Somewhere Across the Elysian Fields

By Ryukansen

Chapter One: The Only Guide

Author's Note: It's been a long time, but I think it's partly due to my writer's block I've had ever since last semester in college. I think too much drama drained my mind of being capable of writing a real, nice, angst-plot. But, nonetheless, I recovered a bit – I mean, no more drama and all, but still I find inspiration a bit, once again. This is a slow introduction, but the next chapter will be very eventful. Ah, introductions always make me think too much. Please read and review!

His eyes were a weary, faded out gray. The loss of amethyst was evident, as the color barely tinted his once animated eyes. Face, chalk white, and smeared with an ashen gray – he looked like a ghost; haunting the deserted area.

His form was rather sluggish; back craned like a cat in its own defense, piercing eyes glaring out the window like a hawk searching for his lost prey. Cold, sharp fingertips felt the smooth surface of the misty glass – his breath spreading the warmth he could muster; fog framing the movements of every gasp.

He had watched that poor child run, rather, flee like a mouse from his captor. The boy scurried out from the gates, staring for any sights of him – hoping he was left unsighted. Lively, emerald eyes – bearing the light of hope stared, encountering his purple ones those of which were drowned by all the torturous thoughts and tormented dreams.

A crooked smile played upon his chapped lips. This was but just an ordinary game to him, flee young one; flee.

Through brambles and thickets, the young man dashed among them; thorns ripping his flesh as he did his best to attempt another escape. His small heart was palpitating; beating against his chest as the heat of the day was something he was not used to.

Sunlight played among the dreaded wisps of clouds, the dead leaves of fall scattered amongst the cobblestone path. The poor man could not recognize where he was going, for it had been a long time since he had last ran away or seen the world at most.

Every direction he took to analyze or ponder about seemed all the same. His senses blocked by the dark, empty woods and noiseless domain. Stranded in a forgotten forest, his master lived solemnly away from society; away from time.

How wretched this place was, where he was forced to live in? He couldn't understand how he ended up in this forsaken area. It was his parents' fault for collecting such a hideous debt to that heartless monster.

His heart began to pick up as he remembered his situation – yes, well, he was in a tight pinch. A mere slave, forced to deal with parents' debt and such to that cold man. He had suffered a great variety of abuse from physical pain to occasional mental affliction. The heavily accented tormenter, Ivan, made it his religion to see his contorted face; a wicked smile – hopefully sweet as he tasted the droplets of his own blood.

The younger adult shivered at the thought of the other's tongue lapping against his whipped back, strokes of raw flesh embraced his petite figure; they were reminders of his continuous display of rebellion.

"Now, now, Arthur – this is your fault, da?" The other's voice was deep and rich, his hot mouth warming the shell of his ears. Cold hands snaked around his waist, fingernails piercing through the pink flesh – dragging down the bleeding wound. Arthur gasped as he felt the infliction – a heavy pang collided, wracking his body.

A mixture of heat and what felt like needles jabbing all over his raw flesh in one concentration, came together in what seemed like an eternity of torture. The man's cold fingers were gently massaging the wounds, in an effort to demonstrate his "kinder" side. "If only my little one could just behave." His demonic voice replied in such a sweet tone, Arthur shivered more – tears perking up from the corner of his eyes.

How could such a sweet voice belong to him?

"Y-You monster!" The other hissed in frustration; hands clutching desperately on a loose sheet splayed on the bed. Ivan's only response to his childish reply was a smirk, and then rough nails began to collide against his sore flesh.

The older man breathed at the memories his tormenter had managed to imprint on his mind. How long had he undergone this torture? Surely he had spent more than a decade with that brute. He suppressed a shudder as he continued on to where he heard a nearby brook run. If he could just follow that without having Ivan find him he could reach some village or town – probably!

"Toris…?" Ivan hummed gently as he strummed his fingers along the arm of his velvet chair. He didn't know exactly how he was feeling. A lot of emotions were currently clashing against each other trying to dominate one another, and yet, none seemed to be more apparent than the other. He was confused of what to feel. He considered being angry at first, but there was a hint of sadness crawling somewhere inside him. It was a pity Arthur couldn't see how important he was to him. But that sadness was also always conflicted with a bit of amusement. Arthur never seized to lift his spirit in a good game of chase.

A timid man had answered his call. Fragile and thin, meek and pale, his hair was tied up into a short pony tail, with waves of loose strands fluttering about as he just smiled shakily at his master. He wore nice silk clothing, but they were too big for him. Maroon colored sleeves laced with white lily-patterns hung lazily over his bony arms; his torso was clothed with a pinkish blouse tucked neatly with a pair of white long pants, loose and yet fitting for him.

"Yes, Mr. Braginski?" He replied softly, earning a soft violet gaze. He stared at his hands; they were shaking, as he knew he had probably gotten caught in the aid of Arthur's escape.

'Calm down Toris, you know him now, he won't do anything bad to you…you helped him out didn't you? You should be fine." The brunette tried calming his nerves as he forced himself some hope.

"How do you suppose Arthur had been able to flee?" Ivan asked cruelly, playing with Toris with a smile and soft voice. His hand was motioning the other to attend to him to shorten the distance.

'What you did was the right thing. Ivan won't harm you; he can't. You're too important to him. He…He can't.' He breathed as fidgeted a bit and was alarmed at the request of his master to come closer.

The other reluctantly stepped forward to meet the other; his light green eyes gazed at the tiles below him. Marble, very old, but still clean. It was something Ivan was obsessed in keeping perfect for no reason. "I-It may be due to the lack of security here…" He slowly murmured, holding his stand as he tried not to stare into Ivan's mesmerizing violet.

He knew he had no chance – Ivan had probably suspected him, anyways. Sure there were a few guards amongst his lonely mansion – but he was the only servant who cared about anyone imprisoned by this monster.

"But, dear, Toris…" Ivan got up and walked down the coupled stairs to come closer to the brunette. His cold hands softly caressed the smaller one's cheek. His purplish lips, bending into a smug smile – devastatingly sweet. "No one can escape me."

The other let out a gasp as he felt a hand tug at his hair, jerking him to make his eyes meet that cold amethyst. That sweet smile was laced with so many meanings, and yet he could not read what the other was going to do next.

"You have lost my trust, my poor Toris."

There was a scribble of light pining through the dark woods. Arthur had been walking for hours in what had seemed to be a never ending cycle of forestry. He had tried to find a brook, a river, a stream, anything to help him lead his way out and he had only ended up at the source of the river, a simple lake. He sighed; he had gone the wrong way. He was tired though, so he took a sack of leather he had carried, emptying its contents: a small parchment with an address, and a few gold and silver coins.

"I'm never getting out of here, am I?" He muttered quietly to himself as he filled the leather pouch with fresh water. There were some berries dangling from a nearby shrub, so he took them and ate it greedily. He had forgotten that there was something so sweet that could taint his tongue; it was pleasant and tangy, strange to him but all the while wonderful.

Staring at the contents that he spilled from his sack, he took the gold and silver and stuffed it in a worn out pocket from beneath his cloak. He carefully took the scrap of paper he received from Toris, and read the words carefully with the utmost attention.

"When you come across any town ask for a man with the surname of Łukasiewicz."

Arthur sighed; Toris had always spoken highly of this man. Although he had spouted nonsense about ballroom dresses and gowns he was someone important. This Łukasiewicz was someone who was part of the high society in this world. He would most likely shelter, clothe and feed him, and Toris also said this man was very understanding though a bit naïve and rash with judgment.

Now that he thought about it. He wondered how the other man was doing under Ivan's care. He was too busy with his escape to have thought about the poor Brunette. It was sad that he could not escape with him, but then again, Ivan always was aware of things, and needed a distraction; and Toris was always a good option.

He; however, was too afraid to leave the other. But the brunette assured him that he had been with Ivan the longest and knows the cruel monster to the point that he could find a soft spot to his character in order to elude harm. The Brunette also told him that he would be safe, for there is someone looking for him; there was someone who was going to save him.

The Blonde could only worry so much, but he found the sun setting, and he needed to head to a town fast before Ivan's Shadows could get to him. Those men were expert in tracking people down, for he had always been caught – and it has surprised him that today there were hardly any sight of them.

Arthur took a swig of his water, and licked his chapped lips. He tightened the pouch with a small, but thick rope and looked back at the river, following it as his only guide.

"How long do you suppose he will last?"A voice replied from somewhere afar, although Arthur's figure was very noticeable. There was almost a laugh, but the other figure hushed him with a stern voice.

"I think he will only have a night to enjoy this freedom." The other muttered while fidgeting a bit. The one next to him only frowned.

"But in a night he can come across the city…" The other whined.

"That is why; we must finish this soon, Young Soo." The hidden figure sighed, "If we don't, we may never get brother back." Heavy eyebrows furrowed with a bit of frustration as he closely followed the wandering blonde.

"I don't intend to tell you where young Arthur is." Toris whispered with fear while standing before his master; shaking. Ivan only smirked as he continued to caress Toris' face. His smile was still smug and carefree but the glint in his eyes told otherwise. He was practically screaming at him. He felt betrayed of his own pawn.

"There is no need to, da?" The childish voice hummed. "For there are others who follow him for me," he smiled twirling a loose strand of brown hair.

Toris' eyes widened, he cursed, the Shadows were coming out soon, and he could only hope to have Arthur in Feliks' place before night. No doubt, he sent those two raven-haired hunters! They were new, but…easily manipulated. Arthur could still have a chance…

"Tell me, Toris. What punishment should traitors receive?" A hideous smile formed, and a glint of amethyst shined in interest.