|
Servitude
It was cold, and it was wet. The brothers huddled together, hating the strange weather forced upon them. The youngest, a fair-haired boy barely seven years old, clung to his oldest brother, a stormy-eyed young man who stood tall despite being torn down by servitude. They had been nobility, and it showed in how the oldest held himself, the way he did not bow before anyone willingly or without a fight.
To his right, the middle son kept one hand firmly on his younger brother's shoulder, the other clutching with nearly white-knuckles his older brother's hand. Together they made a strange sight in the dreary weather of the Isles, their skin dark, but their eyes very pale.
Before them stood a weathered old man, inspecting them carefully and occasionally muttering something to himself. He stared for an especially long moment at the youngest, and it was obvious he was thinking of something. The old man spoke directly to the child, "What is your name, child?"
The little one cowered behind his brothers, frightened of this man, and even moreso of his strange language. The oldest did not move in the slightest, while the middle brother kneeled, scooping the little one into his arms as if to protect him.
The old man locked eyes with the oldest brother, "No matter; I'll be giving you new names, anyway."
The elder's eyes narrowed, the only sign that he understood and did not like this. But he did not open his mouth. He would always know his name, would always know his brothers' names. Nothing could change that.
The old man muttered again, pointing his staff at the youngest, "You are now Leilis."
And he was; the littlest could not recall ever having another name, and he found himself crying.
The man hid a smile as he pointed his staff at the middle child, "And you are now Fenrir."
The middle child stood suddenly, turning to face the old man with a furious glint in his eyes, shouting in his native tongue obscenities that no one of noble birth should have even none, and that caused the eldest son to realize, too late, what the old man, the old wizard, was doing. The eldest tried to cry out, "Sen-"
But the old wizard beat him to it, "You are now Leif."
And he couldn't recall having ever had another name, and it tore him apart in a way he had never experienced before. It was the closest the oldest son had even been to being broken.
That night, the three brothers, in their new home, tried to recall their real names, but each time they thought they knew, it slipped away and they were back to being Leif, Fenrir, and Leilis.
Eventually, Leif stopped trying to remember. It would return. Someday, he'd find a way to give them back their names.
Years passed; Leif had been indentured to one of the many knights that served the king. The man was nothing but kind, and kept Leif around simply because he enjoyed the company, and Leif could honestly say he was very fond of the man and his wife. To his great sadness, only a few months before his master would see the birth of his first child, the knight vanished – assumed dead by all. As it was not seen as proper to leave Leif with the woman, he was moved to a different knight, one that was the exact opposite of his previous master. He began to unravel.
Fenrir had reached his fifteenth year, and had spent the last six working as he was told by the many that had jurisdiction over him. He was strong as could be expected, fierce, but still held nothing but adoration for his brothers.
Leilis had been kept mostly inside, and had spent much of the years since coming to Merlin's possession as a foot-servant, cleaning and generally doing as he was told. He was very quiet, rarely caused a stir. Perhaps this was how no one knew that he had fallen in love, and was content to watch his master's daughter from afar and listen to her thoughts, knowing that she sometimes thought of him, too.
Despite their status, they knew it could've been worse – they never expected it to get to that point. Two more years passed, the same as the previous, but for one small thing: Leilis and Drusilla had finally come together, and even though they knew it could not be, Leilis begged Drusilla to marry him and she agreed. That very night, they consummated their relationship, consequences be damned. A nearly nine months later, the consequences were very obvious in Drusilla's pregnant condition, and she had found excuses since she began to show to remain far from any prying eyes – the only person aside from Leilis that knew was her handmaiden, a sweet woman that fed excuse after excuse for the girl she treated like her own daughter. It was a miracle that her condition had been hidden for so long.
Leif, of them all, should have seen that a storm was brewing. It was written in the very air, and his first master's disappearance should have been the first sign. But he had slowly been losing himself, being only a shadow of what he once was. His current master had broken him, almost beyond repair. He spent much of his time in a daze, incoherent and blank, but still capable of doing his job. It was only when Merlin came and gathered the three of them together that he began to worry, especially when the old man would not explain what he was planning. Leilis, concerned for his well-being for the sake of his soon-to-be-born child, tried to gain access to the old wizard's mind – only to be pushed out without any real effort.
They came into Merlin's lab and then… nothing.
Leilis had hazy images of blood and of death, followed by the stark image of Fenrir, his teeth deep in the neck of Drusilla, and his own mouth full of the blood of his love's handmaiden. Leif was huddled in the corner, eyes vacantly staring at the corpse of another servant at his feet.
With a anguish sob, Leilis pushed the body he held away, tearing toward Fenrir and his beloved Drusilla. "Get off of her! Fenrir!" With strength he was not familiar with, he shoved his brother away from his love, wrapping her in his arms. She was alive, but barely, and blessedly had already given birth. "Drusilla…"
She let out her last breath, a soft sigh that sounded like his name.
"Brother…" Fenrir's voice came from Leilis' left.
His voice was hollow, and very cold as replied, cradling the lifeless body of his fiancée, dead from his own brother. "Get Leif, Fenrir, and do not speak to me if you wish to keep your tongue."
Fenrir, a look a anguish on his face, listened to his younger brother.
|
