Eternal Return

A/N. The beginning of this chapter is a very long flashback and if I say /long/, I really mean long. Don't get freaked out by the whole *he* -sentences at first. This was intended, because I only wanted to use Ran´s name once he introduced himself to Cain. After I have reached that point, I will make constant use of names. Just to tell you, so you don't get confused.

I really hope that this is interesting for you. I put a lot of time and effort into this chapter. I'm pretty sure that it still could be done better, but I decided to leave it at that and hope that you like it as much as I do. *smile*

**I held you tight to me

But you slipped away

You promised to return to me

And I believed, I believed.**

(Within Temptation – The promise)

Chapter3a – In Caritate servire

He was running with all his might. He broke through hedgerows and bushes alike. He tried to avoid running into trees, but every now and then another bloody scratch made him painfully aware of that nearly hopeless venture. His right shoulder hurt like hell and when he gingerly touched it with sweaty, slightly trembling fingers, pain ripped through his whole body like a knife. One look at his blood-soaked hand showed him that the wound hadn't stopped bleeding, yet.

His once intact and clean clothes were covered in mud and blood. He had left his cape that had been ripped to shreds by offending weapons and trees somewhere behind him. He was sure his persecutors had found it by now and knew that he was injured, but the piece of cloth had been hindering his path through the dense forest and frankly he didn't care if they found it or not. His whole concentration was focused on the need to survive and find a place to hide until the mob behind him grew tired of their sick game.

He knew that he needed a hiding place. And he needed it fast. It was hot and sticky even in the slightly cooler shadows of the trees. Pearls of sweat ran down his face and burned themselves into some of the minor scratches on his face. There was no water near to quench his thirst. He was injured and he had been running for what seemed like hours without break. He knew that he was slowing down rapidly, but faint noises and screams alerted him that he wasn't out of danger, yet. He could hear them breaking through the woods and was satisfied to know that they would probably have the same problems to get headway as him. He sighed in relief when he noticed that his pursuers didn't have hounds with them or else he would have been caught by now. Caught and most likely dead.

He silently cursed himself for distancing himself even more from the caves, instead of approaching them. The Count that had launched the surprise attack at him appeared to be very clever. The foreign man had known that he would enter the village at the mountain's base near dawn and thus awaited him there.

At first nothing had seemed to be out of the ordinary. Some children had greeted him friendly and he had helped an elder woman to bring a large bucket water into her shack. But that had changed once he passed the first huts near the centre of the small place and walked onto the main road.

He couldn't explain how they found out that he was an inhabitant of the caves. He was sure that he had been careful to avoid to be seen coming down from the mountain by anyone and he knew that his men did the same. If you do not want to get into trouble, try to avoid it! And he knew that he would have got into trouble if the villagers found out that he came from the mountain. He silently cursed their superstitious beliefs. He had ordered his men to disguise themselves when heading down to the small place and avoid mentioning anything of their origin.

Nevertheless, once he walked into the village this morning he came face to face with the tall, handsome Count and a group of about twenty obviously well-trained soldiers who didn't wait a second to attack him, all the while cursing him a demon. He barely made it out of the village alive and into the woods. Right before he disappeared behind the first line of trees a stray arrow had managed to hit his right shoulder. The wound wasn't too serious. In fact he had survived far more grave injuries, but it hadn't ceased bleeding, yet and as long as he was still trying to escape from his unknown enemy, he couldn't tend to it.

He pondered again on the tall man. He seemed to be of noble heritage. His clothes and his whole composure gave him away as an aristocrat. He could recall one of the villagers addressing him as Count, but he wasn't able to catch his name. He knew that it couldn't have been Duke Persia. Persia was rumoured to be a middle-aged man who had a young son about seventeen or eighteen years old. He was sure that he had seen the Duke on one or two occasions and thus knew that the man he had faced in the village couldn't have been him.

The handsome stranger with black hair and cold, calculating eyes had looked to be in his mid-twenties, so it couldn't have been Persia's child as well. If he got out of this mess alive, he knew, he had to find out who this new enemy was and if the Duke was directly involved in this. It was always unwise to face an opponent, if one didn't even know who he was.

He jerked back into reality when another branch hit his face and he staggered a few meters before he came to a halt. He gingerly touched his face and was relieved to find no more blood covering his fingers. But, judging from the pain on his face, he would be sporting a nice collection of purple bruises by tomorrow at the latest.

He held his breath and listened to his surroundings trying to make out how far he had left his pursuers behind. Apart from an occasional faint scream in the far distance and the usual sounds of the forest, he couldn't hear anything suspicious. He sighed softly. So far so good. He knew that he wasn't out of danger, yet, but it was good to know that he had at least a short lead.

He turned around and surveyed the area. He seemed to be close to the edge of the forest. The trees didn't stand as tightly packed as earlier, making it easier for him to walk. There were less bushes and hedgerows. Everything seemed to be more organised as if influenced by human hand.

His assumption proved to be right when two hundred metres ahead he could make out a small gate and a narrow wall giving entrance to a vast garden. He closed the relatively short distance with quick steps and took in his new surroundings. He nearly groaned when he realised that his flight had led him directly to the outer areas of Duke Persia's estate. For about a second he considered running back into the woods, but he would risk running into the noble and his soldiers by doing so.

In the gardens he might have a chance to wait for his pursuers to give up the hunt. Who would think him crazy enough to try and hide right under the nose of one of his possible enemies? He still wasn't sure if Duke Persia was involved in the hunt as well. Knowing that the man was very superstitious like most of the population in the this part of the country, it seemed highly probable.

He slowly entered the gardens through the unlocked gate and gaped. He didn't know what to feel. Astonishment? Happiness? Peace or melancholy? The gardens reminded him so much of his home that for one tiny moment he was sure to have entered the portal into his own realm. But, he knew that this was impossible and when he observed the gardens closer, he noticed that he was still in what could be described the "mortal realm".

Still, the similarities to his own carefully arranged gardens were amazing. Like him, the gardener seemed to have a love for naturalness. Although thousands of flowers occupied flower-beds in seemingly every direction and small paths framed by shady trees wound themselves through the whole park, nothing had a forced effect. He could make out several small streams of water crossing the paths every now and then. Everything seemed to have grown naturally, creating an eerie atmosphere of peace and tranquillity.

He gasped once again when he noticed a small lake about one hundred metres to his right side. A footbridge reached about one third into the lake and ended in a small pavilion. The sun was reflected in the clear waters and painted the pavilion in a gleaming white light, partially shadowed by several long tendrils of ivy that curled themselves around the building. He blinked in disbelief. Either the person that had arranged the park was a genius or he had visited the gardens in his realm, for they were almost an exact copy of his greatest treasure.

He knew that it was dangerous to stand openly in the gateway where everyone could see him. He looked around and noticed that no guards seemed to be near. Probably all on man-hunt, he thought bitterly. He stepped onto one of the pebble-covered paths that lead towards the lake. He wasn't exactly sure why, but some inner force seemed to drive him towards the pavilion. The small gazebo was build in a very interesting manner. He could easily see that it was impossible for a person standing near the lake to catch a glimpse inside the pavilion, the tendrils of ivy preventing it most effectively. He knew from experience that the inside was only visible when one had crossed about half of the footbridge and was able to get a clear visibility of the entrance into the gazebo.

On the other hand, the person inside the little building had a perfect view of the whole area surrounding him. Acknowledging this he suddenly realised his own mistake. He had neared the footbridge rather carelessly. If someone was inside the pavilion he surely must have seen him by now. Strangely though, he wasn't disturbed by the thought. Somehow he knew that no danger laid ahead of him. Somehow it seemed impossible to tear his gaze away from the building. He stepped onto the footbridge and made his way towards the entrance. Just as he had supposed earlier, he was able to make out the interior of the pavilion once he had covered half of the distance. He let out a small gasp of wonder when his eyes fell on the lithe form of a young man that couldn't have been older than seventeen or eighteen years. The man, still more like a boy, was laying on a small bench, his whole attention focused on a small book in his hands.

He reached the entrance and was surprised that the teenager hadn't noticed him, yet. He used the opportunity to observe him for he had never seen someone that beautiful.

The boy was slender, near to the point of thinness. His pale face was framed by dark brown hair. Several bangs fell stubbornly into his eyes that made him blink every few seconds, but it didn't seem to bother the boy too much. High cheekbones accentuated deep brown eyes that were focused intently on the script. He was obviously of noble heritage, body covered in fine, expensive clothes held in black and white colours. Despite the warm temperature outside, he was wearing a heavy cloak over his slim shoulders. He noted with worry that every once in a while the boy shivered and coughed lightly.

Part of the teenagers body was hidden by a small table in front of him. On its surface he could make out several other scripts and next to it a goblet with water, obviously unused so far for it was still full to the brim.

He stepped forward, the boy's mere presence letting forget him all possible dangers ahead. Finally the brunette got aware of his presence and looked up. His eyes went impossible wide and with a thump he landed on a floor as an attempt to jump to his feet failed miserably. Mere seconds later the boy was standing again and grabbed a large sword that laid near the bench. The youth held the sword in front of him and addressed him in a quivering voice.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

He noted that the boy's voice was deep and melodic, not yet a man's voice, but not a child's voice either. He thought it endearing although he was well aware of the deeply scared tint in it. He held up his hands in what he thought was a soothing manner and took another step in his direction, but the brunette seemed to misread his intentions.

"Don't come any closer!", he cried out desperately. "I kill you if you don't stop!"

The youth scrambled backwards, but his path was blocked by the wall of the pavilion. As a last possibility the boy tried to position his sword as a wall between them. It was obvious that he was barely able to keep the weapon steady.

He couldn't hold back a smirk and addressed the frightened boy in a very amused voice.

"If you want to attack me like that, you might as well break your wrist immediately. The way you are holding your sword makes me wonder if you ever trained with weapons at all."

The brunette looked at him with wide confused eyes. He looked at the sword in his palm, then back to him, not sure how to react to what he had said. Several minutes of silence passed. Neither of them moved. The boy looked unsure what to do and he decided to simply wait and see what would happen. He wasn't sure why he knew, but he was certain that the boy wouldn't attack. Suddenly the boy gasped and the sword clattered to the ground.

"You are hurt!!!", he exclaimed.

To his utter surprise the young brunette took off his cloak and ripped it into pieces. When the cloth didn't want to give a way to the strength of slender fingers, the boy used the aid of his sword. For a second he feared that the boy might hurt himself with the heavy weapon. It was clear that he was inexperienced, but luckily the smaller youth managed to tear the cloth without injury.

He looked at his right shoulder and noted with dismay that the wound still oozed some blood. He silently cursed the man who was to be held responsible for it. When he looked up again, he stared into the deep brown eyes of the young noble who had managed to close the small distance between them without him noticing it. Strangely though, all the fear and earlier fright had left the boy's expressive eyes. All he could read was concern for the welfare of a complete stranger.

The boy opened the laces of his black tunic. Brown eyes asked silently for permission to push it off his shoulders before he dared. He shivered slightly at the touch of nimble fingers on his bare skin that prodded the injury carefully. When he winced in pain, he could hear a mumbled apology before the boy went back to work. He watched him dipping parts of the ripped cloak into the water of the goblet, then carefully cleaning the injury. Although the boy seemed to be very skilled at it, he noted pale fingers trembling and an ill colour to the youth's skin. So that meant that he wasn't used to the sight of blood.

"Whatever hit you there, it is but a mere graze. The bleeding should stop once I've bound it tightly. It should heal in a few days!"

He was barely able to make out the brunette's whispering voice over the own pounding of his heart. He didn't know why, but the boy grew to him with every passing minute.

Finally his smaller opponent stepped back again giving the now bound injury one last critic look before nodding to him that he was finished. He pulled the tunic back over his shoulders. While the brunette used the remains of the water inside the goblet to clean his hands off the blood, he merely enjoyed watching him. He frowned when the boy coughed again, worse than before, but decided against asking him about it. There was something else he wanted to know first.

"May I know the name of my saviour?", he asked voice tinted with slight amusement.

The teenager looked at him confusedly, but closed off his face rather quickly.

"Only if you tell me first who it was I saved!", he finally managed.

"Lord Ran Fujimiya, at your service!"

He supposed that the boy didn't know what to do with the name. He was proved to be correct.

"I never heard of that name. You are not from here, are you? I am sure my father would have mentioned your name if you were."

The boy sounded curious, eyes open and trusting..

"Not directly from here. That's true!.", Ran said trying to avoid giving a direct answer. "May I know your name now or should I give you one instead?"

His voice held no malice or sarcasm, but the brunette flushed a bright red and suddenly seemed to find the ground rather interesting.

"Gomen! That was very impolite of me. Otou-sama is going to be angry if he finds out. My name is Cain. I am the son of Duke Persia.", he said looking up again.

Ran paled at his words, but Cain didn't seem to notice.

Simply great! Not only did he start a conversation with the boy, although he knew that he should have just let him alone, thus avoiding possible trouble. To make it even worse, the brunette was Persia's young child. He cursed silently. What did he ever do to deserve that? Ran cursed again, but it wasn't a heartfelt feeling. The youth intrigued him and he was certain that he would have regretted not talking to him.

He inspected the pavilion once again, trying to find a way to change the topic. It was better for the youth not to find out who he really was. Ran´s eyes fell on the book that had fallen to the ground earlier, when Cain had jumped up in surprise and fright.

He kneeled down and picked it up. It was a court guide and some rules about etiquette. He nearly groaned. He hated etiquette with a passion. Obviously Cain seemed to hate it as well, because he suddenly noticed another script inside the book that didn't belong there. He retrieved it and was surprised to find out it was about flowers.

He stood up again and looked into the crimson face of the smaller brunette who seemed to find the floor once again very interesting.

"Do you like flowers, Cain-sama?"

The boy's head snapped up and Ran was taken aback when those expressive orbs glared at him angrily. Cain snatched the script from him and pointed towards the entrance.

"If you want to tell me now, that a boy should be interested in war and politics and leave the flowers to the pretty girls....then I will have to ask you to leave."

It was obvious that the topic pained the youth greatly. Some insensitive jerks at the court must have mocked the gentle boy badly, to leave him in such a vulnerable state. Slight tremors shook his body and to Ran´s concern, the brunette started coughing again.

Ran shook his head and placed a hand on the angry youth's shoulder to calm him down.

"I didn't want to imply that, Cain-sama. Forgive me if it seemed that way! I am a great admirer of flowers myself, so I would never mock you with that."

Cain's face relaxed and a small smile crept onto his face. Ran almost stopped breathing for it was so heartbreakingly beautiful on the youth.

"You are the first person who doesn't make jokes on my behalf because I prefer flowers to a weapon."

The boy tilted his head a little to the side and peered at Ran through long eyelashes. He noted that the youth's eyes were suspiciously bright as if he had been close to breaking into tears. He was relieved to have prevented that from happening. Somehow the welfare of his young companion was very important to him and he recoiled at the thought that he might have been the cause of hurt for him.

"Can you tell me something about..."

Cain stopped suddenly when he suddenly seemed aware of something behind him. He jumped towards the entrance looking in direction of the gate through which Ran had entered the gardens. After a second the boy turned to look at him again.

"Count Brad is coming.", he whispered and gestured him to stay inside the building.

Ran´s eyes went wide and he tried to catch a glimpse of the man without being seen. Luckily the man hadn't arrived on the footbridge yet, or else he would have been discovered. He nearly fell over in shock when he recognised the man as the leader of the men who had attacked him earlier that day. His eyes darted around frantically, trying to find a possible route to escape.

Cain seemed to sense that the tall black headed man meant trouble for him. The boy's face scrunched up in concentration. Ran knew he shouldn't think that in such a situation, but the youth looked endearingly cute like that. Finally Cain pushed Ran towards the bench and placed a finger on his lips to indicate him to be silent.

"Stay here! I´ll deal with him. Whatever happens, stay in here! If I do not come back, wait till the sun sets, then try to escape in the dark."

Ran nodded in thanks, but the brunette had already turned around and marched onto the footbridge to greet the Count. He managed to reach the end of the footbridge before the other man arrived. Ran smiled. The boy tried to keep the man from entering the pavilion. He neared the entrance again. He knew he couldn't be seen from their line of view, but the distance was just far enough to make out their voices and he was intrigued to learn more about both.

He observed Count Brad who came to a halt in front of Cain. The young brunette seemed small and lost compared to the tall and impressive figure of the other man. Ran blinked when the Count bowed deeply in front of the boy, then proceeded to kiss one slender hand lightly.

"Hello, little one. It's a pleasure to meet you so soon again. You do not have seen a demon running free somewhere around here by any chance?"

"Crawford-sama!", Cain answered the greeting stiffly, but Ran noticed a faint blush on the boy's cheeks. "No I haven't seen any demon around here. Maybe if you care to describe him to me, I might know him should I see him."

The taller man smirked.

"He is one of the demons from the caves. My men managed to corner him this morning in the village at the mountain's base, but unfortunately he could escape. But not before he killed three of my best men and injured five others badly. It shouldn't be difficult to recognise him, Cain-sama. He has red hair and violet eyes. Just like a demon, don't you think?"

The boy nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't answer. Ran noticed that Crawford rose a questioning eyebrow at the youth's lack of answer, but they were saved by another coughing fit coming from Cain. The boy shivered slightly. The black headed man's eyes flashed in worry, attention now focused on the brunette's welfare instead of his lack of answer before.

"Cain-sama! Not wearing a cloak so soon after your illness is very irresponsible. I talked to your father this morning and he told me that you are far from being well. You surely do not want to catch another cold so soon again."

Ran observed that the young brunette stared down at the ground guiltily. So he had guessed right earlier. The boy seemed too thin and fragile to be healthy. His cheeks were pale although there were hints of a golden hue that the boy's skin probably usually sported.

He couldn't explain why, but he noted with silent dismay that the handsome Count unclasped the folds of his own heavy cloak and placed it around Cain's shoulders. The brunette stared at the tall man with wide uncertain eyes.

Crawford smiled reassuringly.

"To keep you warm, little one."

He stroked the boy's cheek, but retreated the hand when the shy brunette flinched at the contact. Ran clenched his fist tightly. How dare that man touch what was supposed to be his! The redhead blinked. Did he just think of the boy as his mate? He shook his head. Never once in his considerably long life had he ever thought of another person like that. He forced himself to concentrate back on the conservation, for he didn't dare think about the possibility to have finally found his soulmate.

The Count still towered over the brunette and Ran could make out a possessive gleam in the man's eyes. He didn't like the expression, but Cain didn't seem to notice.

"Maybe you should go back inside, Cain-sama.", the man said softly after a while. "It's not safe as long as we do not catch that monster. Perhaps I should let my men search the gardens. Just in case, I mean!"

Ran watched in amazement as the boy's eyes flashed in anger and he shook his head vigorously.

"That won't be necessary, Crawford-sama. I would have noticed someone entering the gardens and I can assure you that no one, not even one of my servants came while I was here."

The youth stared angrily into Crawford´s eyes.

"I assume you trust my judgement?", he asked tightly.

Ran was surprised. The boy's attitude was hostile, so unlike the gentle and somewhat timid youth he had encountered earlier. He watched Crawford trying to contradict him, but Cain was faster leaving the man no chance.

"Besides...I do not wish any of your men to enter my gardens. Do I make myself clear! Last time that happened I needed a whole year to get the park back into order. They tramped my flowers and dirtied most of the streams. I will not allow that to happen again. If you would please leave now. I am tired and I think your men are waiting at the gate."

With those words, Cain turned around and headed back towards the pavilion. For a tiny moment Ran feared the Count would follow him, but the older man merely stood there for another minute. Then he turned around stiffly and walked back.

Both of them watched the Count leave through the gate near the woods, joining his men that waited outside. The moment the Count was out of view, Cain's shoulders slumped in exhaustion. It had obviously taken a lot out of the boy to face the impressing man. He nearly cried out when the brunette tried to push off the cloak. He held him back and looked at him sternly.

"You didn't tell me, you were sick, Cain-sama.", he said although it was half a lie. The boy didn't need to tell him. It had been painfully clear from the very beginning.

"And you didn't tell me that you come from the caves."

Ran almost smiled. An accusation for an accusation. He hoped Crawford´s words hadn't changed the boy's opinion of him.

"Do you hate me now?", he asked fearing the answer.

Cain looked at him as if he were crazy.

"No! Why would I? You've done nothing wrong as far as it concerns me."

"You don't think I am a demon?"

The boy coughed violently. Ran couldn't decide if it was another fit due to his illness or the desperate attempt not to break into laughter. A closer look into Cain's face convinced him that the brunette was highly amused by his question.

"Demon? You don't look like one.", he managed finally. "Besides I never believed in all those rumours the villagers told about the caves and their inhabitants. Plain stupid if you ask me. "

Cain looked at him with dancing eyes and Ran noted that it was hard for him not to smile. The boy's good mood was addicting.

"Demon!?!", the youth snorted in mock anger. " Even if you were...I would consider Bradley Crawford more of a demon than you could ever be."

"You do not like him, I take it?"

"He scares me! I think he asked Otou-sama to court me. If my father agrees, I am going to kill myself."

Ran choked and stared at him. Cain's smile had ceased and a sorrowful frown creased his brows.

"I wasn't serious, but I might consider doing something drastic if it ever comes to that. Crawford is like a slow disease. He poisons the thoughts of my father and twists them to his own advantage. I may not know much about politics, but it is obvious to me that he wants to gain the titles of my father."

Ran nodded absently. It was also painfully clear that the man tried to get them by using the gentle boy in front of him. One look into the innocent face of the smaller boy told the redhead that Cain was unaware of that fact. He remembered the possessive glint in Crawford´s eyes and something akin to desire. He suddenly had the urge to protect Cain from all possible harm.

He watched the boy walking to the table and grabbing some of the books still laying there. He rose a questioning eyebrow. Cain looked somewhat nervous and shy. He handed him the script about the flowers.

"This is for you, Ran-sama! I have to get back to the castle or else Otou-sama worries about me." The boy smiled insecurely. "You mentioned you like flowers. I mean I..."

"Doumo arigatou, Cain-sama!", Ran answered quickly to save the boy from further embarrassment.

"You can stay hear till nightfall.", the brunette whispered. " Crawford-sama will probably continue with the hunt until dusk, but I think you are safe as long as you stay here."

The boy flushed a bright red and shuffled one foot on the ground nervously. Suddenly he looked up at him again and peered into his face with soul-searching brown eyes, Ran was sure he could drown into.

"If you do not mind...", the youth stammered and his cheeks turned even a deeper shade of crimson, "If you do not mind, I´d like to see you again sometime."

With those words, he covered the small distance between them and pecked Ran shyly on his right cheek. Not even a second later, Cain was running across the footbridge towards the castle, all the while mumbling apologies. Ran stared after the boy and a slow smile crept onto his face. For the first time in his life, he felt truly complete and at ease. He continued standing at the pavilion's entrance for a few more minutes until he wasn't able to make out the young lord's fluttering cloak in the far distance anymore.

/I´d like to see you again sometime./

Cain's timid words kept ringing in his mind. He softly touched the place on his cheek where the brunette had kissed him. It had been the sweetest sensation he could imagine.

"I´d like to see you, too.", he muttered finally and headed back into the gazebo waiting for the sun to set.

(End Flashback)

~ End chapter 3a ~

A/N. I've decided to be evil and split the chapter in two parts, because it was too long. Part 3b will be up tomorrow. It still needs some slight revisions. I hope you stay tuned for the little Ran/Ken-meeting!!!

Please review!!!