Chapter Text
Maybe Abram had been too hopeful, maybe he’d misjudged how much time he had, maybe he’d never had any time in the first place. Whatever it is, fate turns a blind eye to Abram’s wants, and tomorrow never comes for him and Andrew.
Abram climbs up the vined terraces to his room only to find his father sitting on the edge of his bed, a long silver dagger sitting delicately on his lap. Abram stares at him, breath frozen in his throat, and his back to the window. He feels caught under his father’s sharp gaze, and there is a long moment of silence as two sets of ice blue eyes watch each other.
His father stands up, and Abram has a split second to realize he should be running before he’s grabbed by the collar and shoved roughly to the ground, dagger at his throat.
“You ran,” his father snarls.
Abram feels like he’s sinking. “I didn’t.”
The dagger digs deeper into his throat and Abram chokes, a warm trickle of blood begins making its way down his collar. “Don’t lie.”
His father raises his other hand and presses down on Abram’s windpipe cutting off his breath, and as Abram’s vision blacks out all he can think about is the promise he made to Andrew. He wants to keep it so bad, but he can’t help it when his eyes flutter shut, and he finally loses consciousness.
The darkness hurts less than the light ever did.
Abram isn’t sure how long has passed when he finally wakes up. All he knows is that the cuts and burns Andrew had healed are open and blistering again, causing his skin to be sticky with blood, and pain to boil through his veins. He’s back in his father’s classroom, tied securely down to their work table. He’s alone, at least, which is the only good thing he can find in this situation. Abram supposes it’s been longer than a day, he wonders how mad Andrew is that he didn’t keep his word.
Abram’s eyes slide shut again, and his consciousness drifts into a fitful sleep. He’s awoken at times by burning fever, and others by teeth clattering cold. He opens his eyes time and time again to only find darkness and pain, the cold rock of the basement trapping moisture and making Abram skin clammy. He can’t tell if it’s been days or minutes, and Abram thinks between the fever, the pain, and the solitude he might be starting to lose it.
Sleep brings the absence of pain, but it also brings dreams Abram can’t make sense of.
He sees himself and Andrew, but it’s not Andrew, it’s someone older with winding silver sigils that scroll up his arms in intricate tattoos. He holds the moon in the palm of his hand as he gazes at Abram, silver eyes devoid of the black that usually haunts them. The Abram that stands in front of Andrew isn’t quite Abram either. He is also older, and dressed in robes that flicker with an internal light, as if woven from the essence of stars. His eyes glow a bright blue in the darkness surrounding them, and highlight the golden paint that’s drawn in patterns under his eyes and on his brow.
Andrew spins the moon once in the palm of his hands, then tosses it to Abram with little care who catches it with a grin. Andrew says something too quiet for all but their own ears. Abram is tossing back the moon a second later laughter echoing into the night sky, and Andrew smiles.
The dream fades into something different, and Abram finds himself running across a vast plane, feet bloodied and raw from the sharp rocks that litter the ground. Abram knows he’s been running for ages, and he knows he can’t stop. Stopping means death, so Abram keeps going long past the point when he should have collapsed from exhaustion. He pushes himself, and pushes himself until the rocky planes slowly fade away, and Abram is running through darkness, the only source of light the moon that shines indifferently overhead. There comes a point in time when Abram’s legs give out, sending him sprawling to the ground. Abram tries to get up but he can’t, there's nothing left to him, and he resigns himself to wasting away on the ground as he stares at the cold moon.
He closes his eyes.
Then opens them again a second later, to find a young man standing over him with a curious tilt to his head, his eyes are a bright silver that reflect the moon above him, and his hair is so light it almost seems white.
Andrew, some part of his mind tells him.
“Are you giving up just like that?” the young man asks, then holds out his hand. “Get up.”
Abram makes a face, but slowly reaches for the hand. It’s surprisingly cold for something living.
The image shifts, and Abram is suspended in the darkness of the sky. The moon sits beside him, a silent watcher in dark robes that blend with the black of the night. Dark thunder clouds rumble under him, and lightning flashes with the whims of a deity Abram feels like he knows well, it is the sky after all. The moon rolls his eyes and looks to Abram. They watch each other for a moment before Abram bridges the distance.
The moon may look like a cold distant thing, but Abram always found him full of warmth.
There is a fox that runs through the cosmos, guiding the lost to the sanctuary of the moon, and keeping the secrets whispered in the night. The fire of stars alights from its paws, and the moon keeps it company in its journey through the sky.
Abram awakes with a gasp as he is yanked from the table, hitting the hard dirt floor with a thud. He stares at the toes of his father’s boots, before slowly looking up to see the man’s sharp face. His father grabs him, and lifts Abram to his feet, dragging him to the cellar door and up the stairs. For the first time in what felt like ages Abram sees the light of day, it’s less welcoming then he wants.
Before him is a black carriage, drawn by black horses and flanked with soldiers also wearing black. The only spot of color comes from the red of the Empire’s emblem. It’s a gruesome sight.
His father shoves him into the back of the carriage with a rough hand that sends Abram tumbling. “If you disgrace our family, I’ll kill you myself.”
With that the man shuts the door, leaving Abram to sink into the floor with a bone deep exhaustion that has spanned ages. As the carriage begins moving, Abram's eyes drift to a small window, and the forest beyond.
He swears on all he is that he’ll return to Andrew again, no matter what it takes.
_____________
Evermore is somehow the exact opposite of Andrew’s temple, but Abram doesn’t know why he expected anything different. The capital of the Empire isn’t known for anything good. It is the seat from which wars that tear countries apart are plotted, where the blood of thousands is spilt carelessly by the decisions of few.
He’s barely been here five minutes, and Abram already hates it.
The castle he’s dragged into is more like a fortress in layout. Carved into the side of a tall peak it splays out over the land in intricate steps, and is surrounded by an imposingly large wall. At the foot of it is a colorful city that Abram only sees in glimpses from the window of his carriage.
As he’s pulled through the halls of the castle, it occurs to Abram that this place is designed like a maze not only to keep invaders out, but to keep its unfortunate guests in. He tries to commit the long dark halls to memory as best he can. He’s going to get out of this place one way or another. The how and when he doesn’t know yet.
Abram isn’t sure where his guards are taking him until he’s thrown into a dimly lit room adorned in blood red tapestries that depict the Empire's insignia. Abram lands harshly on his hands and knees, nausea turning in his stomach as pain echoes through his body. He takes a shaky breath, and looks up with a glare to the man who stands over him.
Abram recognizes him from his visits to his father’s palace, and while Tetsuji Moriyama doesn’t look like much as he stands in front of Abram, weight balanced on a cane, Abram knows enough about the dealings he does with his father to be wary. The Emperor's younger brother is a man who has won more battles than anyone in the country, a general that is the driving force of the Empire's ability to conquer others.
There are three boys behind him. Kevin and Riko Abram recognizes for the times he’s had the misfortune of being forced to interact with them, but the third he’s never seen before. He watches Abram with a blank face that almost rivals Andrew’s, but behind his stormy grey eyes he looks miserable. Abram can’t blame him.
“Nathaniel Wesninski,” Tetsuji stares down at Abram with cold, dead eyes. “You are my ward now, do you understand?”
Something in Abram cracks at the use of that name, and he clenches his hands into fists. Gritting his teeth, he stays silent, and intensifies his glare.
Tetsuji looks on, unimpressed. “Answer me.”
Abram keeps his mouth shut.
The cane raises off the ground in a swift movement, and strikes Abram across the cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground. Kevin flinches, but Riko’s face splits into a smile, the other boy simply looks away. Abram can taste blood in the back of his mouth. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Abram says carefully, eyes trained on the cane still poised in front of his face.
“You will address me as Lord Moriyama when you speak, understand?”
Abram contemplates attempting to set the man on fire for a long moment, before he sucks in a breath. “Yes, Lord Moriyama.”
Tetsuji nods, then turns to the boy’s behind him. “Jean, take him to his room.”
The third boy steps forward, and grabs Abram by the arm, hauling him up. Jean steadies him when Abram’s legs try to give out, then pulls him out the door a second later. Their pace is swift as they make their way through the dark halls, and it's all Abram can do to stop himself from stumbling every three feet. Jean is silent at his side, but Abram finds the boy watching him every so often as they turn a corner or take a flight of stairs.
There’s a familiarity there that Abram recognizes from his time spent with Andrew, and he narrows his eyes.
Jean looks at him again.
“What?” A mix of hostility and coldness clouds his voice, but there’s definitely something tugging at the back of Abram’s mind, like a memory trying to resurface. Abram’s getting tired of these memories that seem buried in his mind, and only arise in fleeting moments, then disappear before Abram can grasp them.
It’s frustrating, but he feels as if he’s found something.
Abram wonder’s what Andrew would do if he met Jean. Would Andrew recognize him like he did Abram?
He can’t be sure, but he has a hunch.
Jean’s frown deepens as they arrive at a door that he pushes open to reveal a small room made cramped by the two beds that take up the space. Jean simply shakes his head.
“What?” Abram repeats.
“Don’t cause trouble, Nathaniel. It will bring harm to the rest of us,” Jean says quietly, voice thick with a familiar accent that Abram can’t place.
“...My name’s not Nathaniel,” is all Abram can think to say as he takes the last small step into the room. It really isn’t much, bare walls and floors. The only sign of life is the book shoved under the pillow of the leftmost bed.
There’s a deep sigh from behind him. “I know, Abram.” Then Jean shuts the door, leaving him alone.
Jean shouldn’t have known that name.
Abram thinks he might need to revise his escape plan. Hopefully Andrew would wait for him.
___________________________________________
The years pass slowly, without Abram seeing a spec of the world outside of the Moriyama’s fortress, let alone having any chance to entertain even the thought of escaping. It becomes apparent to Abram within the first three months that the Moriyamas want nothing more than to mold him into a tool to use at their disposal. It’s by the third year that Abram realizes it might be working.
He’s become used to days filled with nothing but training and Tetsuji’s harsh hands. He’s nowhere nearly as terrifying as Abram’s father, he isn’t one to use knives, but Abram has learned to fear that cane he always carries.
What little down time he gets in between his training to be a Moriyama dog is spent with Jean, they reside in the same room and spend almost every second together. Riko and Kevin are also permanent fixtures in Abram’s miserable life. He’s grown to tolerate Kevin over the years, maybe even like him if Abram was being generous and it wasn’t one of the days they were fighting, but he couldn’t stand Riko. The boy thought he owned them, and Abram couldn’t wait for the day he finally got to carve that possessive look off of Riko’s face for good. Hopefully it would come soon, before his abuses got even more violent. Riko might think he likes knives, but he’s nowhere as skilled at using them as Abram.
While the other boys are trained for the battlefield, Abram’s trained for the shadows, to eliminate targets without fanfare. He supposes every throne needs an assassin, at least he’s not taking over his father’s mantle now. At least, not entirely.
Small wonders.
Sometimes when they’re able to be alone together Jean will teach Kevin and Abram the language of his homeland, and Abram will in turn show them how to find the innate magic in the air and weave it into something they can use. Jean favors the wind, and controlling the currents of electricity, while Kevin finds ways to discern an object's history at a glance and see far off places with a blink.
There’s a light in Jean’s eyes when they’re together like this that’s typically missing. Abram can tell Jean knows more of magic than he lets on, but Jean seems more at ease when they’re together like this, and he plays down his abilities so he can stay with them longer.
Kevin always looks so sad when he has to leave back to Riko’s side, and Jean closes back in on himself with the boy’s absence. They’re close, those two.
Often Abram’s thoughts wander to Andrew, and how the boy he knew is still trapped behind a seal they’d set out to crack. Alone in the temple where he died with only Wane and Wax for company. It isn’t a pleasant thought. He should have stayed when he had the chance. In retrospect there was no way for his father to find the temple without Abram’s amulet, but at the time he hadn’t realized that.
The years put a lot of things into perspective.
He grips that amulet now as he stares up at the dark ceiling of his and Jean’s room. Andrew always said they had time, Abram hopes Andrew remembers that as he waits. Abram has the beginnings of a plan to get back to Andrew, it involves playing into the Moriyama’s game, but Abram is willing to get his hands bloody if it means finding a way to save Andrew. It’s a small sacrifice in comparison.
Abram frowns, and turns his head to Jean who has his eyes closed, but isn’t asleep. Abram thinks his plan might work out for all of them.
“How much do you remember?” Abram asks into the silence.
Jean opens his eyes and glares over at him. “It’s late.”
“Just tell me.”
“How much do you remember?” Jean shoots back, and Abram sighs.
“Nothing, you know that.” It was only recently that Abram has realized he should remember something, that there was a life before this one he had experienced. Andrew had been so good at not mentioning it, but Abram understands why he didn’t now, explaining would have only confused him. Abram might be older, but he’s still not sure he understands it fully.
Jean rolls to his side, and shoves an arm under his pillow. “I remember everything.”
Abram closes his eyes. “So does Andrew.”
“That’s no surprise.”
It isn’t. Andrew hides it, but he has a very keen mind.
“I don’t know what happened to the moon god, though,” Jean says. “I was gone by then.”
“It’s only known that the moon god died, not any of the others,” Abram digs a little deeper, though he knows he’s reaching the part where Jean usually stops talking.
“That’s because he was the only one that did, but long before that two others disappeared. One was taken, and one went missing looking for him,” Jean’s voice is very quiet as he says it, as if he’s trying not to break something.
Abram thinks it might be himself. “What happened?”
“They were both captured, their powers sealed and used to benefit others until one day their souls escaped back into the world.” Abram opens his eyes, and looks at him, Jean’s eyes are trained on the wall. “And the cycle starts over again, because gods never really die.”
And Abram knows that to be true, Andrew might now be less than he was, but he is still something.
“I’m going to get us out,” Abram says to Jean.
Jean meets his eyes. “You’ve already done enough.”
It’s false and they both know it.
“This time, I’m not going to fail.” Abram is sure of it. He’ll get them out of this, then go and finally break Andrew’s seal.
Jean closes his eyes and sighs, but says nothing to that.