Night's Children: Dum Spiro, Spero
AN: Double update! Awoo!!!one!
Part Two: The Servant
Chapter Five: Name
The sound of a little boy's scream echoed throughout the subway station, and several heads whipped around in concern. By a platform, a scrawny brunette had collapsed on the ground, arms wrapped around his head protectively as he yelled bloody murder as a train zipped passed.
Next to him was an older boy wearing a trench coat with the collar popped up. He sighed in frustration and crouched down next to the child, slowly prying his arms off of his head and murmuring reassurances.
"That's a train. We've been over this," He explained with the air of a person who had obviously said this many times before.
"Monster," Whispered the boy pathetically, but nevertheless he hesitantly stood up and hesitantly inched away from the steel flooring.
The boy was wearing a far too oversized sweater that hung loosely to his knees. The sleeves were obviously long, hiding the boy's hands. His pants trailed along on the ground, and the boy had already made a few trips over the expanse of fabric.
"You need to stop screaming, you're going to draw attention," The man said. Currently, they just looked like two homeless kids, but with the boy's obvious awkwardness and tendency to yell, they were going to stick out like sore thumbs to whoever was sent to the real world to chase after them.
After waking up in a ditch the night prior, the man had instantly took charge of the situation, stealing himself and the boy changes of clothes off of lines that hung across apartment buildings. He then managed to manipulate a real estate agent into getting them a place to live. He and the boy were heading to their new apartment, as he patiently failed to introduce the boy to all of the new things that weren't present in Nefandus.
Trains, being one of them. Cars, another. Public transportation was next to useless in a world where everyone could turn into shadow and be at their destination in an instant.
The man was obviously on edge, as he was constantly searching the crowds with a paranoid expression on his face. The boy seemed to pick up on his agitation, because he lowered his dirty head in embarrassment and fell quiet.
The metro came to lurching stop, and the compressed doors crawled open in a spastic fashion. The man nudged the boy, "Let's go."
The boy's green eyes glistened with naivety as he stared at the metro's doors, "Is this another portal?" He questioned.
The man squeezed his eyes tightly, "Yes, something like that." He settled for, grabbing the boy's hand and dragging him along before the doors slammed shut.
The compartment was packed, and the man was forced to grip a metal railing near the door for support as the metro rocketed forward. The boy stumbled into a fortunately open seat near the doorway as well, and his eyes peered over the handrail the man was gripping.
After a few seconds of staring, the man sighed, "Yes?"
The boy gave an impish grin, he was getting closer to a real smile, "Where are we going?"
The man chose his words carefully, "Where we will be staying at for a few days."
The boy blinked, "Our new master's?"
A few eavesdropping bystanders glanced warily in the man's direction.
"No," The man said quickly, "Our new…home."
"Home?" The boy tried the word out on his tongue and immediately decided that he liked it, "Where will we work?"
Yet again the man was the recipient of more than a few glares, "I'll tell you more about it when we get there."
The boy recognized the warning look in the man's eyes, for he quickly fell silent, his legs absently kicking into the air. A sense of surrealism had been in full effect ever since the Regulators had vanished last night, and the boy wasn't quite ready to accept what was happening to him as reality. He studied the man's profile, and noticed that despite the change in attire, there was nothing different about him. His eyes were still cold, his jaw still clenched, and it wasn't too hard for the boy to envision him holding a pickax crushing rocks.
The boy stared quietly at his hands, and noticed that they were taking longer than usual to heal. The work blisters hadn't healed at all, actually, and the boy was beginning to grow concerned. Sunlight had been another assault on him, and he had wandered around for three hours with his hands clasped over his eyes as they tried to adjust to the shock of color.
The train halted, and the man tapped the boy on the shoulder over the railing, "This is our stop," He said somberly, and the boy nodded, following after him.
OoO
"This can't be right!" The man exclaimed in disbelief as he gaped at the paper in his hands.
"What do you mean?" The lady - the man had called her an 'reel state aged aunt'- asked hesitantly as the man stared at something written on the document.
"This can't be the date," He whispered brokenly, his eyes wide and composure lost.
The boy sat on the ground, watching the spectacle with confusion and a bit of apprehension.
"June seventh?" The aged aunt asked carefully.
The man's mouth opened and closed a few times before he started mumbling to himself, "2022..." His jaw went slack and he slumped into a chair that was propped up against the wall of the empty apartment, "Fourteen years," He whispered somberly, shaking his head and cradling his face in his hands, "Fourteen years." He repeated again.
"Mister?" The boy murmured, and the man looked up. The boy was shocked to see a hopeless look in his dark eyes that had been absent since the goddess had freed them, "What's wrong?"
The man swallowed with difficulty, "Remember our promise to Serena?"
The boy nodded, how could he forget?
"We made that promise fourteen years ago."
The boy felt his heart rate slow, "Then…"
"Then they're all grown up," The man's unspoken worry hung in the air.
The lady cleared her throat awkwardly, "I see you're a little preoccupied, Mr…." She trailed off, a blank look in her eyes as she tried to register a name to the young man's face.
The man made eye contact with her, and suddenly comprehension dawned upon her features as a smile stretched across her face, "Enjoy your new place!" She chirped, taking the unsigned paperwork and quickly walking out, her heeled shoes echoing throughout the empty apartment as they clicked against the wooden floors.
The man looked at the boy levelly, "We may be too late." He said softly, pain laced with his words.
The boy stared dejectedly at the floor, and as the silence stretched, he cleared his throat. The man was obviously down in his spirits, and the boy was beginning to discover now that he was able to have his own opinions, he was somewhat of an optimist, "Perhaps she's safe?" He suggested hopefully.
The man exhaled harshly, hair away from his face with the action. It was quiet, but when the man spoke again, purpose seemed to be reinstated, "Perhaps," His tone was bleak, but not as pessimistic as before, "We need to prepare."
The boy slowly stood up, "Prepare for what?"
"For Regulators, for finding Serena's daughter, for the real world, the list is endless." He paused, and there was a certain glint in his eyes that portrayed astonishment, "Do you even have a name?"
The boy blinked owlishly, "Name?"
The man swallowed, "What do people call you?"
The boy was deep in thought. He knew what a name was, important people had them. But in his lifetime, names were not a casual occurrence for servi. His mind ran over what he had been referred to in the past, "Boy, Runt, Servi, Brat, Shrimp, Scrawny, Little Shit-"
"No, no," The man interrupted, resisting the urge to slam his hand against his face, "A real name." He paused, "My name was Zahi."
The boy squinted, "Was?"
He nodded, "I'm going to have to change it, it's not exactly common and neither of us can afford to attract unwanted Followers."
The boy paused, and he remembered what the man had called him once, "King?" He ventured shakily.
The man stared at him, and a wane smile crept up his stressed features, "King." He repeated in amusement.
The boy winced, was that wrong?
"My father used to tell me stories about les chevaliers when I was little" The man said, the smile fading as a nostalgic look grew in his eyes, "About Le Roi Pendragon, and how he was a scared little boy destined for greatness, l'épéé dans le pierre…" He trailed off and fell silent, before his dark stare landed on the bemused boy, "Do you like the name Arthur?"
The boy mulled the name over in his mind, "Arthur?"
The man nodded.
"Arthur," The boy tried it out again, and felt something like pride in his chest, although he wasn't sure what it was directed at exactly. His small grin appeared on his face as he stared at the man, "I like it." He said with excitement.
The man's smile returned, "Good."
The boy, Arthur, felt his grin morph into a giddy smile as he stared at the floor. He held a name now, something that belonged only to him. The new sensation was intoxicating. Confusion hit him suddenly, and his gaze snapped up to the man's, "What's your name now?"
The man fell silent, his thoughts drifting elsewhere for a moment, "Call me Lance," He finally settled on quietly.
The boy nodded, enthusiasm building for this almost game. "What are we going to do now?" He asked in excitement.
The man looked him over, "You are going to use the shower." He paused, "Then we're going to find some sleeping bags, clothes, food, and our next residence."
Arthur felt confusion within him, "Why can't we stay here?"
The man, Lance now, shook his head, "We will have to always be on the move, for the first few months at the very least." His voice became softer, "This isn't going to be easy, we're hunted men now, and in order to fulfill our end of the bargain we're going to have to evade capture."
Arthur stilled, and he thought back to the labor pits, already seeming like a foggy memory, "I understand." He said quietly.
Lance nodded, and his stern features returned to normal, "Good. Get lots of rest, tomorrow, we begin our search for Serena's daughter."
He watched as Lance quietly walked into the next room, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.
He would be lying if he denied there being any sort of fear. This was a brand new world, after all, one that would take a considerable amount of time and adaptation to get used to. Regulators would be chasing after them nonstop, and there would be no rest until he and Lance were deemed unimportant.
Vacantly, Arthur then mused about the girl they were supposed to save. He wondered what she would be like, and whether or not she had her own special name as well.
Lance came back after only a few minutes, a sleeping bag tucked under each arm. Gingerly, he laid them on the floor, and it was only until then that Arthur realized he was tired.
With worries, and a few hopes, Arthur crawled under the polyester cover, wondering what tomorrow would have in store for him.
OoO
Notes:
Timelines: The NC generation of the Daughters were born in 2011, and Trysten is two years older than them, so he's going to be about thirteen when they meet up with him again.
Les Chevaliers is French for The Knights, and tales of King Arthur were wildly popular in France during the Middle Ages, about the same time Zahi was growing up. Le Roi Pendragon is The King Pendragon, an alias for Arthur. L'épéé dans le pierre is the sword in the stone.
Up Next: Part Three: The Prodigy- Gifts