Of Silence and Thievery (21/34)
Title : Of Silence and Thievery
Genre : humor, action/adventure, fantasy and, of course, romance
Pairings: USUK main, minor others (Seychelles/France, Spain/Romano, Prussia/Hungary/Austria, etc)
Rating: R
Warnings: AU, human names used, fantasy plot line ^_^ future sexy times
Summary: Arthur had a voice, a good one, but it's been stolen from him and he's prepared to do everything he can to get it back. Even traversing across the world with a bunch of lunatics with a leader who just might be his hero after all.
Note: Things are starting to come to a head, everyone. I'm going to pound out the rest of this story and have it done by the end of this year. I'm serious y'all. I have the next five chapters done already. I have a fancy new character reference guide HERE if anyone wants to use it. Also...may be getting a Tumblr. Any opinions on getting updates on SaT there? Let me know!
P.S. Reviews would be lovely :D
Previous Chapter
Of Silence and Thievery
Chapter Twenty-One: Where Sadiq Shows he Does Have a Heart and Matthew Learns
Arthur had always assumed that long sailing trips (or land trips…he wasn’t picky) would be monotonous and boring. He’d had a whole collection of books in his store that were devoted to traveling, and every now and then, when his family was being especially boorish and he was more than a little worried someone saw him do something that’d given away his Voice, he’d daydream about leaving Britannia and traveling all over Avrupa. He had never sailed prior to Ivan’s attack and joining the Evangeline, but he’d always imagined that the actual ‘travel’ part of traveling (like being stuck on a ship for weeks at a time or travelling slowly on horseback for days on end) was a necessary evil to see the wonders and sights of the world outside of his homeland. He’d seen enough weary and relieved sailors come into Berth after months of sailing to support this kind of thinking-but he had been very wrong.
Maybe it was just because the Evangeline had a different sort of mission, or maybe it was just because Seychelles was a slave driver of a captain, but boring and monotonous were the last two words Arthur would’ve chosen to describe the days following their departure from Vindobona. The crew was in near constant motion from sun up to sun down each day, those who were going ashore preparing for what the Byzantium would throw at them and those who were staying with the ship going over the different procedures and safeguards they’d need to take to not arouse anger from the locals and keep the ship up to shape. And Arthur was not the exception.
If he wasn’t going over different customs to expect in Byzantium with Sadiq, or helping Kiku organize different packs and provisions they’d need for the journey to Zion and what they’d need to get once they arrived, he was pouring over navigation charts and maps of every outlying country they’d need to travel through to get to Ruthenia and Ivan. They needed to know which paths and roads would be best to travel and not risk detection after they had to branch off from the main road Esther called the Old Path. While many had reservations about his skills before, after the hide-out was found, Arthur knew they were all counting on him to navigate them on land. Him, Esther, and Sadiq-it was up to them to get everyone through the Byzantium safely without alerting Ivan they were coming. Arthur would’ve felt pressure at the thought of the responsibility, if the thought of what awaited them after they found Ivan wasn’t weighing so heavily on his mind.
Arthur didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it didn’t seem like anyone really had any sort of plan on what they needed to do once they found Ivan and his lackeys. Besides hit them of course (and thank you Gilbert for that gem of a plan). But as far as actually stopping whatever Ivan was trying to do with the large amount of Talents and youth he kept stealing, or for that record, figuring out how to actually return all of the Talents he’d stolen to their rightful owners, everyone was somewhat mum on the subject. Alfred included. Arthur had assumed when he joined that someone at least had some sort of idea on how to do this-but he was coming to think he was just as mistaken about that idea as he had been about traveling long distances. And that, more than anything, made him nervous and dread spark down his spine. The only thing more foolish than storming an extremely powerful, deranged man in a fortress he’d carved out of a mountain was doing so without any sort of plan.
He wasn’t exactly sure on how to voice his concerns though, not when everyone but him seemed to think that was a mere technicality and brushed it off they few times he’d even come close to broaching the subject. Even Kiku had been less concerned than Arthur would have expected.
“Magic works in unusual ways, Arthur-san,” he’d said. “I am sure it will work to intervene in our behalf if we need it too.”
Arthur had refrained from mentioning that it hadn’t been magic that had taken all of their Talents, and children’s youths, in the first place. Especially since it had been Kiku who’d expounded on the difference between magic wielders and those with Talents-it was confusing (and suspicious) that he was brushing aside the difference so casually. Arthur hadn’t mentioned his worries after that, but that didn’t mean he stopped having them.
“Hey.” Arthur blinked and glanced up from where the dark splash of the waves had lulled his mind into its contemplative mood. Alfred was grinning at him, softly, and slipping his arms around his waist before Arthur could move away. Not that he would have moved away-Arthur hoped Alfred realized that by now. “Where’d you go?”
Arthur cocked his head to the side in silent question.
“You were like a million miles away, thinking and stuff.” Sometimes, Alfred surprised Arthur with how observant he could be when he wanted to (not that it happened often). “What were you thinking about?”
Arthur shook his head and hoped his smile looked convincing enough. Nothing. Just going over things.
“Yeah right. You had your worried face on.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. I do not have a ‘worried’ face.
“Oh, you so do.” Alfred leaned forward and kissed Arthur’s cheek gently before he pulled him in closer. “Don’t worry, it’s kind of cute. Like how a pup looks when you steal his chew toy.”
There was a new closeness between Alfred and him after that first night Sadiq had started ‘training’ them for the Byzantium. It hadn’t exactly been missing before, but hadn’t been what it was now. Arthur’s not entirely surprised by it; Alfred had likely never opened himself up or been that vulnerable with anyone before Arthur. There’s a certain level of trust that comes about after experiencing something like that for the first time, and Arthur’s positive this is Alfred’s first time experiencing that trust. It also probably helps that they both know they’re freedom with each other was limited once they reached Zion-the knowledge that soon they’d have to watch every look or touch they shared made each one feel warmer and brighter now. Arthur had only been in love once, and it was ill-fated from the start (he’d been fifteen and he’d been head over heels for a local huntsman who had very large arms…and a very small brain), but what he’d felt then paled in comparison to what he felt now.
Yet another reason why traveling was not boring-any spare time he did manage to find was promptly swept away by Alfred and getting as close to each other as physically possible until the night came and they didn’t need to worry about ‘offending’ Sadiq (or getting yelled at by Seychelles for ‘shirking duties’).
“Annnnnd you’re gone again. You sure you’re okay, Iggy?” Arthur forced his mind away from straying too deep again and tilted his head up to press a soft, conciliatory kiss to Alfred’s chin.
Just tired.
Alfred frowned but didn’t press any further. “Well, I have to check with Seychelles and see if we’ve got any whetting stones before we leave the coastline, but wanna meet me in the room after? I can grab something from Kiku if you’ve got a headache or anything.”
Arthur smiled, genuinely, and shook his head. No to the herbs, but yes to the room.
Alfred smiled wide and kissed him once before hurrying off-he was so eager sometimes. He ran a hand through his hair and turned to head back towards their cabin (gods, ‘their’ was starting to sound less and less terrifying which was a brand of its own terrifying), but stopped short when he saw Sadiq lounging on a barrel, coal-black eyes fixed on him. He felt a flush of irrational embarrassment mixed with a good amount of annoyance at the man and he lifted his chin just a bit in challenge. Large sword or no, he was sick of having to tip-toe around him at every turn, just in case something he did offended him. Soon he was going to have to deal with that enough as it was, he was not going to start early. If he wanted to kiss Alfred on the deck of the ship, he damn well was going to.
Sadiq, to his credit, did not get angry or rise from his position at the challenge. He snorted and smirked a little meanly, but that was it (that actually may have been more insulting than saying anything…Arthur admitted it had a little bit to do with his abundance of manly pride). He wished he hadn’t left the tablet and quill in the cabin, but he could make do without it; he gestured at Sadiq in a manner that clearly said ‘well, out with it then, you clearly have something insulting and offensive to say to me.’
Sadiq was much better at reading his gestures than most others on the ship, so he got the gist of most of that. “You have more fire in you than I think most give you credit for, Kirkland.”
Arthur blinked; that had not been what he expected as a response from the large man. Sardonic, yes. Rude, absolutely. But almost complimentary? No, that had not been what Arthur would’ve guessed at all. He gestured again, this time asking ‘would you just say whatever it is you need to say to feel like you’re doing your moral duty in informing me that I’m doomed for whatever pits of damnation your gods say I am?’ He wasn’t as confident that question made it across as clearly as the first one, but it would have to do; there was only so much Arthur could do with his hands (and no, his mind absolutely did not take a nose dive into the gutter after thinking that).
“I know it must be difficult, what you are doing here, and I’m sure my presence does little to make you, and others in your crew, comfortable, but you must understand that just as you are entitled to your beliefs, I am entitled to mine.” Arthur would have rolled his eyes at the words, if Sadiq hadn’t had said them almost kindly. “For what it is worth, I do admire your courage in hunting a man who kills children for sport, especially when said man is clearly hunting you just as eagerly.”
Arthur’s brows furrowed a little and he shook his head. Ivan hadn’t shown any interest in him in months, not since the Nords-those were not the actions have a man hunting something. Well, there had been that incident in Spandow where Alfred revealed that Ivan had spied on them, and Alfred had been irrationally concerned that Ivan would attack Arthur there but-nothing had happened. Sadiq picked up the silent denial and he gave a harsh, booming laugh that did little to comfort.
“Let me tell you a story, Kirkland. When I was a boy, my father would take my younger cousin and I out hunting for a small animal called a mongoose that lived in the wild surrounding our home. Not because we were hungry or because he wished for us to be hunters, but to teach us how to be swift and clever, just as the mongoose is. He showed us many different ways to track the animal, to recognize their dens and their water sources, showed us how they fearlessly and cunningly took down snakes and outsmarted predators that would hunt them. And then he taught us that the best way to catch the mongoose was to be patient, to watch and observe its habits, what side it favors when it moves, which direction it will head if startled-and after we had learned all we could, then he would have us hunt. And you know what? We caught the mongoose nearly every time.”
Arthur did not have to read between the lines of Sadiq’s story to understand what he was getting at. “That man, for as mad as he is, is just as equally clever. You would be wise not to confuse his quiet for disinterest.”
He settled back a little into the barrel and Arthur could feel his stare as he nodded at the rigging off to the side. He hadn’t considered that angle before-it seemed stupid of him now. He met Sadiq’s eyes again and pointed at him with raised eyebrows. Had he ever underestimated Ivan Braginski…thought of him as only a madman and paid for it?
No one really knew why Sadiq was hunting Ivan, no one except maybe Feliks, but it wasn’t as if he was around to shed light on the subject. Sadiq did not have a Talent, in fact, he was quite proud about boasting that his strength and agility were his own, something he’d earned. If he had family who had been attacked, he didn’t speak about it, but something in how he told that story, in how his eyes went dark as he warned Arthur-it spoke of personal experience. Based on how he’d spoken to Natalia and was so willing to kill her back in Spandow, Arthur had little doubt whatever Ivan had done to Sadiq had been something perhaps worse than anything done to the rest of them.
Sadiq met his stare, unblinkingly, until his eyes were nothing but hard, reflections of black in the lantern light. He stood up and Arthur fought not to step back as the large man stepped close to him. “You want to know why I’m here. Kirkland, is that it? How I know that man is still hunting you like a mongoose in the woods?”
Arthur tilted his chin up, set his jaw, and nodded curtly.
“I know these things and hunt with you even though I believe you lot are little more than hedonistic infidels because Ivan Braginski stole my cousin’s life until he was nothing but a withered husk while I was forced to watch. And do you know why he forced me to watch little Cyrus* die? Because I insulted him and he could.”
Sadiq didn’t stomp away, his rage and grief were too painful and deep for that, but he did leave Arthur alone on the deck, wishing he’d just ignored the man and his sneer and gone down to the cabin and wait for Alfred (who was probably there by now and waiting for him). Now he had even more worries to add to his collection-wonderful. He looked up and watched the stars blink for a while before he turned and headed inside.
*****
Matthew was growing to hate the cold.
When he’d been younger, he used to look forward to the cooler weather that winter always brought in Merica. It was usually so warm year round that the cold was always a welcome change when it came. Matthew liked wearing the sweaters his mother used to make and he liked how the brisk wind made his nose and ears red with cold. Sometimes, they even got snow in the low valley where they lived and he loved that even more-there was always something so pure about snowfall when he’d been young. He and Alfred used to take long slabs of tree bark from the huge redwoods that were everywhere in the woods surrounding their valley and slide down the small snow banks until they were both drenched to the bone and had to be dragged inside.
But now, now all the cold meant was the bitter draft that escaped into his stone cell every night and his fingers being blue at their tips, not quite frostbitten (because Ivan wouldn’t allow that) but close enough that they felt it. It meant captivity and hunger; Matthew couldn’t stand that he was growing to hate something he once loved. The cold mountain wind drifted into his cell again and he shivered, pulling the threadbare blanket he had tighter around his shoulders. He wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.
Matthew knew that the cold in his cell was all part of Ivan’s ‘method’ of trying to get him to be more cooperative; Ivan had a lot of power at his fingertips, and what he couldn’t do himself, he likely had someone here who could. His room had the capability of being warm, more comfortable, but Ivan wouldn’t do anything to help Matthew without getting something in return. And, the Lady help him, he wasn’t about to help Ivan any more than he was already being forced to; if his rebellion meant he could frustrate Ivan in some way, then it was worth a little discomfort (and by a little, he meant a lot).
He’d been captured for just a little short of two months and while he wasn’t so much convinced Ivan was plotting to kill him anymore, he was supremely unsettled at not knowing why the hell the man had captured him in the first place. Eduard and Toris had swapped different theories under the breaths at the different work sites they were assigned to, but none of them seemed to stick long enough to really be considered a possibility. Oh Matthew knew it had to do with Alfred and this Arthur person, but he didn’t know why it involved him. Or now that Ivan had him, what his part in the scheme was-it was infuriating, being kept in the dark and feeling even more helpless than he already felt. He tossed on his small cot and tried to close his eyes; he could already feel the tell-tale tightening of his chest and throat and he’d made a promise to himself to not wallow anymore.
He was fairly certain Ivan was keeping any eye on him in the cell anyway and Matthew wasn’t about to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing just how much being isolated and held captive was starting to get to him.
Before he really knew it, the sun was starting to peek into his cell and Matthew blinked at it tiredly. He felt exhausted (a full night of tossing and turning will do that to you), but he knew that Natalia would be by any moment to lead him and the others to the work yard. The deranged woman scared him more than Ivan did, so he pushed himself out of bed and started to pull on the pathetic excuses for ‘warm’ clothing he had. Once dressed, he tried to comb back his hair with his fingers so it was a tad neater and then picked up his glasses to slip them on. One lens looked permanently dirty and the other had a rather noticeable crack to the side-he was sure he looked like some kind of homeless vagrant. He grinned a little deprecatingly as he stood beside the door and waited for Natalia to appear; he supposed he kind of was a homeless vagrant here anyway.
He heard footsteps echo in the stone hallway outside his cell, but instead of hearing the usual shuffle of all the other captives, Matthew only heard one set. He blinked and stepped back from the door as whoever it was arrived and opened it with a loud groan. A tall, olive skinned man was waiting for him on the other side and Matthew recognized him as one of Ivan’s followers, one of the people there who truly believed that Ivan was trying to save the world, or whatever the whole ‘Vision’ thing was about. He wasn’t fanatical like Natalia, but he wasn’t exactly like Oksana either; Matthew knew there would only be one reason why this man came to pick him up at his cell this morning.
“Brother Ivan wishes to speak to you.” Yep, there it was. Matthew met the man’s stare and followed his arm as it stretched out in invitation; Matthew nodded and stepped out of the cell. He didn’t move outside of the man’s reach, because he knew if he did that would only mean that he would snatch him back and then be herded to meet Ivan. Matthew recognized the man’s offer to walk freely for what it was; Matthew wasn’t about to waste it.
They made their way through the winding corridors of the mountain, and Matthew tried to note landmarks or different rock formations when they passed them (escape wasn’t likely, but if it did happen he wasn’t going to be useless). The man was silent beside him, but Matthew wouldn’t have known what to say even if he did strike up conversation. There really wasn’t a delicate way to phrase ‘so you follow a homicidal maniac, what’s it like to be so brainwashed?’ Not if Matthew wanted to keep his nose and jaw unbroken; silence was the best option. They continued walking through the corridors, and then the man turned sharply down a narrow, sloped pathway that led deeper into the mountain; Matthew had never been to this area of the compound before and he felt a thrill of nervousness as he realized this was probably where Ivan lived. He did not want to know why he was being summoned to Ivan’s personal quarters early in the morning.
The man paused outside of a pair of large, wood doors and knocked three times; Matthew heard the soft, deep voice answer positively within and then the door was opening. The man took gentle hold of his arm and led him inside. The quarters were not lavishly decorated, but were much more furnished than other areas in the compound he’d seen; Ivan was sitting in the middle of it at a desk that was covered with books, glass vials, and all different sorts of things Matthew would expect to find in an apothecary shop. Ivan glanced up and smiled kindly at him before turning to the man.
“Thank you, Kartlos*. Leave us.” The man nodded and exited without question, leaving Matthew alone; he took a deep breath and turned back to meet Ivan’s gaze, his hands balling into tight fists at his side to conceal their shaking. Ivan did not stand up, but continued to stare at Matthew from his desk, fingers steeped in front of his mouth and too bright eyes boring into him from across the room. Matthew didn’t move and continued to meet Ivan’s eyes with as much defiance as he could muster…however little that actually ended up being.
Ivan’s smile deepened and he sat back a little in his chair. “You are very much like your brother. He would not have yielded if he was in your place either-such an interesting similarity you share.”
“Did you bring me here to talk about my brother?” Matthew was proud of the way his voice stayed steady; his fists clenched together tight enough for his ragged nails to bite into his skin.
“No, I brought you here to discuss why you insist on refusing every attempt at hospitality I offer. And why you continue to toss aside precious stones over the cliff edge, which forces me to punish you. I do not like to cause suffering, Matthew, no matter what you think.” The frightening thing was that Matthew believed that Ivan truly thought that was true. Truly believed he only caused suffering because he had to-Matthew might have pitied him if he didn’t hate him.
“I want nothing to do with your cause or your hospitality. I am here because you’re keeping me here, but don’t expect me to join your followers just because I’m cold or uncomfortable.”
Ivan stayed quiet for a few moments before he finally stood up from his seat, circling around the desk and walking past Matthew as he headed towards some potted plants on a nearby windowsill. The flowers were dying in their pots and looked like sunflowers; they grew like weeds in the grain fields in Merica. “Tell me, Matthew, who are you more angry with? Myself for taking you from your home, or your brother for not finding you?”
Matthew grit his teeth and closed his eyes. “I’m not looking to be rescued.”
“Is that right? Then why do you continue to resist my help?” Matthew couldn’t tell if Ivan was mocking him or was truly wondering why. Matthew glanced over and watched Ivan as he pruned the dying leaves off the stalk of the sunflower, as if that would help the flower stay alive a bit longer. Matthew watched as Ivan’s hands glowed green for a moment and he felt a wave of hot, burning anger as he realized Ivan was using Elizaveta’s Talent. The plant brightened after the power washed over it and Ivan glanced back to meet Matthew’s gaze. “Your friend’s Talent is quite useful, but not permanent-it keeps the plant alive when it normally would die but it does not prevent the rot and disease that will follow as long as I plant the seeds within Ruthenia’s soil.”
Ivan brushed dirt of his hands and turned to face Matthew head on. “You have not answered my question.”
Matthew took a deep breath. “Just because I don’t expect to be rescued doesn’t mean I suddenly agree with what you’re doing here, with your plans.”
“Ah, but Matthew, you don’t know of my plans, only my methods.” Ivan smiled playfully back at him and it made him look years younger. “If you knew what I was trying to do, what I am trying to achieve, you would not be so quick to sneer at them.”
“Then-then tell me what they are. You’ve got me trapped here and my brother may not know for months and-maybe if I knew what you’re trying to do I’d consider helping you.” It was a long shot, Matthew knew, but he had to try. He didn’t care if Ivan was trying to end all conflict and war, he would never agree to help because of how he was going about it-but Ivan didn’t know him that well and might not know that. Even though he had Matthew’s stolen empathy, Matthew knew how to mask his feelings and prevent Ivan from reading him with his Talent. Matthew knew its abilities and limitations better than Ivan did, and now that he knew he employed it on a regular basis, he wasn’t about to get caught unawares as he had before.
Ivan smiled indulgently and shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will, not yet.”
The knock sounded at the door and Matthew whirled around to see the man, Kartlos, enter again, deferring respectfully to Ivan before turning to Matthew. His time was up, it seemed; back to work. Matthew faced Ivan as Kartlos came towards him, eyes hard and blood starting to well up in his palm from where his nails broke the skin. “You told me when I first got here that you needed Alfred, that he was necessary-do you really think he’s going to give two shits about ‘helping’ you whenever he does find out I’m gone? He’s not stupid; he’ll know I wouldn’t want him to side with you just to help me, that this is just a trap.”
Matthew hadn’t spoken so hotly to Ivan since that first night he came to him in the cell, when Ivan had nearly strangled him against the wall in a show of rare anger; he almost expected it to happen again, but it didn’t. Instead Ivan only smiled and Kartlos grabbed at his arm, yanking him out of the room. Ivan called out to him before they exited though, his calm smile burning cold in Matthew’s veins. “You would be surprised what people can do to help those they love, comrade. Or what they can lose track of, what they forget-and I think you’ll find he will discover you’re missing much sooner than a few months’ time. News travels fast.”
And, with that, he was tugged out the door and could only watch it shut with a final groan.
*****
Later, Arthur would look back on That Night and wonder how everything went to hell so fast (and yes, the capitalization was well deserved).
They had just made their final port stop before heading out into the deep sea of the Medii and, for all intents and purposes, it had been a rather normal day. Arthur had spent a good part of the morning going over some navigation charts with Seychelles and Vash, going over what passageways were safest throughout the Medii and which were fastest. Then, he’d spent a good part of the afternoon practicing with Kiku, trying to get his Voice to do anything useful (thus far, he was starting to think his Voice was not working out of spite after being ignored all those years) and had then gone up to listen to Sadiq drone on about how important it was to show respect to certain elders. He’d sat with Alfred for the majority of that lesson, but tried not to act too blatantly ‘sinful,’ in the wake of the personal history he’d learned about Sadiq the prior week. After that, dinner, and Arthur had been looking forward to retiring to the cabin with Alfred a little later.
Then, Nikolai had showed up, and everything went to shit.
Next Chapter
******
*Cyrus-Cyprus, or Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus
*Kartlos-Georgia:
The Kartlos was the legendary establisher and eponymous father of Georgia, and the mythic ancestor of Georgians, namely its nucleus Kartli (Caucasian Iberia). His story is narrated in the compilation of the medieval Georgian chronicles.
Genre : humor, action/adventure, fantasy and, of course, romance
Pairings: USUK main, minor others (Seychelles/France, Spain/Romano, Prussia/Hungary/Austria, etc)
Rating: R
Warnings: AU, human names used, fantasy plot line ^_^ future sexy times
Summary: Arthur had a voice, a good one, but it's been stolen from him and he's prepared to do everything he can to get it back. Even traversing across the world with a bunch of lunatics with a leader who just might be his hero after all.
Note: Things are starting to come to a head, everyone. I'm going to pound out the rest of this story and have it done by the end of this year. I'm serious y'all. I have the next five chapters done already. I have a fancy new character reference guide HERE if anyone wants to use it. Also...may be getting a Tumblr. Any opinions on getting updates on SaT there? Let me know!
P.S. Reviews would be lovely :D
Previous Chapter
Of Silence and Thievery
Chapter Twenty-One: Where Sadiq Shows he Does Have a Heart and Matthew Learns
Arthur had always assumed that long sailing trips (or land trips…he wasn’t picky) would be monotonous and boring. He’d had a whole collection of books in his store that were devoted to traveling, and every now and then, when his family was being especially boorish and he was more than a little worried someone saw him do something that’d given away his Voice, he’d daydream about leaving Britannia and traveling all over Avrupa. He had never sailed prior to Ivan’s attack and joining the Evangeline, but he’d always imagined that the actual ‘travel’ part of traveling (like being stuck on a ship for weeks at a time or travelling slowly on horseback for days on end) was a necessary evil to see the wonders and sights of the world outside of his homeland. He’d seen enough weary and relieved sailors come into Berth after months of sailing to support this kind of thinking-but he had been very wrong.
Maybe it was just because the Evangeline had a different sort of mission, or maybe it was just because Seychelles was a slave driver of a captain, but boring and monotonous were the last two words Arthur would’ve chosen to describe the days following their departure from Vindobona. The crew was in near constant motion from sun up to sun down each day, those who were going ashore preparing for what the Byzantium would throw at them and those who were staying with the ship going over the different procedures and safeguards they’d need to take to not arouse anger from the locals and keep the ship up to shape. And Arthur was not the exception.
If he wasn’t going over different customs to expect in Byzantium with Sadiq, or helping Kiku organize different packs and provisions they’d need for the journey to Zion and what they’d need to get once they arrived, he was pouring over navigation charts and maps of every outlying country they’d need to travel through to get to Ruthenia and Ivan. They needed to know which paths and roads would be best to travel and not risk detection after they had to branch off from the main road Esther called the Old Path. While many had reservations about his skills before, after the hide-out was found, Arthur knew they were all counting on him to navigate them on land. Him, Esther, and Sadiq-it was up to them to get everyone through the Byzantium safely without alerting Ivan they were coming. Arthur would’ve felt pressure at the thought of the responsibility, if the thought of what awaited them after they found Ivan wasn’t weighing so heavily on his mind.
Arthur didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it didn’t seem like anyone really had any sort of plan on what they needed to do once they found Ivan and his lackeys. Besides hit them of course (and thank you Gilbert for that gem of a plan). But as far as actually stopping whatever Ivan was trying to do with the large amount of Talents and youth he kept stealing, or for that record, figuring out how to actually return all of the Talents he’d stolen to their rightful owners, everyone was somewhat mum on the subject. Alfred included. Arthur had assumed when he joined that someone at least had some sort of idea on how to do this-but he was coming to think he was just as mistaken about that idea as he had been about traveling long distances. And that, more than anything, made him nervous and dread spark down his spine. The only thing more foolish than storming an extremely powerful, deranged man in a fortress he’d carved out of a mountain was doing so without any sort of plan.
He wasn’t exactly sure on how to voice his concerns though, not when everyone but him seemed to think that was a mere technicality and brushed it off they few times he’d even come close to broaching the subject. Even Kiku had been less concerned than Arthur would have expected.
“Magic works in unusual ways, Arthur-san,” he’d said. “I am sure it will work to intervene in our behalf if we need it too.”
Arthur had refrained from mentioning that it hadn’t been magic that had taken all of their Talents, and children’s youths, in the first place. Especially since it had been Kiku who’d expounded on the difference between magic wielders and those with Talents-it was confusing (and suspicious) that he was brushing aside the difference so casually. Arthur hadn’t mentioned his worries after that, but that didn’t mean he stopped having them.
“Hey.” Arthur blinked and glanced up from where the dark splash of the waves had lulled his mind into its contemplative mood. Alfred was grinning at him, softly, and slipping his arms around his waist before Arthur could move away. Not that he would have moved away-Arthur hoped Alfred realized that by now. “Where’d you go?”
Arthur cocked his head to the side in silent question.
“You were like a million miles away, thinking and stuff.” Sometimes, Alfred surprised Arthur with how observant he could be when he wanted to (not that it happened often). “What were you thinking about?”
Arthur shook his head and hoped his smile looked convincing enough. Nothing. Just going over things.
“Yeah right. You had your worried face on.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. I do not have a ‘worried’ face.
“Oh, you so do.” Alfred leaned forward and kissed Arthur’s cheek gently before he pulled him in closer. “Don’t worry, it’s kind of cute. Like how a pup looks when you steal his chew toy.”
There was a new closeness between Alfred and him after that first night Sadiq had started ‘training’ them for the Byzantium. It hadn’t exactly been missing before, but hadn’t been what it was now. Arthur’s not entirely surprised by it; Alfred had likely never opened himself up or been that vulnerable with anyone before Arthur. There’s a certain level of trust that comes about after experiencing something like that for the first time, and Arthur’s positive this is Alfred’s first time experiencing that trust. It also probably helps that they both know they’re freedom with each other was limited once they reached Zion-the knowledge that soon they’d have to watch every look or touch they shared made each one feel warmer and brighter now. Arthur had only been in love once, and it was ill-fated from the start (he’d been fifteen and he’d been head over heels for a local huntsman who had very large arms…and a very small brain), but what he’d felt then paled in comparison to what he felt now.
Yet another reason why traveling was not boring-any spare time he did manage to find was promptly swept away by Alfred and getting as close to each other as physically possible until the night came and they didn’t need to worry about ‘offending’ Sadiq (or getting yelled at by Seychelles for ‘shirking duties’).
“Annnnnd you’re gone again. You sure you’re okay, Iggy?” Arthur forced his mind away from straying too deep again and tilted his head up to press a soft, conciliatory kiss to Alfred’s chin.
Just tired.
Alfred frowned but didn’t press any further. “Well, I have to check with Seychelles and see if we’ve got any whetting stones before we leave the coastline, but wanna meet me in the room after? I can grab something from Kiku if you’ve got a headache or anything.”
Arthur smiled, genuinely, and shook his head. No to the herbs, but yes to the room.
Alfred smiled wide and kissed him once before hurrying off-he was so eager sometimes. He ran a hand through his hair and turned to head back towards their cabin (gods, ‘their’ was starting to sound less and less terrifying which was a brand of its own terrifying), but stopped short when he saw Sadiq lounging on a barrel, coal-black eyes fixed on him. He felt a flush of irrational embarrassment mixed with a good amount of annoyance at the man and he lifted his chin just a bit in challenge. Large sword or no, he was sick of having to tip-toe around him at every turn, just in case something he did offended him. Soon he was going to have to deal with that enough as it was, he was not going to start early. If he wanted to kiss Alfred on the deck of the ship, he damn well was going to.
Sadiq, to his credit, did not get angry or rise from his position at the challenge. He snorted and smirked a little meanly, but that was it (that actually may have been more insulting than saying anything…Arthur admitted it had a little bit to do with his abundance of manly pride). He wished he hadn’t left the tablet and quill in the cabin, but he could make do without it; he gestured at Sadiq in a manner that clearly said ‘well, out with it then, you clearly have something insulting and offensive to say to me.’
Sadiq was much better at reading his gestures than most others on the ship, so he got the gist of most of that. “You have more fire in you than I think most give you credit for, Kirkland.”
Arthur blinked; that had not been what he expected as a response from the large man. Sardonic, yes. Rude, absolutely. But almost complimentary? No, that had not been what Arthur would’ve guessed at all. He gestured again, this time asking ‘would you just say whatever it is you need to say to feel like you’re doing your moral duty in informing me that I’m doomed for whatever pits of damnation your gods say I am?’ He wasn’t as confident that question made it across as clearly as the first one, but it would have to do; there was only so much Arthur could do with his hands (and no, his mind absolutely did not take a nose dive into the gutter after thinking that).
“I know it must be difficult, what you are doing here, and I’m sure my presence does little to make you, and others in your crew, comfortable, but you must understand that just as you are entitled to your beliefs, I am entitled to mine.” Arthur would have rolled his eyes at the words, if Sadiq hadn’t had said them almost kindly. “For what it is worth, I do admire your courage in hunting a man who kills children for sport, especially when said man is clearly hunting you just as eagerly.”
Arthur’s brows furrowed a little and he shook his head. Ivan hadn’t shown any interest in him in months, not since the Nords-those were not the actions have a man hunting something. Well, there had been that incident in Spandow where Alfred revealed that Ivan had spied on them, and Alfred had been irrationally concerned that Ivan would attack Arthur there but-nothing had happened. Sadiq picked up the silent denial and he gave a harsh, booming laugh that did little to comfort.
“Let me tell you a story, Kirkland. When I was a boy, my father would take my younger cousin and I out hunting for a small animal called a mongoose that lived in the wild surrounding our home. Not because we were hungry or because he wished for us to be hunters, but to teach us how to be swift and clever, just as the mongoose is. He showed us many different ways to track the animal, to recognize their dens and their water sources, showed us how they fearlessly and cunningly took down snakes and outsmarted predators that would hunt them. And then he taught us that the best way to catch the mongoose was to be patient, to watch and observe its habits, what side it favors when it moves, which direction it will head if startled-and after we had learned all we could, then he would have us hunt. And you know what? We caught the mongoose nearly every time.”
Arthur did not have to read between the lines of Sadiq’s story to understand what he was getting at. “That man, for as mad as he is, is just as equally clever. You would be wise not to confuse his quiet for disinterest.”
He settled back a little into the barrel and Arthur could feel his stare as he nodded at the rigging off to the side. He hadn’t considered that angle before-it seemed stupid of him now. He met Sadiq’s eyes again and pointed at him with raised eyebrows. Had he ever underestimated Ivan Braginski…thought of him as only a madman and paid for it?
No one really knew why Sadiq was hunting Ivan, no one except maybe Feliks, but it wasn’t as if he was around to shed light on the subject. Sadiq did not have a Talent, in fact, he was quite proud about boasting that his strength and agility were his own, something he’d earned. If he had family who had been attacked, he didn’t speak about it, but something in how he told that story, in how his eyes went dark as he warned Arthur-it spoke of personal experience. Based on how he’d spoken to Natalia and was so willing to kill her back in Spandow, Arthur had little doubt whatever Ivan had done to Sadiq had been something perhaps worse than anything done to the rest of them.
Sadiq met his stare, unblinkingly, until his eyes were nothing but hard, reflections of black in the lantern light. He stood up and Arthur fought not to step back as the large man stepped close to him. “You want to know why I’m here. Kirkland, is that it? How I know that man is still hunting you like a mongoose in the woods?”
Arthur tilted his chin up, set his jaw, and nodded curtly.
“I know these things and hunt with you even though I believe you lot are little more than hedonistic infidels because Ivan Braginski stole my cousin’s life until he was nothing but a withered husk while I was forced to watch. And do you know why he forced me to watch little Cyrus* die? Because I insulted him and he could.”
Sadiq didn’t stomp away, his rage and grief were too painful and deep for that, but he did leave Arthur alone on the deck, wishing he’d just ignored the man and his sneer and gone down to the cabin and wait for Alfred (who was probably there by now and waiting for him). Now he had even more worries to add to his collection-wonderful. He looked up and watched the stars blink for a while before he turned and headed inside.
*****
Matthew was growing to hate the cold.
When he’d been younger, he used to look forward to the cooler weather that winter always brought in Merica. It was usually so warm year round that the cold was always a welcome change when it came. Matthew liked wearing the sweaters his mother used to make and he liked how the brisk wind made his nose and ears red with cold. Sometimes, they even got snow in the low valley where they lived and he loved that even more-there was always something so pure about snowfall when he’d been young. He and Alfred used to take long slabs of tree bark from the huge redwoods that were everywhere in the woods surrounding their valley and slide down the small snow banks until they were both drenched to the bone and had to be dragged inside.
But now, now all the cold meant was the bitter draft that escaped into his stone cell every night and his fingers being blue at their tips, not quite frostbitten (because Ivan wouldn’t allow that) but close enough that they felt it. It meant captivity and hunger; Matthew couldn’t stand that he was growing to hate something he once loved. The cold mountain wind drifted into his cell again and he shivered, pulling the threadbare blanket he had tighter around his shoulders. He wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.
Matthew knew that the cold in his cell was all part of Ivan’s ‘method’ of trying to get him to be more cooperative; Ivan had a lot of power at his fingertips, and what he couldn’t do himself, he likely had someone here who could. His room had the capability of being warm, more comfortable, but Ivan wouldn’t do anything to help Matthew without getting something in return. And, the Lady help him, he wasn’t about to help Ivan any more than he was already being forced to; if his rebellion meant he could frustrate Ivan in some way, then it was worth a little discomfort (and by a little, he meant a lot).
He’d been captured for just a little short of two months and while he wasn’t so much convinced Ivan was plotting to kill him anymore, he was supremely unsettled at not knowing why the hell the man had captured him in the first place. Eduard and Toris had swapped different theories under the breaths at the different work sites they were assigned to, but none of them seemed to stick long enough to really be considered a possibility. Oh Matthew knew it had to do with Alfred and this Arthur person, but he didn’t know why it involved him. Or now that Ivan had him, what his part in the scheme was-it was infuriating, being kept in the dark and feeling even more helpless than he already felt. He tossed on his small cot and tried to close his eyes; he could already feel the tell-tale tightening of his chest and throat and he’d made a promise to himself to not wallow anymore.
He was fairly certain Ivan was keeping any eye on him in the cell anyway and Matthew wasn’t about to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing just how much being isolated and held captive was starting to get to him.
Before he really knew it, the sun was starting to peek into his cell and Matthew blinked at it tiredly. He felt exhausted (a full night of tossing and turning will do that to you), but he knew that Natalia would be by any moment to lead him and the others to the work yard. The deranged woman scared him more than Ivan did, so he pushed himself out of bed and started to pull on the pathetic excuses for ‘warm’ clothing he had. Once dressed, he tried to comb back his hair with his fingers so it was a tad neater and then picked up his glasses to slip them on. One lens looked permanently dirty and the other had a rather noticeable crack to the side-he was sure he looked like some kind of homeless vagrant. He grinned a little deprecatingly as he stood beside the door and waited for Natalia to appear; he supposed he kind of was a homeless vagrant here anyway.
He heard footsteps echo in the stone hallway outside his cell, but instead of hearing the usual shuffle of all the other captives, Matthew only heard one set. He blinked and stepped back from the door as whoever it was arrived and opened it with a loud groan. A tall, olive skinned man was waiting for him on the other side and Matthew recognized him as one of Ivan’s followers, one of the people there who truly believed that Ivan was trying to save the world, or whatever the whole ‘Vision’ thing was about. He wasn’t fanatical like Natalia, but he wasn’t exactly like Oksana either; Matthew knew there would only be one reason why this man came to pick him up at his cell this morning.
“Brother Ivan wishes to speak to you.” Yep, there it was. Matthew met the man’s stare and followed his arm as it stretched out in invitation; Matthew nodded and stepped out of the cell. He didn’t move outside of the man’s reach, because he knew if he did that would only mean that he would snatch him back and then be herded to meet Ivan. Matthew recognized the man’s offer to walk freely for what it was; Matthew wasn’t about to waste it.
They made their way through the winding corridors of the mountain, and Matthew tried to note landmarks or different rock formations when they passed them (escape wasn’t likely, but if it did happen he wasn’t going to be useless). The man was silent beside him, but Matthew wouldn’t have known what to say even if he did strike up conversation. There really wasn’t a delicate way to phrase ‘so you follow a homicidal maniac, what’s it like to be so brainwashed?’ Not if Matthew wanted to keep his nose and jaw unbroken; silence was the best option. They continued walking through the corridors, and then the man turned sharply down a narrow, sloped pathway that led deeper into the mountain; Matthew had never been to this area of the compound before and he felt a thrill of nervousness as he realized this was probably where Ivan lived. He did not want to know why he was being summoned to Ivan’s personal quarters early in the morning.
The man paused outside of a pair of large, wood doors and knocked three times; Matthew heard the soft, deep voice answer positively within and then the door was opening. The man took gentle hold of his arm and led him inside. The quarters were not lavishly decorated, but were much more furnished than other areas in the compound he’d seen; Ivan was sitting in the middle of it at a desk that was covered with books, glass vials, and all different sorts of things Matthew would expect to find in an apothecary shop. Ivan glanced up and smiled kindly at him before turning to the man.
“Thank you, Kartlos*. Leave us.” The man nodded and exited without question, leaving Matthew alone; he took a deep breath and turned back to meet Ivan’s gaze, his hands balling into tight fists at his side to conceal their shaking. Ivan did not stand up, but continued to stare at Matthew from his desk, fingers steeped in front of his mouth and too bright eyes boring into him from across the room. Matthew didn’t move and continued to meet Ivan’s eyes with as much defiance as he could muster…however little that actually ended up being.
Ivan’s smile deepened and he sat back a little in his chair. “You are very much like your brother. He would not have yielded if he was in your place either-such an interesting similarity you share.”
“Did you bring me here to talk about my brother?” Matthew was proud of the way his voice stayed steady; his fists clenched together tight enough for his ragged nails to bite into his skin.
“No, I brought you here to discuss why you insist on refusing every attempt at hospitality I offer. And why you continue to toss aside precious stones over the cliff edge, which forces me to punish you. I do not like to cause suffering, Matthew, no matter what you think.” The frightening thing was that Matthew believed that Ivan truly thought that was true. Truly believed he only caused suffering because he had to-Matthew might have pitied him if he didn’t hate him.
“I want nothing to do with your cause or your hospitality. I am here because you’re keeping me here, but don’t expect me to join your followers just because I’m cold or uncomfortable.”
Ivan stayed quiet for a few moments before he finally stood up from his seat, circling around the desk and walking past Matthew as he headed towards some potted plants on a nearby windowsill. The flowers were dying in their pots and looked like sunflowers; they grew like weeds in the grain fields in Merica. “Tell me, Matthew, who are you more angry with? Myself for taking you from your home, or your brother for not finding you?”
Matthew grit his teeth and closed his eyes. “I’m not looking to be rescued.”
“Is that right? Then why do you continue to resist my help?” Matthew couldn’t tell if Ivan was mocking him or was truly wondering why. Matthew glanced over and watched Ivan as he pruned the dying leaves off the stalk of the sunflower, as if that would help the flower stay alive a bit longer. Matthew watched as Ivan’s hands glowed green for a moment and he felt a wave of hot, burning anger as he realized Ivan was using Elizaveta’s Talent. The plant brightened after the power washed over it and Ivan glanced back to meet Matthew’s gaze. “Your friend’s Talent is quite useful, but not permanent-it keeps the plant alive when it normally would die but it does not prevent the rot and disease that will follow as long as I plant the seeds within Ruthenia’s soil.”
Ivan brushed dirt of his hands and turned to face Matthew head on. “You have not answered my question.”
Matthew took a deep breath. “Just because I don’t expect to be rescued doesn’t mean I suddenly agree with what you’re doing here, with your plans.”
“Ah, but Matthew, you don’t know of my plans, only my methods.” Ivan smiled playfully back at him and it made him look years younger. “If you knew what I was trying to do, what I am trying to achieve, you would not be so quick to sneer at them.”
“Then-then tell me what they are. You’ve got me trapped here and my brother may not know for months and-maybe if I knew what you’re trying to do I’d consider helping you.” It was a long shot, Matthew knew, but he had to try. He didn’t care if Ivan was trying to end all conflict and war, he would never agree to help because of how he was going about it-but Ivan didn’t know him that well and might not know that. Even though he had Matthew’s stolen empathy, Matthew knew how to mask his feelings and prevent Ivan from reading him with his Talent. Matthew knew its abilities and limitations better than Ivan did, and now that he knew he employed it on a regular basis, he wasn’t about to get caught unawares as he had before.
Ivan smiled indulgently and shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will, not yet.”
The knock sounded at the door and Matthew whirled around to see the man, Kartlos, enter again, deferring respectfully to Ivan before turning to Matthew. His time was up, it seemed; back to work. Matthew faced Ivan as Kartlos came towards him, eyes hard and blood starting to well up in his palm from where his nails broke the skin. “You told me when I first got here that you needed Alfred, that he was necessary-do you really think he’s going to give two shits about ‘helping’ you whenever he does find out I’m gone? He’s not stupid; he’ll know I wouldn’t want him to side with you just to help me, that this is just a trap.”
Matthew hadn’t spoken so hotly to Ivan since that first night he came to him in the cell, when Ivan had nearly strangled him against the wall in a show of rare anger; he almost expected it to happen again, but it didn’t. Instead Ivan only smiled and Kartlos grabbed at his arm, yanking him out of the room. Ivan called out to him before they exited though, his calm smile burning cold in Matthew’s veins. “You would be surprised what people can do to help those they love, comrade. Or what they can lose track of, what they forget-and I think you’ll find he will discover you’re missing much sooner than a few months’ time. News travels fast.”
And, with that, he was tugged out the door and could only watch it shut with a final groan.
*****
Later, Arthur would look back on That Night and wonder how everything went to hell so fast (and yes, the capitalization was well deserved).
They had just made their final port stop before heading out into the deep sea of the Medii and, for all intents and purposes, it had been a rather normal day. Arthur had spent a good part of the morning going over some navigation charts with Seychelles and Vash, going over what passageways were safest throughout the Medii and which were fastest. Then, he’d spent a good part of the afternoon practicing with Kiku, trying to get his Voice to do anything useful (thus far, he was starting to think his Voice was not working out of spite after being ignored all those years) and had then gone up to listen to Sadiq drone on about how important it was to show respect to certain elders. He’d sat with Alfred for the majority of that lesson, but tried not to act too blatantly ‘sinful,’ in the wake of the personal history he’d learned about Sadiq the prior week. After that, dinner, and Arthur had been looking forward to retiring to the cabin with Alfred a little later.
Then, Nikolai had showed up, and everything went to shit.
Next Chapter
******
*Cyrus-Cyprus, or Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus
*Kartlos-Georgia:
The Kartlos was the legendary establisher and eponymous father of Georgia, and the mythic ancestor of Georgians, namely its nucleus Kartli (Caucasian Iberia). His story is narrated in the compilation of the medieval Georgian chronicles.