Crave Me, Taste Me [FighterTutor 18+]

-01- 💋 Pure

"Through the darkest of our troubles, love is beauty, love is pure."
~Celine Dion

~~~

*Third Person POV*

A crash of thunder ripples through the air, drowning out the sobs of the young boy running through the empty field.

Mud splatters on his skin and clothing as his bare feet smack against the freezing cold ground. Fighter gasps for breath as he runs aimlessly, not knowing where he's running to. All he knows is that anywhere is better than where he's running from.

The cold rain harshly bites at his skin, but he couldn't care less. He would much rather freeze than turn around and go back now.

His foot catches on a rock, sending him sprawling to the ground with a pained yelp. The boy clutches his leg in agony, examining the bloody scrape that is already working on healing itself.

He looks around, despair settling in when he realizes he still can't see a town or a village nearby, even though it feels like he has been running for hours.

Tears slip down his round cheeks as he loses hope. He curls up into a ball and buries his face in his arms.

A loud whinny makes Fighter jump. He looks up with wide eyes to see two large white horses pulling an extravagant carriage. The carriage comes to a halt, and a man climbs down before rushing over to him.

"Are you alright?" The man shouts over the storm. His brown hair is wet and matted to his forehead, his glasses covered in speckles of rain water. He spots the injury on the Fighter's leg that has been slowly working on healing, but is taking a while due to the boy's young age.

The man whips his head around, making sure there are no onlookers, before placing his hand over the wound. He whispers an incantation, making Fighter's dark eyes widen significantly. In an instant, the wound closes itself up, with the only indication that he was hurt at all being the dried blood on his skin.

"Come with me," the man says, pulling the trembling boy to his feet and leading him to the carriage. He opens the door to reveal a man adorned in a thick, velvet robe and a long golden necklace with a sun medallion attached to the end. "Your majesty, this boy was found alone in the pouring rain. With your permission, I would like to take him back to my quarters and help him."

The king studies the mud-covered boy, taking in his ragged appearance. Only twelve-years-old, Fighter has long black hair that sticks to the sides of his face, and skin so pale the king could see his blue veins. His skinny form lacked muscles and fat to provide him with natural warmth, resulting in him keeping his arms wrapped around himself in a feeble attempt to block out the cold.

"Very well," the king responds. "When he has been cleaned and dressed, I wish to speak to him. For the time being, he may stay with you and your son."

The kind man smiles widely. "Thank you, your majesty! Thank you!"

He pulls the boy along, giving him a boost up to sit next to him at the front of the carriage. The helpful stranger picks up the reigns, commanding the horses to continue on their journey.

A gargantuan palace comes into view, knocking the wind out of Fighter as he gapes at the palace with wide eyes. The building only seems to grow in size as they get closer to it, until Fighter is having to crane his neck to properly stare at it once they're at the gates.

Fighter is lead inside the castle, down the stairs into a corridor. The corridor opens to a small kitchen, and another hallway filled with rooms.

"These are the servant quarters," the man informs Fighter. "You will stay here with me and my son. He's around your age."