Cloths of Heaven
(i)
(i)
Every day Ran awoke before dawn and walked along the beach where he had first seen the piskie in the hope, unconsciously maybe, that he would see her again. He didn't. He didn't know what it was that he wanted to say to her, just that he needed to say something. Nevertheless she never appeared to hear it.
Crawford would stand at the window and watch him through the glass, and just behind, almost out of sight were his champions. If he wondered what the boy did he never asked.
He couldn't wait to be out of this backwater of a country. He was only here because Ran wanted to be, because Ran needed time to mourn.
What Ran didn't know then, and wouldn't know till years later was that it was Inabayama that he was mourning, not his sister.
One of the few things Crawford took with him from Inabayama was a portrait on vellum in charcoal of Ran lying asleep with his sister's doll in his arms. He would have it framed and in later years it would be cherished in ways other, greater, pieces of art were not.
(ii)
Crawford returned home to Eressea to a commission. He had, in his position as Inquisitor General, been told to go to the front at Herensie to maintain order. He didn't even bother to unpack, just added his armour and “work clothes” to his luggage and asked Ran, with both of his hands held, if he wanted to go to.
Ran offered him a tired smile. “I was to be a member of the Heaven Guard,” he said quietly, he had lost his passion with his sister, “I will give what I know to protect you.” It wasn't why Crawford wanted him to come but he appreciated the gesture regardless.
The journey was long and arduous but Ran didn't complain once. In fact he didn't speak much at all.
“Who is it that Eressea is at war with?” Ran asked that night over supper. As Inquisitor General whenever Crawford stopped a great palanquin was raised for him to bed down in, and food worthy of a king was prepared. Crawford frowned into his wine that Ran obviously still didn't think of Eressea as his home.
“Estet.” Crawford answered. Ran's champions had left him alone for the night, they were probably making free of the local town's inn knowing the two of them. Farfarello was just outside the tent opening. He was probably smiling at people as they passed, as he knew that frightened them more than anything else. “They come from the east, they're determined to take over the continent.”
“And the Nemesis?” Ran asked.
“We don't understand his intentions at all. He leaves bureaucracy behind but abolishes the governments and kills most of the noble families to prevent any claims to the throne other than that of his viceroy. He destroys all armies except his own.” Crawford poured himself more of the sweet white wine, and refilled Ran's cup.
Ran lifted it and swirled it around but didn't drink. He had barely eaten.
“I've never been to war before.” Ran said quietly.
“It's not war.” Crawford corrected him, “it's the front, Eressea holds the fort on one side of the lake, Estet on the other, it doesn't seem to upset the natives at all.” He speared a piece of the meat on his plate and chewed on it thoughtfully. Since he had met Ran he enjoyed taking his supper with him. The boy was intelligent, if shy, and sometimes his answers were provoking. Despite Ran's best attempts to convince the world of the contrary he was actually very clever. Crawford wondered if his long pauses were just his shyness or if he was contemplating what was said.
“Who is the Nemesis?” He asked quietly. “I heard him mentioned a lot in Inabayama.”
“His army is not far from Inabayama, maybe two weeks.” Crawford explained, “I think the king might be in talks with them.”
“If his intentions are the betterment of the nation where is the problem?” Ran asked, “surely if they surrendered peacefully then he wouldn't be forced to take the measure he does to prevent uprisings.”
This was why Crawford adored Ran, the boy, deny it as he might, was brilliant. “It's not that simple.” Crawford told him, “they take tithes.”
“All countries take taxes.” Ran corrected.
“It's not money, they take,” Crawford paused, “they call them Janissary.” There was a prolonged silence as Crawford worked out the best way to explain. “They take people, Ran, to join the court at Atzara. Children mostly.” Ran frowned. “it's a double edged sword, although they take them from their families, they educate them and give them a better life in the government. However,” he stopped again, making sure Ran took in what he was saying, “the beautiful ones, the lovely ones, are installed in the Seraglio.” He reached across the small table and touched Ran's soft white cheek. “We don't know what happens to them then, perhaps they stay there until they're old and ugly, perhaps they're sold to the brothels. I don't know.”
“Does it bother you,” Ran asked, cutting through to the heart of the matter, “That you don't know? I suppose you would like to know that such a fate would not befall Naoe.”
“Naoe?” Crawford said softly with a small laugh. “He is too young to make such assumptions, I suppose it is you that I fear for.” He ran the pad of his thumb over Ran's lips.
“Why?” Ran asked, “I'm just funny looking.”
Crawford burst out laughing. “Ran,” he said with all honesty, “already you're one of the most lovely people I have ever seen, and as you get older you get more and more beautiful. Do you still read the books about Celabrien?” Ran nodded, unsure where this is going. “And Alaric her handsome champion.” Ran just nodded. “When you described Celabrien to me I always saw her with your face.”
Ran blushed prettily, even deep in despair as he so obviously was, such a compliment moved him. He took Crawford's hand in his own and stood up, moving away from the table, and pulled him towards the bed. Crawford's cock leapt in his pants at the prospect. “You don't have to do this because I complimented you, Ran,” he forced himself to say, he had promised that he would never force Ran to do something he didn't want to, or wasn't ready to do, “I don't just tell you that you're beautiful in bed you know, I do think you're very beautiful.”
It was clear Ran didn't want to hear any more because he pressed his finger to Crawford's lips and shook his head, “just hold me,” he said softly, “please.”
Willing the blood to leave his erection Crawford pushed Ran's jerkin away from his shoulders, baring the creamy flesh, “I'll do anything you want,” he kissed the cord of Ran's neck softly, “anything you want,” he repeated.
As maddening as he found it to be curled up with Ran, with one hand on his lush buttock, Crawford obeyed his bride, and simply held him.
(iii)
The town of Herensea was heavily fortified and behind strong tall walls. Eressean flags snapped in the wind as Ran looked up, “welcome,” Crawford said to the boy who had his hood pulled up to the sun, “to Herensea.” Ran offered him a wan smile and then looked back to Yohji and Schuldig who rode slightly behind, as if reassuring himself that they were there.
Ran's chambers were lush despite the harshness of the citadel. There were several rather lovely tapestries and heavy velvet drapes to keep out the cold. There was also a large polished mirror and several large closets for his clothes. Crawford had made it clear that he was to have anything and everything he wanted, and that he was to be obeyed as if he was lord here. The condition was that he did not leave the citadel without an armed escort, which meant more than his two champions.
Before Aya's death Ran might have ransacked the room looking for its secrets. He simply put his things away. In the back of one of the drawers was a book, he opened it curiously then dropped it in shock.
“What is it, kiddo?” Schuldig asked hearing the noise.
“That?” He said pointing at the book.
“What is it? A treatise on torture?” He flicked through the pages, then tilted his head to look better at the illustrations. “Woah,” he said and then tilted his head more, “I think I better,” his head was almost perpendicular now, “confiscate this,” he turned over the page, “that's just not humanly possible.” He turned over the page again, “and you'd need a bath in the morning after that one, just to loosen the muscles.”
“What?” Yohji said coming in, “what's that?”
“It's Ran's.” Schuldig teased, showing him the cover of the book. It was a beautifully tooled leather cover.
“I,” Ran began, “I found it, it's not mine.”
“So what is it?” Yohji asked crossing the room to them.
“A pillow book,” Schuldig said with a smirk, “with illustrations, and it's for men.”
“Crawford dropping you hints, kiddo?” Yohji asked with a mock punch on the arm. Ran just blushed even brighter. “Let me see,” He said taking the book from Schuldig and opened it to an interesting page, “I think that this one's illegal in nine out of the ten city states,” he said tilting his head, “and that's just,” he stopped, “well maybe if you did put your leg like that, and your arm there.”
“Ecchi,” Schuldig said slapping him around the back of the head. “I think I should tell Crawford.”
“No,” Ran said suddenly, “I,” he blushed again, “I wanna know how,” he said, “and,” he lowered his eyes to the floor, “I just wanna,” he stammered out finally.
“You mean,” Schuldig raised his eyebrows in question, “in all this time?”
“No,” Ran said, “I just,” he sighed, “lie back and think of Inabayama.” He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, “I just,” both of them looked softly indulgent, “I just.”
“Ran,” Yohji said softly, “we're all shy at first, just do what feels good, hell, I know prostitutes that couldn't do half the stuff in that book.”
“I know contortionists that couldn't' either.” Schuldig admitted, “nor contortionist prostitutes.” Despite himself Ran laughed at that. “Why don't you just tell Crawford that?”
“Or show him the book? I mean you must have spent a pretty penny on it, it looks expensive.” Yohji told him.
“I found it,” Ran protested, “it was in the drawer,”
“And Schuldig doesn't pay his contortionist prostitutes,” Yohji laughed.
“But,” Ran protested,
“He's teasing you, Kirsche.” Schuldig said, “ignore him, it's been so long that he has to turn to things like that book.” Ran could hear the snigger in his voice.
“I thought,” Ran said with his most innocent look, “That you two,” he left it open as both of them gaped at him.
“With him?” Schuldig spluttered, “he cares more about his hair than most people.”
“At least I bathe regularly,” Yohji countered.
“I can do page 63.” Schuldig told him with a leer.
Yohji skipped to the page, then tilted his head, “really?” He asked.
Ran just laughed.
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