Chapter Text
With a tremor in his hand, Nick twisted the crystal doorknob only barely registering the faceted surface casting tiny rainbows over the eggshell paint in the dim candlelight. Each second that ticked by pressed heavier with the weight of all the eyes on him. An audible click fractured the quiet of the room and the knob turned, freeing the latch, and allowing the door to move. Muscles tensed as the heavy panel of wood slowly moved, swinging outwards. Nick stepped back to make room for the door to open properly before peering inside. The dark room was cold, the chill that pooled out blanketed over his feet. It was vacant of anything save one small object against the back wall. He only needed to step in with one motion, the size more akin to a closet, to reach the room’s only occupant.
Huddled on the unforgiving concrete of the floor, sat a young man; adorned with a matted crown of dark curls, pale, colourless skin and what could only be considered rags to cover his near emaciated body. The boy didn’t respond at first when Nick stepped into the room. Nick took in the sight before him in pure abject horror as he followed with his eyes a thick, frayed rope wrapped around the boy’s wrists, the golden braid stained red, up to where it was secured around a pulley hanging from the ceiling.
Finally registering another presence in the room, the boy tilted his head up to look at his visitor. Nick held a gasp as the most hypnotic blue eyes stared up at him, lightless. The boy was absolutely the most beautiful person he had ever seen. The whites of his eyes tinged red, skin ashen, lips pale but full, dried blood in the corner and dark shadows under his sharp cheekbones.
“Nicholas Luke Nelson, here is your pledge gift” the hooded figure behind him startling Nick. “Welcome to the Society”
XXX
Nick had never wanted to join this ridiculous club in the first place. Goaded into it by his estranged father with jabs at loyalty, tradition, prestige… Nick being eager to please, finally agreed to meet with the headmaster. It was bad enough that he had to leave his old university behind mid semester, now he was being pressed to join this group of fellows with a sordid history to gain a presence in this school.
He thought back lovingly to his mother, who he was doing this for. With his father’s pull, university would be free. David had gone to his father’s school and was now a well to do in society. If following his older brother’s footsteps afforded his mum to not have to pull double shifts to pay for school well, that was the only motivation that would work.
Finally feeling free from the confines of Stephane Fournier and David Nelson after graduating from Truham Grammar, Nick had made a name for himself at the University of Leeds, accepting a pull athletic scholarship that he earned himself and then achieving the title of alternate captain in the first month of junior year. Gaining genuine friends and a healthy social life by joining the LUU Rugby Union and not having to live up to anyone else’s reputation, he was finally loving life.
Sarah Nelson, his ultimate supporter, made the trek from Kent for every game. His mum was the only reason he hadn’t suffered a total mental breakdown in secondary. Finally, after a deep talk, he was able to express to her, the trauma of being a Nelson, attached to the Fournier fortune had stifled his educational growth exponentially and she acted quick to help him discover what he really wanted to do. He would not need to follow in the family business, he would not need to go to the same stuffy university his father and brother and his entire paternal bloodline had. The tension between Sarah and Stephane grew thicker than ever and his brother David was near insufferable but alas, he was free.
That first year after passing his A – Levels was pure bliss, he did well not to waste it. Skirting the offers for partying and irresponsibility, Nick took pleasure in keeping his scholarship, exploring the full extent of what Leeds had to offer and making his way through with near perfect marks. It was like he had become a whole new person.
After joining the Rugby club and getting comfortable, his second year he finally ventured out to new extracurriculars; even letting one of his teammates set him up on a bind date that turned into his first actual relationship. On his 20th birthday, just a few weeks into his second year, he got the call from his mum that there was an issue with the paperwork suddenly and his scholarship would only be good through January and then he would have to reapply. It was pretty obvious to him that after hours, weeks on the phone trying to figure out the issue, he would not re-qualify.
On November twentieth, Nicholas Nelson threw in the towel and conceded that he would need to find an alternate way to pay for school. He sat down with his mum, and they applied for all the potential grants and aid they could. He applied for a job at the local gym teaching kids how to swim but the income wouldn’t be enough for tuition in time. Sarah took every available shift at work, together they scraped together every penny but were still shy of the near ten thousand-pound cost.
He had been adamantly ignoring the sudden calls from his father, whom he had not seen in over two years, last showing up for his Truham graduation. The voicemails, left unheard, became incessant until the message alerted that the box was full and no more could be left. Nick was angry, frustrated, trying everything possible but did not want to have to leave school to save up before he could return. He knew his father would have something tactless to say about him applying for aid when he could have a free ride at any university that his patriarch chose should he yield to him.
It wasn’t until Nick came home for Christmas that things came to a head. He had barely seen his mum on break, she was working every day, sometimes pushing sixteen hours. Agreeing to take Christmas eve and day off, she kissed him goodbye on the twenty-third and drove down the street towards another double shift waiting for her. The call from the hospital came just after 1am on Christmas Eve, his mum had passed out from exhaustion on her shift and had to be taken away by ambulance, suffering from dehydration.
The bright florescence of the waiting room bathed Nick in all of his shortcomings. His pride left his mum hospitalised on Christmas Eve… he was a monster. His hubris had led to this and there was only one way to undo it. After conceding to the fight for freedom, he broke down and answered his father’s call on December twenty-ninth and after a gruelling conversation consisting of pointing out all the various ways Nick had become a disappointment, he agreed to transfer to some overpriced, obnoxious, snobby university. He would be saying goodbye to the beautiful cathedrals of Leeds and saying hello to the darkened dungeons of the palatial university his brother David was currently attending his master’s at.
His mum begged him not to go, knowing what he was sacrificing but the decision was quite easy, nothing was more important than his mum’s health. It was easy to get enrolled, seeing as it had mysteriously already been done for him and his credits already transferred from Leeds before he even had the opportunity to tell his academic advisor or his coach. Starting next term, Nick would be a full time student at the Royal Holloway in Surrey.
The advantage, he was closer to home here, the disadvantage, he was effectively cut off from all of his former university friends, he would no longer be exploring education or playing rugby, he would be going to school to follow in his family’s footsteps in the financial sector. It was well enough, he fully planned on going through the motions but taking enough electives to get his education degree as a secret fuck you to his father. He would suffer being sandwiched in the snobbiest part of England, Windsor and Surrey were rife with old money and took it upon themselves to exude extravagance in everything. Although he was only two hours from Kent versus the four when in Leeds, he was expected to live on campus at all times, only visiting during holidays; he was not allowed to join the rugby team, needing to devote all his time to his studies and of course the mysterious “Society” that Stephane fondly recalled any chance he could get. In his younger years, whenever Nick would ask about the “Society” he would be waived off and thus it was rooted in its obscurity. After David joined, it became even more hush hush, bringing father and son closer together, further ostracising Nick and his mum from the rest of the family. Now, it was expected that that Nick would join too.
In all honesty, Royal Holloway wasn’t altogether horrible. The classes were tough, but he was well prepared. His professors were kind, attentive and with only a handful of students in each of his courses, devoted to an individual experience. He guessed that was what you get for your money. Surrey was pretty too, when he would get out on the weekends for a break away from David lingering around his suite asking him if he had pledged himself yet. The only downfall was the strain it put on his relationship with his girlfriend. She was put out he had left Leeds to begin with which hurt more than he realised but when she complained about how hard it was that they never saw each other, he did her the kindness of releasing her from the doomed relationship. He wasn’t in love or anything, but she had been sweet and patient and fit with his friends. Now… he was back to fitting in with no one.
XXX
It was early February when he could no longer avoid the inevitable. Harry Greene, someone he knew from Truham, unfortunately, approached him in the quad, insisting he join him for tea that evening. Who the hell has time for tea around here anyway, but he obliged the request and found himself sitting in an obnoxiously stuffy parlour, decanters of whiskey and crystal tumblers set about the lacquered tables, the room stifling with its fire and candles being the few sources of light with the thick, dusty velvet curtains drawn.
“So, Nicholas” Harry drawled out in his gauche accent. “I’m sure you know why we’ve invited you here”. It dawned on him, sitting in the ornate plush couch, surrounded by a handful of boys who looked like they had drunk sour wine that this wasn’t to join a book club.
“Is this about the” he started, only to be cut off.
“Indeed, your father insisted”. Of fucking course…. It would be a long night. A long night would bleed into long weeks and years he assumed but hopefully this would grant him some advantages, some lax scrutiny from Mr. Fournier in that he could see his mum more, maybe join rugby next year…
So, he listened as they read from some ancient tome that was suspected to be the charter and agreed to the silly rules of secrecy and the punishments if he ever broke said rules. Ridiculous things like familial banishment and snobbery BS that only one driven by status would care about. He was here to do his time and get out, find a job to make enough to help his mum retire and eventually pursue his dream of teaching.
Meetings were held weekly, in the same overstated room, where they would discuss weekly duties for the older members and the humiliating tasks for pledges who needed to be inducted before they truly belonged. This was an exercise in futility for Nick, he would be in either way, his father too rich and powerful in this ring of tyrants to ever be ousted. Collectively they all knew this and it bred some hostility among a few of those who resented his pedigree, Harry Greene and Benjamin Hope being the forerunners of the Nicolas Nelson hate club. While fully cordial at meetings, there was an air of frostiness about them that created undue tension for him. If he could, he’d change his heritage without a second thought.
A month into the meetings, their first after hours pledge only gathering was to happen. It gave him some anxiety, the invitation was blank except for a time and date, it was to happen at a place off campus, at one in the morning. Accompanying the invitation was a thick black robe, made of expensive material that could feed a family for a week if he sold it.
That is how he found himself in the opulent foyer in some unknown building Wednesday at one in the morning on the first week of March, the robe was actually fortuitous in the lingering winter chill. He stood in a semicircle of fellow pledges, four in total. Harry had led them inside and once there, an older, more distinguished looking member with a deep blue robe stood, face obscured by his hood, appraising each of the pledges before him. It was himself, Benjamin Hope, Bigsby (Bigs) Hartshorn, and Arthur Rymer; Benjamin throwing him looks while the other two boys looked mildly frightened.
The elder, as he was dubbed, droned on about privilege, prestige, and a bunch of other P words before they filed onto the ornately gilded lift and descended to a level only accessible by a key. Even in his wildest dreams, he would never have pictured himself here. This life was never something he wanted and now he was in a basement, supposedly extravagant because it had millions of pounds thrown at it for décor, paint and luxuries that would rarely be enjoyed. Reformed into their stance again, Harry came to stand by the unnamed elder and they pulled a curtain back to reveal four identical doors, thick, intricately carved with jewels inlaid on the freezes above and each adorned with gaudy crystal doorhandles. The room was lit with torches and fire, but it did nothing to ease the chill that set into his bones. There was something about those doors that was like a deluge of ice in his belly, sinister in their innocuousness, whatever lay behind them surely would be terrifying.
Nick was called to step forward first and was presented with a decaying book. This book, bound in human skin, older than the university itself potentially, tiny sprigs of hair still caught in the binding, black with age was proffered to him. Expected to place his hand atop the dried flesh, the elder waiting for his palm to make contact before rattling of a list of expectations. It took a minute for him to realise that they were being presented with their “pledge gift”.
He remembered David telling him to expect a gift, and that it was a test of his faith and loyalty to the society, at how well he could care for his gift and keep it safe from prying eyes. Nick recalled thinking that it was like when you had to take care of an egg in health class, like in those American sitcoms. Being confronted with these doors now, he felt like maybe it was something much more intense than an egg… gods what if it was an endangered animal or stolen piece of art. The doors were silent, so hopefully it was nothing living like an eagle or lion but still… his fear outweighed his curiosity.
The elder reminded them all that these gifts were a part of the rules they had agreed to, pledged themselves to obey and that if they let anything happen to their gifts that would compromise the secrecy of their society… they would be founded on rule breaking. Jesus, they took this garbage seriously.
He removed his hand from the book after agreeing to look after whatever trinket they were about to bestow upon him and the elder moved aside, gesturing for him to take the first door. He walked up to it, suddenly stricken with fear. This is where his story begins… With a tremor in his hand, Nick twisted the crystal doorknob only barely registering the faceted surface casting tiny rainbows over the eggshell paint in the dim candlelight. Each second that ticked by pressed heavier with the weight of all the eyes on him. An audible click fractured the quiet of the room and the knob turned, freeing the latch, and allowing the door to move. Nick stepped back to make room for the door to open properly before peering inside. The dark room was cold, the chill that pooled out blanketed over his feet. Taking in the full size of the room, it would be more accurate to call it a prison cell. The interior completely opposite of the outside, it was cold, all concrete walls, floors. The room dark, he stepped inside to see, more clearly, the gift inside. A thick wave of nausea crashed into him, stealing the strength from his limbs.
His eyes adjusting to the faint light, he was able to see the room’s only occupant. It was a fucking human being. Sat on their knees, kneeling for gods know how long, was a young man. He knelt with his hands in his lap, laced together. He was hunched over, leaning in on himself, long, thick curls pouring over his forehead as he stared down where his hands rested. As he stepped closer, regard for the boy’s vitality became a crucial question, he didn’t move or react to the intrusion, just sat, staring sightlessly at his hands.
Nick followed the boy’s gaze, seeing now that around those dangerously slender wrists wove a thick braid of rope that must have been tied for an extended length of time, it had turn rust coloured, signalling the damage it had caused to the ivory skin below it. Nick was going to vomit. He wanted to run, to scream, to call the authorities… something. This had to be a nightmare…
The nightmare continued as he followed the rope upwards where it wound around a metal hook in the ceiling that clearly meant to pull the rope up and down either by crank or button, he was unsure of. His question would be answered soon enough. As he stepped in closer, the boy finally roused to his presence. Nick’s heart squeezed as his chin turned upwards towards him. He had never seen a pair of eyes with equal beauty to the ones that were staring at him blankly now, even devoid of life, they stole his breath. There were tracks of dried tears down sunken in cheeks and a cut, clean jawline that mixed his feminine beauty with a masculine sharpness. He was possibly the most beautiful person Nick had ever seen, maybe they had captured an endangered species and were holding them prisoner.
Nick took stock in the boy’s condition, he looked nearly starved, had been hurt recently, there was dried blood on the corner of his mouth and in one nostril, staining the colourless face crimson and Nick wondered who hit him. It filled him with a feeling most strange, he immediately felt the need to enact retribution…. Who would hurt someone so beautiful, so helpless. How was this possible, how was any of this real right now.
The unexpected grind of metal startled him back to reality, Harry had pressed a gilded switch near the door and the rope began to retract back up into the ceiling. The boy didn’t react as his hands began to lift, followed by his arms until they tugged on the sockets in his shoulders and his body began to rise from the ground. A dull ocean of curls spilled as his head fell back while his body was yanked up mechanically. The redhead just watched in horror as a lifeless body was dragged painfully into a standing position, he hung there lifelessly. Nick vaguely heard another switch clicking into place and the rope was seamlessly sliced free from it’s joint in the ceiling.
The boy had no strength; Nick bolted into action and caught the slight frame in his arms before he could drop back down to the floor. He gathered the boy closer, securing an arm around his back clutching him to his chest, letting his other hand brush away the wave of curls hiding those weird eyes he needed to see again. The boy regarded him curiously before going completely limp in his arms. Worrying he’d drop, Nick guided the bound wrists behind his head before dipping down to secure the hand not on the boy’s back, under his knees, lifting him from the cold ground.
With the boy safely in his arms, he walked back into the room, desperate for an explanation.
“Nicholas Luke Nelson, here is your pledge gift” the hooded figure behind him startling Nick. “Welcome to the Society”