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Shattered	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 8001 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 15
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Chapter Sixteen – Nathaniel Conway
Rage he could understand, as his old Master had been in a constant state of anger. It was almost a relief; the past weeks had been exhausting to the elf, trying to understand his role. One breath it would be there was no Master and the next a welcomed order to follow. Orders were good, he knew to follow them without thought and thinking caused his head to ache. It was hard to understand, a growing pain that started at the back of his head when certain words were used, or actions; as if there was something inside him wanting out. Except it was fighting its way out with claws, it made him sick at times but he was too frightened to tell the new Masters so he suffered in silence.
Foster continued to scream at him, he quickly turned and presented himself and his ass for the beating he had earned. Though, still confused, his Master had started to moan and stroke himself, he had willingly let Nathaniel take him in his mouth, his hand on his head encouraging him … for a moment he felt as if he was fulfilling his duty once more. And then … his face still stung from the blow. What had he done that had been so wrong? Master had ordered him never to touch him again, an order he would follow but once again left him with little purpose and a slut with no purpose with a waste of breath.
The rant faded and the beating never came, but nor had he been commanded to move so Nathaniel remained hunched over in the grass. His shirt had slipped down his back, the hem rested on his neck, leaving his back bare for the lashing. Perhaps his back wasn’t what they were looking for, he went to pull down the waistband of his pants and Sara screamed. A cold hand gripped his wrist and pulled it away, Foster had put back on his armor. “No,” his older brother said, “just don’t.”
The familiar pain in his head exploded and Nathaniel choked back a sob. “I … can’t …” he said.
The gauntlet lifted his chin so he could face his Master. “You can’t … what?” Foster asked, his defeated face shook Nathaniel even more; he had utterly failed his keeper.
Nathaniel gestured into empty air; words that were so close to his lips refused to be voiced. “This …” he finally said. “I can’t do this.” He prayed he would not be asked what ‘this’ was because he had no answer.
However, Foster nodded and as if no more words were needed. “All right, Baby Brother, it’s been selfish of us to keep you this long.   If you love something … sometimes you have to let it go.”
“Brother!” Sara gasped.
She clearly understood the meaning behind the words, to Nathaniel it sounded as if they were going to abandon him, he didn’t blame them at all. If they were not interested in his body he was more use being left behind to feed the wolves.
“He’s not there!” Foster screamed, and Nathaniel startled. “You’ve said it before, he’s a puppet. We cut his strings and he will stay here until he dies.”
“But it’s a spell …” Sara started.
“Whose caster is most likely dead,” Foster sighed and looked down at Nathaniel. The elf waited, his fate had long ago been taken out of his hands. “He wouldn’t want to live like this.   He wouldn’t want this …”
Foster glanced around, Nathaniel did the same, and the sky was just showing the first signs of sunrise in the horizon. “Let’s go for a walk, Baby Brother,” he said.
Nathaniel cowered, playing the words over in his head looking for any way he could misinterpret the command and displease his Masters.
“Now,” Foster said, his voice growing cold but it was almost immediately followed by a sigh.
Nathaniel stood and played with the hem of his shirt waiting. Suddenly Sara was there hugging him tightly he stood there confused his arms at his side. Her bright blue eyes stared at him for a long moment.   “I love you, Big Brother … thank you for everything; it’s going to be okay.”
Nathaniel wanted to ask if everything was going to be okay why was she crying? But Foster motioned his hand and Nathaniel fell in step. They walked for some time in silence.   Eventually the sound of water could be heard but it wasn’t the splash of a stream but a roar.   They came to the edge of a ravine; the sun’s first rays were warming their faces … deep below a large river flowed.
“Kneel,” Foster said, his voice was tense and Nathaniel quickly complied. He felt the Death Knight move behind him, cool fingers brushed the back of his neck; Foster had removed his gauntlets. “I’m sorry I failed you,” his brother said, his voice heavy with emotions. “I promise you, I will see Sara safely home and then join you … if the Light allows it. Say hi to Sis for me …” Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel saw a flash from a blade as Foster tilted the elf’s chin up, baring his throat. Their eyes met and the elf frowned at the tears he saw, they fell down onto his own cheeks. “I cannot save you but I can save your soul,” Foster whispered as he brought the knife down, “I love you, baby brother.”
Nathaniel’s hand shot up catching the blade; he felt the cool steel slice into his skin. “But who will save your soul?” he asked.
Foster gasped and the blade fell from his grip. Nathaniel studied his bleeding hand as his mind tried to grasp what had happened, since the spell had been cast to keep it from Vance’s reach. He remembered everything; it had been like watching through shattered glass. But he had been unable to put the pieces together to make sense. Memories came crashing back like a dam had broken, falling into place and Nathaniel gasped. He looked up at Foster who was staring at him, his face a mix of emotions. “By the Light … I …” Nathaniel moved his bleeding hand to his lips. “I … it wasn’t me, Big Brother … it wasn’t me … I’m sorry …”
Cool fingers gripped his chin and forced him to look at the unholy eyes of his brother. “Baby Brother?” Foster asked.
Nathaniel nodded, “took you long enough, damn it … is it really that hard for a Death Knight to love … I told Deni I would be safe if I heard you say you loved me …” Nathaniel’s voice trailed off and he looked at his hand. “Brother …” he said softly, “I’m pretty broken up, you were right. I don’t want to live this way but I won’t have you put more blood on your hands. Release me from my oath I took those years ago, please, I’m in my right mind I swear.”
A look of confusion crossed his brother’s face, then recognition. “No,” Foster growled, “like hell I will … not when I just got you back.”
“You don’t know what I’ve been through,” Nathaniel said, his voice rising. “I didn’t just break, Big Brother, I shattered. I have nothing … please release me …”
Foster grabbed his bleeding hand and applied pressure to the cut. “No,” he said his grip tightening. “I’m never letting go, Baby Brother.   By the Light I almost killed you … and here you are … you’re really here …” He was pulled into an embrace and Nathaniel’s resolve waivered.
“Please,” he whispered again, eyeing the cliff behind them. Two steps and it would be done.   He remembered the warmth when he had seen Janice, and then he faltered. It felt a lot like the arms around him now, though they were armored, the strength was the same. “Brother, it hurts …”
“I know, Baby Brother,” Foster whispered, “but that just means you’re alive to hurt. And as long as you’re alive things can get better. Please, stay with me … with us.” There was pause and then he continued, “That being said, I release you … the oath was made for pure selfish reasons.”
Nathaniel gasped and returned the embrace. “I’m not ready to go home,” he said.
“Me neither, Baby Brother,” Foster replied. “We’ll take our time and heal … I heard love is a fantastic glue for shattered souls.”
“Since when do Death Knights love?” Nathaniel asked, letting Foster lead him away from the edge. He glanced over their shoulders and knew the choice to walk away was his own.
“I was talking about Sara,” Foster said with a smirk. He ruffled Nathaniel’s hair playfully and shook his head. “Only you would choose that phrase as the key to unlock the magic.” He tore a strip of cloth from Nathaniel’s tunic and wrapped the elf’s bleeding hand with it.
Awhile later they walked into their camp, Sara’s eyes were puffy from her tears and she let out a small cry when she saw Nathaniel. “Hey, Baby Sis,” he said, “I’m back … truly.”
The cry became a scream as she threw herself at him and he caught her. “How?” she said after a moment.
“Foster figured out the key to my soul,” Nathaniel said softly, “what little there is left of it; thank you for taking care of me these past weeks. I’m so sorry about everything that happened; sorry I couldn’t save you … sorry …”
Sara held up a hand. “You’re welcome and I forgive you a thousand times over, it wasn’t truly you I knew that then and now.” She hugged him again, “You’re back,” she whispered, “welcome back, Big Brother.”
Foster gently took his hand and poured some healing salve on it. Cool fingers with a grey tint rubbed it into the knife wound until it faded. Flexing his hand Nathaniel nodded afterwards, “can still shoot a bow.” He slipped his ruined shirt off, a look of pity crossed Sara’s eyes and he folded his arms across his chest; knowing it did little to hide the numerous scars. “Have another shirt?” he asked.
To his relief Foster nodded but it was a bar of soap he was tossed. “Go wash up first,” his brother said, gesturing toward the small stream nearby, as he handed him a rough feeling towel as well.
Moving out of sight Nathaniel took a moment to admire the rabbit skin moccasins he had on, Sara had skills in leatherworking, as he slid them off his feet. His leggings stunk so he brought them into the stream with him. The water was icy, but he waded in until it reached his waist. After scrubbing the pants the best he could, he rung the water out and tossed them over a nearby branch. Then taking a breath he plunged into the water, he let out a gasp as he stood, his teeth chattering. Using the soap he began to lather up, starting with his hair. It felt weird, being so short after all these years.
“Clean yourself, slut!”
Nathaniel startled at the unwanted memory, soap stung his eyes. Taking a calming breath he continued to scrub his scalp. Afterwards he took another breath and dipped his head into the icy water, rinsing off. After doing it twice more he started to move the soap over his goose-bumped flesh. Blinking back tears, he tried his best to ignore the manifold of scars.
“You may use that to wash yourself. Start with your hair after that work your way down your body … every crevice and hole best be covered with lather when you finish.”
“Yes, Master,” Nathaniel whispered.
His legs were kicked out from underneath him and he fell into the stream with a gasp. A strong arm pulled him up as he choked out the water he’d swallowed. Foster stood there wearing his greaves, his chest was bare. “You still with us, Baby Brother?”
“Sorry,” Nathaniel’s whispered through chattering teeth. He eyed the soap clenched in his hand. “I … he …” the elf shook his head helplessly.
Foster pulled him into an embrace, it was odd to be so close to another being and yet unable to draw warmth from him.   The closeness of bare skin brought back another uninvited thought and he jerked back. “Sorry,” he whispered again.
A cool finger stroked his cheek. “Stop apologizing,” Foster said as he took the soap and started washing himself. With a shrug as a silent apology Nathaniel waded to the edge of the river and found the towel, wrapping it around his waist. “Go get under some blankets,” his brother said, “and take your pants with you, hang them near the fire.”
Slipping into the soft leather shoes, Nathaniel made his way back to camp. Sara was busy tending a pot over the fire and smiled at him as he approached. Returning the grin with a weak one, he found a couple of blankets and pulled them up around his shoulders. Eyeing the bed from the night before, he thought about lying down to wait for breakfast, then he remembered what he had been doing in that bed a few short hours ago and gagged. A look of concern crossed Sara’s face and Nathaniel tried to give her an encouraging smile, afraid it came across more like a grimace.
“I thought it smelled pretty good,” she said with a playful pout. “Even found some wild herbs to add to it.   Last of our rabbit meat, went into the stew, you’ll have to keep your eyes open today.”
“Remember breakfast back home,” Nathaniel said, “Ma made the best waffles.”
Sara smiled at him, her grin genuine. “It is so good to have all of you back,” she said. “Afraid no waffles here, but this will stick to your ribs.”
“Appreciate it, Little Sis,” Nathaniel said. Pulling the blankets tighter around himself he rested his head on his knees. He awoke to the soft murmur of voices, he was still sitting up but nestled in the familiar lap of Foster, the knight’s arms wrapped lightly around his waist. The chest he leaned against was bare and the skin a light grey, there was a moment of disquiet and he realized it was because he felt a heartbeat. He’d fallen asleep to the gentle drumming sound a hundred times. Cautiously he placed a hand over Foster’s left breast, his pale flesh stood out against the darker skin of the other. The conversation he’d awoken to had fallen quiet; he tilted his head up and found Foster’s eyes on him. Taking a moment to truly study the gaze of his brother, he saw that the deep blue fires burned in the whole socket. Lifting his hand toward them, his fingers shook. The target of his fascination remained still letting him explore the death mark face, finding traces of the brother he once knew. As his fingers moved passed the still lips, he paused … cool breath touched his flesh.
“Your heart beats and your lungs breathe … yet you are dead …”
“Undead,” Foster corrected. “My heart beats, yes but I can turn the blood it moves through me to ice with a thought … hardening it and me against attacks. I do not need a heart to exist; I have one because I always have. They didn’t remove it before they claimed me; it beats because that’s what hearts do. It is the same with my lungs. I too have seen the warmth of the Light only to be taken away from it and thrown back into this cursed body.”
Nathaniel shook his head and listened to the strong heartbeat a moment longer. He glanced around the small clearing the sun was higher than it should have been. “Slept through breakfast, didn’t I?” he said, “I didn’t mean to delay us.”
“And lunch,” Sara replied. “It’s okay; I’m enjoying a day off from travel.”
“My pants dry?” he asked, realizing he was still nude under the warm blankets he was wrapped in.
Sara reached up and grabbed a handful of pants hanging above the fire, he realized there was other clothing up there as well and his sister was wearing a blue cotton dress.   It looked similar to one he had worn before and his cheeks flushed at the thought. The hand on his waist moved and pressed against his stomach hard enough to be noticed. He wrapped his fingers around the hand and let the embarrassment wash over him, behind him Foster’s low voice chanted, “it will be okay Baby Brother … it will be okay.”
Nathaniel focused his eyes away from the offending piece of clothing and took slow deep breaths. “How did he die?” he asked softly.
“With my sword buried in him,” Foster answered, “I wanted to draw it out, but you needed me … both of you.”
“Servants of the Lich King aren’t known to remain dead …”
“Oh trust me,” Foster said, his voice grew sinister, “the Lich King wants nothing to do with the brainless ghoul I resurrected.”
“You turned him into a ghoul?” Nathaniel asked raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Foster admitted.
“He did always want to be undead,” Nathaniel replied, “wonder if it’s as glorious as he thought it would be.” He sighed and closed his eyes.
“No more of that,” Foster said, bouncing his leg, jarring him. “I may be undead but my leg is asleep, up you go.” Strong hands on his waist lifted him and he grabbed the blankets to keep them from falling down.
“The clothing is dry,” Sara said pulling the pants off the tree limb and adding a fresh shirt to the pile she handed it to him.
Thanking her Nathaniel stepped out of sight and quickly dressed. When he returned there was a small bowl of rabbit stew waiting for him. “A biscuit would be nice with this,” he said sitting down cross legged at the fire. Foster draped a blanket over his shoulders.
“I’ll get right on that,” Sara replied, “you find me the flour while you’re out there hunting next time.”
Nathaniel fell silent studying the bowl in his hand. His cheeks grew warm, knowing they were watching. The spoon in his hand shook as he brought it to his lips. Old demons screamed in his mind as he took his first bite. His throat tightened as he chewed.
“Swallow,” Foster said softly.
“I’m trying,” Nathaniel said, frustrated, after his mouth was empty.
“We know, Little Brother,” Foster said, kneeling in front him and taking the bowl and spoon. “Your mind will not betray you forever, but until then … open, we can’t have you starving.”
Soon the bowl was clean. “I should go scout after this,” Nathaniel said, “now that my head is mostly on straight, see what I can.”
A look of uncertainty crosses his sister’s face. “Are you sure …” she started.
“Sis,” Foster said, “he’ll be fine.   This is old hat for him.”
Nathaniel smiled his appreciation at the show of confidence and after rinsing the bowl out in the river, he took up his bow and quiver. “I’ll keep an eye out for dinner as well.”
“Be safe,” Foster said, from where he rested near the fire. In his hands was his large sword, his finger tracing the glowing runes in the blade. For a moment the elf could easily picture his brother in the brilliant armor of the Silver Hand, and the mace that would glow with the blessing of the Light. Foster looked up at him, his unholy eyes watchful. The only thing white about his brother now was the once ebony hair. Nathaniel nodded toward Foster and slipped out of the small grove.
The trek earlier had showed him there was nothing to south but the ravine; they would have to find a way across it to continue their journey to Stormwind. At the moment he was more worried about threats so he scouted to the west first. After what he judged to be a mile he saw the thin rising smoke, most likely from a chimney of one of the homesteads that dotted the fertile lands. It was still another mile away so Nathaniel saw no threat and moved his way north instead. Soon he came across a well-worn path headed the same direction. That did not bode well, finding a sturdy tree he quickly scaled it and from the lofty branches followed the road with his eyes. A few miles away it came to an end at a large encampment.   Studying the fortified town, he spied the crimson banner of the horde. Judging the distance between it and their camp he didn’t see it as a danger but its closeness unsettled him.
Confident they were secure for the moment he turned his attention to dinner.   The fertile lands were home to many beasts, spiders as big as him, raptors and above vultures circled the kills of the predators. Nathaniel did not fear the beasts of the Highlands, though had little use of the large ones. Vultures were tough, spider meat stringy and raptors just had too much meat on them, it would be wasteful, that would be a last resort. One that he did not need to take as a flash of white caught his eye, an arrow was following it a moment later. He walked over to find it embedded into the back of rabbit.   He was growing sick of rabbit meat, perhaps he could fashion some sort of fishing pole.   Taking out his knife he quickly bled and skinned the small animal, be careful with his cuts, in case his sister needed the pelt.
After finding a second hare he retraced his steps back to the camp. As he neared the grove he’d left his family at, a sense of unease came over him and he slipped into the shadows as he’d been trained to by the Rangers of Silvermoon.   Staying there he came upon the camp, at least what remained of it.   If not for the charred dirt where the fire had been, he had never guessed it had been a campsite. It was empty and he picked up no trace of Foster or Sara.   Knees buckled as he fell to the ground, the dead rabbits forgotten. Reaching out he tried to detect a trace of their direction but sensed nothing, he was alone.
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Shattered