-Levetherius-
Now and Then
.ooOoo.
IN THE BEGINNING
The Cast:
ATHERIUS, a BOY and a GEARSMITHING APPRENTICE
LEVI, a PIRATE and a WEAPONS MASTER
CHICKEN, Atherius's CAT
BALEN, Atherius's GEARSMITHING MASTER and ALL-OUT BASTARD
The SKY PIRATES
The ATALA VILLAGERS
(4 Years Earlier)
There was once a boy called Atherius.
He slumped, shoulders hunched and bruised eyes bloodshot and with fatigue.
He was hardworking and responsible.
Placing the last WayKnife on the cooling rack, he brushed his sticky forehead with the back of his head. He saw sweat and soot and blood.
He had completed the day's work and was on his way home to a well-earned rest.
He sighed. Collapsed on the worktable, sunset eyes closed.
He conveniently ignored the pair of pliers digging into his back, and the soak of grease seeping into his shirt.
His faithful companion welcomed him home.
He felt something nudge his chin.
He smiled.
"Yeah, Chicken," Atherius murmured, one hand stroking the feline's fur softly, the other thrown over his eyes. "I'm home."
He let out a sleepy sigh.
Red drops stained the parchment underneath his head.
.ooOoo.
There was once a man called Levi.
"Che."
His lip curled up in a sneer, lifting to reveal part of a row of sharp, white, pointed teeth.
He was an outlaw.
"I'm worthless? With this shit you're selling here, you call me worthless?" He spat. The man shivered, eyes wide in fear.
"You must be shitting me."
He was a criminal.
He fingered the blade, carefully tracing its silver edges with the bad of his fingers.
It wasn't A-grade, but it was almost there.
"I'll be taking this."
He was a murderer.
Something glinted in those grey eyes. The blade rose.
And fell.
Red sprayed the room.
"You shouldn't have ripped me off."
He was a pirate.
Fingering the Jolly Roger on his bandana, he stared thoughtfully at the dead smith on the floor.
.
The man had screamed out something when he fell.
Levi frowned in irritation. Did he have an apprentice?
He stared back at the body.
Probably did.
For his worthlessness, he was well-known in Atala.
"Atherius, hmm?"
.ooOoo.
Atherius led a hard life.
With Chicken playing on his stomach, Atherius stared up into the skylight.
Sometimes, it was a bit too hard.
He threw an arm over his eyes and began to cry.
.ooOoo.
Levi was all those things.
His steps made no sound as he crossed the threshold.
But despite that,
He halted.
He was still a man.
The sound of quiet, suppressed sobs reached his ears.
He took it in, drinking in the sight of the boy—barely a man— sprawled out on a table. Silver eyes ran over every exposed patch of pale skin, smudged with soot and grease and dirt. A gash on his forehead bled slowly but freely and a large burn scar covered the majority of his left arm. Dark, sunset hair was matted with the red liquid and soaked with saline tears, spilling over dark, bruised eyes.
On his stomach slept a cat.
He was still a human.
Levi looked, turned and slipped away.
.ooOoo.
Levi was still a human.
.ooOoo.
The screams of the villagers echoed in the air.
One by one by one, they fell.
And when the ground was soaked with blood and blades had drunk their fill, it stopped.
Atala lay barren.
.ooOoo.
Sol Everan watched curiously as his captain cut down the village butcher with one fluid stroke.
"That the last one?"
He shook his head, blonde tresses swinging around his effeminately pretty face. Pale brown eyes zeroed in on a small house near the edge of the village.
"There's someone in there."
No one listened.
Except one.
.ooOoo.
"Sol."
"Hmm?"
"Get him out of there. He's coming with us."
"Okay."
.ooOoo.
"Hello?"
Peering into the doorway, Sol saw papers and ash and soot and dirt and leather and metal. His nose crinkled in disapproval.
Clutter.
Everywhere.
Bunching up the skirts of his susohiki, the blonde picked his way gingerly through the room, wincing at the feel of godknowwhatthehellthatisandhowlongthatsbeenthereca nyousayEWW squelching and mulching in between his bare feet. His frown quickly escalated into an expression into one of horror when something—
—wriggled.
"HOLY SHIT!"
.ooOoo.
Atherius bolted up in an instant.
"DIE!"
A solid crunch echoed ominously through the room.
Sunset eyes widened comically when a pretty blonde whore tripped at his feet.
Said blonde whore glared.
"Dear God. Don't you ever clean?"
.ooOoo.
Atherius stared in disbelief at the pretty person sitting cross-legged on the one patch of his floor not covered in grease.
"T-They're dead? He's dead? Are you sure?"
He looked doubtfully at the— skank!— blonde, a slight frown on his lips. Balen was a skilled master and a swordsman to boot. He wouldn't have been too easy to take down.
Sol smiled.
Atherius shuddered.
Orange eyes watched as their unwelcome houseguest pushed himself off the floor, dusting the seat of his robes. He smiled.
Again.
"Wanna see?" Sol held out his hand— an artist's hand, Atherius absently noted— and grinned even wider.
The Atalan shifted warily, gaze slipping from hand to grin to hand .
Should he trust him?
Would he get out of this alive?
Would it even matter?
Without a backwards glance, Atherius scooped Chicken up to his chest and grasped Sol's girly, dainty white hand with his tanned one.
"So," Atherius cleared his throat, blushing slightly. "Where is he?"
Sol rolled his eyes. "You're so uptight. Get that stick out of your ass first."
"What."
"Can't catch me!"
"Bitch! Get back here!"
Despite himself, Atherius couldn't help but smile.
.ooOoo.
Prostate, bloody and repulsive.
"Yeah, that's him," Atherius nodded, nose crinkling at the stench. "I'd know that stink anywhere."
Sol peered at the corpse in horrified amusement. "By stink? Dear God, how long have you been exposed to that? It's disgusting and— what are you doing?"
Brown eyes widened when Atherius began to—
"Are you seriously touching that?! Dude. That's his crotch."
The older male's face then paled drastically as a sudden realization popped into his head.
"Atherius, are you a necrophiliac?!"
"YOU—"
.ooOoo.
"Dude. That is so gross."
"I told you, I'm not. I'm not that depraved!"
"You were touching—"
"I was looking for something!"
"So? You were still touchi—"
At the sound of argument, the Sky Pirates' attention was captured.
In the distance, two figures appeared, bickering loudly about something-or-other. One was obviously Sol— Donnic snorted, as if the flamboyant blonde thing could be anyone else— but the other one was a mystery.
The pilot frowned.
Who the hell was he?
A small smile crept onto Zathroy's lips.
Wasn't that cute?
Sol made a friend.
Tapping his chin in thought, he pondered the important issue at hand.
"Now, where should newbie sleep?"
He did it.
Stubbing out his cig, he turned on his heel and walked away.
As the distant shouts reached his ears and the boy' voice floated on the wind, Levi fingered his blade.
A.D
Atherius Drake.
Drake.
He closed his eyes, sighed and began to walk again.
-The Present-
Atherius was in his workshop.
As usual.
Unlike most days, however, the orange-haired youth was ignoring someone.
And not just any someone.
Sol.
He focused on the steady beat of his hammer on the heated bronze, on the heat searing his skin yet miraculously not burning, on the ache of his arms and the sweat dripping down his face. He concentrated his full attention on the WayKnife slowly taking shape beneath his fingers, under his tools. He watched the red-hot patch burn through his leather gloves and sharply burned his skin.
"ATHERIUS!"
And as the pain finally hit and Sol's frozen, terrified, horror-struck eyes met his, he broke.
Tiredly, Atherius smiled.
Sol was crying. Tears were streaming down crinkled, panicked brown eyes filled with frustration, anger and fright.
"He knows, Sol. He knows."
Atherius barely had time to close his eyes before his world turned to black.
The poor boy.
He hunched even further into himself, burying himself deeper into the heavy coat he had draped over himself. Gazing up at the stars, he watched one fall.
'I wish for happiness.'
Deep, heavy footsteps sounded behind him.
"You're a jerk, Levi."
The footsteps stopped.
Even with his eyes closed, Sol could feel the larger man take a seat next to him; feel the stolidity, the warmth the man emanated. The younger let out a sigh, eyes still shut.
"You know."
It wasn't a question.
The man said nothing.
"'I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad; those dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.'"
Still, the older of the pair remained stubbornly silent.
Sol stood abruptly. With an uncharacteristic amount of venom in his voice, he spoke.
"You really are a bastard."
Dark grey watched him stride away.
Donnic was never particularly close to the ship's mechanic.
He was a bit too much when he was giddy— which happened quite often.
Which brought him to the topic at hand.
There was something wrong with the mechanic.
Drake was known not to sleep for days on end, but this was pushing it. His bed hadn't been slept in a week. The food Donnic set for him was barely touched— a bite here, a nibble there and a sip of juice. If they didn't do something soon, something would happen to him.
And he was as sure as hell it wouldn't be good.
Atherius smiled.
The steam stung and fogged his goggles. Pulling out the WayKnife, he inspected it from tip to tip. The gold-bronze alloy shone dimly in the faded light, almost singing in its beauty. Just over three feet long with pale amber varnish and an anti-rust coat canvassing its razor-sharp double edge. The handle was solid, its centre sure and the knife itself was as obedient as a newborn pup.
Even without the miniscule WayGems, the blade itself would have fetched him millions.
Atherius smiled.
Wrapping the thing in oil-cloth, he settled down and fell asleep.
Zathroy peered in the unusually silent workshop.
A smirk formed on pale lips.
One hand carelessly lay a blanket over the slumbering youth before he let himself out and carefully shut the door.
.ooOoo.
Somehow, the morning seemed colder.
Bleaker.
Darker.
The smell of worn leather and sweet smoke reached his nose, scent almost masked under the sharp chill of the dawn air.
Okay, so maybe not so dark.
A pale hand came up to rub equally pale cheeks, the contrast of ivory against dark grey-violet bags under flame-orange eyes stark and obvious.
Atherius knew he looked bad. He knew he looked his worst.
He flashed the older man behind him a bright smile.
He chose to ignore the displeased grunt and the cuff to his wrist that came from Levi. Still smiling, he pulled the blanket around him even closer. As much as he loved Levi, Atherius wasn't stupid. He knew Levi could very well kill him anytime he wanted.
"It doesn't look like a war-day, does it?"
Their breaths mingled with each other as they spiraled from lips as puffs of misty grey. The Drake blew into his hands and rubbed them for warmth.
"It will warm soon. The forge will have fires."
He pretended not to notice the tightening if the grey-haired man's knuckles on the railing of the ship. He pretended not to notice the skin stretching taut over bone and the displeased frown on his stubble-surrounded mouth.
"I can't remember that last time I set foot in an industrial forge.
Lies.
He remembered it all too well.
-theheatthepainthestingofthewhiponsootcoveredbackt hewarmbloodthetearsthatfalland theacheinhisbone—
Atherius shook his head.
"Anyway," he turned to his companion. "It should be good practice. I've gotten lazy."
"You barely sleep."
The younger laughed. "I hadn't really noticed," he admitted.
All he got in return was a sharp snort from the swordsman.
Atherius stifled a chuckle.
Silence pervaded the air.
Suddenly, Atherius spoke.
"I hope you like it."
Before Levi could even answer, Atherius was pushing himself off the railing, swiftly invading Levi's space and pressing his cheek to the prickly stubble covering the taller man's. With one quick movement, he placed a soft kiss on the stubbly cheek.
A pale ivory hand caressed his cheek while warm breath blew across his ear.
"Just in case."
.ooOoo.
His sword was gone.
Leviathan was gone.
In its place was a long, slim parcel.
The parcel held a card.
'Marius.'
In that parcel was probably the most beautifully made sword he had ever seen.
Something struck a chord in his mind.
'I hope you like it."
'Just in case.'
Grey eyes widened.
As he stepped out the door, the war horn sounded.
.ooOoo.
That hour, Marius tasted blood.
Marius spilled blood.
Marius drank blood.
And where he went he brushed the world with red.
And Levi kept on painting.
.ooOoo.
That hour, Leviathan tasted blood.
Leviathan spilled blood.
Leviathan drank blood.
Where he went the forge followed and he his strokes coloured flame.
And Atherius kept on painting.
.ooOoo.
The war raged on.
Both sides suffered loss.
Pain.
Family.
Friends.
Brothers.
And then, there was a sudden stop.
A short, blessed peace.
.ooOoo.
Sunrise met storm.
And in silence they sang.
.ooOoo.
Mouths crashed hungrily onto each other, tongues seeking, tasting, knowing, begging in silent plea for more.
Pushing Atherius roughly back into the crude, standard-grade bed, he stared fiery eyes straight on before devouring his mouth once again. Atherius moaned, sending shivers of pleasure up Levi's spine as they traveled through him through that talented pink tongue. Sharp nails dug into Levi's still clothed back as he sank his teeth into the soft, sweet skin at the junction between Atherius's neck and shoulder.
"Le-ahh!-vi!"
Levi said nothing, concentrating instead on the taste of warm coppery blood that dripped into his mouth. Lapping at the red liquid, he laved his tongue around the wounds before pulling back and staring at the view in appreciation.
Atherius, beautiful, haunted, dirty Atherius— oh, he was all his! His and no one else's, no one would ever, ever taste his Atherius ever again—
Placing a hand on his cheek, his Atherius looked up at him through darkened lids. Slipping robes exposed more pale shoulder, more pale skin, moremoremore lovely skin to mark. He couldn't get enough of the mesmerizing sight.
"Levi."
The boy's voice was breathy, husky and so, so soft.
Sunrise stared into storm.
"Take me."
And they fell in together.
.ooOoo.
Dawn woke to find Levi wide awake, propped up on his arm with his lover by his side.
The grey-haired male softly traced the bumps on his lover's spine, gently caressing each knob down to his tailbone, where it trailed up again before repeating.
To think.
He would have lived without this.
He closed his eyes.
There was still a war.
Death still stood at the door.
But he would face them head on.
They would face them head on.
Together.
Atherius let out a sleepy sigh and buried himself closer to his lover.
Lover.
.ooOoo.
-End-
Slashcaketl©