Marcus Caravahlo (_caravahlo_) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-04-29 11:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | alternate universe, holiday: st. patrick, jon, marcus, teagan |
Fairy Tale AU: The Warning Mouse
Who: Marcus, Jon, tbd.
When: Once upon a time...
Where: In a land where men can buy husbands for their sisters, apparently.
What: Jon gets bought. Basically.
Warning: TBD (none as of yet; in progress)
Once upon a time, there was a family of peasants who lived on the outskirts of a very small village. They were good, god-loving people, who cared for each other very much, and lived relatively uneventful lives. Several years of blight had caused a great famine throughout the land, which did put strain on the poor family to feed themselves, but they struggled on, determined to survive. They kept a small vegetable patch, and a herd of goats which provided meat and milk. And every week, Marianna, the matriarch of the family, would determine which of their household belongings could be sold at the village market for coin with which they could buy extra provisions.
It was at the market that the family was approached by a traveler, a mountain of a man in strange clothing, who towered even above their tallest son. He’d noticed the family, he’d said, and had been impressed with their good-natured spirits, even in the face of hard times. He claimed that he wanted to help them, but that his money was not his alone to be handed away as charity, and surely they were not the sort of people who would accept pity from a stranger. However, he did have a proposition. His family was wealthy nobility from a neighboring land, and he had been sent out to seek a suitable husband for his younger sister. The man need not be a nobleman, himself, for the sister would hold no claim to any titles. They sought only someone who would treat her well and be willing to move into their castle, for they were a close family and did not wish to be separated. In exchange, he was prepared to offer a handsome dowry to the bridegroom’s family.
Marianna loved her children very much, and had never intended to arrange marriages for them, but when she heard just how handsome the dowry was going to be, she encouraged her sons to step forward. With one bag of the stranger’s gold, the family could eat for several years even if their garden dried up and their goats all died. As a dowry, five bags were offered. An obscene amount of wealth to the poor family, and an offer that was impossible to refuse. All it would cost was a single son.
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William, the oldest, had been the first to refuse, as he was set on marrying already. James, the youngest, felt he was still too young to be tied down. So that left Jon, the middle son, to carry that burden. Jon was a very good son, and it didn’t take much talk from Marianna to convince him to go along with the towering noble. He’d spent hours each day trying to expand their crop, only to come up with dirt. Dirt that didn’t bring in money or aid his family’s survival. The nobleman’s offer would guarantee what their land couldn’t bring them. An offer Jon wasn’t willing to turn down.
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The nobleman was pleased with their choice, and gave the family time to say their goodbyes as he went about his own business in the village. At midday, he returned to them in his carriage, to pick up the middle son. He was a swarthy man, and the length of his beard came second only to that of his hair. The name that he offered was Marcus Caravahlo. The carriage reigns easily vanished in one of his large hands, and the grin he flashed Jon was full of teeth. “You can ride in back or up here by my side, mijo. Makes no fucking difference to me.”
When Jon had situated himself, Caravahlo cracked the reigns to get them started off down the road.
======
The goodbyes had been short and had ended with Jon promising to write as often as he could. He carried with him a bag with all his worldly possessions which he put in the back of the carriage. He then climbed up to join the nobleman, offering his name, Jon Bennett, in return.
“So, uh, what are things like where we’re going?” He had never strayed farther than the market before. Traveling into the world was the biggest adventure of his life. And he was apprehensive. Though he tried not to let it show.
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“Heh, you’ll like it,” Caravahlo replied, the grin losing none of its intensity as he spoke. “Good land, good soil... we got a fucking vineyard on our land. Orchards. It’s a fertile valley. Water to the west and mountains to the east. A rich country... but we lost a whole lot of motherfuckers to war and plague and shit, years ago. Not many of us left. Why we need new blood. I won’t lie, hombre, you’re gonna be popular, just for being new.”
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“Well, it seems to be in everyone’s best interest,” he was looking over his shoulder, watching as his village disappeared. Once he was set that he couldn’t see it anymore, he turned to face forward again. He offered a smile in return though it paled in comparison to Marcus’ rather toothy one. “I’ve never worked a vineyard, but we used to have apple trees. Blight took them a long time ago, I’m afraid. It’s gonna take some adjusting to, I’m sure.”
He let his hands rest in his lap, worried his bottom lip a bit, and looked around. “How far of a ride do we have?”
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“Depends,” Caravahlo answered, vaguely, with a brief shrug. He chuckled. “If we ride through the fucking night, we’ll be home by sundown tomorrow, but we’ll need to change horses on the way. Or we can stop and get a room tonight. There’s an inn along the way. Takes longer, but it’s easier on the horses. Your call, hombre. Consider it a fucking wedding present. How much of a hurry you in to meet your future bride?”
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“A rest sounds like a good idea,” he replied. His nerves had finally started to get the best of him, he was starting to fidget more. He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Anything I need to know about this sister of yours? I mean... Well... It’s not like I’ve done a whole lot of focusing on preparing to be a husband or anything. She’s not a goat, I’m not sure I’ve got the qualifications here.”
Admittedly, Jon’s sense of humor was a bit off.
“I can till land no problem, plant just about anything you give me, and tend to it. Wooing a woman? I’ll admit it’s completely new territory for me. My older brother’s more apt in that area. Had more practice.”
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“Rather woo a goat?” Marcus raised an eyebrow at him, adding a whole new level of amusement to his smirk. He shook his head, not really getting the farmer mentality. “No wooing necessary, ‘mano. She either likes you or she don’t. Just don’t compare her to a fucking goat, and you’ll be good. You have had women, right? Girls? My sister’s no different than the rest of them.”
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Jon let out a nervous laugh when Marcus replied. That hadn't come out the right way, though there probably wasn't a "right way" for it anyway. "No goats. Got it."
He wouldn't worry if the sister liked him as it didn't seem to matter as much as he'd expected. "One girl, few years back. I was all thumbs, it didn't work out." Good job, Jon. You're gonna get labeled the goatfucking virgin now. And as if his subconscious actually spoke to him, he rubbed his face with his hand in embarrassment.
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“One girl. Huh.” The look the bigger man shot him was a bit odd. A mixture of surprise and appraisal, as though he were re-determining Jon’s worth. Perhaps feeling as if he’d overpaid. It was soon dispersed by a chuckle, however, and a teasing - but not entirely unfriendly - tone of voice when he asked, “And how many goats?”
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Jon let out a laugh completely devoid of the nerves he'd been displaying earlier. "None. "
The small talk continued as they made their way to the inn for the evening. Jon spent it asking all the questions he could about Marcus, his home, and things that'd be expected of him. He'd also answered any of Marcus' other questions about himself. Dusk rolled in, and the sky had begun to darken when the carriage came to a halt. Jon climbed down, and stopped for a moment to pet one of the horses before coming around to Marcus' side again.
"After you?"
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The huge man was relatively easy to talk to, mostly because he thoroughly enjoyed talking. He spoke at length about his home, gave less details about his family (he was awfully vague about the sister), but he could easily spin a conversation to subjects with which he was more comfortable, and there were a great many of those. More, he seemed genuinely interested - if amused - by things that Jon said. He laughed loud and often, the image of a man who was perfectly comfortable in his skin and at ease with life. The ride was not unpleasant.
“Heh. Get your things, ‘mano,” Marcus advised, after getting down from the carriage, himself. “I’ll secure a room.”
Inside the establishment there were several others. Regular patrons, staff, and one or two men who looked like fellow travelers. Marcus was recognized by most. A hush fell when he entered, and it was only after he ordered two meals and a room for the night that the usual din reasserted itself. Still, there were wary glances. An uneasy, feigned sort of relaxation in the crowd. Jon was ignored outright; nobody spoke to him, and nobody would make eye contact with him, save Marcus, himself.
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With a nod, he retrieved his bag from the carriage and trailed behind Marcus. He shifted the bag on his shoulder as he came up beside the nobleman again. It was hard not to notice the lack of eye contact, or even acknowledgement that Jon was there. He looked down to his clothing, to Marcus, scanned the room, and then looked back to himself. His clothes didn’t seem anything out of the ordinary, maybe the other patrons had just assumed he was another traveler? Nothing of major interest. Yeah. That had to be it.
It was after the two were seated again that Jon decided it was safe to converse. “Come here often?” It was a silly question. Marcus was a nobleman. Travel was not uncommon, especially with him previously searching for a suitor for his sister.
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“Heh. Often enough,” Marcus allowed, but he left it at that. He drank enthusiastically, and was as generous with his coin as he was his laughter. The server moved quickly to fulfill his requests. In fact, the entire establishment seemed to treat Marcus with deference, which added weight to his claim that he’d been there often. The acknowledgment that he got was ever furtive, however. Skittish.
People were afraid of him. Nobody said it outright, and he didn’t seem to notice or care about it, himself, but it soon was obvious. The general vibe in the room was palpable. A scent of fear and the tension of held breaths. Marcus Caravahlo was feared, and they couldn’t wait for him to keep moving along.
After they ate, Marcus scent Jon up to bed, so that he could settle out the tab for the food. He planned to leave early, so wanted to square away any expenses ahead of time.
The rooms were very simple, and sparsely furnished. A bed, a gas lamp on an endtable, a wash basin. It was quiet and comfortable, but nothing terribly fancy. Clean, fresh linens and a carefully swept floor. Nothing whatsoever to indicate vermin, so it was something of a surprise when a tiny brown mouse crept out from behind the bed to watch Jon as he settled in for the night. She was a young mouse, with large, sparkling black eyes and a tattered piece of yellow string tied in a bow around her neck.
It was another surprise when she cocked her head to one side, and spoke. At first the barest squeak, as though she were clearing her throat, and then a small, high voice piped forth from her little mouse lungs. “Hey, you left some crumbs on your pants. Are you gonna eat those? ...Can I?”</blockquote>