#also the bit on 'farmers are commonly on the road before dawn and after dusk during peak harvest season'

[grunge-mermaid]

studying the MTO handbook for the gazillionth time in 2 decades and I completely forgot about the section on sharing the road with horse-drawn vehicles like

oh

right...

the amish

[raendown]

First chapter of a commission for @officerjennie!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4938 Rated: T+ Summary: When his brother disappears coming home from town Madara goes looking for him only for both to end up taken prisoner in a castle hidden by magic generations ago. The candelabras talk, the furniture sleeps, and a great white beast hides himself away in the eastern wing. As he uncovers the story behind this place and gets to know the last small group of 'survivors' Madara gradually makes a new home here in the least likely of places.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

Chapter 1

Waking his little brother after a particularly rough night was never a pleasant task. Madara sat on the edge of Izuna’s mattress and dabbed at the young man’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth, praying to whatever gods might listen to take this sickness once and for all. If they were nobility then maybe they could have afforded a better doctor than the witch healer one town over, maybe they could have figured out what was really wrong and found a cure, but they weren’t nobility. Of all the injustices in the world Madara hated most the ones that laid his brothers low.

Once their house had been a bustling and lively place full of love and family. Now there were three graves in the back field and his parents’ room stood waiting even now several years after the occupants had promised to return quickly from seeking new fortune. Madara could remember clearly the day he finally accepting that it was the two of them against the world, the day he had knelt in the shrine behind their home and cursed the gods for uncaring bastards, vowing to hold on to the last of his family with the same boneheaded stubbornness with which this illness clung to Izuna’s chest.

Running one hand through long dark hair, Madara hummed the same soft tune he had rocked his brother to sleep with as a babe.

“The sun is up,” he chided the younger man gently. “I already did your chores for you, you lazy lay about.”

“Gggggrrrmmmph.”

“An excellent argument. You still have to get up.”

Very slowly Izuna’s eyes opened and Madara was relieved to see there was no shine of fever in them. The night had been rough but it looked like the day may not be as bad as he’d thought, excellent luck for the journey his brother had ahead of him.

“I packed for you as well. And fed the horse. But you’ll need to feed yourself because I need to get to work, alright?” As he spoke his fingers continued moving, stroking the damp hair away from Izuna’s face. His brother shuffled around under the covers until his arms were free to reach up and hold Madara's hand in place. “Let go, you leech. I need to go and so do you.”

With a tremendous sigh Izuna let go and let both arms flop to the sides. “It’s a long journey.”

“Then you’d best get started. The sooner you set off the sooner you can be home again. If you get home fast enough I might be convinced to make you some rabbit stew for dinner, that usually makes you feel better.” With one more ruffle Madara stood up and rolled his shoulders to loosen them in preparation of a day’s work.

As he stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him he could hear Izuna beginning to cough and he winced, glad that today his brother would be getting at least some relief. Their tiny, nameless village being too small to warrant a physician of their own, Izuna travelled every two or three months to see the witch doctor in the closest actual town. Madara would prefer to seek the help of someone a little more reputable but even that hack healer’s services had slowly been chipping away at whatever savings he tried to gather, emptying his purse again and again with every visit. Still, he couldn’t exactly bring himself to regret the money spent. An empty purse was better than one more grave in the back field.

Dawn sunlight spread her fingers across the sky as he stepped outside to head for the largest building in their village, an inn which also doubled as the tavern where old men gathered to jaw the day away and young man came to cool their parched throats after long hours working their fields. For all that Madara was bred and built for farm work their family had no land of their own and so he earned his money caring for the stables at the inn every day from dawn until well after dusk.

His work wasn’t nearly as hard as many others in their small little corner of the world and Madara did try to give his best to every task, caring for the horses that came in however he could, hoping that they enjoyed the rest after their own hours of labor. The only problem he had lay in the fact that most of the other villagers looked down on the last surviving Uchiha boys. Stablehand they called him, never his name, and to Izuna they made signs of the cross to ward off whatever evil had given him his sickness. If their father had ever given them one good gift in life it was the gift of pride enough for Madara to hold his head high no matter how many times one of the local farmers came riding in to the tavern courtyard and ordered him around like a lord with a servant, demanding more than Madara had any way of giving.

Today wasn’t so bad, to his relief. Days when Izuna left for town were always days full of distraction, his thoughts constantly wandering away from him down the road, but the village folk weren’t always as forgiving. Madara knew it was because the rain had encouraged many of them to stay home rather than ride in to the village square for a few drinks and he was glad of the chance to let his mind stray after his brother as it so often did during these visits.

Of the people that did come to the tavern very few arrived during what would have been daylight hours if not for the pall of the autumn storms arriving much later in the season than usual. Madara greeted their mounts before the men and spoke softly under his breath as he removed saddles, offered hay, or toweled down wet coats until they were dry enough for a quick brush. Since he knew that none of them would be leaving very soon he made sure to house each mount in stables close to each other so they could lean over the stable doors and nose at each other as they tended to do. The horses here knew each other’s faces as well as their humans’.

When evening fell several more arrived but still not nearly as many as usually showed up in better weather. On some days in winter when there were less crops to tend to it was common for Madara to be kept running back and forth between this stable and the barn out where he usually brought the mounts when there were no more stables left unoccupied, frantic to see to everyone’s needs while also dealing with farmers who thought themselves more important than the mayor. Today he found quite a bit of time to lounge inside one of the stalls, napping quickly and knowing he was safe from crashing hooves, dreaming unhappily of all the terrible things that never happened but he still insisted on worrying about. Just because he knew that Izuna was smart enough to avoid the spots where bandits commonly waited did not mean there would never be a bandit clever enough to hide somewhere new.

At the end of the day Madara was fairly chomping at the bit to go home and soothe his overactive imagination with proof that his brother was just fine. He barely managed to wait until the boy who watched the stables at night arrived before bolting out the door and hurrying along the dusty roads out of the town square. Never did the walk feel so long as when he needed it to be shorter.

If he had been hoping for good news, however, he was left unsatisfied. Horror filled him instead as he approached their home to find their old mare standing outside the pasture that had always been just a little too small for her, saddle and bridle still in place and very clearly growing uncomfortable. Madara broke out in to a run. The mare snorted at him when he took the reins and pet her nose, lipping gratefully at his hand when he offered a carrot out of sheer habit.

“Where is Izuna?” he asked even though he knew it was ridiculous. A horse could not answer.

One glance at the saddle told him that his worst nightmares had been realized at last. Izuna’s bags were still there, no effort made to remove them or the tack, and that was all he needed to know. Even during the worst of his fits Izuna had always insisted on at least attempting to make the horse comfortable before he found his own rest.

“I know you’re tired,” Madara whispered, fear choking his words. “Please work just a little longer. We have to find him.”

Glad that he was already dressed for the evening chill, uncaring of the rain wetting his hair, he swung up in to the saddle and gently guided his mare around back the way it seemed she had come all on her own, following the roads home as she had a hundred times before even without a rider to show her the way.

Outside the village where no lanterns were lit and no fire burned brightly through curtained windows it was hard to see more than few feet in front of his own mount. Even the moon was barely a help once they entered the forest not too far past the last of his neighbor’s houses. Madara cursed softly under his breath and gently patted the mare’s neck, mumbling apologies and hoping that she didn’t stumble. A broken knee was the opposite of what he needed at the moment.

It was the darkness that began him on the journey that would change his life. Madara had lived in this village since he was born, had travelled these roads and scampered through the forests since he learned to walk on his own two legs. He knew every path like he knew the callouses on his own hands. It should have been impossible for him to take the wrong way but in the dark it was easy to mistake one copse of trees for another and so he turned where, if daylight were filtering through the leaves, he would have known he should not have been able to turn. He rode with his eyes squinted tightly as he tried to make shapes out of the shadows and continued on unaware of what awaited him.

Finally there came something he could not ignore or explain away as one tree that might look similar to another. A light in the distance that should not be there drew his attention until the mare came to an abrupt halt and tossed her head. Madara brought his eyes back to the path and found that he had arrived at a massive gate half again taller than himself. His eyes widened. With one hand he calmed the mare and with the other he held tighter to the reins, almost afraid to discover what lay beyond. No gate should have been here in this forest. Indeed, nothing but beasts should live in these woods besides the witch that was said to haunt one of the lakes to the east and yet even her he had never seen any signs of in all his years of exploration. Madara swallowed thickly, considered the light in the distance once more, and came to a decision. Now was not the time to explore such mysteries.

At least, that was his thought until he shifted his weight with the intention of turning the mare only to freeze as his eyes found a new surprise that captured him entirely. He would know that jacket anywhere. Faded blue ribbon sewn along the collar, patched a dozen times and more, he had made that jacket with his own two hands for Izuna’s fifteenth birthday using the last of the funds their parents had left for them when they disappeared to never return.

Now it lay bloody and torn on the ground just inside the gate, visible by a shaft of moonlight breaking through the clouds just as his eyes passed in that direction.

With panic suffusing his being Madara all but threw himself bodily off of his mount and lunged around the open gates to pick up his brother’s jacket, holding it like a precious sheet of glass. His horror only increased to see that the tears appeared to be caused by what looked like teeth. Just thinking about what that could mean was so distracting he very nearly didn’t notice the footprints but when he did Madara folded his knees to squint at the ground, jacket still clutched tightly to his chest. Both human and animal tracks danced across each other following a path towards that distant light.

And so he must follow, obviously. Izuna had never been quite as hardy as him even before the sickness began wasting his body and Madara had never once resented his self-imposed duty of shouldering as many of the other’s burdens as possible. Protecting the last of his family was something he would have done even if he hadn’t loved Izuna as his entire world.

The mare nickered softly when he swung around to her and pulled at the oilskin bags still tied to her back so he could rummage through the contents. Having packed them himself he knew exactly where to look and gave a low cry of triumph when his fingers closed around the handle of a small torch. In another small pocket he found flint and a knife, all of which he pulled out and hurried just far enough away from his mount that he could light the torch without causing her to panic and bolt away when he needed her most. She was silent when he swung back up in to the saddle, moving forward easily when he nudged her to do so with his light held high and hissing angrily in the rain.

Yellow light spilled ahead of them as they walked, illuminating the never-ending trail of footprints always moving steadily towards what looked to be another torch in the distance. Paw prints almost seemed to walk right over top of the human tracks like the animals were stalking the prey they had allowed to get away. Or perhaps they were chasing, though by the pattern Madara would have guessed only Izuna to be running.

He was so caught up in watching the ground that he almost failed entirely to notice the massive shapes looming out of the darkness until one moment he was alone on a trail and the next he understood that it was, in fact, a driveway as he lifted his head to find himself staring up at a looming castle. It was impossible that there should be anything even a quarter of this size anywhere near these woods and yet here it was. Massive blocks of stone carved in to gruesome shapes guarded the entrance of an honest to god palace, towers and turrets reaching up out of sight to the rainclouds above. Even craning his neck backwards to look up Madara could not see the rooftops but he could see hundreds of windows in patterns of stained glass, their subjects hidden by the darkness around him.

And of course it was as he took in the incredible sights before him that his torch finally gave in to nature, too wet at last to go on. Madara grunted in surprise when he was plunged in to darkness. Then he grunted again as he tossed the now-useless stick of wood aside and gently slipped out of the saddle, leading his mare around to where he had spotted a small alcove with water and hay ready for visitors.

“I know it’s been a long day for you already,” he murmured a he tied the lead to a misshaped gargoyle. “Please bear it just a little longer until I make sure he’s okay. I’m sure they’ll let us rest for the night too if they’ve already taken him in. Gods but I hope they took him in…”

With his heart clenched as tightly as his fists, no weapon to keep close now that he’d stupidly thrown away the torch he could have used as a club, Madara approached the doors of the castle and hoped that someone might still be awake to answer his call. The sound his fists made against wood reverberated around him like a drum yet still somehow managed to sound too small for the space. He cringed even as he tried again after a few minutes had gone by with no response. If he needed to bloody his knuckles banging on the door or wake the whole castle screaming he was not leaving this place until he was certain of Izuna’s fate here at the end of the footprints.

On the fourth round of knocking he heard a click and the door swung open a few inches as though unlocked from the inside. Madara blinked, freezing in place. No face popped in to view and the door was not pulled further open. It was possible he had rattled the latch open with his banging, in which case he knew that it would be the height of poor manners to enter without an invitation.

He didn’t care.

Inside the foyer it was warm and dry compared to the weather outdoors and yet the massive space carried the same pervasive chill characteristic of all large buildings made from stone. Madara shivered just looking around and thinking of how awful it would be to live in a place like this.

“Hello?” he called out, hoping at least for someone to come light a fire while he asked his questions.

When he received no answer Madara stepped a bit further in, squinting around as best he could. Though the moon seemed to be coming out of hiding from behind the clouds her rays could only barely penetrate the thick layer of dust and grime coating the inside of each windowpane. From what he could make out Madara thought he could see marble tile at his feet and a barren expanse of emptiness where he would have thought any noble rich enough to have a castle would have flaunted their wealth with opulent furniture. The lack of wood or carpet to fill the room made every shift and step echo twice as loudly as it should have.

“Is anyone here?” he tried again, reluctantly raising his voice. “My brother- he was lost on the road. I have reason to believe he took shelter here. He’s very sick, I just want to know he’s alright.”

No answer came still, though for a moment he thought he heard someone scurrying behind him. When he turned there was nothing but a candelabra with three candlesticks waiting on a table like a gift from the gods. Madara wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before even as he hurried over and began rifling through the drawers of the table it was on looking for a match or flint or anything. He rumbled with satisfaction to finally come up with a long match that he struck and used to light all three candles. New shadows danced along the walls when he turned and cast about the room with better vision.

The place looked even more cold and empty in the light – but that was not what caught his eye. In a tall chair by a cold fireplace on the far side of the room where he hadn’t been able to see through the darkness there sat a pair of boots that were all too familiar. Raising the candelabra Madara looked down. More footprints. He needed no more proof to know that his brother was here, though by the single trail of prints it looked like he had been alone when he made his way to the chair. Madara followed the prints and knelt down to brush his fingers against the leather, unsurprised to find them barely damp. They had been abandoned here some time ago.

Standing again, Madara looked around and harrumphed. The servants here must be poorly trained for absolutely no one to have answered his call. Even at this time of night there should always be someone awake to welcome callers; he wasn’t even a member of the gentry and he knew that.

“If no one will invite me then I’ll just have to invite myself,” he grumbled under his breath.

Armed with his borrowed candelabra Madara strode out for the grand staircase he knew would have caught his eye if he were Izuna. No more footsteps had marked the dust in any direction after they reached the chair, extremely suspicious but not impossible if the dust had since been disturbed and then allowed to settle again. It would be an outlandish coincidence that it only happened on one side of that chair by the fireplace and not the other but not completely impossible.

On the second floor Madara took the left path mostly by whim – until he realized he could hear distant voices in that direction. Finally having signs of human life to pull him onward, he hurried his steps and called out, unsurprised but a little annoyed to get no answer again. For as long as he followed the voices they strangely never seemed to get any louder. No matter if he walked slower or faster the voices seemed always several halls away, muffled as though by the walls between or by hands being held in front of their mouths. By the time Madara realized he was no longer walking through richly decorated hallways but had entered some sort of barren stone tower he had passed annoyed and moved on to angry.

“Whatever the game is here,” he said to himself, “I do not appreciate it.” There was really no point in lowering his volume considering how no one ever seemed close enough to hear him in a place like this. Which meant, obviously, that this was the time someone did hear him.

“Madara?” That voice was familiar, beloved, and much too small.

“Izuna! Where are you?”

Just inside the light of his candelabra he could see a pale arm jutting out in to the hallway and waving about as he heard, “I’m here! Can you see me?”

Madara very nearly dropped his only source of light in the scramble to reach his brother. Then he almost dropped it again with shock as he reached the spot where he’d seen that desperately waving arm and he realized why Izuna hadn’t just come out in to the hallway entirely. He was caged! The tower he had found his way in to was a dungeon of sorts with one poor sickly prisoner locked inside of a cold and empty room, not even a blanket to keep him off the floor.

“What happened?” Madara demanded as he fell to his knees and haphazardly placed the candles aside so he could take the freezing cold hands reaching for him. “How the hell did you end up here?”

“You have to go!”

“Are you insane, Otouto? I’m not going anywhere without you! Where are the guards? I’m sure I can reason with them; or scream them down if I have to.”

“No you can’t! Please just go. You don’t understand, if you stay then he’ll find you!”

Madara snorted, reaching farther in to pull more of that shaking body towards the warmth he had to offer. “Don’t be daft. Whatever dumbass noble was stupid enough to lock you up – for what? Trespassing after you were clearly attacked by wolves? – I’m sure I could take him. One fist in the nose and he’ll be begging me to let him unlock this door.”

Pride, he’d been told a time or two in his life, was the reason he’d experienced so many troubles already so early in life. It had ever been his biggest downfall. Watching the horror fill his brother’s face as Izuna’s eyes slid away from his own and rose up, up, up with stark terror writ plainly in their depths, Madara wondered who his pride had led him to insult this time. He refused to show any sign of nerves as he twisted to look over his shoulder, braced, determined to stand his ground until this unlawful imprisonment was reversed.

He was met first with the sight of pale white fur, so much that he wondered if perhaps the wolves that attacked before had followed his brother here in to the castle. Then he noticed that the legs were much too long and bipedal. As he lifted his eyes he watched the fur fade away to white flesh, two arms hanging low with hands that were almost human but for the long claws sharp at the end of each finger. Burned across the creature’s clavicle was a symbol like a double ended pitchfork that almost called to something in the back of his memory where Madara could not spare a moment to reach for the connection. He tilted his head back and very carefully clamped his teeth down on the scream which rose up as terror filled him too.

Red eyes glowed even in the shadows they watched him from several feet above where his own height would reach if he were standing. The features were almost disturbingly human but twisted and hidden behind the unruly shag of a thick white mane, two horns as thick as his own wrists rising from the mess to twist back and then soar upwards again. Markings that had either been painted or burned or even scarred in to the skin drew lines across that terrifying face.

And then the mouth opened, lips parting to reveal sharp teeth, and a rumbling snarl spilled out so deep Madara felt it vibrating in his very bones.

“The prisoner remains,” the beast declared. “He was caught trespassing on my property much the same as you now do so yourself. If you do not wish to join him in the cell then I must insist you leave and forget that you were ever here.”

“How the hell could I forget you?” Madara demanded in his shock. Unsurprisingly, the beast bared even more teeth in response.

“You will forget. All who survive to leave this place forget.”

Since Madara had no idea what that meant he really had no idea of what to say. His mind was entirely empty of everything but the feral need to run as far and as fast as he could from this living nightmare that stood just waiting to consume him. And he remained that way, frozen and scared but too proud to scream, until a hand reached through the bars behind him to grasp his fingers and he remembered Izuna. Tired and ill Izuna who would die if he stayed here in a place like this, drafty and without access to his medicine.

“Let me take his place,” he bartered.

“Brother no!”

“Please,” he went on, ignoring his sibling’s outburst. “He is ill, he was only on the road to seek help for the sickness. If you have to punish anyone then let me stay and be your prisoner.”

At his back Izuna gave a sob that nearly shattered his heart in his chest but he held strong, lifting his chin and staring this beast in his glowing red eyes. For so many years he had tucked his brother in to bed and kissed him on the head with promises that he would always be ready to stand as a wall against whatever dangers befell them. Now was the time to be a man of his word. If giving himself over to whatever evil purpose this beast needed a human sacrifice for could save his brother he would do so more willingly than he drew his next breath.

Unfamiliar voices murmured in the shadows but Madara didn’t dare look away no matter how much he wanted to glare at the ones who had led him here to his fate.

“You swear that you will remain here and make no attempts to escape?” the beast growled. Madara swallowed against the lump in his throat and nodded.

“I swear.”

“So be it.” For one shining moment relief swept through his veins and he thought that he had won an easy victory. Then suddenly he found himself being lifted bodily from the ground with an almost casual swipe of one clawed hand, the door to Izuna’s cell torn open for him to be tossed inside like a rag doll. “Ancient magics hear your words, human. Now you are bound to this place and your brother to you. Enjoy your imprisonment.”

“What!?”

Madara let Izuna scramble to help him off the floor but the moment he had regained his feet he was rushing to the door that slammed shut in his face, fingers wrapping around the bars to watch his jailor storm down the hallway with ponderous steps.

“Please don’t,” Izuna tried but it was no use.

“You can’t do this! This is unlawful imprisonment! Why are you doing this you…you…-!”

Half faded in to shadows as he moved out of the light, the beast turned back to regard him with cold eyes and an expression that might almost be sad were it not for the inhumanity of his twisted body.

“Monster?” the thing finished for him in a low rumble and as he stared after the retreating form Madara couldn’t help but agree.