Story - Embrace ch. 15

[maderr]

Carrot Flower

(chapter fifteen)

It was the cold which finally forced his hand.

He was not thrilled to be here, even as some traitorous part of him could not help but thrill at any chance to see Gille.

That he was the world's biggest idiot was painfully obvious, but if that's the way it was, that's the way it was, and there was nothing to do about it but make do.

Making certain his horse was comfortably settled, he finally abandoned the meager warmth of the stable and trekked toward the house.

He raised a hand toward the knocker, then hesitated. Lord Sangre had told him to check on Gille – had, in fact, seemed worried about him. If he knocked, he stood a chance of being locked out. Assuming he wasn't already, but…

Stregoni tried to the door, expecting to meet with resistance, but it gave easily under his hand. Swallowing, wondering what in the hell he was doing and how much trouble this would earn him, he pushed the door opened and slipped inside.

The house was warm, at least compared to the outside. He shucked his wet outdoor clothes and set his bag close to them. Shivering, he looked around.

Dust was the dominant smell. It was obvious that the house received only the most basic of cleaning, and even that seemed half-hearted at best. The few doors he could see where firmly shut, heavy layers of dust coating the handles – he would be willing to bet they were seldom, if ever, used.

Nearby he could see the room into which Gille had locked him. It alone did not match the disuse of the others.

All right. Now that he was here, what was he supposed to do? Find Gille before someone else noticed the stranger skulking about and tossed him out on his ear as a thief or something, but what would he did if – when – he found Gille?

Wondering what the hell was wrong with him, in no mood to supply the obvious answer, Stregoni opted to try the stairs.

He wandered back and forth down a handful of hallways before he at last came to a door which was just barely ajar, and from which spilled warm orange-yellow light. Hoping it contained what he sought, Stregoni headed toward it and gently pushed the door open.

Gille was stretched out on a chaise lounge which had been moved to set right in front of a roaring fire. The room was almost stifling. He realized after a moment that Gille was asleep. Relieved for the moment, because he was in no hurry for the inevitable arguments and anger and confusion, he crossed the carpeted room slowly and perched on the very edge of the backless chaise.

His eyes widened as he got a good look at Gille, hidden until then by the long, loose fall of his beautiful hair.

It looked as though he'd been the one to receive a punch or two, this time. One eye was swollen rather badly, and his bottom was lip split near the corner of his mouth, which also showed signs of swelling. Stregoni reached out to lightly touch them, frowning in concern. Had his father done this? Why would he strike his own son in such fashion? Had it been someone else?

Gille's eyes fluttered open at the gentle touch, but Stregoni could see from his eyes that he was barely awake, if at all. "Carrot…"

Stregoni said nothing, merely gently pushed back Gille's unlaced shirt to see where else he might be hurt, but his questing fingers found nothing but smooth, unmarred skin.

"Dreaming…" Gille said softly, the words barely audible.

Suddenly Stregoni noticed something he had missed before, too obsessed with Gille and the harm done him. Laudanum – he definitely smelled traces of laudanum. Had Gille drugged himself to sleep? That wasn't like Gille at all. Gille hated medicine, especially the more potent ones.

He looked up at the soft touch of fingers to his cheek, shivering as he realized the way Gille caressed him was the touch he remembered from his dream. Shocked, he stared at Gille, whom he could now see was definitely dosed on laudanum. "Gille…" He shook his head, not certain what else to say.

"Should not be here," Gille said, the words coming slowly, as though each weighed heavily and was ponderous to speak.

Fingers landed heavily on the back of Stregoni's neck, but despite the slight clumsiness of the gesture he found himself tugged forward, splaying his hands on Gille's chest for balance as Gille's mouth landed awkwardly on his. He tasted of laudanum and brandy, a hint of clove.

It was nothing like the hard, sure, bewitching kisses with which Gille had taunted him time and again. No, this one was clumsy and drugged and slow – but struck him to the core all the same, for there was a…genuineness to it that left him reeling.

The taste of blood was what finally made him pull away, and he reached out to gently touch the split in Gille's lip, frowning in concern. "You need help," he said, wondering if this had happened because Gille had already been too sick and weak when he'd left Sangre Manor.

A hand wrapped around his wrist with surprising strength, keeping him in place. "Stay," Gille said softly, before his eyes drifted shut again.

Sighing softly, Stregoni shifted to try and settle more comfortably, wishing he could simply stretch out with Gille on the chaise. He feared, however, what would happen when the effects of the laudanum finally wore off. Would the Gille with which he was far more familiar return? Shove him off and begin to mock him?

The thought was a painful one, and Stregoni looked over this softer Gille, wondering what it meant – if anything. That familiar caress, that slow, sweet kiss, the way Gille had asked him to stay.

Eventually the fingers around his wrist relaxed enough he could withdraw it, but even then he could not make himself move away. Instead he reached out to card a hand through Gille's hair, smoothing out the tangles as best he could, admiring the softness and the way it shone in the firelight.

Sometime later, when the fire had dimmed a bit, Gille's eyes opened again. They were still drugged, but not quite as heavily. "Carrot."

Stregoni said nothing, afraid that speaking would wake them both from this strange dream. He liked this Gille, though he hated that laudanum was needed to induce it. An arm slid around his waist, a heavy, solid weight, Gille's hand sliding up his spine to push Stregoni down, bring him close again.

He buried his fingers in Gille's hair, cradling his head, more than happy to lose himself in another of those slow burning kisses, feeling it all the way to his bones.

The slamming of the door against the wall as it was thrown open made him jerk, teeth accidentally grazing Gille's lip. He sat up and stared, disoriented for a moment as he wondered why Lord Sangre was here and looking so terrible.

Then he realized this wasn't Sangre, but his brother – George Bathory. Gille's father.

He was unkempt, a rough beard covering much of his face, wearing clothes that should have been replaced a long time ago.

Stregoni realized he was also furious.

Next to him, Gille suddenly swore – and he could hear that Gille was now entirely lucid.

"Damn it, Carrot," Gille said, but the rest of what he was going to say never got spoken, as he abruptly shoved Stregoni away and stood up, tugging his shirt back into place even as his father grabbed him.

"Well, well," George said, and Stregoni had never heard a voice so full of hate and rage. "Seems my selfish, backstabbing, murderous son has been keeping secrets from me. I might have known."

"No, father. I—" Gille's words were lost in a cry of pain as he was punched hard in the stomach, then cast aside.

"Stregoni," Gille gasped out, struggling to get back to his feet. "Run."

Stregoni didn't reply, but he had not intention of leaving when Gille was obviously being abused. He glared as George turned to him, refusing to back down, wondering what in the hell was going on.

"Well, well," George said again. "I recognize that hair – you are the son of that pathetic excuse for a doctor who allowed my son to kill my wife, and made no effort to save her."

What?

Stregoni attempted to stay out of reach, but in the confines of the small room, there was simply no where to go to escape – and he would not leave without Gille.

"No!" Gille said, grabbing his father's arm. "He only came because Uncle told him to, there is nothing—" He let out another cry as George shoved him off, sending him crashing into the wall.

Gille slid slowly down the wall, and did not stir once he slumped on the floor.

Stregoni wondered how the hell Gille knew he'd been sent – then realized suddenly Gille thought he was making it up.

"My brother, I might have known. I don't believe my brother would have sent someone along with explicit orders to kiss you, my son. Obviously, you have listened to nothing I've said." He stalked toward Stregoni, who stumbled away, only to collide with the chaise and go tumbling down upon it.

He was snatched up by the throat, and struggle though he did, George did not appear even to notice. With the firelight behind him, Stregoni could see at a glance that George was heavily drugged on something. What, he did not know.

Gille groaned, and Stregoni could just see from the corner of his eye as Gille slowly stood up again, one hand braced against the wall for support.

"Why were you kissing the good little doctor's son, my child?" George asked in a voice of deceptive softness that made Stregoni truly scared.

"I was dreaming," Gille said, obviously trying for cold and uncaring, but in too much pain to manage it. "It was nothing, father. I always dream strangely when I drink laudanum. You know I love no one but you."

George shook Stregoni hard, and smiled in a way that made Stregoni think of a wolf. "Well, then you will not care if I have a bit of fun with the good little doctor's son."

Stregoni almost corrected him, to say he was a good little doctor now, thanks – but common sense prevailed, and he kept his mouth shut.

He continued to twist and kick and struggle, but if George noticed the pain, he gave no sign of it – and Stregoni had a sneaking suspicion that the man was so heavily doped, he would not notice if someone cut off a limb.

George let him go, but then spun him around and gripped his anew, so that Stregoni was facing the fire – then abruptly grabbed his arm and thrust his hand into the fire.

Stregoni screamed.

Gille screamed louder, and then the whole world dissolved into chaos as father and son struggled, and Stregoni continued to scream and sob for the pain in his hand. His bag, he needed his bag—

Then Gille was on the floor again, whimpering in pain, and Stregoni found himself being held again, barely able to see for the tears of pain streaming from his own eyes.

"Quite the reaction," George said idly, as though discussing a painting. "I think, my child, that you are a liar." He bared his teeth at Stregoni. "Are you and my son in love, good little doctor's son?"

"No," Gille gasped out, face white with pain and, Stregoni realized, fear. "I could never love a worthless, useless doctor. I do not love him."

Stregoni abruptly realized two things.

Gille was lying.

He was not the only one who realized it.

"What did I say, my child, about you loving anyone?" George asked.

Gille, Stregoni realized, looked close to tears. He had never seen Gille so shaken and defeated. He never wanted to see it again.

"That I'm not allowed," Gille said hollowly.

"Why?" George asked, voice silky and lazy, but full of so much menace that Stregoni felt cold.

"Because I killed my mother, and took from you the person you loved, and the woman who loved us both. I do not deserve anyone of my own," Gille said quietly, looking at the carpet as he spoke.

Stregoni stared in shock.

Gille's mother had died in childbirth. That wasn't his fault. It was no one's fault, simply a great tragedy. Did his father really have Gille convinced that he'd murdered his own mother? He'd just been born for fuck's sake.

Was that really what was going on here?

"And what," George continued, "did I say would happen if you were stupid enough to love someone?"

"That you would kill him or her," Gille whispered, then finally looked up. "I do not love him, father. Only you, you know that. Please, stop this. He is not worth all this trouble."

George laughed. "Oh, he is worth it, if only because he is related to that bloody—"

Stregoni took more than a little satisfaction in the way the bastard dropped like a rock, landing amidst the shard of broken porcelain from the vase Stregoni had managed to snatch up while father tormented son.

Grimacing at the pain in his throbbing left hand, he stumbled his way to Gille and helped him up.

"What in the hell did you do?" Gille demanded. "Why the hell are you even here, Carrot. Damn it, I told you to stay out of it!"

"Shut up," Stregoni snapped. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"I can't just leave him," Gille said, fear slipping into his voice. "You don't understand—"

Stregoni blocked him from going toward his unconscious father. "I understand the man is an insane bastard, and that I wish I could kill him the way he was going to kill me," he snarled. "We're going."

"You don't—"

"Damn it, Gille!" Stregoni bellowed. "My hand hurts, you are badly beaten, and I am not leaving here without you, even if that means I must knock you out and drag you home." He reached out with his good hand to grip Gille's shirt, looking up at him pleadingly. "Please."

Gille looked at his father, then at Stregoni, pale eyes full of so much pain. "Carrot…he'll stop at nothing to kill you, now. Unless I convince him not to do it."

"He's demented," Stregoni replied, wishing he could just kill the bastard for being so goddamn cruel to his own son. "You didn't kill your mother, and I'm still alive. I fully intend to stay that way. We're leaving."

"I can't—"

"Do not refuse me!" Stregoni shouted, fisting his hand tightly in the linen of Gille's shirt. Moving without thought, he stepped in close and stood on his toes to mash his mouth against Gille's tasting blood and laudanum and cloves.

Gille was still a moment, clearly surprised, then slowly began to return the kiss.

Hands landed in his hair, cradling his head gently and then Gille was dominating the kiss, and it was as sweet as the ones Stregoni had stolen earlier, but a thousand times better, because Gille was completely lucid now.

"Gille…"

"Stupid Carrot," Gille whispered. "I told you to stay out of it."

Stregoni just looked at him, caught by the gold-flecked jade eyes. "You were lying, before." He did not bother to clarify what he meant.

Gille was silent at first, emotions flickering ever so briefly across his face. Then he sighed softly, as though he were accepting some terrible defeat. "Yes."

Stregoni wanted to ask a million questions, and beat Gille's foolish, stupid, stubborn head in – but he had not forgotten George, who could wake at any moment. "We're leaving. Do I need to knock you unconscious, or will you come with me?"

"I shouldn't—he'll need to be placated. You don't understand, Carrot."

When had that damned epithet started to sound like an endearment? He wondered now if Gille had always meant it thus.

"Oh, I understand," Stregoni said. "I understand your father is crazy, and I understand it's not your fault your mother died. I understand you deserve love the same as anyone else, and I understand that if we stay here much longer, he probably will kill us – but if we leave, he likely will not. Now, we're leaving."

Gille frowned, but did not protest as Stregoni finally dragged him from the room.

Outside in the hallway, he gently grasped Stregoni's arm, holding up his burned hand for closer examination. "Will it heal?" he asked quietly.

"It'll be fine," Stregoni said. "I have what I need to help it in my bag, downstairs. It's no worse than some of the stuff I managed to do as a child. Come on, we have to hurry."

Getting dressed and to the stable almost proved to be too difficult. Stregoni had never been so tired, or in so much pain. He'd managed a hasty treatment on his hand, but it only dulled the pain, and the hard travelling they'd have to do would not help matters.

He could not bring himself to be bothered by it. He would endure pain a thousand times greater, for the knowledge he now carried.

Gille had said he did not love him – and Gille had been lying, and admitted he'd been lying.

A burned hand, Stregoni decided, was a paltry thing.

And when they returned to Sangre manor, he had a few choice things to explain to Lord Sangre about his contemptuous, pathetic brother.

"Promise you'll return with me to Sangre manor, and stay there," he said.

Gille hesitated.

"I said promise!" Stregoni snarled. "It's the very least you owe me, all things considered."

Gille flinched, but the scathing look he shot Stregoni was so familiar, so Gille, that Stregoni wanted to laugh or cry with relief. "Whatever you say, Carrot."

Deciding it was the best he could expect, Stregoni led the way from the stable, and began the arduous journey home.

Comments

[sixpence1323.livejournal.com]

Oh, wow, can't wait to see what happens next. All this mystery - O_O

Happy 4th, by the way.

[cornporngirl.livejournal.com]

well shit ... more, please?

[dmlpacker.livejournal.com]

Poor, poor Gille. Hopefully after this incident, he and Carrot can have a talk and work everything out...and maybe beat that dastardly father of his.

[(Anonymous)]

Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! I love Stregoni! I love Gille! I don't really love George. Yay! Yay!

[skylark97.livejournal.com]

EIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

GILLE ADMITTED HE LOVES CARROT STREGONI!!!! ^__________________^ Okay, now that was totally worth waiting for. :3

Also, I'm going to kick Gille's father in the nads. Bastard. *snuggle hugs them both* It goes a long way to explain Gille and Gille's behavior though, especially if what's his name has been like this for the whole of Gille's life.

The kissing when Gille was stilled doped up on the Laudanum was cute as hell too. <333 Although, i'm dead curious as to why Gille was taking the Laudanum? Was it because his father made him (I assume that that might be what good old son beater was on?) or because of the bruises? (Although, I'm with Stregoni, in that it seems contrary to Gille's nature to take anything for his pain. He's the stoic, chip-on-the-shoulder-to-hide-the-pain type.)

I so Love LOVE that Stregoni takes charge too and demands that Gille get the hell out of the house and come with him, and I LOVE the kiss he initiates. *bounces happily* ^________________________^

You are the awesome. *tackle hearts madly*

[stoplightgodess.livejournal.com]

OK, where's my hockey stick? I need to bash in that fucker's head. Stupid stupid George! How dare you burn the pretty? Grrrr. Pets Gille, stop angsting love and just smex Stregoni again, it'll make it aaall better. ^_^

[silrini.livejournal.com]

Curse lj for eating my comment. Anyway. THIS CHAPTER IS SO AMAZING. I love it and it's beautiful, and I'm going to kill George. And that was basically the summary of my comment.

PLEASE WRITE MORE SOON!!

[aggybird.livejournal.com]

Okay, clearly I have missed like fifteen chapters of this puppy, so I gots some reading to do.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

woah. you're alive. I totally thought the gaters or the tourists had finally gotten you.

[aggybird.livejournal.com]

They made a mean attempt at it. But I did that thing in movies, you know, where the good guy ducks and the two bad guys accidentally shoot each other? So the gator ate the tourist, but the tourist was so fat it choked the gator. WIN!

Okay, I have been reading, and all I can say is: You need to write about more little kids! God, tiny Brey was so adorable! I wanted to read pages and pages more of his wee adventures.

[saaski-moql.livejournal.com]

I was wondering how in the world you would explain away Gille and his actions and why and make it better and THIS IS A GOOD REASON. completely unexpected and actually makes sense without, you know, being lame or something and wow this makes everything a million times better.

!!!

Hope you're having a decent day.

I join the line forming to the right

[charisstoma.livejournal.com]

Gille's father will die..NOW.
Thought at first that Gille was being sexually abused by his father. Definitely thought that was going to be Stregoni's fate. How better, in a demented sort of way, to punish someone for the death of a lover than to make the person you hold responsible to pay for what they took away in a hate filled way. (Yes, I am sick that way. I was wide eyed horrored through that scene)
Please kill him soon.

[vera-dicere.livejournal.com]

O______________________________________O

good gravy, woman! talk about emotional roller coasters! you had me all over the place with this chapter- cooing over sleepy/drugged gille with his lack of icy facade, scared as hell when crazy!george came onto the scene and started mucking things up, wanting like burning to hug gille [because now we know why he was a cold bastard and it all makes sense!] and take him and stregoni away from the crazy man, and dancing inside when gille admitted he was lying and stregoni [carrot! awww] told gille exactly how things were going to go at the end there.

yay for updates!! although now i'm seriously craving some gille/streg smex after the amazing revelation. i can only figure it'll be totally awesome, now that the angst is [hopefully] removed from the situation.

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

*_____________________________________*

That is all for now. Except perhaps some SQEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

[hsavinien.livejournal.com]

Sooo...I don't hate Gille anymore. But he is a seriously messed up kid.