are you?" The finger that was on his lips circled its way down, playing along his collarbone. It prodded at the smooth skin until reaching the top of his appointed clothing. Tapping at the thin string holding together the attire, the dark man looked to be pondering. As he looped the string into his finger Dick struck the offending gesture. Sea blue eyes flicked to meet the worried sky blue of the smaller man below him. A smirk fell across his lips as he caught the lithe wrist and pulled the hand towards his lips.
"We're a band of outlaws, running from everything and making sure everything remains running." His lips kissed along the hand and fingers as he explained. "You've met Roy and Star, but I'm afraid we've never had the chance of introduction. What's your name, boy?"
"Richard." He didn't know why he answered or even why he was still stuck under the other's gaze, his eyes burning under their intense eye contact. "And what is yours?"
"Well, Richard, it has been quit the pleasure of meeting you. As for me, I'm Todd, Jason Todd. " His lips had not stopped and had reached the jugular between Dick's throat and neck, nibbling alongside the gentle kisses he left. "Most call me Captain, but I want you to call me Jason."
Jason's other hand had pulled the string loose and he sat back to rake his eyes over the milky skin revealed to him. He was now straddling the smaller male, making sure he would not leap away. Fingering only the tips of his fingers over the skin, he delighted in the shiver that was offered to him. Leaning in close so that he could lick at the man's lower lip, he ground their hips together.
"Welcome home, Princess."
Alright, so let me know what you think and if you want more. What kind of questions do you have? Is everything clear so far? Who do you think the old man was from Asia? Was he killed? Where's Bruce? Does Jason know Bruce? How do you think Slade will play into this? Or do you want him to at all?
Review, Follow, and Fav so that I know of your interest. Feel free to message me if you're shy. I don't bite too hard.
-MADZ