Extremely angsty, tragic and not very funny. So that you are warned
Also: Extreme graphicness (in my mind) and violence. Rape, abuse, neglect. You are forewarned.
Yaoi, slash, shouen ai, guy x guy. For those idiots out there.
Please review. I would like some serious feedback on this one.
The golden sunlight shone warm and bright onto the cold and detached body of the naked young man curled in the corner. His blonde hair, once full and bright, now hung dirty, limp and pale. His eyes were empty hollows sunken deep into his face. When the sunlight hit his face he could not help but flinch and think of the warmth that he had lost. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt. But it won't happen again. I will make sure of it.
The room in which he huddled was a dark dank hole of a room, the only window set high above the floor, allowing a small glance of the daylight and that tantalizing hope of unobtainable freedom. The room smelled rank, think with the odors of many bodies, urine, sweat and blood. He was the only occupant, chained in his corner on the small pile of dank, old straw that was piled underneath him. The smell was horrendous, and the straw did little to shield his battered shell from the cold hard stone floor.
The straw itched at his bruises and cuts, irritating them and inflaming them, but he did not notice or care. His mind floated in a detached haze, not paying any attention to the multiple aches and pains that his body complained of. A gnawing hunger flourished deep in his belly, but he did not eat the small, scant and maggot-infested food they gave him, nor did he drink the dark colored water they set in his reach. They, like the multiple injuries, were ignored.
How long had he been here? About a week, he thought vaguely. He wondered how long he would survive before this bruised shell could take no more. He would not die, but he wouldn't feel either. He would simply exist until someone took enough care to nurse his body back to health. For he was a jasuthka, one of the immortals. But he had committed a great wrong and was being justly punished for it.
From outside his cage door he heard footsteps approach. Already? That was quicker than I expected. The footsteps stopped outside his door. He heard the clanging of keys, and then the door swung open slowly, ominously. A tall, dark-haired man stepped in, immediately locking the door behind him. He set the keys high up on a shelf and muttered a short incantation, causing them to disappear. Then he turned his attention to the young man curled on the dirty straw in the corner.
His eyes caught on the uneaten food and still-full cup of water. "Tsk tsk, you know you should eat. It does you no good to ignore your body like that you know. Honestly, you just prolong your pain." He paused, smiling cruelly. "But I forget. That's what you want, isn't it." The vicious smile that graced the dark-haired man's face graduated into a positively sadistic, possessive smile that radiated cruelty easily. Dark eyes stared lustfully at his captive, only slightly put-off by the lack of response that his possession gave him. An entire week of pain and torture, yet not a sound passed the blonde's lips. And what precious lips they were.
Much later, the dark haired man left the room, leaving the blonde re-chained in his corner. More blood had been spilled, more torture applied. Yet still, there was no reaction from the blonde man. Nothing, not a whimper of pain, a flash of anger in his eyes, nothing. It was really starting to annoy the dark man. He thrived off the fear and helplessness of his captives. This one was not living up to his expectations. The novelty of having a jasuthka was starting to wear off. The only good thing about this particular captive was his inability to die. As a jasuthka, he was invulnerable to starvation, able to feed off the magical ambience of all natural things. His wounds healed with extreme rapidness, and he was near impossible to kill. I wonder… how much could he take? How much can he regenerate? How much before he screams? A dark smile graced the dark man's face as he contemplated new ways to torture the newest addition to his collection.
Amethyst eyes surveyed the small cell into which he had been thrown. He had been captured at the outskirts of the property by the lord's guards and immediately brought here. He knew why, but it did not scare him. He had heard tales of this particular keep lord, and he was glad to see that they were true. It would make his job that much easier. A small smile graced his handsome face, lips curving upward in a short smirk. His silver hair was still bound back, and he wore his riding clothes. He was well muscled, trim and fit, as was befitting his position.
He surveyed the small cell, taking in the stone walls, the small window, the rank smells, the bloodstains and small pile of straw. The chains that had so recently held him in place now dangled uselessly from their positions on the walls. He wasn't sure how long he had been waiting, for the drugs they had used on him had skewed his sense of time more than a little. He knew only that it was nighttime, and that because of the small window set high in the wall next to him. The room was lit unnaturally, by glowing orbs of light that hung in each corner, far above his reach. After much waiting, he heard the sounds he had been awaiting. Two sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway. He could hear vague mutterings of conversation.
He quickly moved back to the wall, fixed the chains so that they hung loosely on his arms and legs and turned a fearfully expectant face towards the door. He allowed himself a last smirk before completely fixing his mask in place, quickly checking himself over for signs of something out of place. He heard the jangling of keys, the click as the lock opened, and then two men stepped into the room. They were most obviously related. They were both dark of hair, eyes and heart. They spared him a quick look before returning to their conversation.
"You still haven't managed to kill him?" The shorter, younger looking one asked.
"No, for all that he wants to suffer, he won't die. I think that he is actually prolonging his agony. But it is a most amusing pastime, don't you agree? I can't believe the extents to which his body actually repairs itself." The taller replied, voice low and dark with ill-gotten amusement and pleasure. He turned to the silver haired man in the corner, smiling as the man cringed. "Now where did you find this one brother? He's absolutely exquisite."
"We found him riding the forest. I knew immediately you would like him. Consider it a belated name-day present." They shared a hungry gaze and turned their attention to him. He kept his fearful mask in place, pretending to cringe back into the corner, not wanting to alert them even the slightest before he struck. As the older approached, the younger stood back against the stone door, leering at the huddled man in the corner. I guess he knows what's coming. He grinned. This one was definitely a proper present.
The silver haired man snapped his attention to the dark-eyed man in front of him. The lord reached out and took him by the chin, eyes dark and heavy with lust and passion. "Oh, this one's a rare treat brother. Don't you worry though, I won't hesitate to share." He leaned forward and pressed his lips down to the silver haired man's. The kiss was full of pain laced with pleasure, dark, yet somehow fulfilling to the dark man. He was so absorbed he did not even notice when the silver-haired man slipped the shackles free of his wrists and delivered two stunning blows; one to the dark man's groin, where the definitive bulge showed clearly, and the other to the side of the man's head. He collapsed, a surprised look flitting across his face before he fell into the oblivion of unconsciousness.
He glanced up at the younger man standing shocked by the door. He quickly recovered though, and drew the dagger that was sheathed at his belt. "Wrong move, boy. Now you will feel twice the pain."
The silver-haired man reached into the secret compartment in his tunic and withdrew his own dagger. Slightly smaller, skinny, but with a wicked blade, it was easily concealable in the seam of his tunic. He smirked. "Boy, eh? I've no doubt that I'm older than you." He crossed the distance quickly, taking care to tread on the back of the fallen man. He grinned, a wicked smirk contorting his features as he faced off against his opponent.
They crossed their daggers, moving quickly, barely skimming each other's blade before withdrawing. They were shortly both covered with scratches, small vicious bites that presaged something more. They moved with expertise, darting in and out, weaving about each other, using their daggers, their fists, and the occasional leg. Finally, the silver-haired man managed to disarm his dark opponent with a lunge and trip maneuver that landed the dagger across the floor and him pinning the younger man to the floor. He pressed the point of his dagger to the man's throat, causing him to instantly still.
"What do you want?" The man asked hoarsely. The silver-haired man smirked.
"Your death, of course. Thank you ever so much for 'capturing' me earlier, it made this whole thing so much easier." He grinned, a smile at once fierce and wild, untamed and yet at the same time, somehow more controlled than seemed possible.
"W-why?" Fear shone bright in the dark man's eyes. He would have recognized the look if he had seen it. It was a desperate plea, a muted cry for mercy that would not be shown. He had seen it many times, had been the source of that fear and plea. His only thoughts were to convince this man that it was not worth it, to somehow gain control again.
"I'm sure you can figure that out. Why else would you have these special cells? But why me, personally? Two things actually. One, you are scum. I can't stand scum. And two, I was paid well for this job, though I may have accepted it anyway." The doomed man's eyes widened as he started to make all the usual promises, riches, wealth, anything, even a chance to become a part of their operation. He smirked when the young noble made that last promise. "Now you know how they feel. But I feel you should know something." He paused, then smirked again.
"I am Silver, and I take no bribes." He saw the man's eyes widen in recognition of his code name, and he waited no longer. He dragged the dagger across the fallen noble's throat and soon enough he had joined the many he had consigned to the afterlife. He cleaned the dagger on the man's shirt and started to get up. The sooner this job was finished, the better. The cold bite of steel against his neck brought him up short.
A short, bitter laugh rang through the cell. "So my late brother bit off more than he could chew, eh? Well, I won't make the same mistake twice. Drop the weapon." The silver haired man, a calm, unafraid expression on his face, grinned, and dropped the dagger. "Very well, now kick that over there, yes, by the fool in front of the door."
Still grinning, the silver-haired man complied. "Very good." The dark man told him, as though he were a mere child who had mastered a new skill. "I wonder which will be the greater conquest? Killing the infamous Silver, or fucking him until he can't walk straight? Not that you'll be doing much walking. Now, remove your clothing. Slowly. And remember, I can throw a dagger just as well as I can cut your neck from here." The lord backed up, and looked at him with an expectant leer.
The silver haired man continued to smile, which served to unnerve the dark man. Why is he smiling? He must have something hidden up his sleeve. I will have to watch this one carefully. As if that weren't already implied. The silver haired man slowly removed his tunic, then his breeches, and shortly stood in all his naked glory. And glory it was. It's a pity I will have to kill him when I'm done with him. He's quite the fine specimen if I do say so myself.
"On your knees." The silver haired man obeyed, still grinning. Then he opened his mouth, licked his lips slowly and cocked a silver eyebrow in blatant invitation. Forcing himself to exercise caution, he surveyed the silver-haired man in front of him. His clothing and shoes were pushed far away, and he had no weapon to speak of near him. Unless one counts straw as a lethal weapon. He smirked. "Oh, I do so love the eager ones. Mustn't keep you waiting now. Shall we love?"
He walked over to the silver haired man, performing a quick incantation that made his dagger invisible, yet easily accessible. He quickly shed his clothing, watching the silver-haired man for his reactions. He was still grinning, one side of his mouth quirked up at the corner, amusement flooding his features. What was it about this assassin? There was something he was forgetting. It was at the tip of his brain. Well, if it was important enough, he would have remembered it.
His bared member was already hard in anticipation of this one. This would be one of his greatest conquests, right up there with the jasuthka, although that didn't turn out to be much of a conquest. He was proving to be entertaining though, in his own way. But he had more important things to focus on right now. Such as the warm, liquid heat that was caressing his arousal. He grabbed the silver hair in front of him, forcing his member deeper into that warm wetness. He was quite large, proud of that fact, and he like to ram it down the throats of those inferior to him.
A smirk appeared on his face as he thought of the proud assassin Silver, sucking him off. Then all thoughts fled his mind as the assassin skillfully applied a strong suction that nearly took his breath away. All he could do was feel as the emotions took over, leaving the rational part of his mind to stew. The only thoughts that ran through his mind were, this isn't the first time he's done this, and I can't remember the last time it was this good. As he neared release, his hand tightened unconsciously in the silver hair in front of him, giving the signal the silver-haired man had been waiting for. He extended a free hand towards where his dagger had landed and called. The dagger lifted a foot off the ground, then glided silently into his waiting hand. He smirked, and the dark man must have noticed something different, for he looked down.
Silver slid the dagger up the man's thigh, leaving a small cut that dripped blood, until he reached the base of the man's arousal. He slowly took removed his mouth, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Move and you will lose one of your most precious assets." He grinned at his own jest. The dark man's face turned murderous with rage. "Well, I personally don't see any reason to drag this out." He smiled, regained his feet and plunged the dagger into the man's ribs, stopping his heart. But not before a quick sigil was drawn in the air. It went unnoticed and unremarked upon by the silver-haired man. The dead man's body quickly fell with a small thump.
He dressed quickly, cleaned his dagger, and picked the lock. He was out. He stayed cautious though. He did not want to be caught now. Loyal guards were not what he needed right now. I could use some water though… I need to get that gods-awful taste out of my mouth.
He glanced about the hallway. They had drugged him in the forest, only a light dose of something, but enough to make him drowsy, unable to fight back and leave his memories extremely hazy. He knew he was a floor underground, because of the windows. They were set just above ground level. He had seen the grass from his cell. This hallway was dark, lit intermittently by small torches. He waited a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he found himself in a long hallway lined with little doors just like the one he had just exited. How many do they keep? I wish I could do something to help them, but it just isn't practical. The nephew will take care of them. He's a good man.
Silver made his way down the hallway, pausing in the darker sections of the hallway to listen for anything. But all he got was an ominous silence. The place smelled of death, of unwashed bodies and blood. But it was silent. No harsh breathing broke the silence, no moans of pain, no footsteps of guards, nothing. He had almost reached the end of the hallway, getting more and more unnerved as he went, when he heard them.
Footsteps. Of at least three men. He surveyed his surroundings, but no defensible position or hiding spot suggested itself. He reached into his shoe, and turned to the nearest door. With the small instrument he had pulled from his shoe lining, he let himself into the room. A useful tool, the lock-opener. Magic, of course, but rare and hard to obtain. Unfortunately it worked only three times before it was useless. He grinned, then stepped in. immediately he was aware of two things.
One, he was not alone, and two, the awful smell that rose from the room was much worse than anything he had smelled in a very long time. The room, like the hallway, smelled of blood and death. It was easy to see the poor corpse stretched out on the lone table in the room. Arms locked to the table above his head, feet similarly shackled, the table slightly inclined, so as to make it more uncomfortable. The figure was pitiful, a gaunt hollow skeleton. Covered with dirt, blood and all manner of cuts and bruises, the figure was the picture of abuse and neglect. Silver was shocked. He knew the brothers were cruel, but he did not realize how low they could stoop. He stared at the pitiful corpse, shocked again, as he realized that this had been a young boy, no more than fifteen, not unlike his brother.
As he watched though, a shuddering breath rocked the small frame. Then subsided. Oh my gods, he's still alive? How is that possible? He took one step, then another, and suddenly he was at the boy's side, and undoing the clasps that held him to the table. As he finished the last one, he looked at the boy's face, to see sunken blue eyes staring at him. But the eyes were empty, hollow, without hope. Silver stripped his tunic and pulled out the instruments hidden there. He quickly wrapped the boy in it, but still, no emotion showed whatsoever.
I can't leave him here. He could die before he's discovered and treated. I will take him back with me. They won't mind tending to him, especially in the state that he is in. He went to the door, made sure the footsteps were nowhere within hearing distance, then scooped up the boy and made his way out. Somehow the lord had managed to magic his keep so that translocation spells did not work within. He needed to make it outside so that he could use his translocation key to get back. He made his stealthy way through the keep, avoiding guards and servants, and managed to make it outside miraculously unscathed.
The boy had spent the entire trip quietly staring at him with those hollow, lifeless blue eyes. He took a shuddering breath every once in a while, but seemed to mostly not breathe. Silver had no idea how he was managing that, but figured it had to do with the abuse. As he made it out into the starlit night, they were spotted by the keep guards. He cursed, and fumbled in his breeches for the translocation key. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw archers. Muttering another vile curse, he finally pulled out the key, wrapped an arm around the boy and broke the key. But not before a piercing pain made itself known in his shoulder.
When he looked up, he was in the small white room used for translocation. It had a scrambling magic on it, making it impossible for all but the best mages to trace. He collapsed down, setting his burden carefully on the floor, then reached up, and with a wrench twisted the arrow out of his shoulder. He barely noticed when the tall redheaded woman came running in. She took in the blood, the arrow and the skeletal body of the boy lying on the floor, then turned and ran, shouting for healers and servants. Feeling more than a bit dizzy from the blood loss, Silver leaned against the wall. Before he knew it, he had slumped down and was lying on the floor. All he could feel was concern for the hollow-eyed boy and the pain throbbing in his shoulder. After a few minutes, healers rushed in to find him and the boy both deeply unconscious.
A buzzing was the first alert that he was awake in any sense of the term. All he could think was to make it stop. But it didn't go away, it only got more persistent. Then the buzz deteriorated into voices, none of them making the least bit of sense to him. Slowly he began to be able to distinguish between voices. There were three of them, one female and two males. Then at last he was able to distinguish what they were saying.
"He's not here for study, Orazio! He needs time to recover! I'm sure he will be happy to tell you all about the jasuthka when he's well. Let him heal." He heard Gada heatedly tell Orazio.
"But we can't pass up this valuable scientific opportunity! Gada, the jasuthka haven't been seen by humans in over a century! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! I can't believe you mean to pass it up!" Orazio countered just as heatedly as Gada.
"I for one agree with Gada. He is a person, just like one of us. How would you like to go through something as traumatic as what he obviously went through, then be submitted to test after test by a curious doctor?" Interjected Niaz.
"Fine! Alright! I'll hold off on the testing! But I will get answers from him later." Orazio said, then turned and marched off.
"Oy! I swear, one day that man will be the death of me." Gada complained.
"Gada! Don't talk about your brother like that. He's just a bit overzealous. I mean, wouldn't you be? He's been studying about the jasuthka his entire life, and now a real live one –granted, barely alive- gets dropped in his lap? Of course he's excited." Niaz pointed out.
"I suppose. But still, he should think of the poor boy's health. He has been very obviously abused for so long. Did you see that look in his eyes? It's like his body is there, but nobody's home. The poor boy." Gada said.
Silver cleared his throat. They both turned. "Should have seen that coming," chuckled Niaz. "You always do wear off those medicines quicker than you are supposed to."
"So?" He asked cryptically.
"You want the good, the bad, or the ugly first?" Gada grinned.
"Let's go with ugly." He grinned back, ignoring the twinge his shoulder gave him.
"Ok, so starting with you then." Niaz snorted. "The arrow nicked a pretty major artery, so you were out for a couple of days with blood loss, but other than that, the healers have you pretty much fixed up. You should be able to get about in a few days, though they recommend not using that arm for a week." Gada told him.
"Well that sorta goes with the bad, so I'll let you have the rest of it in one blow. The boy you brought in is, as you probably overheard, a jasuthka, one of the long life. He's been very badly abused and neglected. Apparently he hasn't had any food or water for at least a week, if not longer. He's been beaten, whipped, cut, stabbed, and raped repeatedly. He won't speak, or can't. But he is healing, the bruises are already fading and without the help of healers. They dealt with the most extensive of the damage, but say that it will probably take a few weeks, if not months, before he's completely healthy."
"Makes sense. I thought it would take longer. Now can you explain what a jasuthka is?" He asked, completely thrown off by the unfamiliar term.
Both Niaz and Gada stared at him with equal expressions of shock. "You don't know?!"
He glared at them, violet eyes flashing. "Would I have asked otherwise?"
"Point." Niaz grinned. "A jasuthka is apparently an almost immortal creature. Humanlike in appearance, their only differences are the almost inability to be killed. They recover from most wounds quickly. It's rumored that they carry the blood of the gods in their veins, granting them their impossibly long lives. It's also said that a mad wizard experimented on an entire town, giving them the invincibility and immortality, but died before perfecting it. There are lots of rumors, but those are the two most popular. There hasn't been a confirmed claim or sighting for over a century, so it was assumed they had died off. The only sure way to tell if a person is jasuthka or not is to check the palms of the hand. They all have a small tattoo, in the shape of three intersecting triangles."
"Now why would I have known about this?" Silver asked.
"Because, three years ago, when the king was on his deathbed, he gave out a reward for anyone who could produce a real live jasuthka. Apparently he believed that they had great healing powers that they could share with him. Honestly Diarmid! You'd think you would remember that, seeing as how you were living in the palace at the time." Gada practically yelled at him, glaring.
He grinned. "Sorry, love, had more things important things on
my mind then."
"Yeah, such as getting into every pair of male pants that walked in front of you. Or behind you." He just grinned.
"Oh that's so… true…"
Niaz rolled his eyes. "You know, its times like these I'm glad we're related. Honestly Di, you need to exercise a tad bit more restraint, and keep what's in your pants where it belongs."
Diarmid, shoulders shaking with laughter and eyes now a light violet color, replied, "You know if we weren't related you'd be all over me."
Niaz shuddered. "Oh the horror…" Gada was valiantly trying to hold in laughter, but found it a lost cause and gave up.
The two were cousins, their mothers being sisters. They both had violet eyes, though differently hued. Where Diarmid had silver hair, however, Niaz had hair of a shining black. They were closer than most brothers however, as their parents had died while they were both young.
"So when do I get to meet the young man I rescued? This jasuthka?" Diarmid asked.
Gada and Niaz exchanged looks. "Well, as soon as you want I guess. Maybe you can get him to talk. Or find out if he can't."
"What are we waiting for then? Let's go!" He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He looked down. "Hmmm… maybe I should get some pants first."