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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.

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Chapter Thirty – Nathaniel Conway
“Save me!”
Nathaniel looked down at his sister, tied to the bed. Her breasts and genitals bleeding from the abuse they had suffered.
“He’s not going to save you, whore,” Vance said darkly moving behind the naked elf he ran a hand down Nathaniel’s chest and wrapped cold fingers around his hardness. “He’s going to fuck you, isn’t that right?”
“Son!”
Nathaniel looked over at the doorway, as his father burst through. Vance let out an evil laugh, “this just gets better and better.”
“Save your, Sister!” Pa shouted as he charged.
Nathaniel turned toward Sara, but his legs refused to move him any closer to her. She cried for him her hand reaching out. Vance was suddenly between them.
“Don’t fucking touch him, he’s mine!”
Nathaniel looked over and saw Pa lying on the ground in a puddle of blood. His dying eyes found his, “Why …” he whispered, “why didn’t you save us?”
Nathaniel dropped to his knees, “I’m sorry, Pa,” he cried, “I’m so sorry … I couldn’t save you … I can’t even save myself.”
Vance laughed darkly as his nails dug into the elf’s bare shoulder.
“Son!” Pa shouted as he turned toward his Master.
“Son …. Son wake up!”
Nathaniel woke with a yell trying to sit up; his head collided with something solid, preventing him from rising. He laid there for a long moment gasping for breath, shivering from the nightmare. Opening his eyes, he startled to find his father’s face inches from his own. Pa’s hand was resting on the elf’s slender ear and had cushioned him from colliding with frame of the bed he was under. “Pa … I …” Nathaniel was at a loss for words. There was no way he was going to talk himself out of this.
“Hey,” Pa said, a callused thumb rubbed the tears from Nathaniel’s cheek. “You used to hide from the monsters under your bed …”
“I met monsters,” Nathaniel said, “they don’t hide under beds.”
“I know, your sister told me you were a prisoner with her,” Pa said as he backed out, “let me help you, you can’t fight these demons alone.”
Nathaniel grabbed the offered hand and let it pull him out, but not before making sure the ponytail he had been holding was placed in the corner to be retrieved later. Standing he dusted his legging off, not that there was much dust left on the ground after a week of sleeping under his bunk. He knew the first night he crawled under it, it wouldn’t work but if felt safer to him and there were moments he would actually sleep. Though those were too short and too far between.
“Son,” Pa had sat down on his bed and was looking up at him.
“Pa,” Nathaniel said, “I … don’t know what to do. I thought I had purged the terrors. I had found the Light within me, it was keeping them at bay but since I lost … since I came home, they are back and they are always there, even when I’m awake. They are choking me.”
“Let me help.” Pa said.
“How?” Nathaniel pleaded, “It’s been almost a year and I am still just as broken as I was then.”
“You’ve been trying to hide from them,” Pa said, “You need to face the demons. Confront them head on; take control of the memories and emotions.”
Nathaniel laughed at the absurdity of the thought. Pa’s eyes flashed and the elf shrank back. “I … damn it, there is something done to me Pa which makes that really hard.” He pressed on before he lost his courage. “Not everyone in that hell was there to hurt me; I actually met my old nanny from Silvermoon.   She was training me how to … she was training me … I’ll have to get back to that, sir. Anyway, the day my training finished we both knew my mind wouldn’t survive what I was going to be asked to do. So she used her magic to seal my mind away. That way my keeper might have me but he would never have my mind and soul. She meant well and I believe paid for it with her life, but I couldn’t free my mind even after we were rescued. It took a long time. I almost died, but finally my mind was my own. However, there is a lingering curse to her blessing, if push comes to shove, instead shoving my mind flees back into myself and I’m lost once again. I’m afraid retelling what I suffered might trigger it and then you’ll be left with a son that is nothing but a puppet on strings.”
“What brought you back?” Pa asked.
“Love,” Nathaniel replied.
“Well there is plenty of that to go around here,” Pa said. “Trust me, please, I won’t let that happen. I’ll keep you grounded. Tell me, please, Foster isn’t here to help carry your burden. I may not be as young as I used to be but I can help you do this, I promise.”
“I don’t know where to even start,” Nathaniel said.
“At the beginning is always a good place,” Pa replied.
“Do you know the human body has 206 bones in it?” Nathaniel whispered. A look of confusion crossed Pa’s face. “Elves have about the same; my ... jailer would count them as he broke them.” Nathaniel fingers dug into his palms, his pain was reflected in his father’s eyes so he focused on the wall above the bed. “Not all of them mind you, my face wasn’t to be touched, my Master wouldn’t allow it.”
“Your Master?” Pa asked, his voice brimming with anger, “did he have a name?”   Nathaniel’s stomach twisted and he looked at Pa silently pleading.   “Tell me his name,” Pa said, standing. “He can’t hurt you here, but I can’t say the same about him if our paths cross ...”
“He’s dead,” Nathaniel said.
“Even more reason to stop letting his name hold power over you,” Pa said, “you can say it, he cannot hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid of hurting me,” Nathaniel said softly.
“Then who?” Pa asked.
“You,” Nathaniel whispered.
A look of understanding came over his father. “Was it someone we knew before the plague? Someone that we once trusted … someone good twisted by the Lich King …”
“He was never good,” Nathaniel said.
This time it was true understanding he saw in Pa’s angry gaze. “Say his name,” Pa growled. “Don’t let that bastard have a hold over you.”
“Vance,” Nathaniel whispered, “Vance Dixon.”
“I should have killed him,” Pa growled, “damn it I meant to, I told your brother he wasn’t fit to breath. By the Light, how that man has hurt us. He was pure evil …”
“He’s Violet’s sire,” Nathaniel said.
Pa slammed a fist into the wall and Nathaniel startled. “That bastard, that baby girl is the only good that has ever come out of him. Did your sister know …” Nathaniel nodded, he was physically trembling and Pa seemed to come out of his rage and noticed. “Okay, Son,” he said approaching and hugging the elf tightly. “Your demon has a name, now how did Vance find you?”
“I didn’t leave you last year to go back to the elves, sir” Nathaniel said, his body still shaking. “I went to find my brother.”
“I told you …”
“I know and you were right, our homestead was completely gone burnt to the ground. There was no trace of his body.”
“So he truly rests in the Light,” Pa said, “I’m glad for that blessing.”
That was one promise Nathaniel would not break. “I was attacked by an army of ghouls. Really thought I was going to join their numbers when they were called off, by their Master, Vance. Once he knew who I was, he claimed me for his own. I didn’t break right away, Sir, not for a long time. But he was a very cruel person and eventually to make the pain stop …”
“I’m sorry to do this son,” Pa said, as he sat back down on the bed and pulled Nathaniel to sit with him, “tell me what he did to you.” Nathaniel stiffened. “Those moments still have a hold over you, let me know … share it with me, so it’s not trapped in here.” His father placed a hand over the elf’s heart.
“He had a death knight as his subordinate; it was through him that my punishments were doled out. A lot of beatings, to the point of death but not past it; he was very good at making me hurt.” He shuddered and Pa rubbed a hand down his back.
“Breathe through it,” he said, “you’re safe here, and memories can’t hurt you.”
“I was kept in a tiny cell for a long time, I don’t know how long … months, barely allowed to eat, never allowed to bathe. Finally Vance gave me an option out of that cell; submit to him in every way … I’m so sorry Pa. I was so weary and beaten by then, I accepted.”
“You lasted longer than most men,” Pa said, “you were only looking for a way to survive.”
“Not a day went by afterwards that I didn’t regret my choice,” Nathaniel said, “he didn’t want a man Pa … he wanted …” he stopped unable to continue.
“What?” Pa asked, “what did he want, my son? Give this demon a voice, don’t keep it locked inside you.”
“A slut,” Nathaniel whispered, “but not one that looked like a male, he dressed me like a woman Pa and made me act like one. That was what my old nanny taught me how to be … I know 42 different ways to pleasure a male body.” There he had said it, Pa would probably disown him now and he didn’t blame him one bit.
Strong hands were suddenly on his cheeks and he was looking into the angry eyes of his father. “Damn him to hell,” he growled. “I don’t blame you, my son, please stop blaming yourself. Could you even … your elfin body …”
“No,” Nathaniel admitted. “Not at the start, but eventually with time my body started to react to his touch. By then my mind had been protected, so I don’t know if it was my desire or not.   He used to demand I give myself pleasure … Pa, I didn’t even know what he meant by that until I saw him do it once.”
“Okay,” Pa said pulling him close. “It’s okay, that’s enough demons for now. Thank you for sharing them with me.”
“Pa, there is something else, you need to know.” Nathaniel said, deciding if he was going to go this far he might as well go a little further.
“Yes, my son?”
“Tonight at the dinner table …”
“Forgive me,” Pa said, “that was cruel and uncalled for … I didn’t know.”
“I know,” Nathaniel said, “but you were right we were holding hands, but not for the reason you said. Pa, Vance took everything from me, including my ability to feed myself. I have to be told to open my mouth and when to swallow without that I can’t … by the Light, we have been trying. I’m getting better Sara can give me the commands via touch so it’s not obvious but I’m having a hard time keeping food down once I eat it.” When his father didn’t say anything he continued. “Pa, I just don’t think I have it in me anymore. Sara’s home safe like I promised … I guess I just don’t see the point to keep trying. I’m so tired.”
“Oh, Nathaniel, my dearest boy,” Pa said, “You once promised your brother you wouldn’t think down that path ever again. Please, you have to try to get better if you truly can’t do it for your sake then for the benefit of your Ma and me. But I also believe you are tired, but not only of soul but of body.” Pa stood and took his hand. “You say you can’t do it anymore,” he said, “let me do it for you, trust me to heal your heart.”
“I trust you, Pa,” Nathaniel said wearily.
“Then come with me now,” Pa tugged on his hand. “And trust me.”
Nathaniel followed Pa down the ladder and to the house, once inside he pulled back slightly as Pa walked toward his bedroom. “Trust me,” Pa said again. And Nathaniel let himself be led into the room; Ma was sitting up in bed when they walked in working on needle work.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.
“Makes two of us,” Nathaniel replied.
“My love?” Ma asked.
“We’re going to sleep like elves for a while, Norah,” Pa said to Nathaniel’s shock. “Our son needs our help and touch to keep his nightmares away.”
If his Mother doubted the wisdom it didn’t show in her face as she quickly adjusted the pillows and Pa directed him to crawl in bed beside her. Trembling, Nathaniel did as he was told. Feeling unsure, he lay rigid as he Pa followed him under the blanket. The older Conway laughed and physically adjusted him so he was on his side facing Ma. She smiled at him and rubbed a hand down his cheek. “Sleep, son,” she said, “you’re safe.”
Praying she was right, he closed his eyes. Ma started to sing softly, a lullaby of his childhood, at the same time Pa pressed his back against his. “I have your back, my son.”
Nathaniel smiled at the bittersweet memory but was too afraid to give into the exhaustion that threatened to consume him. Too afraid of what dreams he might have; what names he may call out in his sleep. Too afraid of where his hands may stray as he looked at the long auburn tresses of his mother, his fingers itching to curl into it. Just to hold onto something physical, so he wouldn’t be alone. He knew that thought made no sense, but logic was hard to come by lately. Warmth spread into his temple, it felt wonderful and comforting. By the time his dim brain realized his mother was aiding him to slumber with magic the hold was too great.
“Shh,” she said softly, “no more dreams tonight, I promise. Just sleep … rest and heal my son.”
For the first time in many nights, his mother’s promise came true. There were no dreams, no nightmares; only sleep. And when that blanket of darkness finally left he awoke feeling rested and loved. He was still nestled close to his mother and to his dismay his fingers tightly wound around her curls. The clock in the other room started to chime by the eighth ring sleepiness fled and by the eleventh confusion set in and he opened his eyes. It was indeed daylight; the room was flooded with sunlight. Ma was lying in bed, one hand wrapped around him, the other reading a book. He should have been up hours ago and off to do the hunting that had been requested of him. Pa was already gone, his side of the bed long empty.
“About time, sleepy head,” Ma said.
“I’m late for work …”
“Your father told them you were sick,” Ma said. “And I’ve enjoyed having the morning off; there are worse ways to spend a few hours, than with a handsome young man in bed.”
“Why didn’t you get up?” Nathaniel asked.
Ma reached over and brushed her hand across his fingers still tangled in her hair. “You needed me,” she said. “But now that you are awake,” she gently pulled her hair free. “I’ll go make some food for us.”
“It’s almost lunch time,” Nathaniel said, following her out of bed. “I’m sorry I made you miss breakfast.”
“Oh don’t worry,” Ma said, “Sara made me a quick bite before she headed off to Stormwind for a few days. She wants to show off that baby girl of hers.”
Nathaniel’s stomach clenched, with his sister gone … someone else would have to … he pictured Ma feeding him like an infant and his cheeks flushed. Ma was oblivious of his predicament and went on chatting about ordinary issues. She poured some water into a pan of oats and stirred it as it thickened. Afterwards she spooned the cooked oatmeal into bowls and sprinkled them with sugar and cinnamon. “Can you grab us a couple glasses of milk?” she asked.
Nodding Nathaniel walked over to the icebox and found the milk, then did as she had asked and placed two cups of milk on the table. Ma set the bowls of oatmeal down and walked over and slid the bolt on the front door, locking it. “Those grandbabies of mine have no manners,” she said with a smile as she sat down across from him. “Open,” she said and his lips parted on command.
She put a spoonful of oatmeal into his surprised mouth. “Please don’t be ashamed,” she said, “Sara told us what we needed to do before she went … swallow.” It was a difficult bite to consume, humiliation tightened his throat. “Stop that, Nathaniel,” Ma scolded but her words had no sting. “This is not a big deal,” she assured him, “at least now we can get food into and you can get better.    Getting you well is what is important; we’ll worry about minor things like this later. The door is locked; it won’t go beyond the four of us. Please focus on important matters. Open …”
She fed him a spoonful at a time between taking bites of her own and as she did she continued to talk about the day ahead. His discomfort had not waned by the time she scraped the bowl and gave him the last bite. “How’s it sitting?” she asked, gathering the dishes.
“Like a rock in the pit of my stomach,” Nathaniel answered truthfully.
“Does it feel like it will stay down?” Ma asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Nathaniel replied, “thank you for …”
“Loving you,” Ma finished for him. “Any time my son.”
He stood up, “Still plenty of hours left in the day for hunting …”
“Not today, dear one,” Ma interrupted, “your Pa is waiting for you in the barn.”
“He should be working,” Nathaniel said.
“More important things to tend to,” Ma replied. “Go to him now.”
He kissed Ma on the cheek before escaping outside. Pa was not in the barn, but easy enough to find. Tied to a large oak tree behind the house was a punching bag, a staple in their life since he was young. Foster and Nathaniel had been the main purpose but their father would punch it from time to time and today Pa was wailing on it. Nathaniel watched him silently for a long moment. Even though he was in his mid-fifties now his father’s body was still muscular and sleek. Foster used to be a carbon copy of Pa; even now they shared the same ivory locks, though his brother’s skin would be the greyness of death.
As Pa danced around the bag he noticed Nathaniel standing nearby and after a couple more hard jabs, he walked over breathing heavily and covered with sweat. “Hey, son,” he said, “how you feeling?”
“Rested,” Nathaniel said truthfully, “sorry I overslept.”
“No apologies necessary,” Pa said, “your body and mind needed that.”
“You were giving that bag quite the work over,” Nathaniel said.
“Was picturing Vance Dixon’s face on it,” Pa replied with a grim look. “You said he was dead, you’re sure about that?”
“Yes, sir,” Nathaniel said.
“Then the bag it is,” Pa said spinning around and slamming his fist into it again. “Your turn.”
Knowing it wasn’t a request, Nathaniel still bare-chested from sleeping that way, held out his hands and let Pa wrap them with gauze and tape to protect them. Afterwards, he flexed his fingers a few times and then started to hit the punching bag. He started out slow at first, warming up. As his muscles loosened up he started punching harder.
“That’s right,” Pa said, “now picture that bastard’s face in front of you.”
Didn’t take much imagination to picture the tattooed face of the Deathspeaker, sneering at him, “First you’re going to lower your hands to your side … do not put them in fists … relax those fucking hands or I swear I’ll break every one of your fingers.”
The elf pulled up from his stroke his fingers flying open. “Sorry,” he pleaded with the angry apparition as he started to drop down to his knees.
The disapproving look of the twisted man was replaced by the concerned face of his father as he was jerked around to face him and keep him from the ground. “Tell me,” Pa demanded. “What demons just spawned from your heart?”
“Relax those fucking hands or I swear I’ll break every one of your fingers,” Nathaniel whispered, a shudder ran down him as he dug his fingers into his thighs and struggled to breathe. “I was naked; he beat me with the crop as he taught me my first lesson. I learn better when pain is involved.”
“Me!” Pa demanded, “Focus on me. Not then … now, concentrate on this moment, where you are safe. I will not let anything hurt you.” Nathaniel was pulled into a fierce embrace as both men sunk to the ground on their knees. He wept into father’s shoulder as the pain and humiliation washed over him. “It will be okay,” Pa said softly, “I promise you; with time it will be okay.”
There was silence between them for a long time, and once his sobs had stilled, strong fingers wrapped around his hand and gently folded his fingers into a fist. Then closed on top holding them. “Stand up, my son, let this be the last time that bastard brings you to your knees.”
Nathaniel stood, his father’s hand remained wrapped around his fist. And then the older Conway started using his hands and feet to position Nathaniel like he had when he was younger to get his fighting stance correct. “Relax,” Pa said pressed closed behind him. Pressing his knee into Nathaniel’s to get him to bend it. “Picture Vance Dixon in front of you …” The Deathspeaker’s twisted face appeared in his mind when suddenly Pa used his own hand wrapped around the elf’s to throw a punch. It smashed into Vance and Nathaniel startled. Nothing happened and Pa squeezed him on the shoulder. “He can’t hurt you. Now on your own,” Pa said releasing him and stepping back.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out Nathaniel fell into a fighting pose, raising his arms up slightly and his right leg back. Once again he pictured the man that haunted his dreams and his right fist collided with his face. Nathaniel nodded his head and quickly followed with a left jab. After that it was just a hail of fists as he pummeled the bag and the memory. His arms and shoulders ached by the time the last punch was thrown and he leaned against the bag breathing heavily.
“You look pretty fit for a sick guy, Conway.”
Nathaniel looked over at the man that had spoken. He had short auburn hair and a beard to match; a large hatchet rested over one shoulder. The elf didn’t recognize him and glanced over at Pa.
“Not all wounds are visible, James,” Pa said. “I spoke to Supervisor Raelen; she’s given us the week off to tend to matters. Nathaniel, James Clark, he works at the mill.”
“And more work for me,” the man named James growled, “we have deadlines Conway.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Nathaniel said, “with my pa’s help I’m mending quickly …”
“I’m not talking to you, pointy ears,” the human snapped.
“And now you’re not talking to either of us,” Pa said stepping forward. “Get back to work, James … you mentioned deadlines. Come on, son, let’s go rinse off; I do have need of you in the barn.”
Used to the occasional racism, Nathaniel moved past the glowering human and toward the pump.   Easily sidestepping the leg that suddenly appeared in front of him in an attempt to make him trip. He spun lightly on his ball of his foot to catch Pa’s fist before it made contact. “Not worth it,” he said softly.
“You’re right,” Pa agreed, “sorry, not as patient as I once was. You’d be wise to remember that James.”
“And you be wised to remember I am carrying a hatchet,” the man said.
With a sigh Nathaniel stepped back and didn’t block the next attack from Pa. The swiftness of the older man caught James by surprise. A moment later Pa was holding the aforementioned axe, easily disarming the under skilled lumberjack. Throwing the hatchet it became buried into a trunk of a tree a couple hundred feet away. “Stop making trouble where there is none,” Pa said tensely.
“Clark!” Nathaniel glanced over at Supervisor Raelen who was stalking over.   Eastvale Logging Camp was a cluster of houses around a central mill, a community. They were never far from the mill and obviously their boss had noticed the confrontation. “What the hell is going on?”
“Conway ain’t sick, ma’am,” James said, “He’s just being a slacker.”
“Sorry, Lady Thelma,” Nathaniel said. “He ...”
The brunette waved him off and glared at James. “They have cleared their leave with me, what they do on their time off is their own damn business. I suggest you get back to work, Mr. Clark, before I find someone else that can stay on task and not harass my workers.” James shot them one final dark look before stalking off to retrieve his axe. “I’m sorry; someone must have overheard our conversation. I mentioned nothing about your health to anyone.” She smiled up at Nathaniel, “you get better. I’ve hired some young adventures to take care of the four legged pests.”
“Thank you,” Nathaniel said, he went to curtsey and caught himself bowing instead. “I will try my best to return to work soon.”
“Take as long as you need and return to me … us healthy,” she blushed and hurried off.
Pa squeezed him on the shoulder, “Come on, lover boy. Those planks aren’t going to hammer themselves into the wall.”
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