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CHAPTER II: little one
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Mamoru could not help but tense up, his eyes blinded beneath cloth, his wrists and ankles bound with some sort of taut bond, the soft, yet burning, palms of the stranger on his back, unrelentingly pushing him further and further forward, into some place he could not see. The air was cold, unwelcoming. Everything was strange; even the noises, the voices speaking in some tongue that he could not understand, were disheartening. Where he was, he did not know; how he had gotten there, he did not know; who exactly he was with, he did not know; but the fact that he was separated from his family, he did know…and that he was a slave to the man behind him.
Suddenly crying out at his hopeless thoughts, he worked madly at his bonds, just as he had done numerous times before; and, just as before, the stranger grabbed for his hands and halted his efforts, detaching him from any hope of freedom.
"You are a feisty thing, little one." It was a husky whisper close to his ear, his captor looming just behind him.
Mamoru bit his lip, trying his best not to slur out a retort—he was not one to trade insults with a complete stranger—but found that, in his rage, he could not help himself, "When you are bound and blinded, we shall see how docile you are!"
The man breathed out a deep, mocking breath, "And very articulate, as well."
"More so than you, it seems."
"Yes, well…" there was a knowing pause, "Perhaps you may find yourself at a loss for words, when you lay beneath me, in my bed."
Mamoru felt his breath catch sickeningly within his chest. Never. He would never play doll with this man—never! He would die before that could ever happen. He would die before he would willingly follow his captor to bed!
Never!
But as much as he would have liked to retort back some viciously stinging insult, a sudden mental picture stopped him, its essence blazing in his mind as a monster, ugly and cruel, took him forcefully.
No, never! His mind screamed. But the words would not connect with his voice; the image was too shocking.
"What, little one?" The man's words were lower, deeper, closer to Mamoru's ear, "Have you no smart counter for me, now?"
As much as he would have liked to admit otherwise, Mamoru found speech suddenly difficult, his throat wrung dry from nerves…and the shock of his mind's thoughts.
How easily he was taken down by the mere words of his master…
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After a few long moments of walking, and numerous turns, the hands that were incessantly pressed against Mamoru's back slid up to his shoulders and gently forced him down, onto a chair. "Sit, little one." Perhaps there would finally be a moment of rest.
"Do not call me 'little one'," he bit back, sitting rigid under his master's grip.
"Nn…whatever you wish." The statement was meant to be sarcastic, Mamoru knew. There was no chance that his master would stop mocking him, stop teasing him... But at least it was only that…for the time being. There were much worse things he could have been required to do, as a slave…
A slave… That was what Mamoru was now, was it not? Someone else's property… God, how bad it already felt, and he had been one for a few meager hours, at most. And his family—he had done it for them; it was all for them…the people he would never see again. Father, Subaru, Yonen…Kago. Never again… He would never see them again. Never see…their faces. Never hear their voices. His only company would be a stranger…a cruel, lifeless stranger who he knew nothing of.
He would never see his old life again… Kago, Subaru…Yonen… Father. He had lost them just as he had lost his mother. Never again. Never…never. Never…again!
Suddenly, he was pushing up, blindly trying to murder the man who had taken everything from him, frustrated tears in his eyes. But the strong hands that had before held him in place still did, forcing him painfully back down against the chair; he was not going anywhere.
"Damn you to the depths of Hell, you fat, ugly bastard! When you are not expecting it, I will kill you!"
The stranger tsk'ed quietly, shifting to clamp a gentle hand over Mamoru's vulgar mouth; his head yet again drooped near his young slave's ear, "If you think that you are frustrating me with your little comments, you are wrong, little one. It only makes my desire for you grow. So…" he let his hand slip from Mamoru's mouth, a callous thumb remaining a moment to brush at the rebel's drawn lips; Mamoru jerked away. "So…you may want to watch what you say. Nn?"
"Bastard…" Mamoru whispered back defiantly, and was rewarded with a daring kiss against his jaw, the clothe of the stranger's cloak sweeping over his cheek.
"Now, behave yourself, little one. I have some business to attend to, and I hope that you will not cause any problems." He stepped back, gingerly pulling away the hands that had once possessively gripped his captive's shoulders. "And do not bother to try and escape. One such like you—tied up and blindfolded—would not get very far, here."
Mamoru listened to the footsteps that clicked against the floor as the man left him. Where was he going? Was he leaving him alone…? Would it be of any use to try and escape, now? …Why had he not tried anything before? He should have attacked when he had had the chance, when the stranger had been behind him; he would have gotten in a decent punch or two, before the man could get his bearings straight. It would have given him some comfort, and the man a good lesson. …But, escape now seemed more rational—much less satisfying, but no doubt more rational.
Mamoru moved to stand, but the sudden sound of faint voices stopped him, and he sank back in uncertainty. One of them clearly belonged to his captor, but the other… There was no way to tell who it was—not unless he could see…and, at that instant, that feat was one of impossibility.
Listening to the voices was of no help, either; they were speaking in that same foreign tongue he had heard earlier. What was it? What were they saying? Surely, it was not spoken in his country, so how far away from home had he been taken? Where was he? Was there any hope of him getting home…?
Or was it too far…? Would he get lost, before he could even be found?
Sighing silently, Mamoru stood, balancing his steps with the taught length of the bonds that joined his ankles together. He had to try to get out; he had wasted time sitting there, pondering the voices, the language…everything. He had to get out—that was all that matter now. One step forward, then another, and another—it was not so hard. Of course, he had no notion as to where exactly he was going, but at least he was making some sort of progress. 'The voices are your lead, Mamoru. His voice…you must keep your distance from it. Get away from it. That is…all you need do. Backtrack.'
However, that brief instant of blissful improvement was cut short, when the voices abruptly stopped and confusion overtook him, once more; he had nothing to go by, now, except the silence. Where had they gone? Was he out of the room? Did they leave him alone? Where…was he going?
He staggered around for another moment or two, then stood still, the trek quickly seeming more and more futile. It was useless to even try…
"Velo lisere'thegatte'prêit," the unrecognizable voice from before grated out suddenly, laughing so close to Mamoru that he involuntarily tensed and swayed back, barely saving himself from tripping over his own feet.
"Do not laugh at him," his captor's voice chided softly…but it seemed more intended to ridicule him, than as a threat to the other man.
"I did not know you wanted to be with me so badly, little one. I would have come to you, if you wished it." The man circled his helpless slave for a long, slow, rotation, then came around behind Mamoru, abruptly grabbing hold of him and sweeping him off his feet. "No more walking for you."
"Where are you taking me?!" Mamoru jerked violently in the vice-like hold, "Put me down!"
"As you wish…" His captor walked another step or two, then let his arms slack, his cargo slipping from them and falling heavily onto a cot.
"No! What are you doing?! You cannot do this to me!"
"Be quiet, little one. I am only branding you…in case you should decide to run away from me." The man grabbed for his slave's shoulders, forcefully flipping him over and pressing him into the soft down of the cot. "Relax…"
"Nn—what?!" Mamoru yelled into the mattress, the statement losing its strength through the muffle of fabric.
"Relax, little one…" His captor's warm hands slipped down against his neck, pressing on the spot he knew would make the young man sleep deeply— for a bit, at least, "Relax, nn?"
Mamoru felt the soothing pressure on his neck, and —despite all of his anger and tension— his body quickly betrayed him, slipping into the comfortable void between consciousness and unconsciousness; then, everything was black.
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Mamoru shot up, suddenly aware, his breathing erratic, a burning pain near the small of his back, another on his left shoulder blade. He blinked rapidly, shooing away the nuisance of sleep, and moved to inspect the aches. But finding that ropes no longer bound his wrists was a greater revelation, and that his vision was actually free to see it; he momentarily pushed the pain to the back of his mind, and ran his fingers over his wrists, his face. "I…am free! I am free!" An indulgent smile graced his lips as he moved to stand, but was quick to vanish when he felt thick, bulky chains binding his ankles, in place of the ropes. "Damn it… I should not have hoped for as much…" Warily, his eyes followed the length of the shackle chains, winding along the room until they hooked to a sturdy clasp in the wall, just above a large, black-blanketed bed.
"Oh gods… Where am I?" He groaned, looking about the room that he was now trapped in. Vast, cream-colored walls curved up to meet in a high pointed ceiling, detailed, red petal moldings tracing along them in intricate designs. Directly below, a great fountain emerged from the marble floor, white and sparkling, showering pink water out of a large, stone flower, and into the surrounding catch basin, where water lilies swam. A black, wood desk was set a few feet from the fountain, near the bed, immersed in rose bushes.
More plants were situated all around, as were mahogany shelves, which pushed sporadically against the walls, some holding books, others more varieties of shrubbery; the largest of them lined two grand, glass doors that were open to the outside, letting a beautiful flower perfume waft into the room. Through the doorway, Mamoru could see more flowers, and trees…the sky… He paused at the view, taking it in, eyes staring hungrily outside… Freedom.
"That is my exit…that is how I will get out!" Stepping forward with little difficulty, a slow grin grew over his lips. Perhaps escape would not be so unreachable.
However, soon, the steps were less manageable, small and strained; then they stopped entirely, and he found, looking around, that he had only been able to travel half the length of the room. "…Damn. …Damn this! Damn—him!" He wrenched his legs forward with all of his strength, "Come on… Come on, come on…come on!" But it was to no avail. No matter how many times he pulled, they would not budge. His years of working on the family farm did nothing to the chains. Absolutely nothing.
He sank back, contemplating what options he had left. Could he break the chains? Cut them? Was there anything in the room that could help him do that? Swiftly, his eyes swept the expanse of the quarters, only stopping when they fell on a bulky saber, lying displayed over an ornate mirror. "If I cannot cut the chains off, then at least I will be able to cut my feet off!"
Staggering over to the shiny glass, he reached up to grab for the sword and pull it down. Its blade was quickly slipped between links, the grating saw of metal against metal ringing through the room.
Though, as if in an unquestionable sign, a few sparks suddenly flew up from his rapid work and bit at his knuckles; he dropped the blade, cringing sourly. "…Damn." But it did not faze him for long. Retrieving the saber quickly, he tried again.
Though his luck was little improved the second time around… Nothing changed.
"Cursed sword!" Mamoru threw it down in aggravation. It was hopeless. He would die before that would help him escape. It was utterly hopeless. He was hopeless. Even the mirror in front of him held a more sufficient man than he—his reflection, a dirtied, enchained farmhand. He wearily stared back at it, giving up his escape efforts, if only for a desperate instant.
What did the man see in him? He certainly was not someone to be proud of, or sought after. Dirtied brunette hair curled relentlessly about his head…a rough, black tunic top fell haphazardly over his healthy frame. Brown, ruffled pants that slipped down past his knees and pooled on the floor about his feet had see one too many harvests; but they still looked in better shape than he was.
No, he was nothing special, nothing to be—desired. And that fact all the more made him wonder why the man wanted him. What was there about him that was so drawing? Or was his now master so horrid that he had to be satisfied with whatever was given him—whatever he could take? "That is probably most reasonable…under that cloak, who can tell?"
Brushing off his momentary disgust, Mamoru moved to examine the aches that still dulled frustrating, reminding pains in his shoulder and back; two black marks glared back at him. The one on his shoulder blade seemed to be some insignia, a small flower with petals lightly blushed in pink, and outlined in heavy, coal lines. And the other, the one on his lower back, was script that read: Enyen'Fiore.
"Enyen Fiore…?" The word was rough in his mouth.
"No! What are you doing?! You cannot—"
"Be quiet, little one. I am only branding you…in case you should decide to run away from me."
The dialogue rang disdainfully in his mind. Yes, the marks must have been the godforsaken brands of the man. He was stained, tainted…claimed as property…no longer his own person.
Then, without warning, quiet steps pattered somewhere close by, breaking his self-examining trance. He lifted his eyes up to seize the reflection of a stranger in the glass of the mirror, standing silently, just behind him. And his breath involuntarily caught deep in his throat; the intruder was an almost disgracefully attractive man, one of whom Mamoru had never seen the likes of before.
He had long, thick hair that spilled out from the roots in evergreen and cherry hues, a row of scrappily cut bangs clinging seductively to his lean face. His eyebrows, favoring the darker part of his hair, arched over two almond-shaped eyes—black in color—with long, framing lashes. His lips were full, yet chiseled and masculine, lying in the faint shadow of his softly pointed nose. Curved cheekbones shaped the rest of his face, curling down in a strong jaw line and flawless chin.
Lengthy, pointed ears extended from both sides of his face, with large, golden ornaments dangling from them. His skin was a pallid tint of the green in his hair.
What he wore was no less intriguing than his beautiful face. An ashen and coat, with a lilac and green stripe down the middle of the chest, cut over his upper body, collaring about his neck and falling loosely over his form, certainly flattering the strength and height of him. Two shoulder turrets, black with vines entwining over them, encased the curves of his shoulders, and held the dark cloak that drifted behind him to his back. Plain, white pants hugged elegantly to his legs, and met with polished, white shoes, encasing his feet.
Everything about him was perfect. Surely, this could not be the man who had enslaved Mamoru; he was too beautiful to be someone so wretched.
Mamoru turned about slowly, careful not to tangle himself in his chains, holding the stolen saber up savagely. "What are you doing here? Who are you?"
"I suppose I should not be disappointed that you do not recognize me, little one."
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Thanks to:: inumoon3, Kreshkin, Chibi-chan v2.0 and Spirals for taking the time to review and encourage me to continue.
Yea, took me long enough to update this, didn't it? Shame on me. Hope it wasn't a letdown, and that you guys are still reading. You are still reading……………right?
Review if you'd like for me to continue.
:-)
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Not needed for the story, but if you wanted to know what they said:
Velo lisere'thegatte'prêit (Veh-low ly-sehr-reh the-gat prat)— He is very persistent
Enyen'Fiore (Nn-yon Fee-oar-eh)— Man of Fiore