Black as Coal, Red as Fire

Title: Black as Coal, Red as Fire 
Author: Dice 
Pairings: M/M 
WARNING: Yes! Warning for much angst and misery. I had to write it somewhere or I’d make Ronan’s life a real hell… Minor, minor reference to sexual acts with someone underage(12). Death is lurking in this story read at your own risk.

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They yelled at me, all of them did and many of the words were ones I didn’t know. It frightened me and I screamed back some words that they didn’t know. Some became many and before I knew it I was without my clothes and the door was bared from within.

Snow melted around my bare feet. The wind was as cold as it had been while we journeyed here, and if I’d thought it sharp on my face it was agony on my whole body. I touched the door, then struck at it with a clenched fist. It was quiet in there now, so still I suddenly feared they had gone to sleep.

Stars of snow landed on my skin and melted away, I hit the door harder and cried. They wouldn’t leave me in the snow, they couldn’t. I didn’t belong to them, my master would be… no he wouldn’t, never again…

I felt myself sinking to my knees in the bitter snow, stone underneath it and wood before me. I trembled with cold but with grief as much. Not so much for him, but for the safety being owned by him had granted me. What now? Would I die in the snow?

It hurt the snow and the cold, it hurt so much and yet I didn’t move. Perhaps dying wouldn’t be so bad. I’d fall asleep. They said you did when you froze to death. Sleeping wouldn’t be so bad.

The tears had frozen on my cheeks and the snow had settled in my ebony hair.

My mother had red hair. Kissed by flames and warmth. Warmth was in her green eyes too and warmth was in her smile. But she would never smile again. A slave born and a slave dead. She was loved by all but cared for by none. I was loved by none and cared for by none. She had the fire in her hair I had only black black coal.

All her fire had died with her, though they said I had her temper. It was a lie, there had been power in her temper, a flare, a blaze, that had come from her heart and her strength. She had a will and a knowledge of her own endurance that no one could ever take from her. A slave in name but a master in truth. A master of all the men who loved her, wanted her, craved her.

But I, I had only fear. Fear and a desperate anger that would never be like hers.

The cold hardly hurt anymore. It had crept inside me and was part of me now, like I was part of the stone and the wood. I wished I would go to sleep and never wake up.

Her flame had burnt out, like a fire burning hot with too little wood, and our owner had no reason to keep me. I was sold then and in my twelfth year I was taught that not all men want women, not even ones as fair as my mother.

It had hurt at first and I’d feared it. But they had never had to beat me like they did the other boy. I didn’t recall his name, perhaps I’d never known it. They had beaten me for other things, for being clumsy and stupid. But when I was too clever they beat me for that too.

Red hair glittering in the sunlight as she bathed in the stream. Waving for me to go away, let her alone for only a moment. I hadn’t wanted to. I’d wanted to stay and watch her. She was so beautiful. Naked in the bright warmth from the sun. How old was I? Maybe seven, she was my nymph like in the tales, a goddess of the stream.

There was no warmth here, no warmth from the sun and no warmth from her smile, there never would be again…

Master would come for me soon I though, he wouldn’t let me die in the snow. And then I remembered again. He wouldn’t come… never again…

They didn’t own me, but who did? In war, for war it was though my master called it, had called it a triviality, a mere smudge on the great maps of the empire. I’d known better than him, free men deny the truth much longer than slaves. Slaves know that lying to yourself will only make the truth hurt that much more.

And now he was gone, and I had lied to myself and thought it couldn’t happen. What now? To die in the snow… to sleep when the cold took me?

My head felt so heavy, so dull and when I moved my limbs felt as if they belonged to someone else. It ached in my joints when I lifted my arm again, just to once more touch the door, to see if it would yield.

It didn’t.

She would braid her hair and let it sweep over my face, while singing in that tender voice. She would bake bread with cinnamon and ginger and she would sing and sing and sing. I could hear her voice now through the wind.

It lulled me to sleep and I could almost feel the warmth of her arms as they rocked me gently in the night. No nightmare was too fierce no night too dark, when she was there with me.

Like tiny creatures the flakes twirled around me, the last I would see, and gently her voice called to me. I’d go to her if I could only move. If I could only rid myself of the heavy bulk that surrounded me, then I’d fly and be there with her.

Her singing… but it wasn’t singing… no… no…

A voice near me, but not hers, not soft and beckoning, but harsh and demanding. Hands that shook me and pulled at me – it hurt! I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t open my mouth. Leave me be! Let me go to her! Let me sleep…

Something shrouded me in darkness then. It was around me, but I didn’t know what it was. The heavy mass of flesh that was my body was picked up and carried through the door. When had it opened again?

Fire, burning, glaring; her hair danced in those flames, her laughter and her smile was in its warmth.

I was washed in hot water, fed broth and tea and bread that I wouldn’t eat. It wasn’t cinnamon and ginger, it wasn’t her bread. My eyes never left the fire, his hands never left my body.

They took my toes, I bled and screamed, but they shut me up with a cloth that smelled like my masters breath these past few weeks. I fell asleep then or lost my mind and when I woke they had taken two fingers as well, and named me lucky for not losing all.

He slept with me, his body warming mine. I slept much, they fed me well, and spoke kindly to me. They were the same men, except for one, but still they were not the same. He changed them, his presence and his command. Whether they feared him or respected him I couldn’t tell, but he was there and they were different.

Like the men who bothered me changed when my mother came in the room, her red hair her warm smile, turning to fire and ice like a storm from the sea.

Would he be my master? I wondered. Would he be the one to keep me safe now? I almost wished it, he was gentle. He took me a few days after I could rise from the bed and move around. He caught me when I was dressing, wrapped an arm around me and bent me over the table. I didn’t say a word, didn’t breathe till he was done and then I smiled because he would want me too.

He called me a slut, but kissed me. Slapped my cheek, but smiled. It didn’t hurt…

When they left he took me with him, so I supposed I was his now, it made sense somehow, that he would own me, like they owned my master’s horses, his weapons and his goods.

He often spoke to me in a tongue I didn’t know, but he spoke kindly and not so often stern. My tongue he spoke coarsely and when he did he sounded angry, even when I knew he wasn’t. It made it hard to tell when he would strike me. He didn’t do that though half as often as my master had.

Only sometimes did I see her red hair in my dreams and cry in my sleep. And he would take my hand – sometimes the one they’d cut, and he would kiss it gently and tell me things in that language I didn’t understand, but that soothed me anyway.

Then we came to battleground, to where men fought and fell and I knew that he would die. I ran then. If his death didn’t mean mine, it would be too much to face that fear again.

When they brought me back I was wet and cold, so hungry my belly felt torn from inside, and too tired to even struggle when they dragged me before him.

She had once and only that time punished me for anything. Her anger had never been with me until then. She had gripped the spoon from her bench and she had smacked my thighs and my bottom until I got away and fled to safety underneath my cot. But she had loved me after that too, and warmth had been back in her eyes when she sat on the floor to lure me out with fresh bread, cinnamon and ginger.

There were no wooden spoons here, punishments were harsher at a master’s hands than ever at a mother’s.

A dagger flashed in his hand and my eyes closed, had there been only this respite, would I hear her voice call me this time, or was she gone now, no longer waiting? The dagger cut the clothes off my body and I stood naked with eyes watching me.

Tears came unbidden to my eyes and left wet streaks down my face.

The strap of leather in his hand then and it’s tang against my fearful skin. Pain washing over me like fire, hot and burning… warmth. I screamed and he held me, never stopping the leather from falling, but the pain was sweet, it was a master keeping me, not killing me. His grip tightened as I sobbed and he held me.

Don’t die from me I thought, don’t die, don’t leave. Don’t leave! But did he hear me? His voice, grim as he spoke in my tongue, promising me safety, telling me he wouldn’t let me go. He asked my name then, and I told him ‘Dé’ for fire. He laughed then and told me, touching my hair, ‘black as coal’ and grinning wickedly turning me around, ‘but red as fire’

Safety, love, eternity. Only free men believe in such things, slaves know that with truth comes pain, and pain is worse when hidden.

She was red as fire and loved by many, but cared for by none. I’m black as coal and loved by none, but cared for by one…

The End