Fic: Let's Be More Than This (Prologue) [The Covenant, OT4, FRAO/NC-17]
Title: Let's Be More Than This (Prologue)
Author: mickey_sixx
Fandom: The Covenant
Pairing: Caleb Danvers/Pogue Parry/Reid Garwin/Tyler Simms (eventual), Reid Garwin/Tyler Simms (established)
Rating: FRAO/NC-17/M
Word Count: ~67K (yeah, it's an epic)
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. I do not own them!
Beta: Sam | hawk_dancing (Thank you so much! *smishes*)
WARNING! This fic contains scenes of a graphic nature between two (three... eventually four) men. If this offends you, please do not read.
Authors Note: This is it guys; the Epic fic of Epicness is finally done! :D This has been living in my brain for such a long time now that it's grown into it's own Universe. I have a sequel and side-fics already tentatively planned out, but I wanted to make sure that I finished this one before doing anything else. It is my pride and joy, my baby, and I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
The title was taken from the Paramore song "Crush Crush Crush"
Special Mentions: I want to say thank you to some very special people before I leave you to the fic. Ash, Laynie, Kailey and Andrea - you guys have been amazing to me by keeping me up when I fed you the chapters and nagging me to keep going until the end. I love you <3 And Katy, who has pretty much held my hand (and kicked my ass) from the very beginning - I've used her as a sounding board for my plot ideas, she's my go-to person when I'm stuck and I need help, and she's also pretty much co-authored this fic by giving me bits and pieces when I've needed a helping hand. You're awesome, Katy, and all this is your fault :P
Summary: The last of the old Covenant has died, leaving the new Generation to carry on the legacy, but Caleb soon discovers there is more to the Power than he'd previously thought. Friendships will be tested and secrets revealed as the Sons of Ipswich find out what it really means to be one of the Covenant.
Prologue
The clock on the mantel ticked each second of every minute, almost harmonious as it blended with the barely there sound of the drip above him. Young eyes stared out from an ancient face, slowly moving around a room he'd seen a million times before. It was dark and dreary; the wallpaper peeling and the air stale.
His gaze drifted over the old clock, dispassionately, until the date caught his attention.
October 21st.
The muscles in his fingers twitched of their own accord.
Today was his only child's eighteenth birthday.
He should be happy. He should be proud that his one and only son was celebrating a milestone year.
But he wasn't. How could he be happy when he knew what was to come? How could he feel anything but fear when his son would receive their family's legacy at twelve minutes after eleven that night?
William Danvers swallowed as much as his disused throat would allow and dropped his eyes to his still lap. The chair under him and the walls surrounding him and the low fire crackling in the hearth to keep him warm - this was what had become of his life. This was the legacy that Caleb was destined for. But Caleb wasn't stupid. William knew that his son had seen what had become of him, knew that Caleb was determined not to end up like his father.
Pride swelled inside his old body. William had no doubt that Caleb would control it, would not squander his life the way he himself had.
But the Power wasn't the only thing that Caleb had to control.
Slowly, his eyes lifted back to the mantel. On either side of the clock sat two silver photo frames. The one on the left contained a photograph of his wife, Evelyn, and Caleb when he was 5 years old. Both of them smiled at the camera, eyes alight with love and laughter. The one on the right... His old heart ached inside his chest. Four young faces smiled out from the picture. He remembered everything about the night it was taken; the party, the laughter, carrying on into the next morning. Arms were slung around necks and shoulders and waists in a way that left no doubt of their friendship. Just four pals standing happily together as the camera clicked. But look closer and harder and the tell-tale signs of their real relationship were revealed.
Caleb knew about the Power, but what he didn't know was that the aging was only one side effect of the Power. The other was far more difficult to swallow.
Not only did it rule your life, it took your heart as well.
A silent tear rolled down his wrinkled and worn cheek, unable to look away. God, they were so happy. They thought nothing could touch them, that nothing would ever change; they'd never be torn apart. Glenn's body language, the way he stood between Wayne and Joseph and still managed to get his arms around the three of them said it all. They were his.
William never expected to bury his friend, his lover, just a few years after that picture was taken. He'd never expected the Power to change them like this. He never thought he'd end up the same way. His mind drifted back to his son and his friends as he closed his tired eyes.
For the sake of his son's life, and his heart, he hoped Caleb was strong enough to keep them together.
~*~*~*~
They called it The Vaults. Forged by the Power, it served as a safe haven for the Chosen Ones to learn and practice their craft in the times of great fear. Miles of tunnels and large rooms were hidden deep under the acres of land now owned by the Danvers line. Nobody but the five families knew of its existence. It was there that the Covenant of Silence was born.
The very rock that made the Vaults was soaked in years of blood and sweat. Magic resonated through the hallowed halls; each generation leaving their mark in one way or another. Centuries passed. It survived through the Witch Trials and the persecutions, wars and raids, betrayals and deaths; serving generation after generation of the Chosen.
But another great war was raging above. The very foundations trembled as the Power spilled out over the ground, angry and hateful in its quest to destroy and assimilate. The main room, the Circle room, was dark. Low rumbles echoed through the large space as Power fought against Power. The time ticked over to seventeen minutes past eleven. At five points around the room, several candles sputtered to life, the flames bursting bright for half a second before calming once more. The air crackled and snapped like electricity, the flames and the shadows on the walls shivering in anticipation.
Tonight would mean the end of an era.
And the beginning of new one.
"I..."
The altar in the centre of the room came to life as the first word reverberated through the empty room, the oil that filled the deep grooves in the stone catching alight in a similar fashion as the candles. The fire glowed blue for a few brief seconds before the flames returned to their natural state.
"...will you..."
A book, bound in worn leather and so much older than the rest, slid out from the bookcase in the far corner as if it was being pulled by an invisible wire. The Book of Damnation. Generations of Son's had handled it, learnt from it, added to its pages, and then passed it on to their children to carry on the legacy.
It floated to the altar and hovered above the flames, the covers opening and the pages turning until it lay open, waiting to complete its cycle. Waiting to be restored.
"...my... power."
Chaos reigned. The fire on the altar raged, flames leaping high and engulfing the Book completely. But the Book didn't burn. Instead of blackened pages and the smell of charring leather, a silvery glow enveloped the tome at the heart of the fire.
Above ground, the Eldest child fell to his knees as his father's share of the Power descended on him. Below ground, the magic was whipping itself into a frenzy. The fire roared, spitting sparks as the Book shook within its hold. The pages fluttered violently as the Book became bigger, weightier. New pages, lost pages, old pages appeared out of nowhere, black spidery writing streaking across the yellowed paper like lightning and forming words and spells and predictions that had been hidden from sight eighteen years ago.
But as fast as it had started, it ended. The fire lost its energy and fell back to the stone altar as though it had never been. The Book hovered in mid-air, and that's where it stayed until the raging war above came to an end. The Lost Child was defeated. The book dropped back to the altar with a loud, echoing bang, the wind from the action blowing the candles out and drenching the room with darkness once more.
The Circle room was silent. With the death of the last Generation the spell was broken, and the Book was returned to its original state.
And there it stayed, lying at the heart of the engraved pentagram, quietly waiting until the next generation was in need of its wisdom.
On to Chapter 1