The Dream of Chevalier

Chapter One -- Lefevre

 

 

 I tied the boat up to the dock just as Izek had ordered, finding it very difficult to not use magic. Unfortunatly for me, magic was very, and I mean very illegal, and anyone seen using it is killed. No questions asked. I'm not physically strong, but with my magic I could kill millions. That's why people hate it. Izek doesn't know I have magic, if he did he would disown me without a second thought.

 Izek and I were headed for Chevalier, it was rumored that they had decently rebuilt their city, and they had condos and hotels for the first to claim them. Lefevre was the opposite. The only places in the whole city that were liveable are the high class Estates, and only those who can afford it live there. I've lived on the streets my whole life.

 You see, after President Olson lead the whole country to total bankrupcy, the country kind of... gave up. Lefevre was the first of the big cities to fall. It's always dark and wet outside, it's like mother nature gave up on us as well. Bordering countries refuse to help us, for reasons unknown. The cities are trashed, and a gang called Howling Hounds exploded all the major buildings, killing off the remaing jobs. Over all, Lefevre is a deserted, homeless city.

 I'm Peetr Lafavre. Yes, my last name is the same as the cities. That's because almost fifty years ago, this big city was named after my great grandfather, and all he ever accomplished in his life was maybe save a cat from a tree. Their reasoning? It's a cool last name. And that's it.

 Once the boat was tied up "correctly," (Izek had untied my knot and redone it) we checked to make sure we had everything we needed. We had saved up food for nearly five months just to make the three week voyage to Chevalier. We had no other change of clothes, and neither of us had bathed in over a month. My dark hair was the only part of my body that really showed it, however.

 "Peetr, will you go back to the ally and grab that blanket we left behind?" Izek asked me, I reluctantly dragged my toes in the other direction. Once I felt far enough out of sight, I simply used magic to bring it to me.

 "Peetr! What the hell are you doing?" I froze. I knew he had seen me use magic, but I didn't process it right away. I thought of alternative things I might have done wrong, hoping there was still a chance that he hadn't seen. "Peetr. Was that magic?" What an idiot! He obviously knew, why did he have to ask?

 "Of course it was." I answered, holding my breath after words.

 "How long have you... had this?"

 "Since I was nine." I was thirteen at the time. I waited for his response, but It never came. I still didn't have the guts to turn around and see his face. I waited for at least ten minutes before I turned around, and when I finally did, he was gone. The boat was gone, the supplies were gone. He had completely and utterly abandon me. I knew when he found out this would happen, but it was still somewhat of a shock to me that he actually did. It hurt, to be left alone in the huge run down city of Lefevre all alone. It hurt knowing the man who had raised me my whole life would leave me just like that in a blink of an eye.

 

Chapter Two.

 

 I never understood why my father still held balls for me. The only ones who showed up were at least fifty times my age. Most of them just showed up for the free food. I knew I was lucky to be raised in one of the three Estates here in Lefevre, and I did take advantage of it, but that doesn't mean I'm a complete brat, as people commonly presume.

 My name is Calair, I'm eleven. I've grown up with luxury, food, clean clothes, and water to bathe myself. It's not like anyone lives in Lefevre any more anyway, otherwise we would share. Probably.

 The ball started much sooner then I was hoping. I dressed in my puffy yellow gown, and sat in the corner and nodded when I needed to nod. Suitors who were nearly twenty would ask me to dance, I however, polietly declined. That was far too old for me.

 But then, as if on que, a boy walked through the door. He looked much closer to my age, but he was so thin. He was probably here for the free food. So maybe some people did live in Lefevre still. I almost instinctivley stood to greet him, but I held my place. He glanced around the room catiously, making eye contact with me only once. I got up and went immediatly for the table. I gathered a surprising amount of food -- this dress wasn't completely worthless. Holding my dress up full of food, I made my way over to him. He began to walk away.

 "Wait!" I called, picking up my pace. He stopped for me, but didn't look at me. "I think you need this more then I do." I said, as I shifted to get my skirt open. His eyes, when he saw the food (as if their emerald green wasn't breath taking enough) expanded.

 "R-Really?" Was all he said.

 "Yes really!" I forced the food into his hands. I may have been mistaken, the memory is quite vague, but I think I remember tears.

 "Thank you so much." He said quietly, and without any more hesitation, he left.

 A few months after the strange boy who crashed my 11th birthday party appeared, my father began acting strange, as did my "fiance." My father had found a twenty-something man to take my hand in marriage. The way he looked at me gave me chills. It wasn't his pure desire for me as he said, it was something more, something that scared me.

 It took me long to come up with an idea on what it meant, but when he began to touch me when we were alone, I got the message. It was uncomfortable, but I told myself it was normal for an engaged couple, it's what my father would want. Things took a turn for the worse about a week later. It wasn't just caressing my thigh anymore, he would hit me, and it actually hurt.

 I was so young, I didn't know what was wrong or right, so I let it pass me. Over time, however, it only got worse. His main target was my back, since it was easily covered with my clothing. Scars lashed all around my back.

 It wasn't till I was fourteen, when I read a book called Romeo and Juliet that I realized it was wrong. The book was ancient, quite literally. It had been published over nine hundred years ago. Anywho, I realized that what me and Arren shared wasn't love, Romeo and Juliet was love, this was just abuse. I wasn't brave enough to do anything about it till I was fifteen, even then after I spoke up, it only became worse. My father, I noticed, encouraged it. I cried myself to sleep every night. On my sixteenth birthday, I told my maid, Lize. She told me to run from here, but I knew the city. The city was no longer, I couldn't survive there. Lize told me if I stayed my fate would be the same. Arren and I never wed, which was strange to me. But, very near my seventeenth birthday, I ran.

 

Chapter three.

 

I kicked the mud off my boots with the loose wood flap at the bottom of Petrice's door. She had totally voluntarley taken me in when I was thirteen. It might of had something to do with me, a homeless boy running around this huge abandon city with an arms full of fresh food and no one to share it with that made up her final decision, but I still like to tell myself it was my loving nature that made her so willing to take me in.

 "Petrice! I'm home!" I yelled, even though I knew she was just around the nearly fallen down corner in the kitchen.

 "Oh, come here!" She said back, waddling to me. I had to bend down to kiss her cheek, I stood nearly a foot taller then her now that I was almost eighteen. Petrice was like a mom to me. A mom I never had.

 "What's for dinner?" I knew it was a stupid question, it was what we always had for dinner; gump. It sounds gross, but in all honesty, it's not half bad. Petrice used her flat palm to hit me on the forehead.

 "You know what's for dinner you little nugget." I smiled at her remark, and hugged her again. She stood back and squeezed my arm.

 "You're a handsome strong boy, why don't you have a girl?"

 "Mum, I don't think girls exsist in this town." I frowned.

 "Sure! There's the girl and boy that you hang out with.. what are their names?"

 "Britta and Tamus?" I asked, even though I knew that's who she meant.

 "Yes! That Britta girl!" I frowned again.

 "Mum she's twelve."

 "Oh poo." She scurried back to the kitchen. I had honestly never even considered marrige or any of the like. It never really seemed important to me.

 Petrice let me eat at her house, but there was literally no place for me to sleep there. I slept in the space inbetween her house and the one next to hers, which had been burned to the ground and half rebuilt. It was a tiny opening, probably only about five feet across, and Petrice's house was tall, roughly twenty something feet, but the whole top floor was burned. It also kept the company of poisonous fumes, that's why I didn't stay there. My bed was a twin matress that in itself was half burned, but it was still better then the ground. I laid there and watched the stars.

 

Chapter four.

 

 "There's only one time this whole month that Arren and your father will be gone at the same time." Lize said, leaning in to pull my hair back. "You'll have to leave then."

 "Right." I said, looking down at my thumbs, as if half expecting them to be gone. "What time is that?"

 "This weekend. They're both going to Sir Kensington's estate for brunch." Said Lize. I nodded again.

 "So I only have to endure this for three more days. I can do that." But before we could continue our plan, Arren and my father plowed down the door. Lise jumped, and stood, dropping my half braided hair.

 "Maid, out!" Arren scolded. I went stiff. Had they heard? "You've been a very bad girl, Calair, punishment for your sins only seems appropreate."

 "Indeed it does." Said my father. I clenched my fists, still remaining silent. That's when Arren jumped at me, and started sucking on my neck. His breath was so fowl. My father left at once, locking the door from the outside.

 "Naughty naughty," Arren mocked. I closed my eyes and endured it for the moment. He felt me up, sqeezing me and licking me. I hated him so much, but I had to remaind obediant... for the time being, anyway. "Take off that blouse."

 "No." I said so sternly, I was surprised with my own rebellion.

 "No?" He asked, pulling back from me.

 "No, I didn't mean, no...-" He stood and glared at me. He slapped my cheek, leaving a glowing red stain, no doubt. I held back tears, whenever I cried it'd only make it worse.

 "Take. It. Off." He said now, slapping me again. I did as he said, and covered myelf shamefully with my hands. "Turn." I rolled onto my back. He grabbed the lash, and I bit my lip so hard it bleed. I knew what was coming next. He ripped all my scares on my back open again with his whip, but I didn't cry.

 He grabbed a handful of my yellow hair in his hand, and threw me at the ground.

 "Maybe you'll think harder next time you say 'No' to me!" He said, slapping my cheek once more before taking his leave. I laid there on the floor for awhile, half naked. I had to get out of here. Now. I had to. I looked up at the window to my right. I stood, shaking and trembling, making my way twords the window. I opened it, and looked down. There was a small ledge before the first floor roof. The first floor was only like nine feet tall; I could survive a nine foot fall. Without any hesitation, and slipped down onto the ledge. Any time I turned, i'd reopen the tears on my back, and it killed. When I finally got onto the first floor's roof, I looked through the window that looked into the first floor. And, to much discomfort, Arren was staring back at me. Immediatly, I jumped from the roof. My legs were shocked from the fall, but I ignored it and ran. I ran like bloody hell, knowing this was my only chance to be free. I looked back and saw Arren closing the front door behind him, seeing exactly where I was going. Without much thought, I ran and cried, screaming "Help! Help, someone!" I knew no one really lived in Lefevre anymore, but I couldn't do this alone.

 

Chapter Five.

 

 The sky was so boring tonight, it brought me to sleep. I didn't get much sleep in, however, before I heard the frantic cries of someone approaching. I peeked around the corner of my small home. It was a girl. She didn't live on the streets, she had lived somewhere where she had washed herself recently. She was crying, and she was half naked. I was so confused, but I wanted to help. I stepped out of the ally and stopped her with my hands. I shook her for a moment.

 "What is it? What's wrong?"

 "Let go! He's coming, he's coming! I need to run, he's coming!" I threw her onto my matress.

 "Stay there." I said quietly, and looked up to see a man in his early thirties skid his feet to a stop at the sight of me.

 "Hand her over, and we can pretend like nothing happened." He said. I looked at the girl. She was bleeding fron her mouth and her back was so destroyed, it was a surprise she didn't pass out by now. When she heard what he said and saw me looking at her, she pleaded.

 "I don't want you to get hurt because of me," she paused. "I'll go back with him." She, of course, didn't know I had magic. I snapped my fingers and she passed out on the matress.

 "What did you do?" The man charged at me, but I stoped him immediatly. He tried to break the barrier, but he couldn't move.

 "What did you do to her?" I asked, making a ball of fire in my hands. Sure, I didn't know or care about the girl, but no innocent human deserves those kind of scars.

 "Only what she deserved! She talked of leaving the Estate!" He spat. I was so disgusted by him, I couldn't control myself. I held my hand up, fingers spread. I twisted it to the left and his neck snapped within an instant. He gargled, and fell to the floor. I killed a man. I, Peetr Lefevre, had just killed a man.

 

Chapter Six.

 

 I woke, finally, but the room was dark, it made me think It was night still. I didn't care what time of day it was, because Arren was nowhere in sight. I sat up slowly. The door to this room was slightly cracked open. I tip toed to the door and peek out. I heard people talking from around the corner. I grabbed a vase that was sitting on the termite infested table just outside the door. I jumped into the opening holding the vase up to defend myself.

 There were two people in this tiny kitchen, but they weren't my father or Arren.

 The first one I noticed was a boy. Or a man, foresay. He was a young man, far younger than Arren. Barely even twenty, if even twenty. I dropped the vase but it didn't break, it rolled along and was stopped by the leg of the table. This boy looked so familiar; his dark shaggy hair and emerald eyes. I couldn't put my finger on it though. He was so handsome, I had to look to the other person before I blushed. She was older, late fifties, probably. She smiled at me so sweetly, I had to grin back.

 "What's your name, child?" She asked me. I flinched. I hardly considered sixteen to be child like.

 "Cl-Calair." I answered. "Wh-Where am I?" I asked then, truely curious.

 "You're new home." Said the woman, "my name is Petrice, but you can call me mum. This is Peetr, he's the one you owe your thanks to."

 "Peetr?" I asked, looking back over to him. He stared at me. "Thank you." I walked towards the table and bent over to pick up the vase I had dropped, only to shoot up right with pain. I had just torn open my scars on my back again. Peetr stood immediatly and asked me what was wrong.

 "Just my back." I assured. "I'm used to it, it's nothing."

 "Nothing?" Peetr said, shocked.

 "You poor dear, you." Petrice pated my cheek lightly. I flinhced for a moment, however. Expecting to feel a hard smack. I felt the warm blood stain this new shirt I was wearing. I patted the spot with my hand, to insure the blood, and when I brought it forth my hand was covered in red.

 "Oh no," I paused. "I'm going to ruin your shirt." I pulled it away from my back, so it wouldn't bleed onto the white cotton.

 "Don't worry about the shirt," Peetr said, walking to the other side of me. "Can you lift it, please?" I did as he said and lifted the shirt from my back. "Oh god." He mumbled. "Mum, will you get some of that oitment?" Petrice scurried around me into the cupboard. Peetr pressed in some places asking me if it stung. His hands were so warm, it was almost comforting. The oitment, however, burned like hell.

 He rubbed it on, and at first it was cool and smooth, mixed with the light touch of his soft hands, and it felt wonderful. But after he lifted his hands and let the oitment sit, it began to burn terribly. I clenched my teeth and held my breath. Peetr let me squeeze his hand, however, which helped a lot.

 "How long have you put up with this?" Peetr asked, hours later as we sat in the dining room.

 "Since I was eleven." I sighed. If he kept asking questions, it would evoke me to complain, and I didn't want to complain to a person who had lived on the streets his whole life. I stared at Peetr again. I couldn't remember where I had seen him... But then it hit me. "You!" I said, sitting up straigher. "You're that boy from my eleventh birthday!"

 "Huh?" He asked, confused.

 "You're that boy who came in... I gave you food, remember!"

 "That was you?" He smiled, also sitting up straighter.

 "Yes!" I half laughed.

 "I just repaid my debt I guess."

 "Pardon?"

 "I would have died without that food. You would have died if I hadn't... scared off that man."

 "I guess we're even." I smiled.

 "I guess so."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Okay, this is JUST story, and I'll update it when I get around to writing.

& This is the first time I've been bold enough to make the actual genre romance...