Pairing: Eventual Spain/Romano

Rating: T

Notes: I debated on posting this or waiting until I finished... and then I realized I might never finish, so I may as well post it anyway. I am hoping to keep the chapters shorter, but as usual, we'll see.

Cover art by pika09.

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AFTER DARK

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The carriage ride from hell was almost over. No, wait, rather, the carriage ride to hell was almost over. Soon, Romano would be standing at the gates of his new h– residency. Home was too affectionate of a word to use to describe the place where he'd be living from now on. There was nothing affectionate about indentured servitude.

Romano had been cooped up in the carriage for almost six days now, aside from the brief stops at shoddy inns for a few hours each night. He had been lucky enough to travel with a merchant for free, or unlucky, considering the man's terrible driving skills. Romano was barely able to sleep with all of the jostling and banging about that the carriage did over the gravelly roads. Not only was peaceful sleeping out of the question, but he was bored out of his mind, too. He almost wished he had been sent to Austria with his younger brother, if only for the company.

The Vargas brothers had never been particularly close, probably due to their strikingly different dispositions. Feliciano was friendly and cheerful, while Romano was ill-mannered and sullen. Romano couldn't help it, though, that everyone made it known how much they preferred Feliciano over him. Even his own grandfather had chosen to raise his younger brother in Venice, leaving the older boy with his sickly parents on their farm just outside the city of Rome. After their grandfather had died, Feliciano returned home to help Romano care for the land and their parents, but the rift between the brothers had grown deep.

Feliciano stayed inside, dabbing his parents' sweaty foreheads with damp cloths, praying to God, Mary, and Jesus for their recoveries, even if the local doctor had determined their illnesses to be terminal. Romano worked outside, herding the animals, fetching water, chopping firewood, and tending to the large garden. It was a perfect system. The boys only saw each other during mealtimes, and Romano didn't have to take care of his unappreciative parents any longer.

His parents had been the worst at favoring their younger son over the elder. They had been heartbroken when Feliciano had left for Venice, even though they knew he would be getting a better life and education with his maternal grandfather-in-law. The old, rich man had never been interested in his distant relatives, until he met Feliciano at another relative's funeral. He had taken a liking to the boy and offered to let him come stay in Venice in the big mansion there, where he would receive a good education and upbringing. Romano's parents agreed at once, sad as it made them, for the Vargas family was not at all well-off, and the farm had been hit hard the past two years. So, when Romano was barely five years old, his younger brother had been whisked off to a fairy-tale story with their wealthy grandfather, leaving Romano behind to pick up the slack.

His parents fretted over their younger son's future, always talking of what sort of education he might be receiving or the important people he might meet. They never asked Romano what his future might be like. They rarely thanked him for preparing dinner or chopping wood or feeding the goats. Romano had confronted his mother once, asking if she even remembered she had another son, one who was actually keeping the farm up on its tiny chicken legs. She had laughed, asking in turn, why should she be thankful for such a clumsy oaf of a son?

Romano knew he was clumsy, even if his parents hadn't told him a thousand times. Although he did keep the farm afloat, just barely, he was actually terrible at housework and chores. He constantly got splinters from cutting wood, and he dropped the ax on his foot more than once. He did not have an affinity for animals, so herding the sheep proved difficult, as did milking the goats and collecting the chicken eggs. He was even worse at cleaning, knocking over all manner of things in the house when sweeping, spilling water everywhere when doing the dishes, and almost losing laundry to the wind when hanging it up to dry. The only things Romano was remotely good at were gardening and cooking.

He was sure these two skills were the only reasons that kept his parents from selling him off as a slave.

Of course, barely four years after his brother had left, their grandfather died and Feliciano returned, sparing Romano from any more parental harassment. For not long after his brother moved back in, their parents grew too ill to leave their beds.

Feliciano had made the hour's journey to the closest town and fetched a doctor. Romano thought the man was absolutely incompetent at his job, failing to identify exactly what his parents had come down with and if it was contagious or not. Whatever the case, Feliciano had insisted upon caring for them, even if it put his body in harm's way. Romano didn't try to stop him; he wasn't about to offer to do it, nor did he particularly care if Feliciano became sick as well. He was sure that deep down, deep-deep down, he probably still loved his family, but Romano wasn't patient enough to dig through all the years of hurt and disregard to find those feelings. The tears he shed at night were ones of exhaustion, or at least that's what he told himself. It was easier to not care.

He hadn't been particularly sad after his parents finally passed away, not even after the farm was seized. Nor did he grow upset when the orphanage refused to take the children, offering instead to find them work as indentured servants. He found it somewhat ironic that, even though they were dead, his parents still managed to cast him into slavery. Romano hadn't even cried when he and Feliciano had to be split up. His brother did, though. The younger Vargas cried like a baby, so much so that it would seem the two boys were especially close. Quite the opposite, really, Romano knew that Feliciano was only scared of the Austrian aristocrat who had agreed to take him.

Sir Edelstein gave off a haughty, no-nonsense air, and Feliciano's crybaby self would not mix well with such an atmosphere. His brother was generally cheerful, but Feliciano was also quick to cry over the smallest of things. He had never really done an honest day of work in his life, having been too young during his first years on the farm, then spending several years in a mansion, and finally resigning himself to bedside duty for the sick. He supposed Feliciano might be happy as a nurse, but he doubted that Sir Edelstein would have his brother doing that sort of work. Romano envisioned a lot of chores and dishes in his brother's future.

In the end, he decided that he preferred this terrible carriage ride to Spain over the company of his stupid brother and a future in Austria with that sour-faced gentleman.

While the orphanage had quickly arranged for Feliciano to go with Sir Edelstein, who happened to be in Italy on business, it had taken longer to find a suitable position for Romano. There had been several positions available in nearby cities, but Romano's foul temperament had hastily ended those meetings. No one wanted to hire a bratty eleven-year-old whose first reaction upon meeting was to insult and curse. So the patrons at the orphanage began to look abroad, with the hope of skipping the interviews altogether.

How exactly the headmistress had found him this job, Romano did not know. All she had told him was that he was going to work for a Lord Carriedo in Spain. He managed to find out a bit more by eavesdropping when the plump woman talked to the merchant, arranging for Romano's ride. They spoke in hushed tones, but he managed to catch a few snippets of conversation. Apparently Lord Carriedo was a recluse who lived in a large manor, situated on top of a hill overlooking a sleepy Spanish village. The family had resided there for generations, though the manor never received visitors, and Lord Carriedo rarely ventured into town. There were rumors that the place was haunted. The merchant seemed anxious about bringing a child to such a place, but the headmistress, desperate to get rid of Romano, insisted that the lord had requested Romano specially. He highly doubted such a thing, but he wasn't interested in spending another night sleeping on the floor of the orphanage kitchen on a ratty mat, surrounded by the screams and sobs of other children, so he smartly held his tongue.

He could have gleaned even more information from the merchant, but Romano wasn't at all social, and so he never thought to ask the man anything over their six day journey. He also just wasn't interested in learning about his new employer; slaving away for a stranger seemed better than slaving away for his parents, anyway, and the less he knew about the man, the better. He guessed he would be doing menial housework for some fat, old miser until his employer died, at which time he would be handed off to someone else.

The merchant called to him from the driver's seat. "Almost there, lad. Passing through the village now. Just a half hour away."

He didn't bother answering; the man couldn't hear him over the wobbling wheels on the cobblestone. He did, however, peer out the dirty window to look at the passing buildings. Romano supposed the town looked similar enough to the ones back in Italy, but the fact was, he knew he was not in Italy, and so everything here was foreign and strange. Quickly losing interest, he curled up on the lumpy seat and closed his eyes, attempting to sleep despite a growing headache.

He must have slept after all, for the next thing Romano knew, the carriage was pulling to a stop. The merchant leaned into the compartment, checking to see if he was awake.

"The mansion's just up the slope, lad," he said, his passable Italian thick with a Spanish accent.

Romano hummed in response, glancing outside. They began leisurely trotting up a path lined with trees, illuminated in the glow of the carriage lanterns and the sinking sunlight. All around them were more trees, as far as the eye could see. After a few minutes, the driver spoke again, telling him to look up ahead.

Romano gasped. What appeared to be a massive ship was looming in the distance, high above the treetops. As they grew closer, the structure looked less and less like a ship, and more and more like a castle. A castle! Romano had thought he would be living in a large manor, like his grandfather's. He never thought he would be living in a castle!

As they approached, the castle only seemed to grow in size. It was surely three stories tall, with leveled rooftops and several towers. The fortress disappeared into the trees once they were close enough, and Romano found himself breathing deeply. He must be tired, that's all. No way was he scared!

The carriage finally pulled to a halt in front of a grand entryway. The castle seemed to stretch for miles behind the large, double oak doors. The man helped him out of the carriage, even though Romano was perfectly capable of doing it on his own. He led the boy over to the doors and knocked loudly, banging the brass knocker against the wood several times.

"Well, I best be off," the man said, tipping his hat. "Someone 'to come fetch you at an appropriate time."

"You aren't staying?" Romano asked, happy he sounded more annoyed than nervous.

The merchant shook his head. "I have places to go, people to meet, boy. I already 'done enough for you." He climbed back onto the carriage and cracked his whip, driving away down the rocky and woody terrain.

"Bastard," Romano muttered after him.

Now he was alone on the front doorsteps, in the cold night air, waiting for only God knew who to answer the door. Five minutes went by and no one came to the door. Romano shifted on his feet as he recognized the need to use a chamber pot. Hopefully someone came soon...

Another ten minutes passed before Romano decided to stomp off and relieve himself in the woods. He came back to the front doors after another five minutes. Still, no one appeared. The house was dark and silent.

He tried banging the knocker again. And again, and again, repeatedly for several minutes. Another hour crawled by before Romano considered walking around the perimeter and finding another door to knock on. Clearly Lord Carriedo had stepped out, or perhaps he had passed out drunk at his dining room table. His father had done that quite often back when Romano had been a toddler, so he knew from experience that a drunk lord wouldn't think to check his front steps for a long while. The bigger and more important question was, where were the servants?

Surely, a mansion of this caliber had to have some attendants. A few maids to keep the hundreds of rooms tidy, a butler to keep a tight shift (and perhaps answer the door?), certainly a cook. So where were these people? If Romano had been hired as a servant for the lord, surely he had other servants as well.

Unless... no one actually lived here.

That merchant man had claimed Lord Carriedo rarely left his manor. But had he actually seen him? Had anyone ever seen him? The rumors about the place being haunted were looking pretty good right now. And Romano was here, alone in the dark...

He curled up into himself on the top step, close to the doors. The stone was terribly uncomfortable, but Romano was too afraid to sleep on the softer ground of the woods. Who knew what sorts of animals were out there? He shivered as the cold wind blew, wishing he had brought a blanket. The thought was foolish of course, as he had no possessions to bring from his previous home. Feliciano had kept the single family photograph and a few other things that had belonged to their parents. Most of their things had been seized with the farm, and Romano hadn't wanted any family mementos. Who wanted to remember parents like that? His family was the reason he was now freezing outside this God-forsaken castle. Feliciano was off with some prissy Austrian, probably set to inherit their grandfather's money when he came of age (though it had never really been discussed), and Romano was going to die here on some drunk man's doorstep.

No, he told himself, he wouldn't die. He'd walk down to the village tomorrow morning and find someone to complain to. Perhaps he'd been dropped off at the wrong estate, yes, that seemed a likely reason. It was too dark to go now, so he'd attempt to sleep and then head off when it was daylight again.

Despite the hardness of the steps, Romano eventually drifted off into a restless, dreamless sleep.

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This will be a Spain/Romano story, but no, it will not be pedo!Spain.

Lord Carriedo's castle is based on the Alcázar de Segovia, well-known for its shape like the bow of a ship... fitting for Spain, I think!

Currently working on chapter 2 of this story. Luck Be Lady ch3, as well as a requested Ladybug fic. A few Romerica one-shots for Fried Tomatoes. Aaaand another Spain/Romano story, a 4 chapter one... about a third finished. I hope my muse can hold itself together!