October 23rd, 513 CE

Wind tugged at my hair as I reached the top of the narrow ramp winding around the lighthouse, my brother’s hand held in mine, cloaks wrapped close around ourselves. I grinned as I looked around, the sprawl of low rolling green hills melting away into pearly sand where the land met the brilliantly blue sea below. The sight was well worth the cold late autumn wind.

Gwyn tugged on the sleeve of my tunic beside me, and I sighed, reaching into one of the pouches at my belt for the pair of dark almond cakes I’d bought in town the day before. He snatched his away with a greedy grin, and I snorted, sitting at the tower’s edge, legs dangling over the side as I took a bite of cake.

The sweet, nutty flavor forced a contented sigh from my lips as seabirds circled overhead and the foam crested ocean waves crashed against the shore below.

“Bast?” Gwyn called from the other side of the lighthouse, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind in my ears.

“What?” I called back, looking over my shoulder to find him pointing off in the direction of the town, Coronium. With a sigh, I got to my feet and crossed the outer walkway to stand beside him, shielding my eyes against the glare of the evening sun.

“By the port,” Gwyn shouted, pointing past the multitude of yellow glazed adobe brick buildings to the small array of ancient docks. “What kind of ships are those?”

Squinting, I looked out over the sea. Two ships bearing a single square sail each were angling towards the port, their hulls painted in bright colors, but I couldn’t make out the design from that far away.

“Probably Saxon,” I said with a shrug. “Looks like there’s gonna be some money to be made tonight.”

Gwyn frowned at me. “Osa doesn’t like it when you stay out late by the docks,” he said, tone a bit anxious. I shrugged again, flashing him a half-hearted grin.

“We both owe Osa a lot, and she doesn’t exactly have the most reliable source of income. I’m just trying to give back a little. Don’t worry about it.” The truth was I liked having my own income, and sometimes the work wasn’t all that made. Being able to help the woman who’d sheltered us when we were in need was just a bonus.

My brother still looked uncertain, the corner of his bottom lip curling in as he bit it, arms folding across his chest as he frowned at me.

“Hey, how about this,” I said, letting my smile widen. “Come with me today, at least for an hour or two. If you don’t like what I’m doing, I’ll leave.”

After a moment of thinking, Gwyn sighed, shaking his head as if he was about to agree to something he’d rather not. “Is that a promise?”

“Of course it is!” I said with as broad a grin as I could manage, a smile I knew he couldn’t say no to.

Another sigh escaped my brother’s lips, and he gave me a fierce glare I’d never seen rivaled by any other boy. The only person who came close to matching him was Osa, but she was practically our sister, so I’m pretty sure he learned it from her. “Fine. But if I don’t like it, and you don’t leave, I’ll get Osa.”

My spine tightened involuntarily at that. “Sure, sure,” I said, trying to mask my sudden unease. “But it won’t come to that, trust me.”

Gwyn only shook his head in response, taking another bite from his cake. Once the treats were gone, we slowly made our way back down the old lighthouse ramp, taking care near the crumbling ledges.

The road back to Coronium was pleasant, full of laughter and pleasant brotherly bonding time, save for when Gwyn shoved me into a patch of bramble weeds, but I deserved it after throwing a ball of mud at his back.

The town itself was full of people finishing with their day's work here, pigs, chickens, and the occasional cow ambling through the roughly paved streets there as we entered, a neighbor or two waving in greeting as we passed.

Young children played their games while adults gossiped and gambled, cheap wine and mead in abundance. It was the kind of place where one never felt overly confined or set upon by the world at large. People simply lived their lives.

“So,” Gwyn said shortly after we’d entered town. “Where are you heading tonight?”

I gave him a sly grin. “Tavern by the docks,” I said. “Parvus portus.”

“Small port?” Gwyn said with a raised eyebrow and a snort. “They couldn’t have been at least a little creative with it?”

“Like it really matters. People go there to get drunk, not to marvel at brilliant wordplay. Trust me, I know,” I said with a snort. “But before we go I need to get my harp from Osa’s place.”

My brother just shrugged in reply.

As we neared Osa’s small villa, the pale roman bricks and tiles practically glowing in the sunlight. I crossed my fingers, praying to every god I knew that she wasn’t home. My key turned in the lock with a solid click before I pushed inside and let out a sigh of relief.

Osa was out, her herb bag missing from the hook beside the door. I passed through the kitchen and into the dining room on light and silent feet to collect the harp from where I kept it on the wall. Despite our land lady’s current financial hardship, she did own one of the larger homes in the town. It was a mark of how much Coronium’s people relied on the young wise woman.

Harp in hand I returned outside to my waiting brother, flashing a grin before locking the door behind me and striding off towards the docks.

As the sun crept closer to the western horizon, the chill breeze grew wilder, whipping our cloaks around us like the hanging branches of a willow tree until we stepped inside the ramshackle tavern. Warm air and the rumbling chatter of half-drunk sailors replaced the wild chill of the roaring wind as the door swung shut behind us and the keeper gave my brother and I a weary grin as I waved a greeting in his direction.

“Finally decided to drag your poor brother along with you this time, Bast?” Arminius, the keeper, asked as we approached.

“Just assuaging some fears,” I said with my usual inviting smile. Arminius was one of my better clients, always weak against my charms.

“I see,” he said. “And are you going to pay for his drinks, or is he?”

“I can cover my own tab,” Gwyn said, but I put an arm up between him and the old tavern keeper.

“Of course, I’m going to pay for his drinks. Do I look like the kind of man who’d let my baby brother pay for his first sip of real wine?”

“I’m not your ‘baby’ brother, ass hole, and it's not my first sip of ‘real’ wine either!”

Arminius chuckled and Gwyn glared.

“Let's just say the first one’s on the house, then go from there,” the older man said, his eyes briefly glancing down to my belt before his grin became a slight bit more predatory.

“That’s quite generous of you, old friend,” I said, shifting my smile to match his. I was determined to squeeze as much coin from the man as I could tonight.

“Please,” Arminius said with a snort. “Nothing about you is old. Go on and start singing already. I’m not going to pay you if you’re just standing around and chatting all evening.”

“Sure, sure, just let me get my baby brother situated,” I said, flashing Gwyn another sly grin to match his increasingly fierce scowl. “Come on, I know a spot you’ll love.”

Before he could object I grabbed Gwyn by the wrist and guided him to a small round table in the corner of the room, lit with only a single candle at its center.

If it wasn’t for the fact that my brother was genuinely terrifying when mad I’d probably have pushed him further, but honestly, I’d rather not have my head ripped from my shoulders. A young serving boy brought a large mug of dark wine to Gwyn as I tuned my harp and readied my voice to perform. My brother frowned at the drink, took a sip, grimaced, then set it back down.

“You actually like this shit?” He asked.

I shrugged, plucking gently at a string as I hummed the accompanying note. The harp was the first thing I’d bought once I’d started to earn my own coin a few years prior. It’d taken me a while, and some help from a client, but eventually, I’d learned to play passably enough to work.

The harp was a small plain thing made of cream-colored ash wood and engraved with what I assumed to be the craftsman’s name in roman lettering, not that I could actually read what it said.

Giving my brother one last grin, I hefted the instrument and strode to the center of the room, settling onto a stool set up for me to play and sing. The first chord I strummed quieted the muttering and murmuring in the small tavern, heads turning to watch as I began to play.

After a few more chords, I opened my mouth and sang, my baritone voice filling the room, silencing nearly all of the patrons. Cymru stories, tales of heroes and gods, of trials and festivals, of fae folk and spirits resounded throughout the hall in Latin as I sang.

More than once I found a man whose gaze was more than just appreciative of my music, flashing each sailor an inviting, almost hungry smile. When I finished, throat raw, fingers aching, I bowed, collecting a handful of coins from the patrons before returning to where Gwyn sat, still nursing that first mug of wine.

“You sound better at home,” he said as I sat.

“Thanks,” I said, giving him a genuinely warm grin. “I don’t have to try as hard around you and Osa, makes things easier I guess.”

A brief pause hung between us as Gwyn stared into his drink. “So,” he began, paused again, then continued in a harder tone. “I assume this isn’t all you’ve got planned for tonight?”

I shrugged, thanking the serving boy as he brought over another mug of dark drink. “I might go to another tavern, try and find another crowd. Or I might just walk around town, see if anyone’s willing to pay for a bit of help.”

My brother eyed me with a thin line of a frown on his lips. “Does any of this ‘help’ you’re offering people put you at risk?” He asked in his flat as fuck, ‘don’t bullshit me,’ tone of voice.

“Not at all,” I lied. It wasn’t a big lie, not really. Sure, what I did had an inherent level of risk, but I knew what I was doing.

He eyed me for a long while before downing the last of his wine and sighing, giving me a look that would have sent wolves running. “If you’re lying to me, Bast-” he began but I waved his concern away.

“Fates, I thought I was supposed to be the older brother here. At this rate, people are gonna think that I’m the fourteen-year-old here.” At his souring expression, I went on. “Really, Gwyn, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. And when I come home tonight it’ll be with enough money to buy a thousand almond cakes. Trust me.”

“Fine,” he said curtly. “But remember, if this goes bad, I’ll hold you down while Osa tests out her new creams and ointments on you again.”

I shuddered at that mental image. “I get it!” I said, laughing a bit stiffly. “Nothing bad is going to happen. You can leave knowing I’m perfectly safe.”

Gwyn stood, shaking his head in resignation. “Just be careful,” he said before dropping a few coins on the table and striding away.

I scowled at the money. Before anyone noticed, I swiped the coins into my hand, deftly dropping the coins into a small pouch inside my tunic. Arminius already agreed it was on the house, no point in wasting good silver.

Sipping from my mug, I leaned back in my chair, surveying the crowded tavern as warmth spread throughout my body. The patrons were back to chattering and laughing, the occasional group cheering or shouting as bets were made, won, and lost.

As I searched around the room, one man’s hungry gaze caught my attention. He smiled at me, eyes narrowed in question as he smoothed his finely embroidered tunic over the muscled bulk of his chest, and I smiled back, trying to make myself look open and willing. His grin widened and he rose abruptly from his table, laughing off the jeering of his friends as he left, his shiny new boots glinting in the candlelight.

Downing the last of my wine I slammed the mug back atop the table and rose to follow after the man, harp at my side. Outside the wind had finally died down, leaving only a warm night with a cool, gentle breeze. I wandered through the streets for a while until I found the man from the tavern again, or should I say, until he found me.

Nearly two blocks away from Parvus portus, a heavy hand fell atop my shoulder, halting me in my tracks. I angled my head back and found the man from the tavern standing behind me, a wolfish grin splitting his lips.

“Hey there little lamb,” he said, his deep bass rumbling through to my bones.

“Hey,” I said back, trying my best to give him a warm smile. A glint of something in the man's gaze tied a knot of unease in my gut.

“Follow me,” he said, jerking his head towards a narrow alley that looked about as inviting as a viper’s den, but, going off of the man's rich clothes and new boots, he was likely too wealthy for me to simply let slip by, so I did as he asked, following him into the dark.

“How long have you been doing this sort of thing,” the man asked as we walked.

“A few years,” I said noncommittally. “I was in need of some money fast, and, well, you know how it is sometimes, I imagine.”

“Hmm,” was all the man said in reply. Alright then, I thought to myself. This is going great. Nothing at all will go wrong.

My pulse quickened the further we stepped into the shadows, my mind already beginning to spin with the things this man might be planning to do.

“It's a shame,” he said, suddenly stopping and turning to face me so suddenly I walked straight into his broad chest. His arms wrapped around me before I could fall on my ass, tugging me close against his hard torso as my harp clattered to the ground, the sound of three plinks filling the air as strings snapped. The evidence of the man’s arousal pressing into my thigh as he bent forward to whisper into my ear.

“I was really hoping you were a virgin.”

Before I could respond he gripped a fistful of my hair with one hand and pulled my left arm behind my back with the other, spinning me around and shoving me headfirst against the wall.

A crack resounded as my nose hit the bricks and I let out a pained gasp, the taste of blood flooding my mouth as the man let go of my hair to reach around and undo the knot of my belt.

“Wait!” I cried, voice nasal, pain lancing through my head with the word before I choked on a fat glob of my own blood.

The man only laughed as I struggled to break free of his grip, pushing and clawing at him with my free hand as he pulled my belt free and let my trousers drop pool around my ankles. Reflexively I forced my legs tight together, flexing every muscle in my body to keep him out, But his strong hand came down with bruising force on the backs of my knees and I cried out again.

“Ah, calm down brat, I know you want it, don’t you worry, I make sure it's just as good for you as it’ll be for me,” the man said lightly.

In a frantic flailing panic, I managed to rake my nails down his arm. A feral growl escaped his throat as I reached back and clawed at his face, kicking at his feet with my heel, feeling a pop as I broke one of his toes.

“You little, fucker,” he said, then slammed me forward into the wall again, snapping the bones in my arm and knocking the wind from my lungs. A garbled scream tore from my throat as a bright angry line of pain shot through me, and I choked on more blood as my nose continued to gush, tears falling from my eyes in uninterrupted streaks.

“Listen to me, boy. The pain stops when you stop fighting me,” the man said, snarling into my ear as he began fiddling with his own belt. There was a rasping woosh his trousers fell, then his cold hand prying open my ass before a burning pain lanced through me as something tore, and I sobbed, angry, frustrated, scared, and full of so much rage that I couldn’t stop this, that he would dare do something like this.

Hot, wrathful tears flowed freely down my cheeks as deep gasping sobs tore themselves from my throat, my fingers digging desperately into the stone wall, my nails cracking, my body screaming with every ripping thrust he forced into me.

His breath came in scalding rushed grunts against my skin as he roughly kissed my neck. stubble stabbing into my flesh as he pressed his weight against me more, more, more, the pain in my arm exploding into a blinding agony, melting together with the burning in my ass as he continued thrusting, back and forth, back and forth, each forceful stroke another layer of pain and misery until a hollow nothingness stole across my mind. An emptiness where my thoughts shriveled to dust and died in the heat of my pain and rage.

One final thrust, a heavy groan, and the man released his grip on me, letting me fall to the ground in a crumpled mess, his seed and my blood mixing in a thin stream down the inside of my thigh. The man whistled as he pulled up his trousers and tied his belt back into place before he leaned down to whisper in my ear one last time.

“Next time, boy, just let it happen. Maybe then I won’t have to make you enjoy it.”

I just stared at him, a raw hot swell of anger rising beneath the empty shroud laid across my mind as he flashed me a grin, then straightened and began to stride away. The tink tink tink of metal followed a second later before a single coin rolled into my hand, a small copper circle.

The blister of rage inside me burst and a strangled laugh broke from me in a manic moment of red hot rage so thick the world dimmed, and all I could see was his fat fucking smirk staring down at me.

“I’ll kill you,” I screeched at the man’s back, my voice rough and raw, barely audible, blood and spit flying from my mouth with the force of my hate. “You’re a fucking dead man!”

More sobs racked my body and I curled in on myself, shuddering against the waves of pain and agony washing through me. I’m not sure how long I laid there, weeping on the cold hard cobbles before the sound of footsteps neared again and I went still as a corpse.

Slowly, I peeled my eyes open, catching a glimpse of rose gold hair lit by faint candlelight before soft, trembling hands cupped my face. I flinched away, dread stealing away inside of me once more before tears splattered my cheeks.

A soft tenor voice broke the silence, croaking out, “my boy, oh my boy, I’m so sorry.” That was when my world finally went dark.