The Executioner's Son [boyxboy]

“What am I supposed to do with him? He’s just a child, an infant! I have not time for this!”

Rain filled the sky, the heavens split and pouring their glory unto the drowning earth. Lightning cracked once, the loud boom threatening to split the very foundations of the world, harsh white illuminating the church doorway for a mere second. Two men could be seen briefly in the silhouette, both clad largely in robes against the bone numbing cold of the wet, one clutching a writhing and screaming bundle to his chest.

“Do not turn to me! I have been brought child upon weeping child, cast desperate and weak on my doorstep! Make a decision yourself! Teach the child, raise it, but do not leave your burdens upon a house of God! Mayhap he is a gift from the Lord! See to it!” With the final words, the decrepit old priest closed the oak doors of the rustic church, the doorstep cast in darkness once more. Locks could be heard clicking shut, footsteps fading away over the sound of the rain. The now alone figure crashed a fist heavily against the doorway; once, twice, thrice, but to no avail.

“Stubborn bastard!” The large man muttered angrily, glaring down at the cursed bundle in his arms. “House of God, my ass.” The child merely blinked at him, tiny fingers unfurling and wrapping around the folds of his heavy leather coat. Blue eyes as dark as night stared curiously back at him, any trace of tears miraculously gone. Flawless pale skin lay stark underneath a head of thick black hair; the child was healthy for his age, for the condition in which Trevor had found him in. No normal child could have survived the cold and the wet. The bright eyes showed no sign of the fear he expected of an infant so small, no sign of worry, of confusion or sadness. Almost instantly a small flare of hurt tugged at his ribs. Pain tugged at his heart. Something he thought didn’t exist anymore, a piece of him that he was utterly convinced had faded away.

Obviously he thought wrong. This little child deserved better, deserved a chance a life. This tiny little boy could grow up to be a strong man someday and by God if Trevor wasn’t going to help him. This way he could prove to himself he wasn’t a cold and brutal monster.

“Hello little fella,” he spoke warmly to the child, a slight grin carving roughly into his stubbled jaw. A small rumble of laughter broke through the night as the child hiccuped, hands punching the air gently as if waving back up at him. “Suppose I’m taking care of you now then?” He shifted the child in his arms, worry lacing his eyes at the thought of the trying times ahead. This wasn’t a place or time to be raising a child, particularly a person of his calibre.

Trevor sighed, staring out into the endless downpour watching as the dirt roads seemed to swirl and move with the tiny rivers that had formed. These were dark times they were, but he had a chance now, something good he could do. With a grim determination he clutched the infant closer to him, pulling the cloak over the small bundle. Stepping into the rain he began to jog, his heavy muscled weight sending mud flying from were his boots landed with each step. All Trevor could think of was the child in his arms. How innocent, how unlike himself the infant boy was. It was his responsibility now… he had a purpose.

Things were definitely not going to be the same.