Of Silence and Thievery (4/12ish)
Arthur could admit to himself later on that standing stock still and staring back at Ivan had probably not been the best idea when he should have thought of fleeing, but there was nothing for it now. Ivan smiled at him and took a step forward, one which Arthur felt his body echoing backwards subconsciously, his breath hitching silently as images of their last meeting flooded his head (he really had no desire to be tied up again). Ivan chuckled at him and made a motion with his hand, as if he was swatting away a bug or something -and it promptly tossed Arthur across the clearing and into a tree.
Arthur gasped silently as he hit the tree, feeling a trickle of blood flow down his face from his forehead; he felt disoriented and dizzy and in the time it took to regain his bearings, he blinked open his eyes to look at a pair of black boots. He blinked up at the giant man, feeling the start of panic and fear begin to wrap their way around his heart and mind, not quick enough to avoid the childish kick Ivan delivered to his ribs. He was rolled away, coughing without sound, and tossed back into the more open area of the clearing, landing hard on his shoulder, jarring his still dizzy head even more.
“I am surprised, comrade. Surprised that you would join with Alfred…I helped you, didn’t I? I took away what made you different in your motherland. You should be thanking me, not hunting me, da?”
Arthur shook his head, not really sure what he was denying, and tried to scoot away, his head pounding fiercely; but that same, invisible force caught his ankle and dragged him back, Ivan kneeling down and grabbing his wrist harshly. Oh dear, he was certainly going to be killed…he’d gotten lucky before, but that was because he’d had something that Ivan had wanted…now he had apparently just pissed him off. He knew he should have just stayed in that cell and taken his chances with the gallows-look at what gallivanting after Alfred had gotten him.
Ivan smiled wider and wrapped his other hand around Arthur’s throat, pulling him up as if Arthur weighed no more than a feather, and squeezing, his hand covering the red band he had placed on Arthur’s throat in the first place. Arthur felt himself slammed into another tree, the hand squeezing tighter, making spots appear before his vision, and his rasps silent as the rest of his noises were. The horribly eerie violet eyes bore into him even as his vision started to go dark…and that’s when Arthur felt something snap within him, something overpower the belief that he was about to die.
Indignation that he was going to die and anger about it. As before, his scream was silent, but his ability surged forward, bubbling out of his body in a soundless wave that slammed into Ivan and knocked him away as Arthur focused on getting the man away. Arthur collapsed and took in gasping, uneven breaths, blinking out moisture from his eyes as he felt his lungs burn in neglect, glancing up at Ivan, who was smiling even wider from where he was on the ground. He sat up and tucked his scarf over his shoulder, folding his hands together in his lap; Arthur had never seen something so innocuous be so terrifying.
“Very good, my friend, very good! It is not often that my comrades retain any of their powers after I relieve them of the burden…but when they do, I know I have found someone special. Someone worthy.”
Arthur stared at him and shakily pushed himself upright. He was looking at him oddly, not murderously anymore, but rather like a child looks at a new toy…it was unsettling and made his hair stand on end. He glanced to the right furtively and spotted his pack and tablet…if he was quick, he might be able to get out of the clearing; Ivan was still on the ground, looking at him in gentle, terrifying wonder. He dashed to the side, not caring how his lungs burned as they tried to recover after their abuse, and had grabbed his packs and pivoted just as something black grabbed his ankle and twisted, hard. Arthur went down with a noiseless scream, clutching at his ankle, which was now facing a very wrong direction, gritting his teeth as he tried to not think about the pain (which was very hard to do, but he did have to escape and all).
The inky black, tentacle-like thing, pulled him back down by his hurt ankle as he tried to get away, wrapping up his leg to his torso and pinning him to the ground. He heard Ivan chuckle again as he rose to his feet and walked over, and when the man came into view, Arthur could see the inky black thing was extending from his own arm. He would have felt disgusted if it weren’t for everything else going on because it was truly gross to look at.
“A skill from a fisherman in Grecia*. The man could grow these extra limbs to help catch fish in the same manner as some sea creatures…it has many other uses though, da?” Arthur felt a shiver of dread climb up his spine as Ivan stood on either side of his hips and knelt down. Wonderful, he was once again restrained and being straddled, effectively, by a child-like man who clearly was touched in the head…and a pervert. And staring at him with entirely too much interest to be healthy for his body’s well-being. The black thing seemed to dissolve, but was replaced with two strong hands and arms…Arthur belatedly remembered that this was Alfred’s strength that Ivan was using; the thought made him even angrier.
“You should not struggle so much, comrade, I will hurt you worse.” As if to prove his point, Ivan pressed his foot down on Arthur’s ankle, drawing a silent yell and leaving him shaking in pain afterwards. Ivan’s hand angled under his chin, forcing Arthur to look up with pain-glossed eyes…and then Arthur felt something warm filter through him, something calming and comforting…but it felt wrong and invasive. “It is all right, you will see. I do not wish to harm you, no no…I wish for you to come with me.”
Arthur felt that pit of dread in his stomach double and tired to shake his head no, tried to not think about how the pain seemed to be receding the longer Ivan held his chin, held his wrists, touched him. “Matthew…he could feel…he loved to help people…” Alfred’s words about his brother came to mind, what his brother had been able to do…Ivan was using it against him, trying to confuse him, and it was sadly working. He tried to redouble his efforts, but his limbs seemed heavy and lax, too warm and too content.
“I can never fully use the gifts I take, not like their original owners could…that is why you are so important, you and the others like you I have met. That is why you must come with me…I am not a bad man, comrade, I simply am trying to help this world.”
Arthur shook his head and tried to arch away. A frown formed on Ivan’s face and the warmth he had been filtering into Arthur abruptly stopped; Arthur screamed out in silence as all the pains rushed back at once. He blinked through the moisture covering his eyes in a thin film and hardly noticed as Ivan rose and dragged him up by his wrists until he felt soft lips against his ear, whispering in a soft hiss. He suppressed the shiver of fear and fixed his face into a defiant glare; he was determined to not show this man how scared he was, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“You do not have a choice, Mr. Arthur, you understand, da?”
Arthur couldn’t answer of course (no voice and all), but luckily enough, someone else did it for him; someone with a bright smile, even brighter eyes and a quick laugh, who had conveniently barreled into the clearing, fire burning behind his eyes.
“Get your filthy, stealing hands off him, Braginski.”
Alfred’s glare could have leveled forests, his hands clenched tightly at his side, voice low and gravelly in his anger. Arthur felt something ridiculously silly rise up within him, so silly he scowled darkly (which unfortunately confused Alfred, who was wondering why his heroic arrival wasn’t greeted with a bit more gratitude from his ‘damsel’) and tried to squash down the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. There was a silent moment where all three were still (though Arthur didn’t really have a choice, he was in a great amount of pain and still unable to move much in the violet-eyed man’s grip), Ivan glancing between them in a curious fashion.
“I said, get off him.” Alfred slammed his hand into a nearby tree as he walked forward, splintering it in half and sending wood chips everywhere. Ivan smiled brightly and did the opposite, much to Arthur’s displeasure, flashing Alfred a mocking smile from behind Arthur’s ear.
“He likes you.” Ivan’s words were like ice. Arthur’s eyes darted up to the young man, who looked like he was one second away from creating another crater right here and felt something akin to protectiveness swell within when Ivan continued. “He would follow me if I took you…”
Something in Ivan’s voice was so incredibly child-like for a moment that Arthur felt taken aback and forgot that this was supposed to be a villain who had stolen countless abilities from people, countless youth from children. It was longing, the longing of a lonely child, that Ivan spoke with while looking at Alfred…and while Arthur felt a pang of pity, he was mainly feeling very, very possessive and pissed off so he turned his head slightly and bit down on Ivan’s slacking hand. Hard.
Ivan let out a curse and loosened his hold on Arthur, who wasted no time in swinging his elbow into the giant man’s gut and limping away as much as he could before his twisted ankle gave out on him. Alfred let out a very primal, angry roar (which Arthur did NOT find arousing in any way) and rushed the temporarily stunned Ivan, swinging a punch that had echoes of his stolen strength, knocking the pale man into a faraway tree trunk. Ivan pushed himself up, wiped away the blood trickling from his mouth, and grinned through bloody teeth before he rushed forward and met Alfred in a terribly showy melee that made Arthur’s head spin.
Alfred was angry, there was no doubt of that, but it was clear that he didn’t have the full strength that Ivan had stolen from him and was struggling to avoid some of the more deadly attacks Ivan flung his way. He was quick though and skilled, probably built up over years of living with fighters like Gilbert and Esther, and made quite a showing; but Arthur could see how this was going to end. Ivan was playing…Arthur knew he had control of his ‘voice’ and all he would need to do was use it and Alfred would be finished. The question became why was Ivan ‘playing’ in the first place…nevertheless, Arthur knew he had to do something.
He scooted backwards as more trees were destroyed as the two fought, breathing quickly through his nose as every little moment that jarred his ankle sent shooting pains up his body, and tried to calm his head. He had a lot of emotions swimming around and knew if he could focus on at least one, he might be able to do something with his ‘voice.’ Alfred was hit with a rather hard punch and sent reeling several steps backwards, but was still mindful to keep his body between Arthur’s battered one and Ivan’s.
With one final glance at the too-bloody handsome young man who was fighting so hard to protect Arthur, who had really not been the nicest to Alfred (though, in his defense, Alfred was an idiot) and for some reason, thought he was worth risking himself to save, Arthur found the focus he needed and the emotion to focus on. No one, other than himself, was going to hurt that boy…and Ivan could go and find himself someone else to fuck with for all he cared. He dug his hands into the dirt and looked up, yelling out his command silently and praying that the fabled ‘warlocks’ really did keep a vigilant eye on the forest.
Light!
It was hard and it hurt his battered body to do, but eventually, it worked - a beam of bright, yellow light exploded around him and shot straight up, serving as a beacon for anyone who may be watching, his own voice going hoarse after a little while and dying back into a wheezing gasp…all of which no one could hear. Still didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. Arthur’s head pounded and he leaned back, trying desperately to keep from giving in to the exhaustion running through his veins. Alfred, the daft fool he was, could still use his help…he wasn’t about to faint like some damn princess just because of a little pain and tiredness.
“Arthur, get away already!” Alfred yelled out and glared at him fiercely after a round-house kick landed solidly on Ivan’s stomach. “Just go!”
Arthur shook his head as the yellow beam faded around him, tired but still fixing his face into a glare that clearly told the young man he was an idiot and Arthur wasn’t going anywhere if there was a chance Alfred was going to get himself killed. Ivan looked between the two of them again, focusing a dark look at Arthur that could only be interpreted as one of jealousy. Arthur did not know all of what was going on between these two, between Alfred and Ivan, but whatever it was they each had very different ideas on what their relationship with one another was; that much Arthur could see…and now he was thrown in the middle of the mess, just brilliant.
Alfred swore loudly and ducked underneath another swing, but wasn’t quick enough to dodge the russet-stained pipe that came crashing down on his head, knocking him away and into a cluster of bushes. Arthur’s eyes followed him and he felt another shiver of foreboding (and panic if he was going to be honest with himself) when the young man did not get up, looking back at Ivan as he fixed glowing violet eyes on him. Ivan was not smiling anymore; if possible, he looked even more threatening, which Arthur had not thought possible.
“Come, comrade, I am done playing.”
Arthur knew, just knew, that the moment Ivan touched him this time, they’d be gone; he wasn’t exactly sure how he knew, but it seemed only logical, they guy seemed to pop up to often to not have some sort of teleportation skill. And, if he did steal so much, it was only natural to assume that he could whisk people away as well. However, before Ivan could take another step, something that Arthur could only identify as a tornado of fire (literally, it was a tornado made out of flames) barreled through the clearing and slammed Ivan across the way. Arthur whipped his head to the side just as another tornado, this one made of water, slammed into him from the other side, flinging Ivan back forward, the spray of water misting over Arthur lightly.
“I thought we told you to stay the hell out of our forest, Stealer.” Arthur was immediately reminded of Gilbert, but the voice was deeper and had a sharp accent to it, the man speaking somewhere to the left.
“You are not welcome here…leave now.” The second voice was sounded slightly bored, light-spoken, and whimsical, the polar opposite of the first.
Ivan picked himself up and frowned as two separate men came into view. The one from the left was tall and had very wild-looking hair…it looked, vaguely like blond flames shooting out of his head, dark blue eyes glaring at the taller Ivan while smiling at him, almost daring him to do something. The other was a very short and willowy youth, whose pale blond hair was pinned back from his head with a jeweled clip, a dark look in his equally dark blue eyes, a small frown on his otherwise impassive face. What Arthur noticed the most through, was how the taller man had fire sparking around his hands, flames climbing up his shoulders while the smaller had water swirling around him quickly. Which, considering the day, was not all that surprising…but still, it certainly was an attention grabber.
Ivan frowned in a child-like, petulant manner before he waved a hand behind him, opening up a hole of a kind and stepping through it, his violet eyes sparing Arthur one last look before the hole zipped up and disappeared, taking the man with it. Arthur released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and sagged back against the tree, trying to quell the feelings of absolute panic he had been trying to keep at bay for the last hour or so and relief that it was over that were warring within him. It didn’t help that he was in quite a bit of pain and just looking at his ankle, which was now swelling and turn an odd blue color, made it hurt so much worse; he closed his eyes to try and just shut it out. Perhaps if he passed out he could save himself the embarrassment of having two strangers witness him get hysterical.
“I think the bastard tossed Hero over there…damn, he really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
Arthur blinked his eyes open and hissed silently, glaring up at the flame-haired man for not only disturbing his very needed plan of blacking out, but for also reminding him of the fact that he couldn’t say one fucking word. The man sighed and hooked his hands under Arthur’s arms, dragging him up and swinging him up in his arms as if he weighed nothing. By the-just someone, strike him down now. Not only had he just been beaten and traumatized by a psychopath, now he was being carried as if he was some blushing bride…honestly, why couldn’t he pass out? He’d been struggling against it up until now and now he couldn’t.
“Hey, stop you’re squirming now, Princess, it’ll be a hell of a lot easier if you just let me carry you. You’ve got some nasty bruises on your ribs so I can’t very well toss you over my shoulder and if you try and walk on that ankle, I guaran-damn-tee that you’ll just mess it up worse than it is. Hey, Nikolai, you got Hero all right?”
The young man, Nikolai, poked his head over the bushes Alfred was tossed into, nodding without expression before he ducked back down, hauling a much larger Alfred up with him. He grabbed Arthur’s packs and the writing tablet as well, using a stream of water to keep the unconscious Alfred upright…which Arthur had to admit was a very fascinating and dead useful use of ability.
“Well then, best start heading back, ja?” The tall man smirked down at Arthur, who scowled before he looked away, trying to not let the red blooming on his face spread too far. Luckily for him, at just that moment, Alfred decided to startle awake and throw off Nikolai’s hold, knocking the smaller man into the man carrying Arthur, who then promptly ran into a tree, smacking his ankle against the trunk roughly. Arthur’s eyes widened and he let out a soundless cry of pain before blackness, blissful, wonderful blackness, finally claimed him.
*****
“Well shit.”
“Mathias…” The young man named Nikolai closed his eyes in frustration, his voice nearly dripping with annoyance as the taller Nord, Mathias, shot him a half-apologetic look as the beat up guy in his arms went limp.
“Hey! It’s not my fault Hero spazzed out on us…”
Nikolai stared at him and shook his head before walking over towards the frantic and disoriented Alfred, who was sporting a very nasty looking bump on his head. Mathias didn’t envy him; that was going to hurt like a bitch for the next few days…though considering he’d just gone man-on-man with Ivan, he could probably be considered lucky he walked away with little more damage than a concussion. He glanced down at the unconscious man in his arms…this guy hadn’t been nearly so lucky; his ankle looked like it had almost been turned around completely.
“Arthur!” Alfred looked around wildly for a moment, clearly a bit concussed, but eventually focusing on the aforementioned limp body in Mathias arms. “Oh jeez, is he-hey Iggy, you’re fine right, I mean I got to you before he -where the hell is Ivan?!”
“Take a chill pill, Hero; Eyebrows here is all right…just passed out because of his ankle kinda got rammed into a tree, but he’ll live…probably.”
“Alfred, you need to calm down. You have a concussion…” Nikolai rolled his eyes upwards before he wrapped his arm around the slightly panicking young man. Mathias watched in silence as Nikolai washed a gentle, calming wave of water flow over his arms and onto Alfred, who began to calm down and his eyes drooped. It was a damn useful trick, using the water’s natural calming abilities along with his own impassive nature to calm down the hysterics; Mathias smiled at Nikolai as he readjusted the slim young man in his arms. Arthur, Alfred called him…he didn’t look great, but nothing looked to life-threatening, but that ankle didn’t look good…he’d probably be ok until they got him to Tino.
“Mathias, this way.” Nikolai still had his slim arm around Alfred, water still flowing from him and running over Alfred in tiny rivulets. “He needs a healer.”
“Where to, Oskar or Tino?”
“Tino is already coming. Berwald too.”
“Oh wonderful, just what I need…first Ivan then that bastard.”
Nikolai rolled his eyes once more and guided Alfred past Mathias, glancing down at the tall young man’s feet every now and then to make sure he didn’t trip and worsen his head injury. Mathias followed after, twisting his body with every step to keep Arthur’s ankle as motionless as possible, adjusting the unconscious man whenever his hold began to weaken. The guy may have looked skinny, but he didn’t weigh it and even though he had his flames running through his skin to help strengthen his muscles, it was hard to keep carrying him and not jostle his ankle.
“This guy is new, uh?”
“Seems so.”
“So…what are you thinking? What did Ivan steal…and why would he come back…he only does that for the ‘lucky’ ones.”
“Judging by the lack of noise when you smacked his ankle against the tree, I’d say his voice. And judging by the beam of light, I’d say Ivan didn’t take all of it.”
Mathias nodded, taking note of the red band that ran across the limp man’s throat; Alfred had a band like that on his lower back, and so did most of the rest of his merry band. It was Ivan’s mark. Esther on her Achilles’ tendon, Seychelles under her eye-patch, Gilbert behind his ears…Frances’ went across his eyes but being the vain man he was, he concealed it daily. Berwald had half of one as well…Mathis felt a swell if anger rise up within him, which Nikolai took notice because those blue eyes looked back at him, a rare look of concern and genuine affection flashing at him for a moment before he turned forward again.
Mathias, like all of the Nords, hated Ivan (well, Tino might not have hated him as much as the others but that was because he was Tino). He was an anathema to them, a dark spot that continued to haunt their forest at every chance he got with little regard to the balance Mathias and his Brothers kept. The Nords were a dangerous and unforgiving place…and it was only because of their gifts, the Elements that they embodied, that the cities within the Nords were kept safe from the harsh and unforgiving land they called home. They had tried to explain that to Ivan Braginski…but he either could not understand or did not care.
Mathias shook his head of the dark thoughts…it wouldn’t do if he set off another forest fire in his anger; Nikolai hated it when he had to clean up the mess. When he looked back up, he saw the familiar faces of Tino and Berwald, riding a rolling hill of earth that flattened and came to a stop before them. Behind came the very stressed members of Alfred’s group, Gilbert looked ready to kill something, as did Alejandro (but he always looked like that), and Francis looked uncharacteristically guilty as he blindly took in the sorry state of Alfred and the unconscious Arthur, somehow able to sense the damage done to both even though he could not see. Mathias spared Tino a smile and gave a grunting nod to Berwald, who returned it with his silent stare, before turning to address the rest of the group.
“I believe these,” he nodded at Arthur’s body and Alfred. “Are yours.”
Gilbert draped Alfred’s arm over his shoulder, giving Nikolai’s expressionless face a small nod of thanks. He looked at Alfred, who was groaning a bit as the calming waters receded, the remnants dripping down his body in small rivulets; he blinked his eyes open slowly and winced at the setting sunlight filtering through the trees.
“Hey, Hero, welcome back…” Gilbert said, strangely subdued. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“Ivan attacked him,” Alfred slurred. His glazed blue eyes focused on Arthur for a moment before he looked back at Gilbert, who was trying to follow the unfocused movements of Alfred’s lips. “He-he tried to take ‘im…like he took Toris…but he-”
Alfred’s face turned a gross shade of green and Gilbert very quickly guided Alfred to a bush where the young man proceeded to retch and hack up the lunch he’d eaten that day. Nikolai stepped forward and touched Gilbert on the shoulder, drawing attention to himself as Berwald took Arthur from Mathias hold, Tino hurrying over and checking his injuries. Mathias shook out his arms gratefully -the little guy was heavy to be sure!
“Alfred has a concussion. The other, Arthur I believe, has multiple abrasions and bruising, particularly around his ribs and neck. His ankle is also fractured…it’s possible some ligaments have been torn as well.” Nikolai spared Alfred a glance as Gilbert helped him back up before continuing on. “Ivan is gone for the moment…I can’t be sure if he’ll return though.”
“Then we should get them inside. Can you call Oskar for me, Niko? I could probably use his help too,” Tino said quietly. “Mathias, I believe Esther, Vash, and Seychelles are all still out in our woods…could you please round them up and bring them back to mine and Su-san’s cottage?”
Mathias grumbled but nodded, turning nonetheless and taking off in search of the rest of the group, Nikolai sharing a look with him before the both took off. He pitied Berwald really…having to deal with those puppy-dog eyes from Tino on a daily basis; poor bastard.
*****
Arthur woke up with another headache (which was becoming much to routine for comfort) and blinked several times, not too surprised when he found himself in an unfamiliar bed in an equally unfamiliar room. He pushed himself up to a sitting position slowly, wincing as the bruises covering his ribs and chest made themselves known; the bandages around his waist creaked as he sat up and were stiff and uncomfortable. It was dark outside and he was still dressed in the ripped and dirty clothes from the day, which told him that he hadn’t been unconscious for that long…still, he wasn’t sure where he was and while his last memory was being carried by a man who was not Ivan, he was fairly sure that could have changed. He pushed the down blankets off and stared at his ankle, which was splinted and facing the correct direction again, but throbbed in an unpleasant manner.
“Oh good, you’re up! I hope you’re feeling up to eating something…I’d feel bad if all this stew I made went to waste. Alfred is still quite nauseous, you see, can’t even look at a bowl without throwing up…and the others are much too worried to consider eating!” Arthur whipped his head around to stare at possible the friendliest looking man he had ever seen. He was short and slender, but had a more willowy appearance than Arthur, with blond hair and blue eyes that had flashes of purple within; he was also wearing an apron with hand stitched designs of puppies and kittens. “Are you feeling all right? You can just nod; I won’t ask you any questions that require you to write, your wrist may be strained a bit.”
Arthur stared at the man for a moment before he nodded, keeping his eyes on the man even as he bustled about spooning some stew from a pot (that he had carried into the room apparently) into a small bowl, handing it to Arthur.
“First off, you’re safe, not with Ivan, all right? So no more staring at me like I might attack…I can send for the others to vouch for me if you like, my name is Tino and I suppose I’m one of the so-called ‘warlocks’ Seychelles told you about.” Tino smiled gently and sat down beside the bed on an empty chair. “Second off, you’re in quite sore of shape and I recommend not doing anything too strenuous for the next week or two, especially if it involves walking…Ivan nearly tore off your ankle and it will need more time to heal. Thirdly, you’ll be happy to know that apart from some nausea and bruising, Alfred is just fine.”
Arthur scowled and looked down at the bowl of soup in his lap, eating it with a silent huff as if to deny Tino’s last observation. He smiled and laughed gently, leaning forward and resting his chin on his upturned hands. “And here I thought you’d be happy to know your, ah, ‘hero’ is doing all right after that bump to the head! He’s certainly worried about you…so worried in fact that he’s beginning to drive poor Oskar, my youngest Brother, bonkers with all the questions he’s asking about you!”
Arthur felt the ever-familiar rush of heat and swooping feelings at the thought of Alfred being concerned about him, which he ruthlessly pushed aside with a particular messy and large spoonful of stew. Tino’s smile settled into something a bit less energetic as he waited for Arthur to finish his stew in silence, taking the bowl when he was done with a polite nod. “I hope it tasted all right.”
Arthur nodded and couldn’t suppress the small smile from creeping across his face at the positively joyous expression that crossed Tino’s face. A settled back against the plethora of pillows and rested his hands (and yes, one was bandaged and a bit sore…one more thing to thank Ivan for) against his bandaged torso, keeping his gaze on the slight young man who was apparently one of the ‘warlocks’ Seychelles had spoken of…it was somewhat hard to believe.
Tino looked back at him as if sensing his thoughts and smiled softly before he walked over to the bedroom window and opened it-seconds later, Arthur watched with a fair amount of sheepishness as tree branches and vines crept into the room with a soft flick of Tino’s wrist, blooming under his gaze and covering the entire room in green. “It was equally hard for me to believe that I had been blessed by the Gods with such a gift…but over time, it became more and more natural.”
He waved the wrist back and the vines and tree branches swept out of the room in a flurry of motion, leaving only the small blond left, staring at Arthur in his gentle manner. “My Brothers and I, we were chosen for specific reasons that we could only understand after accepting our gifts…after we accepted what we were, it became mush easier to accept everything else. But, that isn’t to say it works like that for everyone…but this isn’t really the time for such a discussion. Right now, you should focus on recovering from your injuries.”
Arthur frowned and made a motion with his hands to write, asking for his tablet. Tino smiled and nodded, grabbing it from the bundle of packs on the floor beside the door. “I’ll give this to you, but just ask your questions…I can lip-read rather well.”
Arthur took the tablet hesitantly before he nodded and mouthed his mind’s thoughts. Do you know why I can still use my gift at times, why Alfred can? Arthur had no clue really, and the others, for all their varying skills, did not seem to understand either. Tino, however, seemed as much his gift as it was him, inexplicably linked with his element in a manner that made it hard to distinguish one from the other (as Tino was soft and gentle as the earth was…but showed impressive power when called upon*). It made Arthur think that perhaps he would be better learned on the subject of their abilities and what Ivan really was.
Tino smiled and shrugged. “Lots of reasons. Ivan may have not completed the ritual properly, or perhaps he only took what he thought was necessary and left you less of a threat. Or maybe you were more powerful than Ivan and he could not take all of your gift…I’m leaning toward that last one…for both you and Alfred. Ivan is not infallible or all-powerful, if anything, his numerous failures to takes my Brother’s and mine gifts from us is proof of that…perhaps that is why he came for you again.”
Arthur bit his lip and looked to the side, staring in silence for a moment before looking back up. He was more interested in using me to get to Alfred.
Tino nodded and hummed in agreement before he sat down on the edge of the bed, a concerned look crossing his face. “Then perhaps he cannot use your gift the way you can…it has happened before, and he needs you to show him how. Or, perhaps he sees how Alfred cares for you…Ivan’s preoccupation with Alfred is, in a word, odd…at any rate, I’d just be cautious for the time being, Ivan is rather tenacious.”
Who has this happened to?
Tino stared at him and shook his head before rising and heading towards the door. Arthur glared at the retreating form as he left, his question going unanswered…he’d just been attacked and this had happened to someone before! He deserved to know who this had happened to and why. However, before he could stew in his anger for much longer, Tino returned, this time with an even smaller young man, who looked no more than fifteen or so, whose hair was so pale it looked like an off shade of grey-ish blond. He had pale blue eyes and was helping a very pale looking Alfred walk into the room, a gentle stream of wind swirling around his hands and supporting the tall young man as he walked unsteadily.
“This is my youngest Brother, Oskar…he’s been caring after Alfred this evening. And I believe Alfred would like to speak with you.” The young boy guided Alfred into the empty seat beside Arthur’s bed and gave Alfred a friendly, playful smile as the wind retreated back into his hands and disappeared.
“If you need me, just call. I’ll hear,” Oskar said with a small smirk before he left, Tino following after. Arthur stared at the closed door for a moment, trying to quell the sudden nervousness he felt with it only being him and Alfred in the room. Eventually, he looked into those bluer-than rational-blue eyes and felt a fresh wave of guilt hit him at the large, black and blue bump on his forehead, just below his hairline.
“You ok, Iggy?” Alfred’s words were slow and somewhat cumbersome, but not slurred as before. His face was looking at Arthur with concern so blatant it made Arthur flush at the attention. He nodded, not bothering to correct the nickname Alfred was so fond of. Alfred smiled and nodded shallowly, not moving his head too much. “Good…I was worried…so, uh, I guess you wanna hear about who else this happened to right? That’s what Tino said…”
Arthur nodded and motioned at himself, emphasizing his ankle before he shot Alfred a very obvious confused expression…he hoped he wouldn’t need to use his tablet and luckily, Alfred got the gist of what he was trying to convey. Why had this happened to him and would it happen again.
“Well…I guess it kinda starts with Toris.”
TBC…
Next Chapter: osco-blue-fairy.livejournal.com/29891.html#cutid1
*****
*Greece, not original I know
** Quick and dirty on Nordic elements and why I picked them for what I did:
Tino - Earth. Steady, calm and strong, but able to be devastating under correct circumstances
Berwald - Ice. Harsh and powerful and can be deadly…but beautiful and pure; thought this worked nicely.
Mathias/Denmark - Fire. This really should be self-explanatory, haha!
Nikolai/Norway - Water. Calm and steady and flexible, able to adapt and very impersonal.
Oskar/Iceland - Wind. Playful and young. As Oskar is youngest Nord, obvious choice for him.
Arthur gasped silently as he hit the tree, feeling a trickle of blood flow down his face from his forehead; he felt disoriented and dizzy and in the time it took to regain his bearings, he blinked open his eyes to look at a pair of black boots. He blinked up at the giant man, feeling the start of panic and fear begin to wrap their way around his heart and mind, not quick enough to avoid the childish kick Ivan delivered to his ribs. He was rolled away, coughing without sound, and tossed back into the more open area of the clearing, landing hard on his shoulder, jarring his still dizzy head even more.
“I am surprised, comrade. Surprised that you would join with Alfred…I helped you, didn’t I? I took away what made you different in your motherland. You should be thanking me, not hunting me, da?”
Arthur shook his head, not really sure what he was denying, and tried to scoot away, his head pounding fiercely; but that same, invisible force caught his ankle and dragged him back, Ivan kneeling down and grabbing his wrist harshly. Oh dear, he was certainly going to be killed…he’d gotten lucky before, but that was because he’d had something that Ivan had wanted…now he had apparently just pissed him off. He knew he should have just stayed in that cell and taken his chances with the gallows-look at what gallivanting after Alfred had gotten him.
Ivan smiled wider and wrapped his other hand around Arthur’s throat, pulling him up as if Arthur weighed no more than a feather, and squeezing, his hand covering the red band he had placed on Arthur’s throat in the first place. Arthur felt himself slammed into another tree, the hand squeezing tighter, making spots appear before his vision, and his rasps silent as the rest of his noises were. The horribly eerie violet eyes bore into him even as his vision started to go dark…and that’s when Arthur felt something snap within him, something overpower the belief that he was about to die.
Indignation that he was going to die and anger about it. As before, his scream was silent, but his ability surged forward, bubbling out of his body in a soundless wave that slammed into Ivan and knocked him away as Arthur focused on getting the man away. Arthur collapsed and took in gasping, uneven breaths, blinking out moisture from his eyes as he felt his lungs burn in neglect, glancing up at Ivan, who was smiling even wider from where he was on the ground. He sat up and tucked his scarf over his shoulder, folding his hands together in his lap; Arthur had never seen something so innocuous be so terrifying.
“Very good, my friend, very good! It is not often that my comrades retain any of their powers after I relieve them of the burden…but when they do, I know I have found someone special. Someone worthy.”
Arthur stared at him and shakily pushed himself upright. He was looking at him oddly, not murderously anymore, but rather like a child looks at a new toy…it was unsettling and made his hair stand on end. He glanced to the right furtively and spotted his pack and tablet…if he was quick, he might be able to get out of the clearing; Ivan was still on the ground, looking at him in gentle, terrifying wonder. He dashed to the side, not caring how his lungs burned as they tried to recover after their abuse, and had grabbed his packs and pivoted just as something black grabbed his ankle and twisted, hard. Arthur went down with a noiseless scream, clutching at his ankle, which was now facing a very wrong direction, gritting his teeth as he tried to not think about the pain (which was very hard to do, but he did have to escape and all).
The inky black, tentacle-like thing, pulled him back down by his hurt ankle as he tried to get away, wrapping up his leg to his torso and pinning him to the ground. He heard Ivan chuckle again as he rose to his feet and walked over, and when the man came into view, Arthur could see the inky black thing was extending from his own arm. He would have felt disgusted if it weren’t for everything else going on because it was truly gross to look at.
“A skill from a fisherman in Grecia*. The man could grow these extra limbs to help catch fish in the same manner as some sea creatures…it has many other uses though, da?” Arthur felt a shiver of dread climb up his spine as Ivan stood on either side of his hips and knelt down. Wonderful, he was once again restrained and being straddled, effectively, by a child-like man who clearly was touched in the head…and a pervert. And staring at him with entirely too much interest to be healthy for his body’s well-being. The black thing seemed to dissolve, but was replaced with two strong hands and arms…Arthur belatedly remembered that this was Alfred’s strength that Ivan was using; the thought made him even angrier.
“You should not struggle so much, comrade, I will hurt you worse.” As if to prove his point, Ivan pressed his foot down on Arthur’s ankle, drawing a silent yell and leaving him shaking in pain afterwards. Ivan’s hand angled under his chin, forcing Arthur to look up with pain-glossed eyes…and then Arthur felt something warm filter through him, something calming and comforting…but it felt wrong and invasive. “It is all right, you will see. I do not wish to harm you, no no…I wish for you to come with me.”
Arthur felt that pit of dread in his stomach double and tired to shake his head no, tried to not think about how the pain seemed to be receding the longer Ivan held his chin, held his wrists, touched him. “Matthew…he could feel…he loved to help people…” Alfred’s words about his brother came to mind, what his brother had been able to do…Ivan was using it against him, trying to confuse him, and it was sadly working. He tried to redouble his efforts, but his limbs seemed heavy and lax, too warm and too content.
“I can never fully use the gifts I take, not like their original owners could…that is why you are so important, you and the others like you I have met. That is why you must come with me…I am not a bad man, comrade, I simply am trying to help this world.”
Arthur shook his head and tried to arch away. A frown formed on Ivan’s face and the warmth he had been filtering into Arthur abruptly stopped; Arthur screamed out in silence as all the pains rushed back at once. He blinked through the moisture covering his eyes in a thin film and hardly noticed as Ivan rose and dragged him up by his wrists until he felt soft lips against his ear, whispering in a soft hiss. He suppressed the shiver of fear and fixed his face into a defiant glare; he was determined to not show this man how scared he was, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“You do not have a choice, Mr. Arthur, you understand, da?”
Arthur couldn’t answer of course (no voice and all), but luckily enough, someone else did it for him; someone with a bright smile, even brighter eyes and a quick laugh, who had conveniently barreled into the clearing, fire burning behind his eyes.
“Get your filthy, stealing hands off him, Braginski.”
Alfred’s glare could have leveled forests, his hands clenched tightly at his side, voice low and gravelly in his anger. Arthur felt something ridiculously silly rise up within him, so silly he scowled darkly (which unfortunately confused Alfred, who was wondering why his heroic arrival wasn’t greeted with a bit more gratitude from his ‘damsel’) and tried to squash down the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. There was a silent moment where all three were still (though Arthur didn’t really have a choice, he was in a great amount of pain and still unable to move much in the violet-eyed man’s grip), Ivan glancing between them in a curious fashion.
“I said, get off him.” Alfred slammed his hand into a nearby tree as he walked forward, splintering it in half and sending wood chips everywhere. Ivan smiled brightly and did the opposite, much to Arthur’s displeasure, flashing Alfred a mocking smile from behind Arthur’s ear.
“He likes you.” Ivan’s words were like ice. Arthur’s eyes darted up to the young man, who looked like he was one second away from creating another crater right here and felt something akin to protectiveness swell within when Ivan continued. “He would follow me if I took you…”
Something in Ivan’s voice was so incredibly child-like for a moment that Arthur felt taken aback and forgot that this was supposed to be a villain who had stolen countless abilities from people, countless youth from children. It was longing, the longing of a lonely child, that Ivan spoke with while looking at Alfred…and while Arthur felt a pang of pity, he was mainly feeling very, very possessive and pissed off so he turned his head slightly and bit down on Ivan’s slacking hand. Hard.
Ivan let out a curse and loosened his hold on Arthur, who wasted no time in swinging his elbow into the giant man’s gut and limping away as much as he could before his twisted ankle gave out on him. Alfred let out a very primal, angry roar (which Arthur did NOT find arousing in any way) and rushed the temporarily stunned Ivan, swinging a punch that had echoes of his stolen strength, knocking the pale man into a faraway tree trunk. Ivan pushed himself up, wiped away the blood trickling from his mouth, and grinned through bloody teeth before he rushed forward and met Alfred in a terribly showy melee that made Arthur’s head spin.
Alfred was angry, there was no doubt of that, but it was clear that he didn’t have the full strength that Ivan had stolen from him and was struggling to avoid some of the more deadly attacks Ivan flung his way. He was quick though and skilled, probably built up over years of living with fighters like Gilbert and Esther, and made quite a showing; but Arthur could see how this was going to end. Ivan was playing…Arthur knew he had control of his ‘voice’ and all he would need to do was use it and Alfred would be finished. The question became why was Ivan ‘playing’ in the first place…nevertheless, Arthur knew he had to do something.
He scooted backwards as more trees were destroyed as the two fought, breathing quickly through his nose as every little moment that jarred his ankle sent shooting pains up his body, and tried to calm his head. He had a lot of emotions swimming around and knew if he could focus on at least one, he might be able to do something with his ‘voice.’ Alfred was hit with a rather hard punch and sent reeling several steps backwards, but was still mindful to keep his body between Arthur’s battered one and Ivan’s.
With one final glance at the too-bloody handsome young man who was fighting so hard to protect Arthur, who had really not been the nicest to Alfred (though, in his defense, Alfred was an idiot) and for some reason, thought he was worth risking himself to save, Arthur found the focus he needed and the emotion to focus on. No one, other than himself, was going to hurt that boy…and Ivan could go and find himself someone else to fuck with for all he cared. He dug his hands into the dirt and looked up, yelling out his command silently and praying that the fabled ‘warlocks’ really did keep a vigilant eye on the forest.
Light!
It was hard and it hurt his battered body to do, but eventually, it worked - a beam of bright, yellow light exploded around him and shot straight up, serving as a beacon for anyone who may be watching, his own voice going hoarse after a little while and dying back into a wheezing gasp…all of which no one could hear. Still didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. Arthur’s head pounded and he leaned back, trying desperately to keep from giving in to the exhaustion running through his veins. Alfred, the daft fool he was, could still use his help…he wasn’t about to faint like some damn princess just because of a little pain and tiredness.
“Arthur, get away already!” Alfred yelled out and glared at him fiercely after a round-house kick landed solidly on Ivan’s stomach. “Just go!”
Arthur shook his head as the yellow beam faded around him, tired but still fixing his face into a glare that clearly told the young man he was an idiot and Arthur wasn’t going anywhere if there was a chance Alfred was going to get himself killed. Ivan looked between the two of them again, focusing a dark look at Arthur that could only be interpreted as one of jealousy. Arthur did not know all of what was going on between these two, between Alfred and Ivan, but whatever it was they each had very different ideas on what their relationship with one another was; that much Arthur could see…and now he was thrown in the middle of the mess, just brilliant.
Alfred swore loudly and ducked underneath another swing, but wasn’t quick enough to dodge the russet-stained pipe that came crashing down on his head, knocking him away and into a cluster of bushes. Arthur’s eyes followed him and he felt another shiver of foreboding (and panic if he was going to be honest with himself) when the young man did not get up, looking back at Ivan as he fixed glowing violet eyes on him. Ivan was not smiling anymore; if possible, he looked even more threatening, which Arthur had not thought possible.
“Come, comrade, I am done playing.”
Arthur knew, just knew, that the moment Ivan touched him this time, they’d be gone; he wasn’t exactly sure how he knew, but it seemed only logical, they guy seemed to pop up to often to not have some sort of teleportation skill. And, if he did steal so much, it was only natural to assume that he could whisk people away as well. However, before Ivan could take another step, something that Arthur could only identify as a tornado of fire (literally, it was a tornado made out of flames) barreled through the clearing and slammed Ivan across the way. Arthur whipped his head to the side just as another tornado, this one made of water, slammed into him from the other side, flinging Ivan back forward, the spray of water misting over Arthur lightly.
“I thought we told you to stay the hell out of our forest, Stealer.” Arthur was immediately reminded of Gilbert, but the voice was deeper and had a sharp accent to it, the man speaking somewhere to the left.
“You are not welcome here…leave now.” The second voice was sounded slightly bored, light-spoken, and whimsical, the polar opposite of the first.
Ivan picked himself up and frowned as two separate men came into view. The one from the left was tall and had very wild-looking hair…it looked, vaguely like blond flames shooting out of his head, dark blue eyes glaring at the taller Ivan while smiling at him, almost daring him to do something. The other was a very short and willowy youth, whose pale blond hair was pinned back from his head with a jeweled clip, a dark look in his equally dark blue eyes, a small frown on his otherwise impassive face. What Arthur noticed the most through, was how the taller man had fire sparking around his hands, flames climbing up his shoulders while the smaller had water swirling around him quickly. Which, considering the day, was not all that surprising…but still, it certainly was an attention grabber.
Ivan frowned in a child-like, petulant manner before he waved a hand behind him, opening up a hole of a kind and stepping through it, his violet eyes sparing Arthur one last look before the hole zipped up and disappeared, taking the man with it. Arthur released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and sagged back against the tree, trying to quell the feelings of absolute panic he had been trying to keep at bay for the last hour or so and relief that it was over that were warring within him. It didn’t help that he was in quite a bit of pain and just looking at his ankle, which was now swelling and turn an odd blue color, made it hurt so much worse; he closed his eyes to try and just shut it out. Perhaps if he passed out he could save himself the embarrassment of having two strangers witness him get hysterical.
“I think the bastard tossed Hero over there…damn, he really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
Arthur blinked his eyes open and hissed silently, glaring up at the flame-haired man for not only disturbing his very needed plan of blacking out, but for also reminding him of the fact that he couldn’t say one fucking word. The man sighed and hooked his hands under Arthur’s arms, dragging him up and swinging him up in his arms as if he weighed nothing. By the-just someone, strike him down now. Not only had he just been beaten and traumatized by a psychopath, now he was being carried as if he was some blushing bride…honestly, why couldn’t he pass out? He’d been struggling against it up until now and now he couldn’t.
“Hey, stop you’re squirming now, Princess, it’ll be a hell of a lot easier if you just let me carry you. You’ve got some nasty bruises on your ribs so I can’t very well toss you over my shoulder and if you try and walk on that ankle, I guaran-damn-tee that you’ll just mess it up worse than it is. Hey, Nikolai, you got Hero all right?”
The young man, Nikolai, poked his head over the bushes Alfred was tossed into, nodding without expression before he ducked back down, hauling a much larger Alfred up with him. He grabbed Arthur’s packs and the writing tablet as well, using a stream of water to keep the unconscious Alfred upright…which Arthur had to admit was a very fascinating and dead useful use of ability.
“Well then, best start heading back, ja?” The tall man smirked down at Arthur, who scowled before he looked away, trying to not let the red blooming on his face spread too far. Luckily for him, at just that moment, Alfred decided to startle awake and throw off Nikolai’s hold, knocking the smaller man into the man carrying Arthur, who then promptly ran into a tree, smacking his ankle against the trunk roughly. Arthur’s eyes widened and he let out a soundless cry of pain before blackness, blissful, wonderful blackness, finally claimed him.
*****
“Well shit.”
“Mathias…” The young man named Nikolai closed his eyes in frustration, his voice nearly dripping with annoyance as the taller Nord, Mathias, shot him a half-apologetic look as the beat up guy in his arms went limp.
“Hey! It’s not my fault Hero spazzed out on us…”
Nikolai stared at him and shook his head before walking over towards the frantic and disoriented Alfred, who was sporting a very nasty looking bump on his head. Mathias didn’t envy him; that was going to hurt like a bitch for the next few days…though considering he’d just gone man-on-man with Ivan, he could probably be considered lucky he walked away with little more damage than a concussion. He glanced down at the unconscious man in his arms…this guy hadn’t been nearly so lucky; his ankle looked like it had almost been turned around completely.
“Arthur!” Alfred looked around wildly for a moment, clearly a bit concussed, but eventually focusing on the aforementioned limp body in Mathias arms. “Oh jeez, is he-hey Iggy, you’re fine right, I mean I got to you before he -where the hell is Ivan?!”
“Take a chill pill, Hero; Eyebrows here is all right…just passed out because of his ankle kinda got rammed into a tree, but he’ll live…probably.”
“Alfred, you need to calm down. You have a concussion…” Nikolai rolled his eyes upwards before he wrapped his arm around the slightly panicking young man. Mathias watched in silence as Nikolai washed a gentle, calming wave of water flow over his arms and onto Alfred, who began to calm down and his eyes drooped. It was a damn useful trick, using the water’s natural calming abilities along with his own impassive nature to calm down the hysterics; Mathias smiled at Nikolai as he readjusted the slim young man in his arms. Arthur, Alfred called him…he didn’t look great, but nothing looked to life-threatening, but that ankle didn’t look good…he’d probably be ok until they got him to Tino.
“Mathias, this way.” Nikolai still had his slim arm around Alfred, water still flowing from him and running over Alfred in tiny rivulets. “He needs a healer.”
“Where to, Oskar or Tino?”
“Tino is already coming. Berwald too.”
“Oh wonderful, just what I need…first Ivan then that bastard.”
Nikolai rolled his eyes once more and guided Alfred past Mathias, glancing down at the tall young man’s feet every now and then to make sure he didn’t trip and worsen his head injury. Mathias followed after, twisting his body with every step to keep Arthur’s ankle as motionless as possible, adjusting the unconscious man whenever his hold began to weaken. The guy may have looked skinny, but he didn’t weigh it and even though he had his flames running through his skin to help strengthen his muscles, it was hard to keep carrying him and not jostle his ankle.
“This guy is new, uh?”
“Seems so.”
“So…what are you thinking? What did Ivan steal…and why would he come back…he only does that for the ‘lucky’ ones.”
“Judging by the lack of noise when you smacked his ankle against the tree, I’d say his voice. And judging by the beam of light, I’d say Ivan didn’t take all of it.”
Mathias nodded, taking note of the red band that ran across the limp man’s throat; Alfred had a band like that on his lower back, and so did most of the rest of his merry band. It was Ivan’s mark. Esther on her Achilles’ tendon, Seychelles under her eye-patch, Gilbert behind his ears…Frances’ went across his eyes but being the vain man he was, he concealed it daily. Berwald had half of one as well…Mathis felt a swell if anger rise up within him, which Nikolai took notice because those blue eyes looked back at him, a rare look of concern and genuine affection flashing at him for a moment before he turned forward again.
Mathias, like all of the Nords, hated Ivan (well, Tino might not have hated him as much as the others but that was because he was Tino). He was an anathema to them, a dark spot that continued to haunt their forest at every chance he got with little regard to the balance Mathias and his Brothers kept. The Nords were a dangerous and unforgiving place…and it was only because of their gifts, the Elements that they embodied, that the cities within the Nords were kept safe from the harsh and unforgiving land they called home. They had tried to explain that to Ivan Braginski…but he either could not understand or did not care.
Mathias shook his head of the dark thoughts…it wouldn’t do if he set off another forest fire in his anger; Nikolai hated it when he had to clean up the mess. When he looked back up, he saw the familiar faces of Tino and Berwald, riding a rolling hill of earth that flattened and came to a stop before them. Behind came the very stressed members of Alfred’s group, Gilbert looked ready to kill something, as did Alejandro (but he always looked like that), and Francis looked uncharacteristically guilty as he blindly took in the sorry state of Alfred and the unconscious Arthur, somehow able to sense the damage done to both even though he could not see. Mathias spared Tino a smile and gave a grunting nod to Berwald, who returned it with his silent stare, before turning to address the rest of the group.
“I believe these,” he nodded at Arthur’s body and Alfred. “Are yours.”
Gilbert draped Alfred’s arm over his shoulder, giving Nikolai’s expressionless face a small nod of thanks. He looked at Alfred, who was groaning a bit as the calming waters receded, the remnants dripping down his body in small rivulets; he blinked his eyes open slowly and winced at the setting sunlight filtering through the trees.
“Hey, Hero, welcome back…” Gilbert said, strangely subdued. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“Ivan attacked him,” Alfred slurred. His glazed blue eyes focused on Arthur for a moment before he looked back at Gilbert, who was trying to follow the unfocused movements of Alfred’s lips. “He-he tried to take ‘im…like he took Toris…but he-”
Alfred’s face turned a gross shade of green and Gilbert very quickly guided Alfred to a bush where the young man proceeded to retch and hack up the lunch he’d eaten that day. Nikolai stepped forward and touched Gilbert on the shoulder, drawing attention to himself as Berwald took Arthur from Mathias hold, Tino hurrying over and checking his injuries. Mathias shook out his arms gratefully -the little guy was heavy to be sure!
“Alfred has a concussion. The other, Arthur I believe, has multiple abrasions and bruising, particularly around his ribs and neck. His ankle is also fractured…it’s possible some ligaments have been torn as well.” Nikolai spared Alfred a glance as Gilbert helped him back up before continuing on. “Ivan is gone for the moment…I can’t be sure if he’ll return though.”
“Then we should get them inside. Can you call Oskar for me, Niko? I could probably use his help too,” Tino said quietly. “Mathias, I believe Esther, Vash, and Seychelles are all still out in our woods…could you please round them up and bring them back to mine and Su-san’s cottage?”
Mathias grumbled but nodded, turning nonetheless and taking off in search of the rest of the group, Nikolai sharing a look with him before the both took off. He pitied Berwald really…having to deal with those puppy-dog eyes from Tino on a daily basis; poor bastard.
*****
Arthur woke up with another headache (which was becoming much to routine for comfort) and blinked several times, not too surprised when he found himself in an unfamiliar bed in an equally unfamiliar room. He pushed himself up to a sitting position slowly, wincing as the bruises covering his ribs and chest made themselves known; the bandages around his waist creaked as he sat up and were stiff and uncomfortable. It was dark outside and he was still dressed in the ripped and dirty clothes from the day, which told him that he hadn’t been unconscious for that long…still, he wasn’t sure where he was and while his last memory was being carried by a man who was not Ivan, he was fairly sure that could have changed. He pushed the down blankets off and stared at his ankle, which was splinted and facing the correct direction again, but throbbed in an unpleasant manner.
“Oh good, you’re up! I hope you’re feeling up to eating something…I’d feel bad if all this stew I made went to waste. Alfred is still quite nauseous, you see, can’t even look at a bowl without throwing up…and the others are much too worried to consider eating!” Arthur whipped his head around to stare at possible the friendliest looking man he had ever seen. He was short and slender, but had a more willowy appearance than Arthur, with blond hair and blue eyes that had flashes of purple within; he was also wearing an apron with hand stitched designs of puppies and kittens. “Are you feeling all right? You can just nod; I won’t ask you any questions that require you to write, your wrist may be strained a bit.”
Arthur stared at the man for a moment before he nodded, keeping his eyes on the man even as he bustled about spooning some stew from a pot (that he had carried into the room apparently) into a small bowl, handing it to Arthur.
“First off, you’re safe, not with Ivan, all right? So no more staring at me like I might attack…I can send for the others to vouch for me if you like, my name is Tino and I suppose I’m one of the so-called ‘warlocks’ Seychelles told you about.” Tino smiled gently and sat down beside the bed on an empty chair. “Second off, you’re in quite sore of shape and I recommend not doing anything too strenuous for the next week or two, especially if it involves walking…Ivan nearly tore off your ankle and it will need more time to heal. Thirdly, you’ll be happy to know that apart from some nausea and bruising, Alfred is just fine.”
Arthur scowled and looked down at the bowl of soup in his lap, eating it with a silent huff as if to deny Tino’s last observation. He smiled and laughed gently, leaning forward and resting his chin on his upturned hands. “And here I thought you’d be happy to know your, ah, ‘hero’ is doing all right after that bump to the head! He’s certainly worried about you…so worried in fact that he’s beginning to drive poor Oskar, my youngest Brother, bonkers with all the questions he’s asking about you!”
Arthur felt the ever-familiar rush of heat and swooping feelings at the thought of Alfred being concerned about him, which he ruthlessly pushed aside with a particular messy and large spoonful of stew. Tino’s smile settled into something a bit less energetic as he waited for Arthur to finish his stew in silence, taking the bowl when he was done with a polite nod. “I hope it tasted all right.”
Arthur nodded and couldn’t suppress the small smile from creeping across his face at the positively joyous expression that crossed Tino’s face. A settled back against the plethora of pillows and rested his hands (and yes, one was bandaged and a bit sore…one more thing to thank Ivan for) against his bandaged torso, keeping his gaze on the slight young man who was apparently one of the ‘warlocks’ Seychelles had spoken of…it was somewhat hard to believe.
Tino looked back at him as if sensing his thoughts and smiled softly before he walked over to the bedroom window and opened it-seconds later, Arthur watched with a fair amount of sheepishness as tree branches and vines crept into the room with a soft flick of Tino’s wrist, blooming under his gaze and covering the entire room in green. “It was equally hard for me to believe that I had been blessed by the Gods with such a gift…but over time, it became more and more natural.”
He waved the wrist back and the vines and tree branches swept out of the room in a flurry of motion, leaving only the small blond left, staring at Arthur in his gentle manner. “My Brothers and I, we were chosen for specific reasons that we could only understand after accepting our gifts…after we accepted what we were, it became mush easier to accept everything else. But, that isn’t to say it works like that for everyone…but this isn’t really the time for such a discussion. Right now, you should focus on recovering from your injuries.”
Arthur frowned and made a motion with his hands to write, asking for his tablet. Tino smiled and nodded, grabbing it from the bundle of packs on the floor beside the door. “I’ll give this to you, but just ask your questions…I can lip-read rather well.”
Arthur took the tablet hesitantly before he nodded and mouthed his mind’s thoughts. Do you know why I can still use my gift at times, why Alfred can? Arthur had no clue really, and the others, for all their varying skills, did not seem to understand either. Tino, however, seemed as much his gift as it was him, inexplicably linked with his element in a manner that made it hard to distinguish one from the other (as Tino was soft and gentle as the earth was…but showed impressive power when called upon*). It made Arthur think that perhaps he would be better learned on the subject of their abilities and what Ivan really was.
Tino smiled and shrugged. “Lots of reasons. Ivan may have not completed the ritual properly, or perhaps he only took what he thought was necessary and left you less of a threat. Or maybe you were more powerful than Ivan and he could not take all of your gift…I’m leaning toward that last one…for both you and Alfred. Ivan is not infallible or all-powerful, if anything, his numerous failures to takes my Brother’s and mine gifts from us is proof of that…perhaps that is why he came for you again.”
Arthur bit his lip and looked to the side, staring in silence for a moment before looking back up. He was more interested in using me to get to Alfred.
Tino nodded and hummed in agreement before he sat down on the edge of the bed, a concerned look crossing his face. “Then perhaps he cannot use your gift the way you can…it has happened before, and he needs you to show him how. Or, perhaps he sees how Alfred cares for you…Ivan’s preoccupation with Alfred is, in a word, odd…at any rate, I’d just be cautious for the time being, Ivan is rather tenacious.”
Who has this happened to?
Tino stared at him and shook his head before rising and heading towards the door. Arthur glared at the retreating form as he left, his question going unanswered…he’d just been attacked and this had happened to someone before! He deserved to know who this had happened to and why. However, before he could stew in his anger for much longer, Tino returned, this time with an even smaller young man, who looked no more than fifteen or so, whose hair was so pale it looked like an off shade of grey-ish blond. He had pale blue eyes and was helping a very pale looking Alfred walk into the room, a gentle stream of wind swirling around his hands and supporting the tall young man as he walked unsteadily.
“This is my youngest Brother, Oskar…he’s been caring after Alfred this evening. And I believe Alfred would like to speak with you.” The young boy guided Alfred into the empty seat beside Arthur’s bed and gave Alfred a friendly, playful smile as the wind retreated back into his hands and disappeared.
“If you need me, just call. I’ll hear,” Oskar said with a small smirk before he left, Tino following after. Arthur stared at the closed door for a moment, trying to quell the sudden nervousness he felt with it only being him and Alfred in the room. Eventually, he looked into those bluer-than rational-blue eyes and felt a fresh wave of guilt hit him at the large, black and blue bump on his forehead, just below his hairline.
“You ok, Iggy?” Alfred’s words were slow and somewhat cumbersome, but not slurred as before. His face was looking at Arthur with concern so blatant it made Arthur flush at the attention. He nodded, not bothering to correct the nickname Alfred was so fond of. Alfred smiled and nodded shallowly, not moving his head too much. “Good…I was worried…so, uh, I guess you wanna hear about who else this happened to right? That’s what Tino said…”
Arthur nodded and motioned at himself, emphasizing his ankle before he shot Alfred a very obvious confused expression…he hoped he wouldn’t need to use his tablet and luckily, Alfred got the gist of what he was trying to convey. Why had this happened to him and would it happen again.
“Well…I guess it kinda starts with Toris.”
TBC…
Next Chapter: osco-blue-fairy.livejournal.com/29891.html#cutid1
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*Greece, not original I know
** Quick and dirty on Nordic elements and why I picked them for what I did:
Tino - Earth. Steady, calm and strong, but able to be devastating under correct circumstances
Berwald - Ice. Harsh and powerful and can be deadly…but beautiful and pure; thought this worked nicely.
Mathias/Denmark - Fire. This really should be self-explanatory, haha!
Nikolai/Norway - Water. Calm and steady and flexible, able to adapt and very impersonal.
Oskar/Iceland - Wind. Playful and young. As Oskar is youngest Nord, obvious choice for him.