openmisc | Aaron/Huaisang

Aaron/Huaisang

It's nightfall by the time Aaron finally sees this "Impure Realm" that they took him to. He's hungry. He's filthy. He's thirsty. And there's nothing around him that's familiar. He has cigarettes in the pocket of his jeans and nothing else of his own. No note. No information.

Only the vaguely unsettling feeling that he's been deposited somewhere...wrong.

These people look like Huaisang. The robes, the way they move...it's familiar enough that, before they could unsheath their swords, he's throwing his hands out, asking for Nie Huaisang to their complete bafflement. But they loaded him up and took him. Goddamn.

Hopefully they sent someone ahead.

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Aaron decides to wear the new robes the next day. Even though Huaisang is gone, there are still matters of their home to attend to, and there are things his Nie Furen can and should tend to.

They have to prepare for Zewu-Jun's arrival, something that he really isn't looking forward to. Playing the diplomat really cuts into his studies, but it at least keeps him occupied.

Perhaps a little too occupied.

The Nie guards are typically steadfast and courageous, and very, very reliable, especially when politely threatened by their small but intimidating sect leader, but they do allow their Nie Furen to go off on his own when he's visiting an herbal shop he's visited over a dozen times before. They wait outside and chat, laughing and joking with each other without a care in the world. This is an easy assignment!

They don't happen to notice the nervous disposition of the shop clerk, his careful checking of the back doors and then the blocking of the front entrance.

They might not notice, but Aaron does. He's attuned specifically to the nonverbal cues of people around him, which has kept him alive for a very long time. It makes him feel uneasy, but he's arrogant enough now to not think that it can be that bad.

He walks between the aisles, plucking a vial of dang shen and another of bai shao. He places them on the counter, watching the clerk with narrowed eyes.

"Something happening today?" he asks, tilting his head, but the man barely stammers out an answer. Aaron huffs.

"I need three more of these," he demands, taking out one of the tablets. "Do you have it?"

"Yes," he answers quickly. "Yes, just - just in the back. Come - come with me."

The clerk bows as he steps around the table, then bows again as he walks towards the door, then pauses mid-bow as he pushes open the door to the back room. "This humble one apologizes, Nie Furen, I should have had these tablets out and ready for purchase. I don't have my apprentice today."

He walks inside, disappearing into the oddly-dim back room that smells strongly of a mix of very potent herbs.

It's a familiar smell. Aaron keeps his head up and waves a hand, dismissive and aloof. But he does follow, right into the back, right into the waiting hands of people who very much intend him harm.

The two men who have been waiting for the Nie Furen have heard about his impressive stature and form. He isn't a cultivator, and he isn't trained with the saber either - all they need to do is overpower him, which they do as soon as the clerk slides the door shut. One of the men go for Aaron's head, wrapping a hand around his throat and squeezing as the other attempts to throw a bag over his head.

They don't say a word, and won't until their target is finally under their control. It's a murmured exchanging of money - the clerk gets his share, and the much take their prize out through the back of the shop, one of them throwing him over their shoulder like a bag of turnips.

Aaron goes very still the moment the hand goes around his neck. He doesn't fight, doesn't try and lash out, but he memorizes their faces just before th bag goes over his head.

They carry him out and he makes himself into dead weight, trying to be as obnoxious as possible.

He waits and he's silent and he plots, and by the time they're at their location, he has yet to say a single worxd, even in protest.

The kidnappers are rough with the Nie Furen, jostling him around, throwing him into the back of a rough, wooden cart, throwing the odd punch into his muscle-hardened abs once they're two or three bottles in on the wine.

And they talk. They've heard that Nie Furen doesn't know much of their language, or at least he couldn't possibly understand their dialect. They're from far down south, far enough that their accents should be strange enough to his ears to not understand. They're also drunk, and fairly convinced that Nie Furen won't be alive to report any of things he might overhear.

"He's pretty, don't you think? I didn't know what to expect."

"Nie Zongzhu is a collector of art. They said he'd spent half the gold in the Nie reserves on paintings!"

"I hope that's not true. I want the money."

"My point is, of course he's going to be beautiful. Did you see his eyes? It was dark, but I could tell they were green."

"You're an idiot, they were blue."

"No, green!"

"Blue! I can prove it. Remove the blindfold - we can look."

"He'll talk, we should gag him."

Aaron endures the hits but stays silent. And whatever residual magic that's sat with him for so long makes it easy for him to identify the words. They come through, loud and clear.

He pushes himself up, feeling ill, feeling everything terrible as he struggles to put a cap on his own emotions.

As they argue, he sighs, sitting up straight. "They're blue," he says gently, sitting back. Demure and coy. "Come and see. You can gag me if you want."

The men exchange glances, a 'guess he knows more than we thought' and a 'should we still try and fuck around with him'? In the end the two drunken criminals agree that it's more entertaining to try and poke at the foreigner.

They'll gag him, that's the first thing they'll do. They decide with another nod between them which one of them will do it.

They don't see that Aaron is stronger than he might initially present.

They do gag him but he gets their position and lurches forward, ramming his forehead into the man's nose, bringing his tied hands up around his neck to push his face into his knee.

The one that Aaron happens to assault also happens to be the bigger of the two of them. He reels back with a sharp cry and then a whine, broken nose pouring blood over his clothes as he falls back.

The other one quickly lunges for Aaron with a swear on his lips, grabbing him and quickly slamming his head and body repeatedly into the floor.

"You'll regret doing that!"

Aaron lets him do it, curling up to protect himself. He doesn't regret doing it, though.

And when he's done, he spits blood onto the floor and still doesn't regret it.

"Are they green or blue?" he asks to the dirt with a grin.

“He’s insane,” mutters the first man through his bloody nose. “He’s insane, just like all those goddamn Nies!”

He grabs Aaron by the hair, smearing blood into the blond strands, and yanks him up roughly.

“He’s still pretty,” says the other man, still vibrating with fury. “They’re blue, aren’t they? We’re going to make you blue and black all over by the time we’re finished with you.”

He spits in the man's face. "I can't wait to tear you apart," he says with a manic giggle until.they shove a gag in his mouth.

And when he's alone again, aching and hurt in so many ways, filthy and used, he still waits.

They didn't kill him. Couldn't kill him. Even now, the bruises heal.

So he waits. And he smiles that pretty smile.

They leave Aaron in the dark for hours, not speaking to him, not acknowledging him, talking around him when they pass by the room. They finally enter and grab Aaron by the back of the head once more, letting him see the glint of the blade in their hand before slicing off a lock of hair.

"Not so pretty now, are you?" the one with the knife sneers. They let him drop back to the ground and wheel around, swiftly leaving again to take care of their obviously very tense hostage negotiation.

It doesn't go very well, and it isn't long before there are shouts and screams outside the room where Aaron's being kept.

"It is the beginning of the end for you," he says, showing no fear in the face of the knife. If they slit his throat, the world would burn.

He would bet they are, albeit dimly, aware of that fact.

But he knows why they want the hair. Proof that they have him, proof for Huaisang, who will be here soon -

Ah, there he is.

He stands up and walks back from the door, settling down on the far wall.

He waits and he hopes and he doesn't let himself feel any fear.

Nie Zongzhu himself is the first one to step through the door of the kidnappers' hideout, small and full of righteous fury. By the time he makes his way to Aaron's room he's covered in blood from head to toe, not a drop of it his or belonging to any of his disciples that had followed him without question.

The hardened look in his eyes, unrestrained malice with a touch of madness at the edges softening the second he lays his eyes on his husband.

"Aaron." He rushes forward and kneels in front of him, quickly tearing at his gag and ropes to free him. "Aaron, my Nie Furen, Aaron, I shouldn't have let you go -- I didn't hear word of the plan until too late, and we couldn't find where they took you. I've killed them all, save the two morons that tried to ransom you to me." He just knew by looking at them that they'd been the ones to hurt his Aaron.

"Oh, baobei, let's get you home."

He eyes the door and then turns his attention back to Huaisang.

With a quiet sob, he wraps his arms around him, burying his face in his bloody robes. He can't actually cry. Not yet. But he can sit here and he can hold him and he can feel terrible.

He's only ever seen his husband strong and resilient under pressure. He grins and bears it, acts like it doesn't bother him at all, or when he finally does crumble it's violent and insane. But the clinging in desperation is something new, and Huaisang inhales with a pained sound and holds him tightly to him.

"I have you now, Aaron, I have you now." He raises his hand, runs it over his back and feels the broken and bruised flesh just under his palm, and then sits back with a firm look of concentration on his face. He closes his eyes and brings his fingers to his forehead, drawing down a long, golden line of qi that he then brings to Aaron's chest. "Inhale."

He's only this way with the people he loves, that he truly trusts. Vulnerability like this is reserved only for those he can give himself completely to.

So when he pulls away, he meets Huaisang's eyes and sniffs, but he does inhale, bringing it into himself.

"I'm - alright," he says softly.

“You’re not,” he says firmly, still pushing qi into his body to help with his ache and pains in body and soul. “But you will be. We’re going home - and I’m taking the men responsible for this and throwing them into the deepest dungeon the Impure Realm has.”

He stops the exchange of qi and grasps Aaron by the shoulders, looking into his beautiful eyes. “When you’re ready, they’re yours to deal with.”

Aaron takes a breath and brings Huaisang's hands to his face. "Do I look brave and fucking strong? I'm not walking out there a goddamn victim. Not again."

He smooths his thumbs over Aaron's slightly-gaunt cheeks. "You're brave and strong. You're no one's victim. You're going to take my arm and we're going to walk out of here and into our carriage, and you're going to hold your head up high."

He nods and steps back, raises his head and takes his arm, walking outside with him. He can feel the eyes of the others on him, but he doesn't flinch. He walks with him, all the way to their carriage.

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