Title: Darkness & Fear
Author: Lox ´claws.
Homepage URL: http://snow.prohosting.com/~wyvclaws/
Summary: a bloodthirsty undead mercenary... +... a wicked , little boy....= SLASH! !!!!!!
Iin hell everything is so...... different. The shades hide in the darkness, screaming to the hearing of us, the condemned ones, remembering our sins, ah, uncertain future and too much pain!, I hope never to wake up again!
The creature smiled. sharp teeth, curved fangs. narrowing muscle under pale skin, His whole , powerful , body moved, outside of the forced lethargy by the light, the night had arrived, - "at last", a demon whispered- His eyes, however, remain closed.
Something has got His attention, very far, a " presence " The Mercenary could not say who was this ......person...... but, ah! how beautiful presence!. a deep, long, hard sound, resounded in the monstrous, torn throat, resonating in the infernal places. while the creature was lying down among the roots of His very own Resting place, his Grave, The Tree of the Dead...were the condemned souls are.
The Horseman Growled, anticipating the upncoming pleasure.
The Horseman, the formaly headless horseman, no-longer faceless, no longer nameless, but loveless, would have to find a a way to get closer to his beloved human. The little one, the one who gave his head back to him, " the missing head " , the only one that ever had used his head in that Town full of fools...He still could feel those little fingers around his huge skull.
But, would the human accept it? would He accept Him? Ah, the question. the young and warm, healthy boy. pure. innocent. to take Him would be a nameless sin, even for him, the demon, the mercenary, the merciless one, "Teufel Herz" they called Him "Teufel Herz". to take Him off the light,bringing Him to the darkness. His little one would be corrupted. the thought hurt the ashes of an already burned, half-human, half-beast soul. "He never will be mine" he thought, in a diabolical language that no one really understood.
A sigh drowned in grunts and laments can be heard inside of the tree of the dead...and then a painful groan... and the Demons are running away from their hurt master already. they fear his anger, they fear his fury.
the Tree of the Dead is far away now, the woods can be seen, the leaves, the Town... the Way of sand... of Rock... of Wood... and then there it is... the City... were one can run away from magic... of spells, of witches... away from ancient Ghosts...
furs... soft, comfortable, warm. why was he so cold then? so absent, as a dead, why? where he was? what was that place? Constable Crane tried hopelessly to cling to his own memories, memories that escaped from his fingers like fine grains of sand. time. how long had it been from His return to this time? how long after those....... events..... in the melancholy town of Sleepy Hollow? how long after having broken up any stupid, simple, and empty relationship with the white witch? how long from the last time that he had seen the..... the Horseman...The Hessian.... He had smiled to him before taking Van Tassel to hell...
Why was he thinking about it...about..Him? maybe the mercenary's appearance was so imposing that Ichabod was still impressed by His gruesome countenance... ah, a simple reason for what cannot be explained.
"How pale Was the Hessian.....No, no.....Stop thinking about Him!" He yelled to himself.
He knelt down in the darkness, but, what was that place? certainly it was not His room.....a dream, maybe it was a long...bad dream. another nightmare. Ichabod Crane waited until His nightmare vanished in the air...like soft fog on a cloudly day. Like life itself.
The way of wood, of rock, of sand...the Town...The woods.....the Tree of the Dead....and there He was...the Ghost, the Devil of the Winter, of the western woods... The Hessian... smiling with his sharp pointed teeth and a pair of cold-winter eyes. gray as the sky.
Ichabod woke up. trembling in the darkness. sweating a cold perspiration. His eyes still cloudy. dark eyes. the nightmare resounding in his brain like a macabre, infernal melody.
But, was it a nightmare? or, maybe, a sweet dream?
"better stop thinking of that" He said to himself, trying to forget the Winter-Eyes that explored, curious, his little naked body. The young man stand up and got dressed quickly for another bitter and cloudy day.
Far from him, however, after the Town, inside the Tree... the dead mercenary smiled... and also laughed noisly, showing his sharp pointed teeth. the reaction of the Little one had been so... charming... to see Him there, defenseless before him, with fear. trembling at his very Look. an exquisite dish for the heart.
of course the Hessian Horseman didn't want to see His beloved mortal trembling before him when the.. right moment..... had finally come....
The Horseman narrowed his body. lazy yawns are heard in his tree. followed by weak groans and purrs.
the moon canot be seen already...storm and clouds are gone...
The day had arrived again, the night had been so short, but at last he had seen the young man, he didnt even know his name, but he had seen him, how beautiful he was, even in dreams. and the lethargy began as the sun came out from its hidden sleep. The horseman fell aasleep too, And He dreamedt sweet long dreams about the wonderful Child.
even perceiving His touch. almost feeling His skin under his own long fingers. Beautiful.
The Legendary Horseman of Sleepy Hollow sighed while the darkness took Him to the land of dreams..and nightmares.....to the nowhere.
Chapter III. he had finally returned, no matter if he admitted it or not, Ichabod missed that strange place, Sleepy Hollow, a ghastly town that had kept His soul while himself went far away, He did not know why he had returned, he simply did not wanted to know it, he, Ichabod Crane, now the constable of sleepy hollow, only knew that the mysterious town called for him, claiming For His very presence, Ichabod had missed so much to be there, He missed the making of the town, its old houses,its strange custom, its peaceful people, The Western Woods.....The Hessian Horsem... NO! he screamed -had he spoke at all?- while he continued walking forcibly, wanting to fall, toward his new home in sleepy hollow.
Finally it had been the good-bye for the hypocrite and ambitious Katrina Tassel, who had remained in New York, far from him, their supposed commitment broke as soon as the menace of the Acephalous, the Headless Horseman was gone.
He was Free Now, finally free of magic and sorcery, although this sensation was completely false, because the little Town, as well as the Western Woods, were always submerged in the magic, because the spirit of the Hessian Horseman "lived" and it was still about for those places. riding around.
The Horseman was, in fact, riding at the ending of the forest, near the town, waiting patiently. His mount protested noisly as them rided around, it was a torture for the gigantic Horse. the Horseman made a signal, asking for silence. Daredevil puffed, but remained quiet. the snow began falling around them.
"He has returned" The Dammed Horseman whispered with his very own incomprehensible language. "He has returned to Me" he exclaims again, being arrogant. too arrogant. "He dreams of Me " he says, as he vanishes in the darkness while His winter eyes are narrowed in the shades. probably only Daredevil, diabolical steed, will know what his master mumbled incoherently that night. and he had not liked it, not at all. poor Horse, condemned along with his master, oh, but he had some sort of faith for his master, He did not cared at all about being condemned, he just cared about his master´s happiness , and safety.
the horseman was nervous. Fury and Desire ran for His Cursed veins, as always, but there was something more this time, something Unknow, incomprehensible for him, completely new, something that burned very inside of Him.
The young Man -more a Child than a man- that had returned his head to Him was so beautiful, indescribable, too beautiful. so little, so small, and so fragile, innocent. The blame seemed a painful lunge in the chest of the Hessian. It would be so simple to force Him, to take Him in spite of his painfull laments. But He would not make it, He never would hurt Him. ever. The horseman simply would not dare to do it, he loved him too much.
" Love " The Horseman murmured with scorn to Himself. Everything was too complicated. life & death should be more simple.
The Horseman Rode with madness to the Tree fo the Dead. Wanting to have mounted until Sleepy Hollow, for seeing the young man, at least a moment. Daredevil Puffed again.
Ichabod Had been dreaming again, if not, why was him siting down in his own bed, sweating cold, breathing excitedly and totally upset? the dreams were destroying Him without a doubt. But, what had He dreamt this time? No, it was not his mother, any memory, neither happy, neither painful, neither His father, any memory that he wanted to forget. it hadnt been His superiors in New York, no, anything similar, what had it been then? wonders the Youth and Fragile Ichabod. "You know the answer" His mind awnsered in a bitter way. "Don't lie" spoke the voice inside him. "Don't lie" repeated the voice"Don't lie, little Ichabod, don't lie, Crane, don't lie" Ichabod trembled when discovering that His own mind was against him. "You Want Him" Ichabod opened His eyes nervously. "You want Him, and you know it" "Who?" Ichabod wondered aloud, while His own, evil mind answered. "The Hessian, You Want the Hessian" Ichabod shivered even more when seeing that His own body betrayed him, like His mind had made before, responding to the very words that His mind spoke "The Hessian".... Ichabod was nervous, nothing had sence, any sence! "Oh No" Ichabod whispered, and fainted in the Darkness....alone.
Daredevil ran with fury at the forests, the Western Woods. avoiding all obstacle easily, jumping each fallen trunk, each rock, going deeper more and more on the woods to sudenly leave again to the road. The horse was Huge, just like His big Master. Puffing, the steed didn't dare to stop, his master was furious, also, the excitement that the persecution caused was delicious, For the Horseman as for the Horse. The horseman unsheathed his sword then, one, two, three quick turns to the Iron leaf, symbol of His very superior ability. Arrogant, He was being arrogant again, showing to the world, to each creature, to each spirit of the woods , showing them how Superior he was, How powerful.
the moon was covered suddenly by the storm clouds that followed the Hessian, every time he mounted, the sky was darkened and it seemed that there would be a storm, or that it would snow, but the storm never arrived. ah, that was dark magic. The Nameless power, hellfire. The Beast Roared and his mount went more and more furious, faster, faster, powerful.
The intruder ran scared, swearing to himself never to enter again to the Dark Forests while he lived, that, if He survived to his ghastly opponent and His furious attack, praying to a God that would never protect Him. The Hessian Smiled, a smile of insanity and fury. They -The Horseman and Draufgänger- were about to reach their objective, the prey, -like the Horseman used to call their enemy -
they prey reached to jump a small hole, and he also reached to throw in it a piece of splintered tree, a Tramp, not very good, but efective.
Disoriented, the Hessian tried to protect His steed of the unnavoidable impact. Without success. Draufgänger groaned and neighed in pain while He was twisted impaled in that sharp pointed stick, no human had given him so much battle, only that beautiful youth that overcame for a lot to his current prey, the Hessian forced himself not to think about Him right now, pulling up the piece of truck off the body of Daredevil, the Horseman mounted again, alleviating the pain of his steed with soft grunts and incomprehensible murmurs, How silly the intruder was when thinking that something so simple would stop similar infernal creature, only Dark Mug emerged of the veins of Daredevil, the steed was practically intact. Furious for the audacity of this unnamed enemy, the Hessian and His Diabolical steed ran even speedier and more furious, the whole forest moved before the imposing step of the horseman, the animals ran from His madness, the Ravens, however, came from darkness, flying to his side, picking to the intruder, the clouds grew more and more black and the too-noisy thunders threw against the agresor of the master of the forest, He owned the Gods of Nature, of the Woods, he controled the Forest, and the intruder wont be seen alive anymore. making the intruder to fall, finally, the Hessian suddenly stopped, the man could no longer walk, less run. He came closer, stealthy, in the loins of His imposing steed, he looked to his precious prey -that whimpered- , he looked at Him deeply with so much hardness that the man sudenly felt sorry of being allready alive, the Hessian raises His sword, one, two, three turns of the leaf, an accomplished mercenary without a doubt,A Master with the Sword; an only blow, the victim's head has left. The Hessian smiles, Daredevil turns around, but before retiring the Hessian notices something in the pocket of the dead corpse, without a lot of effort, he leans of the steed, taking the strange object in His powerful hand. a clock, an old clock, of silver, very valuable, the hessian looked at it for a moment, and He holded it of the fine chain; He wasa Mercenary, and He would thake anything valuable from his victims. the habit of insulting and stealing the belonges of the corpses was very powerful, although he would not find it any utility, and the money that it, the fine clock, was worth would no longer serve him at all. the Hessian decided to keep it, however.
it was a quite simple object. He liked it. Calmed down again, the Hessian and Daredevil ran to the Three of The Dead, it was a few minutes before dawn allready, they went to the clearing, to the home. Their Home. ah, Home, Sweet Cursed Home.
Ichabod could not sleep that night, so many things had happened from His arrival, the days went away and came, but the nights were terribly long. So, taking His old mount, Gunpowder, through the old road, Ichabod mounts toward the Western Woods,not knowing Why, it seemed that He was looking for something, or someone...........
The Hessian woke up, it was night allready, the Letargy has gone away finally, He shivered. Someone had entered to His domains...again...apparently a beheaded body was not enough to maintain the damned humans, the onlookers, far from the Western Woods. He would have to Give a lesson to the little rascal. Mounting on Daredevil, the Hessian emerges of the tree of the dead after a bubbling of blood and a pain explosion. Riding indefatigable after the new intruder " The new Prey" as He called Him. The storm clouds that whirl again to His back.
But, that presence, that strange presence, so beautiful, He knew that presence, He was sure of knowing who it or He was, and however He didn't recognized the intruder. So He rode ferocious among the trees, more and more near the intruder, trying to reach Him. Poor little human.
the trees of the forest that move and twistes to facilitate the Hunt to their new master, the small demons that rollick with the wind, making that suddenly the winter challenges against the intruder, weakening the opponent.
Ichabod could feel it, something was coming, something that was not precisely good...it was....The Horseman! forgetting His sudden and inappropriate excitement for the Horseman, Ichabod made run to gunpowder like never. Whispering to the old horse "run, Gunpowder, I know that you can run more quickly, run!" And although Ichabod could not see the Horseman's face, neither him could see his, he knew that the demonic Horseman was already very close, he could listen the helmets of Daredevil hitting against the fragile floor of the forest, he could listen the snorts of the horse, the one, two, three turns to the Iron leaf of the sword and...Oh God, He could lisen the Mercenary's grunts.
And so, the Real persecution began. Ichabod reminded the persecution that had taken place in the same road, one year and half ago, the carriage, the Horseman, Daredevil, Katrina, Young Masbath and himself trying to survive the supernatural. Wen the Horseman puled Him against the top of the carriage Ichabod had felt something strange inside of him, it had felt so good.
"No!" Ichabod whispered to himself "Not now" He was about fainting again... He focused on running.
The Horseman almost reached Him, the excitement of the persecution invaded Him. ah...the desire and the lust of blood, again the one, two, three turns to the Iron leaf of the sword, a single lunge and the rascal's head would leave His Body forever, inevitably, ah, but The Hessian was curious, He felt curiosity to know who had dared to challenge Him, Him, the Legendary Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow, so He pressed Daredevil´s ribs, hitting with the spurs, so that the steed runs quicker, finally, The horseman reached the intruder, riding practically to his side, the Hessian prepares His smile of sharp teeth, the Horseman suddenly moves His head to see the intruder, and...oh surprise, it was him, the young man, His beloved Human. some seconds ago he had been just about to behead the Most beautiful and wishable man he had ever seen before. His pale and dead face froze in fright, His expression was of surprise, almost without expression of not being for His mouth half opened and His completely open enormous winter eyes, looking at Ichabod. the lust for the battle disappeared suddenly, and that strange feeling grew more and more Inside Him , burning Him to the very soul. replacing the fury with the need of touching the body of that young man, with the desire of kissing His small lips. The Horseman was amazed.
Ichabod saw the Horseman, panicky, he cannot stop looking at him in shock, suddenly He noticed The Horseman was queerly beautiful, unnaturally beautiful, high and pale, winter eyes, thin lips, generous and dangerous mouth at the same time, mane of night, armor of darkness, nightmare steed, Ichabod tried not to look at Him, but He could not avoid it. Then he noticed the look of the Hessian, His features frozen in a "surprice" grimace, His Ice Eyes looking to him, mysterious.
Ichabod could not think of another thing more than in the ambiguity of the Hessian.... He had to run, away, far away of htat nightmare, he had to escape.
And then it happened, the fear was too much, Ichabod fell off of His horse, unconcious, hitting the earth with a deaf sound. uttering a short pain groan before the darkness took Him again. The Horseman stopped abruptly, Daredevil Groaned, The hessian grunted, jumping off of his mount, to take the beautiful child in his arms, He was so beautiful, indescribable. The Hessian mounted again, taking Home his new prize. riding furious, powerful and implacable toward the home.
while the Hessian rode He remembered the wars, the winter...the damm Sadness... and the empty place in the battle fields -and in his own heart- when the war was gone. ...... And then the darkness........... The little one rested peaceful on his Arms, calm, His skin was too pale, at least for such a young, beautiful human... He was suposed to be healty, but he seemed ill.
The Hessian grunted, the growl resounded low and deep on His chest, full of horrible scars. "...He Wants Me..." grunted the Hessian once more, feeling proud and arrogant again, maybe too arrogant; But His voice was softer than before; His face was more serene , and His touch was Gentle and as soft as His voice.
Ah, finally...The Tree of The Dead... Draufgänger seemed happy, he puffed with relief, their were at Home, finally.
Ichabod felt movement, and He looked around, but he fainted Just before Daredevil jumped practically inside the bleeding tree...
The Hessian Smiled Dangerously.
Ichabod was awake, but His eyes remained closed. the icy and piercing wind hurted His face while the rest of His cold and Wet body remained under warm and soft furs. delicious.
the grotesque sound of breathing, followed by short grunts, seemed to come of very close, It came closer and closer... more and more, walking heavily. Ichabod was terrified, He pretended He was still sleeping...but to tell the truth, His own fear would surely betray him and accuse him. His Heart was about stoping. to the stranger metallic sound it followed the noise of clothes of leather rubing heavily against the pale skin. The horseman was taking off His heavy cape. "Why" said the Young Constable in a short whisper.
The Hessian came closer to the Young man, Walking imposing, powerful. The horseman kneels down beside the Little one, looking at Him fixedly, how could Heaven, the Hessian Though, to abandon such a beautiful angel in the small, old town of " Sleepy Hollow." How could they leave this Human to His grace. The Hessian feels the impulse again, the uncontrollable desire. the instinct. but His Lust is not of blood this time. The Legendary Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow is kneeling down, caressing the cheek of a young Constable, inside a bleeding tree. The scene was, certainly, the strangest and irregular thing of all.
Ichabod opens His eyes slowly , with fear, to the strange touch on his face. it was...it could not be, It could not be the Horseman, His touch was too Gentle, too calm. The dead mercenary was too wild for this. surely this was another person.
Ichabod was clearly mistaken.
The dead soldier's huge, enormous body knelt down to His side, His cold winter eyes fixed on him, His expression was indescribably horrible, in a neuter grimace, His weird, sharp features stood out even more in the darkness. His pale skin was frightening Ichabod. "dead, he is dead" he thought.
Ichabod trembled and swallowed with fear.
seeing that, the Hessian sudenly smiles, the expression change was so abrupt that Ichabod was about to fall unconcious. the hands of Ichabod were clearly wet and cold. The face of the Hessian returned abruptly to its original expression -grimace - again, without the transition.
The stomach of Ichabod was an unpleasant knot in His interior. Horrible, this was Horrible.
The Hessian looked fixedly at the young man, feeling His fear. How Beautiful He Was. How little. How fragile.
the impulse grew inside the Hessian. he knew that He would lose the control on Himself and his acts very soon.
The Hessian opened the dangerous mouth, undressing lines of sharp pointed teeth, but there were not words, So that he simply closed it again, slowly.
The Hessian looked Ichabod to tremble again, and He allowed to escape a malicious and powerful laugh, not hiding it anymore. His voice was deep. Scary.
Ichabod looked at Him, broken-hearted, and surprised.....Scared. the Hessian probably was going to kill him, but, why to take Him until this place? why if he killed quickly and efficiently? Ichabod had been a fool when trusting in that to return to sleepy Hollow was the best option. The Hessian would surely torture him before putting an end with a single blow to His miserable life. The Hessian observes interestedly the expression of fright of the human, The Hessian was having a great time lookig at it, it entertained him. the Hessian moved the mouth, as if something whispered, leaning His head of a side to other, with His big eyes of ice fixed. showing His teeth. His messy hair was a wild tangle.
"as when he spoke to His horse" Ichabod thought, afraid but deducing what was happening around, remembering the day in that the Horseman recovered his head. Ichabod swallowed again....It had been so...painfull...for the Horseman at last...and for Lady Van Tassel, He still could clearly remember the blood.
the Hessian rose, Ichabod looks up at Him, wondering what He was going to do . Ichabod´s expression was suppliant. The Hessian smiled.
"Beautiful" The Horseman though. "simply beautiful. just perfect." its there again, the indescribable language.
Suddenly and without a previous warning the Hessian quickly kneels down again and presses His face against the little neck of Ichabod, Ichabod cried out a little. Ichabod could not move, His body didn't obey him anymore. the Hessian moved closer, Ichabod almost cried in fear, and pain, he could feel the nose of the Hessian rubing against His neck, the warm and grotesque breathing.
His heart beat too quickly, he was abut to faint again...or maybe his heat will finally stop and he will die inside the bleeding tree.
The young Constable listened the low grunts against him. he.....liked it.
Ichabod tried to move away abruptly as the thin and cold lips of the Hessian brushed His throat, the horseman reacted on a brutal way to the movement. Like a Beast. this was the real monster Baltus Van Tassel had described on his Story.
The Hessian Grunts savagely and he looks at Ichabod furious, showing His teeth, menacing, implacable the Mercenary Puts His strong arms to the sides of Ichabod, preventing him to escape, catching him low him, pressing His enormous body against that of the young man.
Ichabod feels the Horseman's lips again bothering on his neck, and he moves desperate to the touch, the Hessian pushes His enourmous body against his again, so that he stopped to move.
"No" Ichabod said in a whisper, The Hessian closes His big hands around Ichabod´s little hands, preventing him to move, His fingers were now paleer for the pressure. No! Ichabod yelps.
The Hessian puts His powerful hands then in the small shoulders, shaking Ichabod, Ichabod observes Him, the Hessian was Screaming to him, He was Mad.....His eyes looked at him with such a fury........
Ichabod could not understand what the Hessian screamed to him, it was an strange and unknown language. but he knew that it was not anything good. Ichabod knew that he was about to die, his mind didn't stop to think several things at the same time, and his stomach didn't stop of trembling. His head hurted. the cold wind against his face made this even less comfortable.
The Hessian suddenly feels the blame, hitting on His ribs, an unbearable pain in the chest, deep and horrible. what or who does gives him the right to take an angel of Heaven and to take Him atop a giant dead steed to Hell? anything. he could not do it. He should Not do it. The Hessian looked , broken-hearted, to the young man. disappointed. the human seemed to understand his look, although not his words.
he could take him....
And however he could Not take him.
The Mercenary hated himself for such weakness; but he didnt pay attention to the jeers of the Demons in his mind "Cowardly" they said. "you cowardly lion" ...."you cant do such a little job"..."The Big Warrior its afraid" they screamed to im in the same strange language He spoke. " you has been defeated by the smallest and weakest of all"...
the Hessian goes mad. Furious.
Ichabod looked at him with fear, The Hessian retired a little, His face is even more furious, and there it is again, in one second the sword is in the gloved, enormous hand ; one, two, three turns to the metallic leaf and the edge of the sword was pointing to Ichabod´s throat, who trembles uncontrollable. He was going to get killed.. to die. there was not doubt about it. the fire bite burns in the throat of the young constable, who presses His lips for not screaming, and closes His eyes quickly...... waiting patiently for the final blow...........
.....but it never came. Ichabod doesn't dare to seem, however, and He keeps his eyes closed, His tight lids hurts in his eyes. He wonders, desesperate, what had happened, maybe the Hessian had already ........beheaded him, maybe he was in death agony now, or maybe he had already died, Ichabod was afraid....so afraid....again nothing made any sence. Ichabod sudenly remembered the touch of the Hessian, however; so gentle, careful.....quite...soft..... Ichabod could not avoid to get excited when thinking of him; The Mercenary, The soldier. The Hessian was Beautiful, contrary to everyone else Ichabod did not saw an errant nightmare, but a desirable man. Ichabod was hungry; hungry not of food, but of the soldier's skin, of His lips, of His kisses, Ichabod felt curiosity to know what those lips would taste like, and yet He was afraid of discovering it, the Hessian could hurt Him, like He hurted Lady Tassel . and yet again he really wanted it......Him..... " Why "? Ichabod thought, quite afraid. " Why "? the question made echo in His tored mind, and Ichabod sudenly wondered why he was thinking of that, what was happening to him? And if Those thoughs were wrong....why His dreams incited Him to return to Sleepy Hollow? "You want Him!" clamored His own mind "The Hessian, you want Him" No!" yells The young man, desperate " Stop! " he screamed "I ..I dont want this..I Dont Want Him!" a fallacy, His skin and his lips were anxious of Tasting the dead man's pale skin, his strong muscles and hard flesh, His soul burned inside of him, yes, the desire was too much, His heart beat and His neck -and chest- were red for the excitement, the Hessian had probably already noticed of that...of Ichabod´s flash of arousal... ichabod felt shame. And at the same time relief.... He pushed the feelings away, and found himslef inside the bleeding tree, in front of a Dead Mercenary, sudenly the fear came back again. worse than before.
The Hessian looked to the young man with His Grey, winter eyes, to His prize,The one that returned his head to him, when he could have possessed Him, the constable could have used Him, for money or power purposes, but there was something more, Ichabod never would make something like that, His big, curious, dark eyes accused him, He was too innocent, too ...little.... and defenseless, and yet the Hessian was bewitched by His absolute beauty . "He Wants Me!" The dark Horseman thought, only to alleviate his chest a little. The Horseman loosed his sword which makes an almost deaf metallic noise against the floor of fog and darkness. The truth was that Him, the dead mercenary, wanted the young man with such a stubbornness and insistence that it wont let him to think, The Hessian never had seen something so beautiful before, so desirable, he remembered the many lovers he had once, the young boys, the women, none of them as beautiful as this little one.
his lips trembled while his mind floated, the Hessian allowed his imagination to fly and he thought naughtily of all the things that they could make together, himself and the young man, his eyes shone with desire and lust, and suddenly the Hessian wanted to take him, the little one, He was so...beautiful.....cute....maybe even delicate... if he only knew His sweet name, to whisper it to the hearing of the night, to scream it to the Woods. the Hessian inspects his prize again, his prey, which was curled up trembling in a corner, defenseless, thin, somehow weak physically, but strong in spirit and conviction. he could take the little one, he thoguht again, he wanted him so much. But he knew that it would be easy to break His fragile bones, to hurt him, and He certainly didn't want that.
the Hessian observed his dear human's throat, it was red, His chest trembled under the clothes when breathing, The Hessian lowered his icy blue eyes even more, His flat and soft belly moved difficulty when trembling, " Delicious " whispered the Hessian, who lowers his eyes even more, the Hessian smiles a dangerous, slack..lustful, smile " Lust " the Hessian thought, when seeing that prominent..exquisite protuberance on Ichabod´s hips, the Hessian licks his thin lips with desire, His tongue touches His own sharp pointed teetht.
Apparently Ichabod realized that, because he blushed almost immediately. Nothing could take the Hessian away from this young male now, not now that he was so close to him. The Hessian kneels down again next to him in the soft furs, looking at Him, curious, desirous.
Ichabod feels that his cheeks and his neck warm furiously, already anything really matters now in fact, He didnt wanted to run, he didnt wanted to faint or to go away, he didnt wanted to move , Ichabod wanted to feel. and he was still afraid. Ichabod wanted to feel what he had felt int he dream..... he wanted it so much, He was embarrassed even more when he noticed that the Hessian was looking at him, The dangerous lips twisted in a sinister, but delicious smile. Ichabod trembled while the gloved fingers of the Hessian caressed his hair, his cheek, his neck , Ichabod smiles smoothly when the Hessian put his hand on his chest. Ichabod knew that it should feel bad....wrong, but it felt so well...so right.... surprised, Ichabod saw how the dead man recharged his head smoothly in his stomach, the powerful hands caressed the sides of his abdomen, his waist, provoking him naughtily tickle, making him to tremble, the Hessian felt in his cheek resounding of Ichabod´s soft belly.
The Horseman grunts to the delicious movement, Ichabod, scared by the dangerous grunt, tries to go away, but the desire is too big...and insistent.... and the Heavy Body of the Horseman wont let him go.
the young man did put his hand on the Mercenary's nape, touching his neck lightly, to his surprise, the Hessian purred pleasantly. Ichabod was still Afraid of the Horseman, dangerous Demon.
"How Beautiful" The Hessian thought while He Unbuttoned the thin and fragile shirt of Ichabod...
The Horseman kisses the line of the youngest man's body..... roaring smoothly and caressing the silk skin. this was more than what he had ever dreamt. His heart is sad, however, and he stops, admiring the child, one would never think how brave he could be; the young man, not at first sigh at last; nobody could imagine how many times He had escaped from the death´s Claws. Death that the Horseman bring. the Hessian wanted to protect the little one, to take care of him, forever, to take him away from the "Real" world and....... no, no, he could not do something like that, to take Him away from the light would mean to kill him....He probably will suffer, the little one would curse Him.
Ichabod is surprised.... and afraid, the hessian seemed so pacific outside of the battle field, how is posible that this loving man can kill with His own hands? how could he enjoy the death? Ichabod grieved when feeling the winter eyes examining His skin. His mind was a mess, His heart hurted.
Ichabod allows a gasp to escape as the bigger man pulls Him in a hard and queerly sad hug; melancholic, as if it was a good-bye.
Tense, the Constable could not do anything, he could not protest, He could not move, the powerful arms were squashing him little by little. His lungs crowded together painfully against His ribs. Ichabod looked into the shades, darkness, something moved; small red eyes and strange creatures looked at Him as they blinked and malicious horselaughs were heard. Ichabod was really scared now, his body tremble, what horrors waited for him next to that cruel man? Ichabod wanted to run, but the stone arms impeded it. His heart was about to give.Ichabod presses his lids painfully.
" Shh " Whispers the Dark Horseman to the young man. Ichabod breathes deep and finds comfort in that penetrating sound, burying his face in the powerful neck Ichabod Crane allows to escape bitter tears, silent tears that had remained hide-and-seek inside him since he was a child. The hand of the Hessian caresses his black hair smoothly as the wings of a raven. The Horseman grunts in his hearing, biting his ear carefully, alleviating the pain with his expert thongue. The dead man's Breathing was warm in the neck of Ichabod.
The Hessian closes its eyes enjoying the sensation to be loved, a previously unknown sensation. it was so beautiful.
It was obvious what the Horseman wanted, Ichabod could not hide it to Himself anymore.
The young Man didn't pay attention to his mind and surrounds the mercenary's neck with one of his arms, resting the other one in the hard thigh of the Hessian who purrs to the touch, like before, provoking Him exquisitely.
Ichabod suddenly kissed the Dead Man´s neck, soft, affectionately, loving, as if he really felt something for the Hessian ...besides lust...
the Hessian could feel the excitement of Ichabod against his own.
The Horseman becomes playful then, The Hessian smiles smoothly and he breathes deep... " ..Naughty...Boy..."....he whispers dangerously in the hearing of Ichabod, Ichabod laughs smoothly as he tries to undo the belt of the Hessian, the Horseman groans pleased. the Hessian could not believe how young and little Ichabod was; how fragile His lover was. The Horseman moaned softly, how warm Ichabod was, how little and beautiful.
Ichabod never thought that the Hessian could be so seductive.....
.... Ichabod opens His eyes Sudenly and moves away from the Hessian, he had realized what he had been doing a few moments ago...how could he?, Ichabod brushed his lips, the insistent sensation of the skin of the Hessian was still there, something was happening to him, he would never have made something like. The Horseman's touch had changed him in some way. and that place..... horrible, awful, dark....it was, without a doubt the tree of the dead...... the scent to innocent blood pointed out the precence of the death. And then he looks at the Horseman; Horrible errant Nightmare, sharp teeth, horrible winter eyes, the wild hair and the pale, dead skin; thin lips and a neutral expression, when looking at him, at last.
What had He done to Him? what did the horseman do to his mind? it was all a lie, Dark Magic, a spell.
The Hessian extends His hand to caress the youngest man's cheek, but he retires, scared and afraid. Curling up far from him, crying confused. The heart of the Hessian is broken, and it falls little by little in pieces inside him. what was left of his human soul is tored, and him, the mercenary, cry and grunt bitterly, he knew that the young man would never correspond him, but why did it happened so soon? Ichabod had loved him for a while...a few, lovely minutes. why it had to finish? was this part of His condemnation?! his grunts, full with fury and bitterness become pitiful wailings of pain like those of a wounded and dying beast, the stomach of Ichabod staggers with fear but his heart beats with compassion and fondness, wanting to calm down in some way the fury or at last the pain of that inhuman creature, The Hessian seems really wounded, sincerely sad, Ichabod tries to controll himself but he feels too guilty. It was his fault after all, wasnt it?
The Hessian cries in silence.... shaming himself for being so weak.
Daredevil´s neighs are heard in the Darkness, his Master is Wounded, but he could not do anything, for this was not a Battle or War.
Ichabod comes closer a little and hugs the dead horseman slowly, the dead man feels the blame for the fact that Ichabod fears him, and he grunts furious, moving away of the young man, pushing Him away from him at the same time. The Constable never would accept him, He never would be with him, how silly he had been when believing the opposite, how stupid He was when clinging to so unlikely hope!, The Hessian feels defeated.
Ichabod remembers then how careful the mercenary had been with him, how many times he had maintained him alive, the deadly grace of the killer; he also remembered how sure he felt in His big powerful arms, how calm...maybe Ichabod had been a fool...but he felt safe with him. He revoked the dreams that he had had, he knew then that the Hessian made him dream, he remembered His miserable life and he wanted to forget. After remembering His Father´s alcoholism ans fake fate, and after dreaming of His Mother´s cruel dead, to be with a dead mercenary did not seemed to be a bad idea.
The Hessian grunted and roared furious in front of him, standing up, imposing, his terrible madness is evident, Ichabod understood then why all they feared that man, He Was, without a doubt, the fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse, that one that the prophecies hid. So terrible He was.
seeing him there, implacable and powerful, Ichabod knew that the Hessian could have forced him easily; but he didn't , on the contrary, he tried to seduce him, and although Ichabod denied, he had achieved it. The shame burns inside Ichabod, and He wondered if the horseman had felt the same once.
The Hessian roars loudly and.. of a bubbling of blood, Daredevil, the black and infernal steed emerges; The Hessian mounts, the rage is reflected in his face, the fury and the deception in His Cold eyes.
the Hessian rides toward Ichabod who is still curled up in the darkness, The mercenary offers his enormous, gloved hand, Ichabod could not refuse, he would only infuriate the Hessian even more. And he prayed for it not to happen.
Ichabod, with fear, takes the offered hand and ascends to the imposing steed, before the horseman, who closes him suddenly with his powerful arm, protecting him of falling and avoiding at the same time any chance to run away.
the Hessian grunts again and the imposing Horse jogs toward a scar in the tree that opens up and twists, Ichabod closes his dark eyes and the possessive hand around him pushes even more against his thin, little body, Ichabod listens the scream of the souls in pain, and also the horseman's roar, he feels little hands that cling to him for finally allowing him to go, and he listens the sound of the blood, the macabre bubbling, an infernal music.
And then the hoofs of Daredevil collide heavily against the fragile land, the floor of the woods, without stopping an instant the Steed runs to full gallop by the Western Woods, Ichabod listens the soft, loving whisper of the Hessian in his hearing and he dares to open his eyes, the trees seem to go and to come while Daredevil advances as a thunder in the cold night. Ichabod clings to the Hessian when He glimpses a trunk that would probably hit them. The Hessian pulls the reins violently, the Steed squeaks, Ichabod is....as anyone can guess.... about to faint, the young man sees how the world moves and suddenly stops, and he can glimpse the armor of the Hessian and looking to the front he can appreciate the enormous head of the steed, and if he looked to his side he could see the woods, the trees.
Ichabod, afraid, looks to the skies and realizses how the storm follows the Hessian, the clouds whirl, following him among the woods, the trees seem to move to his furious step, and suddenly all the small beasts are gone, the birds fly runing from him and only the Crows & Ravens flyes to His side.
Ichabod was amazed of the Mercenary's tremendous power over the woods and its creatures......
the trees whirled horribly around them, the young constable felt a harrowing knot in the stomach, and the constant sensation of the fainting. the world stopped suddenly, the Hessian seemed so calm, too calm, imposing, mysterious, nobody knew anything about him, and He seemed to be the punishment of the gods for the world´s Sins, an errant nightmare that razed with everything.
Daredevil neighed and that horrible cry returned Ichabod to the reality, taking Him off his Dreamland. the blows of his hooves resonated trough the Western Woods like a cry of death.
the trees surrounded the unusual team, the night seemed infinite, Ichabod prayed for dawn to come, He was terrified. the enormous ghost, on the other hand, enjoyed the little show that the fear of that young one represented. the ghastly smile faded of His face, giving place to a silent seriousness, silent as always. pushing the youngest man away, the Horseman forced him to fall of the Horse. Ichabod looked at the Hessian, doubtful and suppliant, from his small Kingdom of the powder: the floor. the Hessian forced himself and His monstrous face to not showing compassion, and He points out with His head ....a path... Ichabod stands up and shakes the powder of his clothes, buttoning the shirt that still remained open for the eyes of the Hessian.
Ichabod watched the path...it was not too long, neither too short. a small hill descended and it took directly to the dismal Sleepy Hollow, the town caught in the claws of the magic and the sorcery. lit homes in the distance. the small town seemed in peace without the ghastly horseman's monstrous presence.
Ichabod denied with the head,undoubtedly he didn't wanted to return to the town, the nightmares would pursue him again.
" Fool "! thought the mercenary, he was furious, but his gaze of Ice didn't changed at all. the youngest man's eyes were suppliant, He a fatuous child, just like the horseman was a Fatuous Man. the Hessian roared like a beast and attacked Ichabod showing His sharp teeth and bleeding gums. Ichabod was afraid, but he didn't run like the Hessian hoped, he was immobile -and openmouthed-, but he didn't ran afraid. The Hessian should make him return, if not he will be corrupted with his own evil. The Hessian grunted again, a more potent growl...
but there was another grunt there besides His own... the empty eyes were narrowed when locating His prey, and of the branches of a near tree a black beast rushed against the young man. It was a grotesque and enormous wolf, it attacked Ichabod with clever claws and teeth ready to quarter him.
The Hessian didn't recognized the creature. The steed neighed, the Horseman roared and his dammed sword crossed the neck of the Wolf throwing the body far away and even more far the head. the decapitated body attacked the Hessian, this didn't surprised the mercenary at all, He was used to fight and ride with no head Himself, Daredevil jogged against the creature while His master crossed the back of the Beast with the hand axe, impaling him with the Sword just to make sure it was dead. the beast didn't rise again,its wounds were cauterized, and it became ashes that dragged the wind. Nobody will hurt the young man again. not while His shade of pale skin and winter eyes was after him. Ichabod was under his protection and the whole woods knew it.
the Hessian turned around and saw the boy. Ichabod saw the wound and the blood on his hand, the desperation didn't let him think, he looked at the Horseman for some instants before falling unconscious again.
The Hessian calmed Daredevil and cursed himself with his own and peculiar language. What to do? he thought. should he take the boy to the town? there he could be assisted properly, but it was very dangerous, somebody could see them, a curse more for the Hessian, and the young child would be call " profane ", "blasphemer" and would be hated by the other ones.
Another quick and desperate Decision. It was done, the boy would come with him.
The Hessian not even dismounted, leaning a little and extending His enormous and powerful arm, the horseman held Ichabod and placed him in front of Him on the horse, Daredevil puffed and whimpered while the Hessian pressed the young man's wound to avoid the excessive loss of blood.
The Horseman really wanted to push Ichabod toward his corruption, but he didn't have any options, if he abandoned him, he would Die, and if he took him to the town to all gallop, people would hate and fear him and them would refuse to help him.
he damned the hour the boy fixed his look on him.
when one has been dead everything is so different. the Hessian remembered his horrible fear to get old, to be useless and weak, and now that fear had left forever it felt so well, he have not been so afraid to die. he had died on battle, and he had returned, and he had retaliated, and he had found something - somebody - more valuable than the gold and the blood that they paid him to be a mercenary under their services.
suddenly everything was Not so bad.
Draufgänger neighed and turned around, and ran fast like a Devil to the forest, tramping the decapitated and seemingly dead body of the enormous Wolf.
the legends disappear with the time, but His legend, the Hessian thought, it would last forever, through the centuries, he would make sure of it, he would appear and would ride near the town, laughing like a Devil, haunting the townspeople, perhaps he would behead some fool that dare to enter His woods, the western woods, the Hessian was not willing to being forgotten, unless it was very necessary.
Chapter XIV a Ride in the Western Woods.
The Hessian was so proud of the young man, so proud of what He had done for Him, so much that the Pride filled His chest with joy while he pressed Ichabod against His pale and cold dead body.
while the Hessian rode he usually sighed, and the whole western woods sighed with him, melancholy.
The trees seemed to lean of a side to other while the Horseman's icy chest swelled in a deep sigh, the animals suddenly were silent and listened, the silence was total, the cold wind ran to the rhythm of the lungs of the Hessian, and the snow began to fall smoothly.
The grass and fallen leaves moved and they flew while their master - now the Lord of the Forests - aspired the cold air, satisfied of himself, arrogant as always.
The clouds whirled in the sky over their heads while the errant nightmare of Winter eyes exhaled the same cold air finishing a sigh.
Draufgänger jogged happily, and when seeing all so gray and sad as himself, a smile -hardly visible- was drawn in the Dead Mercenary's face.
Everything was so Perfect.
when feeling the cold wind hurting His skin, Ichabod Crane curled up more near to the Hessian, clinging to His armor with his small, pale hands.
Oh yes, Everything was so Perfect.
Between one and another dream Ichabod opened his dark eyes slowly, watching the western woods around him, it practically moved together with the Hessian, the dead man's power was impressive, the stormy clouds followed them, and the snow whirled around them, the Hessian was impressive.
"...The Hessian..." Ichabod thought, and weakly looked for the gray winter eyes, the mercenary's look was fixed in the path of snow, his face seemed so serious, Draufgänger puffed and Ichabod reacted nervously to the noise, returning his look to the neck and the ears of the horse, pressing his body instinctively against the Hessian, looking for protection, Ichabod had the Horseman's attention now, the Hessian looked at him fixedly, there was no expression on his face, he was not blinking neither breathing, Ichabod tried to explain why he had pressed his body against his like that, but there were not words or sounds on his half-opened mouth, Ichabod found to see a light smile in the pale and thin lips of the Hessian, but it disappeared as soon as it had came.
Ichabod trembled from cold - and fear - unconscious of the pain and of the wind on His face and neck, unconscious of his painful hands and chest. the Hessian simultaneously wrapped him on His enormous, warm and ragged cape. Ichabod closed his eyes for a moment, his head rested sluggishly in the cold neck and the powerful shoulder of the Hessian. Ichabod opened the eyes and saw his own breathing in the cold air.
Ichabod sat down and looked fixedly at the Hessian, the gray eyes were as sad as always, Ichabod remembered the fear, the wound that crossed his body, the blood and the pain, and the comfort offered by the most unexpected savior, the Horseman.
his lips moved lightly, and his voice almost could not be heard. " why are you doing this...Hessian ?" Ichabod stuttered and he doubted a little before continuing... " why to save someone... as weak... as me? ."
The Hessian looked at him inexpressively again. his eyes fixed on his. the pale skin, the gray eyes, the sharp teeth and the wild hair made him see so strange, and at the same time so normal with the snow falling behind him. The Hessian did not made an effort in speaking, the Horseman simply grunted smoothly and moved his head enough so that Ichabod could see his pale neck, and He slipped a hand along the thick and horrible scar that was still around his strong neck, a simple and silent answer, the Hessian looked again at Ichabod, trying to hide his own pain and remorse.
" ...oh... " whispered Ichabod, and rested his head again in the neck and shoulder of the Hessian, doubtful and lazy.
Ichabod seemed a bit disappointed, but he didn't knew why himself, perhaps he was waiting for a different answer, but, what kind of answer? and why was he feeling so empty?
The Hessian bit one of Ichabod's ears smoothly, knowing that it pleased him, and it would calm him enough. Ichabod looked at the snow falling softly, he closed his eyes and decided not to think about it anymore.
... And the countless and endless days passed this way.
Sleepy Hollow continued as gray and barren as always, with its rural form of life, and its strange beauty, there were few children chasing around the place, and all feared the Hessian....ah, the Hessian Horseman.........
Ichabod missed the mercenary, He missed him so much....too much, maybe.......
That night Ichabod did not even bothered getting undressed to sleep, the cold was terrible, and now that his inhuman lover was not there, he felt too lonely and sad. People seemed to come closer to him, and at the same time, they seemed to go away of him......
Halfway through the night, Ichabod heard a knocking on his window.....Startled, Ichabod ran downstairs and he fell down in front of the window when he saw what was hitting the glass; it was the Hessian, the Hessian. He was standing in front of the window, knocking gently and looking at him with a soft and melancholic face. Daredevil awaited his master peacefully in the shadows.
Ichabod pressed his little hands against the glass, amazed and scared at the same time. The Hessian also leaned on the pane, smiling at Ichabod with pointed fangs. It had been so much time. The moon shone and it lit the mercenary's face, the dead man was scary, without a doubt, but that paleness in the Horseman's face was perfect for Ichabod. The darkness surrounded them and only the full moon lit the small town.
Ichabod prepared to leave running....he had so many questions to ask.....However he stopped abruptly; the boys that watched over the town in the night rushed the Hessian, furious, they seemed to believe that the Hessian would behead somebody from the town.
The Hessian growled horribly and there it was, the demonic expression that all had feared in the war. Ichabod was horrified seeing those crazy eyes and those fangs exposed in a ferocious grimace like a beast. The Horseman unsheathes his sword and lifted his axe.
Ichabod closed his eyes, scared, and the Hessian knew that killing those daring idiots would make Ichabod hate him, see him as a repugnant and disgusting murderer. The Hessian sheathed his weapons again and mounted Daredevil, who charged the boors impressively, believing that his master was going to eliminate them. The steed was surprised when his master guided him toward the forest, reluctantly, Daredevil obeysed and the Hessian did something that he never had done before in his entire life or death; ran from the battle....He did it for Ichabod, for his beautiful face.
The youths however followed the Hessian in a useless and stupid hunt. Ichabod also left his home and followed them, what was happening was an injustice for the Hessian. The black witch Van Tassel was the murderer after all.
The young idiots attacked the Hessian clumsily, and Ichabod could not have blamed the Horseman for turning around with Daredevil and to eliminating them in a single furious blow. The Hessian growled like an animal and looked at Ichabod with guilty eyes. The Hessian grunted again and road toward the woods, as if the young man hated him.
Ichabod took Gunpowder of the stable and followed the Hessian to the forest. The darkness was terrifying, the noises of the night tormented him and his poor mare. His heart thundered with excessive force. Finally Ichabod arrived at the clearing of the Tree of the Dead and looked, with a broken heart, at the Hessian Horseman, who was sitting down among the roots of the giant tree, crying bitterly, as he had sat when they were in the forest several weeks ago. Ichabod rode closer to the tree, curious.
The Hessian saw him and growled savagely, there were tears in his eyes. Ichabod didn't know that the dead could cry, but the Hessian cried....
Ichabod went up the small hill and came closer to the Hessian, but stopped, feeling guilty.
"Why did you run from me?" the younger man asked, with a harsh tone.
The Hessian looked at him with his eyes of stormy winter, he spoke slowly, "you don't.... you don't hate me now?"
"Why must I hate you? "
The Hessian thought a moment, he lowered his eyes and his head and spoke again. His voice was cold, certain, potent, and yet it sounded so pitiful...."I....I am...a monster....I am...inhuman...repellent:.....people...they....they usually hate me..." .......
Ichabod breathed deeply and sat down beside the Great Horseman, his hands between his legs. "I don't hate you."
The Hessian embraced Ichabod around the waist and squeezed him against his body in a wild and powerful hug, hurting the muscles and fragile bones. His eyes were so sad.
"Would you.... would you give me some of your...blood...?" asked the accomplished mercenary. His voice was soft, with fear.
" Won't you get tired of me? " asked Ichabod Crane, not knowing why he asked such a thing......
"Nein".....the Horseman responded, with a rough tone.
The Hessian seemed pensive again. His sad eyes were a storm of ice, he seemed to analyze something, an idea........maybe.....
"You....take some of my blood," he said suddenly. Ichabod saw his fear. ".....and I will give you eternity.....," the Horseman finishes.
The Hessian knew that it was wrong, he knew very well that the human would curse Him for giving him eternity, an eternity of suffering and pain.......The Horseman pushed closer his human lover.....and kissed his little neck, hoping this "Blood Pact" would work......
to be continued