Fic: Wherever You Are
Title: Wherever You Are
Author: Cesi
Rating: R/NC 17
Pairing: VM/OB; SB/OB; KU/OB; VM/SB
Summary: How can you stop their love, when it defies death and eternity? A tale of three adopted brothers caught in a passionate battle over power, vengeance…and everlasting love. MPREG.
Feedback: Please tell me what you think, I love hearing from my readers = )
Archive:Just let me know first if you want to archive this.
Disclaimer: These characters and personalities are not mine. No profit is made from this and it is not intended to hurt anyone.
Warnings:This fic features generous scenes of violence, disturbing content, and a rape scene. I’m very willing to write non-graphic editions of those chapters upon request, so feel free to ask = )
A/N: This fic features generous scenes of violence, disturbing content, and a rape scene. I’m very willing to write non-graphic editions of those chapters upon request, so feel free to ask = )
Chapter 1- Shadow on the Corner
The soft, sudden shrill drew frosted eyes toward the shadows. The visitor, much like the many others who faithfully attended the inn, turned their snow capped heads in curiosity. Laughter, curses, joyous babbling, arguments and constant orders were the usual sounds that filled the inn...but this new sound seemed so out of place that they had to see for themselves just what it was. The visitor’s eyes widened when he saw a tiny bundle in a young woman’s arms.
The woman was barely out of her childhood, her thin arms rocking the child gently as she tried to soothe the growing cries. The baby ignored her attempts and cried harder. The woman received a knowing look from the inn-keeper and took the child further away from the customers.
“The baby’s no good for business,” The visitor kindly said as his old friend took at seat beside him, “You should tell your wench to keep her little one at home.”
“I would, but it’s not hers,” The inn-keeper said simply. He turned his weathered old head towards the swinging door as more customers staggered in, furious blows from the winter storm breaking the room’s warmth.
“I haven’t seen a winter so harsh in years. Only a fool wouldn’t seek shelter. You’ll have your rooms and pockets full tonight my friend.” The guest said kindly, taking another gulp of the drink before him. The inn-keeper nodded and glanced once again at the baby.
“It was worse last night. I was locking up for the night when I saw this pitiful figure dashing madly to every door he came to. In spite of the storm I could hear him asking for a place to stay, a place where he and the baby could spend the night. None cared for him. I felt horrible about sending someone so young into the bitter cold, especially with a new-born infant shivering in his arms.”
“His you say?” The visitor asked, “As in, the baby was in the care of a man?”
“Yes, strange but true. He was very shaken when I took him in, and unpleasantly silent. He’s taken shelter here since, not ever saying a single word or complaint or thanks…and he does the most unusual things.”
“Unusual? Do you think he’s dangerous?”
The inn-keeper shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head towards another dark corner far from the fire. His guest followed the nod, and frowned when he saw nothing.
“Why don’t you see and tell me? Judge for yourself,”
Suddenly, what could have easily been mistaken for a shadow moved, slowly and weakly.
The baby kept crying.
A face appeared from the shadows, hard and frosted from cold within. His face was wild and fierce, yet far too delicate to be called hideous. Color was drained from his skin, bruised and dirty from days of travel and frigid cold. His skin was like that of a dead man, his lips nearly blue and lifeless. The dark brown curls fell limply, veiling weaker men from the full power of his piercing stare. His eyes, above everything else, were the only things that proved he was truly alive. His eyes were deep, almost cutting in their intensity. They burned, weather from tears or anger, they carried flashes of flame and passion, so much that you could not see them for long without turning away.
The child’s wails became wild, almost animal like. The woman was singing to him now.
The shadow on the corner turned his head to the sound. He watched, not a trace of emotion on his face as the child struggled against the woman, the desperate cries filling the room. The figure remained still and silent, and his eyes began to drift to the fire. His hands were clenching a thin cloak, far too thin to provide any protection from winter’s icy embrace. The visitor imagined how painful and frightening it must have been for him, someone so young to brave the winter with a baby…with no guarantee of safety.
The thoughts plagued him well into the night. Mugs and cups were emptied, candles burned out, and even the storm weakened with time. Darkness fell, and patrons left to their homes and families while others went up the stairs to their rooms, their minds blissfully clouded by liquor and smoke.
“Here’s to a good day of business,” The inn-keeper said as he lifted his last drink. His friend smiled and gulped the last drops of cheap wine.
“I must be going now…long day tomorrow,” The visiting friend stood up and began to pull his cloak together when the shrill cry rose once more.
This time the poor wench couldn’t calm the restless child. She whispered and sang, and rocked the screaming creature but it was no use. And then the cries, for the first time that day, ceased all together. There was a strange, almost terrifying silence in the still air. Not even a breath could be heard or felt.
From the corner of his eye, he saw something rise. The ragged youth stood, slowly, almost painfully. His former fierceness was gone, replaced but something softer and deeper.
“Give him to me,” He said, his voice surprisingly strong, but a tremor passed through each word. His eyes were distant as he held his arms out to receive the infant. The wench quickly left the young man, the child still silent as death. The young man stared at the baby, his eyes glistening in the sick flicker of the flames. He brought the infant close to his chest and rested his head gently over the child’s face.
In the fire’s full light, the young man looked not like an ugly shadow. In the light, his face was more radiant, more human. And if you were to look closely enough, there was even a hint of hidden beauty.
A soft cry pulled everyone’s gaze. The baby began to stir once more, his fragile arms rising to touch the man who held him. The former shadow knelt closer to the fire, carefully shedding his pitiful cloak. He wrapped the coarse fabric around the infant, making a sorry little blanket to further shield him from the growing cold.
The young man was shaking, trembling as he brought the child close to his heart. Whatever coldness and indifference he held seemed to vanish as the child drew deeper into his embrace, their warmth passing gently through each other. Suddenly the shadow grasped the child possessively, and within a heartbeat began to pour countless little kisses on his chubby face. He cradled the baby, surrounding the child with his arms and chest, sharing whatever warmth he could afford to give.
He stared at tiny face, the wide brown eyes of his child gazing at him. His baby. There was a vicious stir in his heart, and he could look at the face no longer. But he held him close, bestowing another rain of kisses upon the child’s head. He refused to dwell on the baby’s face for too long. It was painful, it was on the verge of cruelty that his beautiful baby should have such a taunting mix. He saw his former innocence and complete trust in the little one’s eyes, but he also saw the reason why that part of him was destroyed…in that beautiful face he saw the one who tore his childhood from him…the one who betrayed and abandoned him to ruin. It was all there in his arms, his past happiness and present torment…all in one child’s face.
The sight kept the others silent. Finally, as the young man began to rock the baby gently to sleep, the inn-keeper spoke.
“He damn loves that child, no matter how much he tries to hate it.” The keeper whispered carefully, “He’s only been here for a day, but I know…I’ve seen how he tries to neglect the poor thing, how he tries to resist those damn cries. But in the end, he always draws that little one close to his heart.”
“How did they come to be this way?” The other man asked.
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said a word.”
Just then the sound of rapidly galloping horses rang outside. There was a shout, and a command, and the loud neigh of exhausted horses. A swift light dashed through the door cracks. All at once the young man dashed back into the corner, his arms hiding the infant away, his face wild with fear.
“He’s always like that whenever a carriage comes by. He takes the child and hides.” The inn-keeper whispered, “Strange, nothing else can move him except that sound and the child.”
“Yes,” The visitor said softly, his mind slowly recalling something. He tried to look at the young wanderer again, but the face was kept in the darkness. A tug of recognition bit at him. There was something in the strange man’s eyes…a furious passion that seemed almost familiar, “Very strange indeed…will he stay here much longer?”
“From the way the storm comes and goes, I’d say he’d be a fool to face the winter by himself. He wouldn’t dare test the storm with that poor child to look after.”
“Of course,” The visitor’s voice became low, almost hushed as he slipped away. He gave a respectful farewell and left as swiftly and softly as he could.
The cutting wind shot against his face immediately, but he almost didn’t feel it. His body was flowing with excited heat, his sweaty and nervous hands running through his hair as the wind knocked the hat off his head. It was much too early to celebrate, but he had a lead, an instinct that told him this was it…that the shadow in the corner was really it….
“A dangerous chase you lead us through,” The man smiled in triumph, his steps swiftly pounding through the snow. He took one last look at the inn, his smile nearly painful with the promise of profit his discovery would surely bring him.
“But you can’t outrun your fate master Orlando…not with the hounds of hell after you.”
He continued his way, those dreams of gracious rewards driving him towards the swiftly coming storm.
“A very good night for business indeed….”
*********
The inn-keeper awoke the next morning to absolute silence. There were no soft cries and no lullabies. The old man stumbled towards the door, opening only to be slapped full force by ice and freezing rain. He cursed and began to pull the door shut when he spotted a sole figure struggling against the hard, frigid snow. The old eyes went wide as he saw the poor boy fighting the gales, that pathetic thin shirt of his soaked from rain and snow. He wasn’t even wearing his cloak anymore, he was braving the storm furiously, his arms held close against his chest.
“What are you thinking? Get back here!”
At the sound of his voice, the young man only struggled harder, his steps frantically slipping beneath him from panic. The inn-keeper ran after the stubborn young man as he fell once again into the ice.
“Get back inside you stupid boy! Do you want the child to catch his death out here?” He shouted over the wind. He reached out to grab the boy’s arm, the touch felt as cold as metal. The younger one pulled himself violently away with a terrified scream.
“Just leave us alone!” He spat out. The child in his arms began to cry as furiously as the storm. The cloak was wrapped solely around the child, leaving nothing left to protect the father. In spite of his hostility and bitterness, there was desperation and fear in his eyes. He held on to the baby with whatever strength he had left, his face shone with defiance, his body ready for violence.
“You can’t take that poor child into the storm. You’ll kill him!” The inn-keeper quickly tore the child from his arms. A hand struck across his weathered face, and his body collapsed from the furious kicks against him.
“You are not taking my son away from me!” The desperate father cried out in his despair. He snatched the child back and kicked the man once more, “No one is taking him from me! No one!!!”
“You are not in your right mind! Get back inside,” The old man begged as he clenched his painful side, “I’m not trying to hurt you or your son…”
“No…No…I can’t stay. I have to run. I have to run before he finds me, before he takes my baby from me.”
“No one is going to take the child from you…”
“Because I won’t let them…I won’t let him…” He took a step further out, “Stay back…stay out of this.”
“Wait!”
He ignored the cries, knowing that the old man would be forced back by the storm. Nothing short of death could still his steps now. He forced himself onwards, the ice and rain biting through hungrily through his skin. His weariness bore down on him, the weight in his arms growing heavier with the passing minute. There was nothing but a world of howling winds and white torrents of snow. Soon he was walking blindly through the storm, his body numb, the taste of thirst and blood full in his mouth. But he kept going, the baby’s cries driving him forward.
Through the heavy veil of snow, he saw the flickering color of brown and black. He drew closer, the strange structure growing larger as he approached it. It was a stable.
He pressed his ears against the door, the soft murmur of horses humming from within. Without another thought he rattled the lock until it stubbornly gave way, his hands blue and paralyzed from the touch. The stench enveloped his senses the moment he stepped into the darkness. The animals grew restless at the unwelcome invader, their protests falling on indifferent ears.
He found an unspoiled spot on the hay and with great care laid the precious bundle down. He allowed himself to fall into exhaustion, at long last allowing his weakness to truly show. He kept an arm around his baby, protecting the only joy left in his life from even the smallest harm. He reached out to softly touch the child’s playful fingers and smiled when the cries gave way to gurgling laughter. The coldness died swiftly within him, replaced by a much stronger warmth. He drew closer to the child, his voice falling gently against the chubby, snow kissed face.
“He will never find you.” Orlando smiled softly, his son’s laughter filling his ears, “He can have whatever he wants from me…but he will never have you. I promise you that.”
His eyes were suddenly hot, the tears cascading down to fall on his baby, his silent cries giving warmth for both of them.
TBC…
Author: Cesi
Rating: R/NC 17
Pairing: VM/OB; SB/OB; KU/OB; VM/SB
Summary: How can you stop their love, when it defies death and eternity? A tale of three adopted brothers caught in a passionate battle over power, vengeance…and everlasting love. MPREG.
Feedback: Please tell me what you think, I love hearing from my readers = )
Archive:Just let me know first if you want to archive this.
Disclaimer: These characters and personalities are not mine. No profit is made from this and it is not intended to hurt anyone.
Warnings:This fic features generous scenes of violence, disturbing content, and a rape scene. I’m very willing to write non-graphic editions of those chapters upon request, so feel free to ask = )
A/N: This fic features generous scenes of violence, disturbing content, and a rape scene. I’m very willing to write non-graphic editions of those chapters upon request, so feel free to ask = )
Chapter 1- Shadow on the Corner
The soft, sudden shrill drew frosted eyes toward the shadows. The visitor, much like the many others who faithfully attended the inn, turned their snow capped heads in curiosity. Laughter, curses, joyous babbling, arguments and constant orders were the usual sounds that filled the inn...but this new sound seemed so out of place that they had to see for themselves just what it was. The visitor’s eyes widened when he saw a tiny bundle in a young woman’s arms.
The woman was barely out of her childhood, her thin arms rocking the child gently as she tried to soothe the growing cries. The baby ignored her attempts and cried harder. The woman received a knowing look from the inn-keeper and took the child further away from the customers.
“The baby’s no good for business,” The visitor kindly said as his old friend took at seat beside him, “You should tell your wench to keep her little one at home.”
“I would, but it’s not hers,” The inn-keeper said simply. He turned his weathered old head towards the swinging door as more customers staggered in, furious blows from the winter storm breaking the room’s warmth.
“I haven’t seen a winter so harsh in years. Only a fool wouldn’t seek shelter. You’ll have your rooms and pockets full tonight my friend.” The guest said kindly, taking another gulp of the drink before him. The inn-keeper nodded and glanced once again at the baby.
“It was worse last night. I was locking up for the night when I saw this pitiful figure dashing madly to every door he came to. In spite of the storm I could hear him asking for a place to stay, a place where he and the baby could spend the night. None cared for him. I felt horrible about sending someone so young into the bitter cold, especially with a new-born infant shivering in his arms.”
“His you say?” The visitor asked, “As in, the baby was in the care of a man?”
“Yes, strange but true. He was very shaken when I took him in, and unpleasantly silent. He’s taken shelter here since, not ever saying a single word or complaint or thanks…and he does the most unusual things.”
“Unusual? Do you think he’s dangerous?”
The inn-keeper shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head towards another dark corner far from the fire. His guest followed the nod, and frowned when he saw nothing.
“Why don’t you see and tell me? Judge for yourself,”
Suddenly, what could have easily been mistaken for a shadow moved, slowly and weakly.
The baby kept crying.
A face appeared from the shadows, hard and frosted from cold within. His face was wild and fierce, yet far too delicate to be called hideous. Color was drained from his skin, bruised and dirty from days of travel and frigid cold. His skin was like that of a dead man, his lips nearly blue and lifeless. The dark brown curls fell limply, veiling weaker men from the full power of his piercing stare. His eyes, above everything else, were the only things that proved he was truly alive. His eyes were deep, almost cutting in their intensity. They burned, weather from tears or anger, they carried flashes of flame and passion, so much that you could not see them for long without turning away.
The child’s wails became wild, almost animal like. The woman was singing to him now.
The shadow on the corner turned his head to the sound. He watched, not a trace of emotion on his face as the child struggled against the woman, the desperate cries filling the room. The figure remained still and silent, and his eyes began to drift to the fire. His hands were clenching a thin cloak, far too thin to provide any protection from winter’s icy embrace. The visitor imagined how painful and frightening it must have been for him, someone so young to brave the winter with a baby…with no guarantee of safety.
The thoughts plagued him well into the night. Mugs and cups were emptied, candles burned out, and even the storm weakened with time. Darkness fell, and patrons left to their homes and families while others went up the stairs to their rooms, their minds blissfully clouded by liquor and smoke.
“Here’s to a good day of business,” The inn-keeper said as he lifted his last drink. His friend smiled and gulped the last drops of cheap wine.
“I must be going now…long day tomorrow,” The visiting friend stood up and began to pull his cloak together when the shrill cry rose once more.
This time the poor wench couldn’t calm the restless child. She whispered and sang, and rocked the screaming creature but it was no use. And then the cries, for the first time that day, ceased all together. There was a strange, almost terrifying silence in the still air. Not even a breath could be heard or felt.
From the corner of his eye, he saw something rise. The ragged youth stood, slowly, almost painfully. His former fierceness was gone, replaced but something softer and deeper.
“Give him to me,” He said, his voice surprisingly strong, but a tremor passed through each word. His eyes were distant as he held his arms out to receive the infant. The wench quickly left the young man, the child still silent as death. The young man stared at the baby, his eyes glistening in the sick flicker of the flames. He brought the infant close to his chest and rested his head gently over the child’s face.
In the fire’s full light, the young man looked not like an ugly shadow. In the light, his face was more radiant, more human. And if you were to look closely enough, there was even a hint of hidden beauty.
A soft cry pulled everyone’s gaze. The baby began to stir once more, his fragile arms rising to touch the man who held him. The former shadow knelt closer to the fire, carefully shedding his pitiful cloak. He wrapped the coarse fabric around the infant, making a sorry little blanket to further shield him from the growing cold.
The young man was shaking, trembling as he brought the child close to his heart. Whatever coldness and indifference he held seemed to vanish as the child drew deeper into his embrace, their warmth passing gently through each other. Suddenly the shadow grasped the child possessively, and within a heartbeat began to pour countless little kisses on his chubby face. He cradled the baby, surrounding the child with his arms and chest, sharing whatever warmth he could afford to give.
He stared at tiny face, the wide brown eyes of his child gazing at him. His baby. There was a vicious stir in his heart, and he could look at the face no longer. But he held him close, bestowing another rain of kisses upon the child’s head. He refused to dwell on the baby’s face for too long. It was painful, it was on the verge of cruelty that his beautiful baby should have such a taunting mix. He saw his former innocence and complete trust in the little one’s eyes, but he also saw the reason why that part of him was destroyed…in that beautiful face he saw the one who tore his childhood from him…the one who betrayed and abandoned him to ruin. It was all there in his arms, his past happiness and present torment…all in one child’s face.
The sight kept the others silent. Finally, as the young man began to rock the baby gently to sleep, the inn-keeper spoke.
“He damn loves that child, no matter how much he tries to hate it.” The keeper whispered carefully, “He’s only been here for a day, but I know…I’ve seen how he tries to neglect the poor thing, how he tries to resist those damn cries. But in the end, he always draws that little one close to his heart.”
“How did they come to be this way?” The other man asked.
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said a word.”
Just then the sound of rapidly galloping horses rang outside. There was a shout, and a command, and the loud neigh of exhausted horses. A swift light dashed through the door cracks. All at once the young man dashed back into the corner, his arms hiding the infant away, his face wild with fear.
“He’s always like that whenever a carriage comes by. He takes the child and hides.” The inn-keeper whispered, “Strange, nothing else can move him except that sound and the child.”
“Yes,” The visitor said softly, his mind slowly recalling something. He tried to look at the young wanderer again, but the face was kept in the darkness. A tug of recognition bit at him. There was something in the strange man’s eyes…a furious passion that seemed almost familiar, “Very strange indeed…will he stay here much longer?”
“From the way the storm comes and goes, I’d say he’d be a fool to face the winter by himself. He wouldn’t dare test the storm with that poor child to look after.”
“Of course,” The visitor’s voice became low, almost hushed as he slipped away. He gave a respectful farewell and left as swiftly and softly as he could.
The cutting wind shot against his face immediately, but he almost didn’t feel it. His body was flowing with excited heat, his sweaty and nervous hands running through his hair as the wind knocked the hat off his head. It was much too early to celebrate, but he had a lead, an instinct that told him this was it…that the shadow in the corner was really it….
“A dangerous chase you lead us through,” The man smiled in triumph, his steps swiftly pounding through the snow. He took one last look at the inn, his smile nearly painful with the promise of profit his discovery would surely bring him.
“But you can’t outrun your fate master Orlando…not with the hounds of hell after you.”
He continued his way, those dreams of gracious rewards driving him towards the swiftly coming storm.
“A very good night for business indeed….”
*********
The inn-keeper awoke the next morning to absolute silence. There were no soft cries and no lullabies. The old man stumbled towards the door, opening only to be slapped full force by ice and freezing rain. He cursed and began to pull the door shut when he spotted a sole figure struggling against the hard, frigid snow. The old eyes went wide as he saw the poor boy fighting the gales, that pathetic thin shirt of his soaked from rain and snow. He wasn’t even wearing his cloak anymore, he was braving the storm furiously, his arms held close against his chest.
“What are you thinking? Get back here!”
At the sound of his voice, the young man only struggled harder, his steps frantically slipping beneath him from panic. The inn-keeper ran after the stubborn young man as he fell once again into the ice.
“Get back inside you stupid boy! Do you want the child to catch his death out here?” He shouted over the wind. He reached out to grab the boy’s arm, the touch felt as cold as metal. The younger one pulled himself violently away with a terrified scream.
“Just leave us alone!” He spat out. The child in his arms began to cry as furiously as the storm. The cloak was wrapped solely around the child, leaving nothing left to protect the father. In spite of his hostility and bitterness, there was desperation and fear in his eyes. He held on to the baby with whatever strength he had left, his face shone with defiance, his body ready for violence.
“You can’t take that poor child into the storm. You’ll kill him!” The inn-keeper quickly tore the child from his arms. A hand struck across his weathered face, and his body collapsed from the furious kicks against him.
“You are not taking my son away from me!” The desperate father cried out in his despair. He snatched the child back and kicked the man once more, “No one is taking him from me! No one!!!”
“You are not in your right mind! Get back inside,” The old man begged as he clenched his painful side, “I’m not trying to hurt you or your son…”
“No…No…I can’t stay. I have to run. I have to run before he finds me, before he takes my baby from me.”
“No one is going to take the child from you…”
“Because I won’t let them…I won’t let him…” He took a step further out, “Stay back…stay out of this.”
“Wait!”
He ignored the cries, knowing that the old man would be forced back by the storm. Nothing short of death could still his steps now. He forced himself onwards, the ice and rain biting through hungrily through his skin. His weariness bore down on him, the weight in his arms growing heavier with the passing minute. There was nothing but a world of howling winds and white torrents of snow. Soon he was walking blindly through the storm, his body numb, the taste of thirst and blood full in his mouth. But he kept going, the baby’s cries driving him forward.
Through the heavy veil of snow, he saw the flickering color of brown and black. He drew closer, the strange structure growing larger as he approached it. It was a stable.
He pressed his ears against the door, the soft murmur of horses humming from within. Without another thought he rattled the lock until it stubbornly gave way, his hands blue and paralyzed from the touch. The stench enveloped his senses the moment he stepped into the darkness. The animals grew restless at the unwelcome invader, their protests falling on indifferent ears.
He found an unspoiled spot on the hay and with great care laid the precious bundle down. He allowed himself to fall into exhaustion, at long last allowing his weakness to truly show. He kept an arm around his baby, protecting the only joy left in his life from even the smallest harm. He reached out to softly touch the child’s playful fingers and smiled when the cries gave way to gurgling laughter. The coldness died swiftly within him, replaced by a much stronger warmth. He drew closer to the child, his voice falling gently against the chubby, snow kissed face.
“He will never find you.” Orlando smiled softly, his son’s laughter filling his ears, “He can have whatever he wants from me…but he will never have you. I promise you that.”
His eyes were suddenly hot, the tears cascading down to fall on his baby, his silent cries giving warmth for both of them.
TBC…