DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of 100% FICTION and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between 2 consenting teenage boys. This story is based 100% off of my IMAGINATION and does NOT reflect the views of the celebrities mentioned. If this type of content offends you or if it is illegal for you to read this type of material, please don't.
Morning stars are ugly motherfuckers... That's probably why I love them. Lookie: http://www.play.net/images/weapons/morning_star.jpg
Translations at the end.
What Happened to the Green Fairies? By Danimpa
Chapter 28
Earldom of Salisbury, England May, 1398
"You're going to get yourself killed," Matt stated.
I shrugged slightly. "Not necessarily."
His eyes narrowed. "The morning star, brother..." He sighed. "The heavy, spiked mace. I gave up on ever teaching you how to use one because you barely were able to lift the thing."
I opened my mouth to say something, but the cutting movement of his hand made me stop.
"And you hadn't just been sick back then, Ryan." He buried his face in his hands. "This is greater foolishness than I'd have expected even from you."
I swallowed slightly, biting down on my lip. "So..." I swallowed again, waiting until he raised his head. "Will you be my second?"
His eyebrows raised in surprise and he looked me over for a moment before speaking. "That's rather unconventional, little brother. I'm not nobility."
I sighed. "This whole matter is rather unconventional, Matt. And you're a better man than any noble I've ever met. Not to mention the fact that everybody knows that you're my brother. It won't look odd." I paused slightly, biting my lip again. "But if you don't want to, I suppose I'll have to find someone else."
He shook his head exasperatedly. "Of course I will, Ryan," he replied, a strange smile suddenly crossing over his lips.
I wondered about that for a moment but decided to leave it alone.
Whatever that was about it was probably better if I didn't know.
"Thank you," I muttered.
He nodded.
"Sun-up tomorrow," I stated, glancing quickly out the narrow window at the setting sun. I ran a hand through my hair with a small sigh. "Will you have the equipment ready?"
He nodded, placing his hand on my shoulder. "It'll work out, little brother," he told me, nearly making me laugh at the mere thought of myself, in the weak state I was still rendered to, beating a man twice my size with a weapon that was his best and pretty much my worst. "But is this where you should be this night of all nights?"
I swallowed something before shaking my head. "I'll see you tomorrow," I muttered before getting up and exiting his chambers.
"Try to get a bit of sleep!" he advised from behind me before the door fell shut.
I re-entered my quarters, quickly walking through the antechamber and the dressing room to reach the bedchamber, where Brendon was seated with two plates of supper.
"What took you so long? The food is cold now," he said, lower lip jutting out in a light pout.
"Frederick set the terms," I answered.
He nodded expectantly, apparently forgetting about the food altogether.
"Tomorrow at sun-up," I started, looking away from his sad, stunned eyes. "Morning stars."
"Morning stars?"
"Spiked maces," I explained quickly.
"Yes, yes, I know that, but I mean..." He trailed off slightly, gripping my chin to make me look at him again. "Those demand a physique you don't bloody possess."
"I know," I answered, leaning in against him.
His arms went around me, pulling me close as I started shaking.
I don't think the whole think had actually sunk in until then, I don't think it was until in that moment I honestly realised that the sunrise outside would be my last.
All because of a stupid deal.
"If I die," I whispered. "Matt will take you away, alright? I promise that that piece of scum will never get to touch you again."
"If you die, I don't bloody care," he answered hotly, suddenly withdrawing enough to let me look him in the eye.
They were welling over with tears. And his shoulders were starting to shake. He was crying.
I was trembling myself from fear. For my own life, for Brendon's security and freedom. For everything.
At the moment I needed to be strong for my lover, though, and I forced myself to push the fear away while I rubbed the tears off his cheeks, forcing a smile. For him. "I'm not dead yet, remember," I whispered.
He nodded, putting his head against my shoulder as he choked back his sobs.
I held him close, rocking his body back an forth in an attempt at calming him down.
"Can I be there?" he asked against my shirt, his voice cracking and trembling.
I shook my head, then realised he wouldn't be able to see it. "No. I don't want you to see it. And the only people allowed to witness a duel are the seconds and a priest." I took in a small gulp of air. "Matt will be able to tell you what happened."
He nodded. "I don't want you to do this for me," he whispered. "I'm just a worthless, bloody commoner. I'm an outlaw for God's sakes." He looked up and met my gaze, the sadness in his dark, dark eyes breaking my heart. "I have no one else. I'm nothing without you."
And my heart broke again.
I'd thought I was doing this for him, but now it was suddenly turning out that I was doing to to him.
Yet there was no way I could back out anymore.
There never had been.
Looking back at the choices and events over the last almost a year that had led to this moment, I couldn't see anything, really, I could or should have done differently. Of course I regretted things, but somehow I probably wouldn't be where I was, with him, if I'd done anything differently.
And however much the situation was aggravating, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
But perhaps that would've been better. Never to have gotten him tangled up with my life, never to have brought him to a point where he depended on me like this.
"You'll be fine," I muttered. "You're a great man with a full life ahead of you." I smiled slightly, shakily. "If I die I want you to live it for the both of us."
He gave a sad, bitter chuckle. "If you die, it'll be the end of the both of us."
I shook my head, but decided not to answer.
We didn't need to destroy ourselves with this conversation, we needed to be living life to its fullest. We both needed to forget.
With that decided, I leaned in and caught his lips with my own, my tongue gaining entrance momentarily to allow me to explore as if it were the first time. I gently outlined the roof of his mouth, felt along his teeth before starting to rub at the soft texture of his tongue.
I broke away for air a moment later, nibbling lightly at his lower lip before I reached out to take his shirt off him.
He responded by quickly starting to work at the strings that held my breeches up, quickly getting the knobs undone.
I raised my hips quickly, letting him pull the things all the way off before pushing his shirt the rest of the way out of the way.
We quickly switched to him ridding me of doublet and shirt while I managed to remove his breeches.
Then I pushed him back against the bed, pulling the drapes shut before taking a moment to just look at him, spread out beneath me.
His short hair was slightly tousled and his eyes were still wide with sadness and worry, those deep, beautiful eyes that never failed to give me the feeling of drowning happily, eyes that never deserved to look sad. He should be laughing. Or smiling at least.
I reached out a hand and caressed his cheek lightly, mustering a smile for him. "I love you," I whispered.
He gave me the shadow of a smile, tears gathering in his eyes again. He was still beautiful, though. "Love you too," he returned.
I bent down and kissed him before lowering my whole body so that we were touching, slowly starting to roll my hips against his, getting it properly started until, finally, we were ready.
I plunged into him simultaneously with connecting our lips again, suddenly desperate for this, probably, last time with him.
He seemed desperate too, bucking up against me forcefully as his legs wrapped around me and his hands gripped the back of my neck, nails penetrating my skin easily.
I didn't feel the pain, couldn't care about it at the moment. I was too busy getting the pace started, too busy wishing the night could last forever, that we could last forever, but even though I wanted it to last, I couldn't slow down, not with the desperate love and fear racking through me, dictating my every movement.
I kept it going, kept watching him writhing beneath me as a single moan made its way beautifully out of his mouth.
And suddenly it registered that this most likely never would happen again. I wanted to regain my full trust in him if it was the last thing I did.
With that thought fresh in mind, I pulled out completely, breaking the kiss to look into his eyes again as I reached down to slowly move his legs off me, apprehension rising in me along with the confusion and hurt in his eyes.
He thought I was stopping there, thought I could stop there.
I forced another small smile as I slowly lowered myself down onto him.
Understanding and relief dawned on his features and he finally returned my smile, apparently understanding the gesture as he flipped us over, bending down to start kissing my neck while my legs wrapped around him and he started the pace back up, immediately hitting home.
My back arched and I moaned out loudly, grabbing onto his shoulders for support as he kept going.
I fought away the images of how it had happened the last time he'd done this, kept the old hurt at bay while I forced my eyes to remain opened and locked with his.
He reached down a hand to push a too-long strand of chest-nut brown hair out of my face and bent down slightly to peck my lips repeatedly, the desperate look returning to his eyes while the feeling returned to my soul.
And for probably the last time in my short life, my toes started to curl, immense, desperate pleasure pulsing through me as I tried hard to hold back, tried to make it last forever.
But I was failing, badly, and a few more thrusts was all it took before all feeling gathered in the pit of my stomach, tickling, turning, clawing at my insides while my muscles started to clench and I finally, too soon, reached my zenith and let go onto his stomach.
He managed a few more thrusts before I felt him release into me, his body slumping down onto mine as I quickly put my arms around him.
His face was buried in the crook of my neck and it was only when I felt another wetness mix with the sheen of sweat covering my neck that I realised he was crying again.
I started stroking down his back, started rocking him again, awkwardly what with the position we were in and all, whispered, cooed, all the lies that he needed to hear.
Somewhere along the line he muttered something about crushing me and flipped us over again, still crying until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
I kept holding him, staying awake to just watch him, enjoying the feeling of our bodies that were still connected, enjoying his mere presence and in that way keeping my fear at bay.
It was better than a sleep full of nightmares, right? Much better.
It was still pitch-black in the chamber, and outside as well, I guessed, when I heard a soft knock to the door.
"You're needed in the chapel, little brother," I heard Matt's gentle voice.
Unwillingly I pulled myself off, suddenly fighting back tears at the sound of the soft whimper Brendon emitted in his sleep from the sudden loss of contact. I breathed in deep and bent down to kiss his cheek before pulling the drapes apart and making my way out of the bed.
"When was your last confession, son?"
I groaned inwardly and tried to remember but had to give up after a few moments. "A year ago? Two? I'm not sure," I replied.
The priest gave a horrified sigh. "Then this is much overdue," he stated.
I rolled my eyes, grateful that there was a gitter separating us, making him incapable of seeing me.
He didn't say anything and it took me another moment to realise that I was supposed to start confessing.
"Well..." I started, biting down at my lip as I once again searched my memory. "Since my last confession I've killed a man, disobeyed my father on several occasions, I've ruined my sister's betrothal, I've almost taken my own life, I've lied and I've committed wedlock. Mostly with men."
I'm not sure what it was with confessions, but even if I didn't believe in any of the nonsense, I still felt the need to be honest. Possibly just to get everything off my chest.
There was another silence for quite a while, stunned this time, though.
"I only wish to make amends for committing wedlock with my betrothed, though," I quickly added.
I heard the priest give some confused sound, almost a huff but then not.
"Well, son," he started, but seemed to have to stop to gulp. "Ehrm, say ten Pater Nosterorum and eight Ave Mariae," he choked out.
I mentally laughed, having absolutely no plans of doing that.
I was allowed to leave the box, though, and sat next to my brother on a bench while Frederick went to his own confession.
The first rays of the sun was peaking up above the hills and for a moment the weather seemed unfitting, but then I noticed the dark clouds gathering in the west as the wind picked up. Give it another few minutes and the weather would be as grave as the situation.
"All repeat after me," the priest replied. "Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison."
We repeated and I inwardly rolled my eyes while I looked around me. The four of us were standing in a half-circle, facing the priest. Matt was at my right and Frederick was on the other side of me, Philip standing at his left side. Everybody looked solemn, but I had a hunch that only Philip really meant those words.
"Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi: misere nobis. Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi: dona nobis pacem."
Once again we all repeated and I was about ready to throw up at being forced to use my last words on a faith that wasn't mine.
"Ave verum, corpus natum de Maria Virgine, vere passum immulatum in cruce pro homini. Cujus latus perforatum unda fluxit cum sangiune, esto nobis praegustatum mortis in examine. Jesu dulcis, Jesu pie, Jesu fili Mariae, tu nobis miserere. Amen."
One final time the words of the priest were repeated, and that part was done with.
"You have made your peace with the Holy Lord and his Mother," he informed solemnly. "He will grant his strength to whichever of you he finds just." He paused dramatically. "Frederick Montague of Salisbury, George the Younger Ryan of Cornwall and Ross, may God have mercy on your souls."
Strange. Ross was only rarely mentioned. The Scottish earldom of my mother's family, which I'd been made heir to as well after the death of my only uncle.
As to the rest; even if God existed there was no way he'd find either one of us just.
We'd both have to rely on our own strengths.
My odds were bad.
I turned to Matt and he quickly helped me put on my chain mail.
Then he handed me the double maced morning star and I gulped at the sheer weight of it before reaching out my free hand to grab my shield, the shield I'd never used, the one with the coats of arms of both Cornwall and Ross. My own shield.
Not like it was going to help me much.
Then I turned back around, facing Frederick and feeling like I was looking death in the eye.
Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison: Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi: misere nobis. Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi: dona nobis pacem: Lamb of God who carried all the sins of the world: have mercy on us. Lamb of God who carried all the sins of the world: grant us peace.
Ave verum, corpus natum de Maria Virgine, vere passum immulatum in cruce pro homini. Cujus latus perforatum unda fluxit cum sangiune, esto nobis praegustatum mortis in examine. Jesu dulcis, Jesu pie, Jesu fili Mariae, tu nobis miserere. Amen: Praised be you true body born by the virgin Mary, tortured in truth and sacrificed for mankind. You, whose pierced side flowed with blood shall for us be a taste of the trial of death. Gentle Jesus, pious Jesus, Jesus, son of Mary, have mercy on us. Amen.
Please excuse the lousy translations, but oh well...