Summary: In the cold, isolated forests of medieval Europe, Matthias takes a young nobleman named Tristan prisoner. As an unexpectedly tender relationship develops between captor and captive, resentment and distrust grow into warmth and trust in a pair of hearts that were once achingly empty. An often fragile, sometimes volatile, relationship grows between two characters because of mutual loneliness as well as an intense longing for companionship. As a tentative trust develops between them, the dynamics of their captor-captive relationship continually change as power is given, taken, and shared. As their bond deepens, Tristan finds a new kind of freedom in his captivity and Matthias finds redemption for a brutal crime he committed.
A/N: I re-did Chapter 1, and I think it's significantly improved--it flows better and there's more characterization, conflict, and plot details. It is longer than my first version, but I definitely think the additions contribute to the story. I didn't want to erase this 'old' version because people have taken the time to comment on it, so I actually posted a new story thread under 'Historical Novels' for the first 're-worked' chapter. Please take a look if you're interested:
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic72553.html
Chapter 9
He woke to the soft morning light with the boy cradled against him. Light streamed in through the window. He looked down at the boy in his arms. His skin was just a little darker than his own. It was fair but had the faintest touch of brown, like it had been sprinkled lightly with cinnamon, or one hazelnut had been added to cream and the pigment had been evenly mixed.
Tristan stirred and repositioned his head on his chest. Matthias gently disentangled himself from the boy. At the sudden loss of contact, Tristan protested quietly, eyes still closed. Matthias went to retrieve the doctor so he could attend to his affairs.
Җ
The second day of consciousness was worse. It was like some of the shock had worn off, and now his body was punishing him for what it had been subjected to.
Tristan felt someone sit on the bed. “Matthias…?” he murmured weakly, eyes still closed. He reached out and touched the doctor’s arm. He drew back immediately when he realized it wasn’t Matthias.
“No, he’s not here right now.”
“Where is he?”
“He’ll be back soon.”
It was the doctor who had physically performed the procedure, stitching him up and treating his broken body, but there was no doubt that it was Matthias who had saved Tristan. He was the only one who had given him a chance to fight for his life. He was the one who had stayed beside him and cared for him. Tristan understood that and felt a great debt to Matthias. He let him take care of him. He didn’t want to be held by anyone else. He didn’t stop to think when he leaned into Matthias anymore. It was natural. He needed to be comforted, and Matthias’s attention was the only thing that could soothe him. His touch had brought him back to life.
Җ
“I had him eat and drink and helped him to the bathroom and bathed him like you asked.”
“Thank you. Where is he now?”
“He’s in bed, hopefully asleep. At least he can find some escape from the pain. That’s why he sleeps so much. He’s still so weak. Much weaker than he would have you believe. I think he’s weaker than even he realizes. He’s clearly in a lot of pain. He tries to hide it, but he can’t. You must understand—the wound nearly killed him. His body’s still in shock. It’s going to take time for him to recover his strength. You have to let him sleep. I know he’s not used to sleeping so much, but it’s what his body needs. And don’t listen to him when he says he’s fine or he doesn’t need you to help him. He’s not fine, and he does need you.”
“Okay. I will.”
“I cleaned his wounds in the bath. I had to, but I upset him. He’s really hurting this morning.”
“Well go on. Go tend to him.”
“I’m not the one he wants.”
“What do you mean?”
“He asked about you when he woke up. He wanted to know where you were. He wants you to come.”
“Did he say that?”
“No, not in so many words, but I can tell. I know he’ll be glad to see you, even if he doesn’t show it. ”
Tristan weakly lifted his head when they came in the room. He lowered it back down to rest on the pillow when Matthias approached the bed. He was very subdued. He was lying on his right side, hands tucked near him. His hair was still damp from the bath and his eyes were red. Matthias sat down on the bed on the boy’s right side. He could tell that Tristan was hurting badly from his face and rigid body position. He carefully slipped his right hand between the boy’s hands. Tristan lightly grasped his hand in response. Matthias had come to sit with him and offer comfort, as he had done so often during the past few days.
A couple hours later another man knocked at the door and entered the bedroom. Matthias felt Tristan stiffen against him in response to the other man’s presence. He turned his face into his chest and pressed himself closer. He didn’t want anyway else to see him like this. Matthias kept a protective arm around the boy as the man looked at the two of them with poorly disguised suspicion in his eyes.
“Thoran.”
“May I speak with you, Matthias?”
“Alright.”
Matthias moved off of the bed. “I’ll come back,” he said quietly to Tristan, and the boy nodded. Matthias followed the man out into the hall.
“Is it true, what the other men are saying?”
“That depends entirely on what they’re saying.”
“Is he the son of the late lord?”
“Yes. His name is Tristan.”
“So you know who he is?”
“I’m aware. I’ve known since I first saw him.”
“I don’t understand. Faran in exchange for this boy--it’s more than a fair trade. Is his stepfather so jealous that he would have him killed?"
"It would seem so."
"How did you get involved with this, Matthias?”
“I only became involved for Barrett’s benefit. His son was captured. No one could have known Faran would be a target. Caius chose Faran in particular to force my hand, because of my friendship with his father.”
“What are you supposed to do with the boy—I mean Tristan?”
“I only agreed to take him away. I never agreed to take his life. That particular stipulation came later.”
“Why didn’t Caius just have him killed?”
“That should be obvious. He can’t be associated in any way with the kidnapping. If word got out that he had his own stepson kidnapped, there would be an outcry. That’s why having an adversary dispose of him is a perfect plan. As you well know, tensions are already high and blood has been spilled in recent memory.”
“So where does that leave you?”
“Now all I can do is wait. I know Caius won't kill Faran without another threat or attempt at negotiation. But if I so much as suggest to his advisors that capturing Tristan was arranged, he promised he’d kill the boy. If the others knew about his treachery, it might incite rebellion. I need them to know what he did without garnering his attention.”
“So you’re keeping Tristan alive because he’s too valuable to dispose of--because we can use him?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re doing this for Faran. You have no other reason. Is that right?”
“Of course I’m doing this for him. Why else would I feed and clothe this boy? Why would I spend so much time making sure his heart’s still beating?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have any more questions, Thoran?”
“Just one: How do you know you’ve captured the right boy? Caius could have sent another boy in his place. The boy never told you his name. You spoke it and he reacted to it. How do you know it’s him?”
“It’s him.”
“How can you be sure?”
Matthias paused before answering. He looked exasperated, and then distant. “I’ve met him before. I know he doesn’t remember it. I don’t expect him to. I don’t even know if he saw my face. But I saw his.” He stopped talking. “He knows nothing of this,” he added.
“How—?”
“It’s not important,” he said, a little too quickly.
Җ
It had been nearly a week since Tristan had been accosted, unceremoniously dragged out of the manor house, and left to die in the forest. He lay against Matthias, his cheek pressed against the man’s chest. After a long silence, he spoke.
“He’s going to come for me. He’s going to see that you’ve finished the job.”
“I know.”
“What are you going to do? I don’t want to go with him.”
“He can’t have you. I won’t allow it. I won’t let him hurt you again.” Matthias’s arms tightened protectively around him.
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
The boy still looked unsure.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No, I do…”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s just—no one’s ever said something like that to me before.”
“They should have.”
Matthias took Tristan’s face in his hands. Tristan looked at him intently. Matthias lightly fingered the bruise on Tristan’s cheekbone where he had hit him. It had almost faded. He stroked his face, brushing his thumb lightly across his cheek. Without breaking eye contact, he lowered his thumb and traced the boy’s full lips, dabbing at the smooth flesh. He moved his thumb to brush his lips, gently at first, but then becoming rougher. Tristan parted his lips slightly. His breathing had become ragged.
Matthias leaned forward and then paused, his face inches away from Tristan’s, blue eyes meeting hazel, questioning. He held his face in his hands and traced his thumb across his cheek again. Tristan leaned forward and Matthias closed the distance between them, gently pressing his lips against the boy’s.
He kissed his lips slowly and delicately, tasting them for the first time. He stroked his thumb gently against Tristan's chin as he kissed him. He left his lips on the boy’s for a moment, eyes closed, foreheads pressed together. He pulled back from his soft lips and looked into his eyes, gauging his reaction. Tristan did not seem afraid. He stroked his cheek.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” whispered Tristan. He nodded and smiled.
Matthias kissed his mouth tenderly. He was exceedingly gentle with him. He knew that right now the boy was vulnerable, both physically and emotionally, and he could easily hurt him. He wasn’t aggressive or possessive. Tristan didn’t feel threatened or pressured to respond unless he wanted to. He wasn’t being forced into it. Matthias was happy with whatever he chose to offer. It felt easy and natural.
Tristan leaned forward when Matthias broke the contact, wanting more. His expression was that of longing. It was his first kiss, and though he hadn’t imagined it would be in his current situation—with his captor, if that’s what Matthias was—he was glad. It awakened something in him, something that was struggling to break free and release itself. He felt fire in his belly and yearning lust. But more than that, it felt safe. It had little to do with physical safety. The kiss was undeniably sweet and achingly tender, but at the same time it held indications of an underlying passion and desire that had yet to be discovered.
There was something different about the way Matthias held him that night. They had found something deeper, perhaps daunting yet ultimately more satisfying. They fell asleep together, the man holding the boy, and both of them holding onto each other.
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