Broken

He had made a thousand promises to Godric in the years between their meeting and their parting, and he had always kept them. When they were barely more than children and Godric -- tall, strong Godric, who was nearly twice Salazar's weight, and all muscle -- had been afraid before his first battle, Salazar had made his first promise, that if he survived Godric would survive, and if Godric did not, Salazar would be there to lead him into the afterlife. Godric had been a good Christian at the time and hardly knew his own powers. He'd listened raptly to Salazar's tales of the otherworld the green-eyed boy came from.

Later that day Godric had killed two men with a blast of fire from the edge of a wooden pike he'd picked up during the fight, and Salazar had known he was right about the other boy.

He had promised to teach Godric witchcraft, protecting him -- them -- from discovery; in his little three-stick tent Godric had learned his runes, had shed his first blood for the ancient divination that Salazar had learned at his mother's knee. Salazar had spun tales of the Rome that his family came from originally, of the festivals there.

He had promised to come with Godric to the school, though he thought it was a folly.

Godric. Such a Christian. Salazar had never promised to keep secret his 'shameful, unnatural lusts' because he refused to believe they were so, and he had never broken a promise. Godric, older, wiser, scarred, a teacher of children, nevertheless looked no different to Salazar than the day he'd come to him in fear of their first battle on the morrow.

Salazar was never allowed to be afraid, because Godric confessed his weaknesses only to the green-eyed boy.

Godric's tangle of black hair, shot here and there with grey already though he was full young and in the prime of life, fell over his shoulders as he put his face in his hands and confessed chokingly what he had thought never to tell another soul. He was too young to live this way, Salazar thought; he should be a battle-leader, he was the sort. But Godric was too gentle to revel in wars that were unnecessary, and Godric loved learning. Salazar had imparted that to him, at any rate.

"Godric..." Salazar said, leaning forward in his chair. "Godric, I canna understand. Tha must speak clearer."

"Oh Jesus Saviour," Godric said, though he removed his hands from his face. "An ill omen indeed."

Salazar wanted to look him in the eye -- it was necessary for the little Legilimency he knew -- but Godric would not see him.

"Do tha confess ta unnatural acts?" Salazar asked with a grin. Confession was very amusing to him.

"No, only thoughts," Godric answered.

"Then tha has done little wrang, an' there is nae need to call on a childgod who tells his followers they must punish our kind," Salazar said reasonably.

Godric's shoulders tightened. "At least it is not the students," he said.

"Th' students?" Salazar echoed.

"No. But there are men in town..." Godric stood, pacing, arms across his chest. "I am a man and I have the feelings of a man, Salazar."

"Nae doubt."

"Men are made to marry women."

"Some be," Salazar allowed.

"I have dreams," Godric whispered.

"Auguries?"

"No...dreams of...of unnatural things." He scowled at Salazar. "There was that man, do you recall, who pursued the boys in camp when he could not afford a -- "

"I recall," Salazar said reservedly. Then he paused. "Oh. Tha hast...not our boys, for certain?"

"Not boys at all! Men! More improper yet!" Godric said, throwing himself down on his bed. Salazar had yet to get the hang of sleeping in a canopied bed, though he admired Godric's. He stood and crossed to it, looking down at his friend, leaning on one of the bedposts.

"I was one a'them," he said quietly.

"Aye, a man," Godric replied with bitter humour.

"Nae. I was one a'th' boys," he continued. Godric pushed himself to his elbows, blinking. "Only I went willingly. Tha never knew. I did not like tae tell."

He rested one knee on the bed, and then the other, straddling Godric with the utmost care, as if at any moment the daggers at either of their belts might come into use. The man Godric mentioned had been stabbed by an unwilling boy, and Salazar knew full well the risks.

"But..." Godric began.

"I am grown now?" Salazar asked, arching a golden eyebrow. "I am a man?"

Godric moaned when Salazar settled more comfortably atop him, and bent, sinuously, to press his lips to his friend's.

Salazar, who knew the advantages of a nimble tongue, opened Godric's mouth with his and deepened the kiss. Godric's right hand, his sword hand, slid through Salazar's hair, pinning him close, and Salazar hissed softly, hips moving liquidly and gracefully against Godric's. He felt Godric's erection through the layers of clothing that separated them, and laughed into his mouth.

"Better than a dream?" he asked.

"Better," Godric gasped, as one of Salazar's nimble hands drew its way down his chest, unbuckling the wide belt, plucking deftly at the laces until Godric thought he would --

Salazar laughed again as Godric moaned, beginning to find the rhythm the other man set. It was like making love to a virgin; no control, merely instinct. Salazar had taken his share of the experienced and the innocent. Godric, seasoned but naive, seemed an excellent combination of both.

His fingers stroked and explored and his hips pressed close, Godric's other hand fumbling with the clasp of his own belt, fumbling rather more pleasingly the less coherent he grew. He felt Godric's back arch, felt him hot and achingly aroused in his hand, and let him come, not toying with him as he might have done another man, who meant less. His own pleasure was unimportant; he could take that at any time.

Godric's breath slowed, as Salazar quietly cast a cleaning charm, and curled up next to him.

"I had never known," Godric said quietly.

"I had never told," Salazar answered.

"You will stay with me?"

Salazar knew he meant that night, and at the same time meant more; it was an invitation to reassure him that though the school was established and the pair of them well set in its habits already, he would never leave.

"I promise," he said. Godric nodded, and rolled suddenly, and pinned him with his body, and Salazar had never felt anything so right as he gasped under Godric's hands and mouth and spent the night wondering how on earth the man could bring him to the edge...

He shouldered the saddlebags that carried all he needed, and glanced back at the castle.

"Where will you go?" Rowena asked.

"Away from here," he replied.

"What about..." Helga said hesitantly. Salazar smiled toothily.

"I've locked it up. It'll do nae harm," he said. "An' spread a tale about it to terrify the children, should onnyone grow curious."

The women nodded. There wasn't anything else to say.

Salazar turned and began the slow walk through the forest, back towards the outside world.

One promise broken.

The only one that really mattered.

END