Chapter Text
Two hundred years I spent in that miserable hole in the ground.
Two hundred years I spent in that state of not quite awake, not quite asleep.
Two hundred years since they killed my Louis.
Two hundred years I've had to remember every last moment I had with that beautiful man.
--*--*--
The disease was getting worse and yet, Owen continued to ignore it.
He hid the blisters and boils under layers of bandage, not to hide himself from others, but from himself.
Still, everyday at the break of dawn Owen slipped out his front door to do the only thing he knew how:
Fell trees.
Owen was never taught to read or to write, there was no one to take on that task. So, he scraped by on his own, selling his wood and carvings to the nearby village of Oakhurst. Although the villagers treated him like dirt, fled the moment he set foot near them, they would always buy from him- since it suited them of course.
So, this lousy profession of his is what brings him to drag himself out of bed one morning and make the trek to the mayor's house. He had hoped he could gain the mayor's approval to begin construction on a small, new mill.
Owen had heard of the mayor's kindness, when he was passing through the village the occasional whispers would meet his ears.
Now, he would put the mayor's personality to the real test.
How would he react to Owen, the man with the disease. The outcast of Oakhurst, dead to all.
As Owen approached, he's slightly out of breath. The mayor's house was modest, a little too cosy looking. It looked like any other house except for maybe the well thatched roof of the craftsmanship of the front door and window frames.
Approaching the door, Owen raised his fist to knock and immediately had second thoughts. Would the Mayor be just like everyone else? Would he be shunned as per usual?
Owen, with the scars and the boils.
Owen, who was getting weaker with every passing day.
Before he could hesitate any further, Owen raised a bandaged fist and rapped on the door three times.
One, two, three. Owen found himself counting the seconds he stands there. Four, six...ten? He didn't get the time to chastise himself before the door swung open.
There, standing on the threshold, was the prettiest man Owen has ever seen. His features were all perfectly symmetrical, not a blemish in sight. There was an almost ethereal glow about him and his hair was white, although not the sort of white you associate with old people, cool white hair, the likes of which Owen has not seen before.
"Can I help you, young man?" The person- mayor asked.
Owen opened his mouth once and finding no words leaving, forced them out. "I- um... I wished to speak to you in relation to a new mill outside of town Mayor Goldsmith, sir."
"Yes, yes, you must be the town's lumberjack." The Mayor Goldsmith said. "Do come in so we can discuss this mill you speak of."
The Mayor stepped back from the door to allow Owen entry. Owen found himself frozen in place. Had he not heard the talk? Had he not seen the bandages yet? He just invited Owen into his home. That had... never happened before.
Stumbling slightly, Owen forced his feet to move, carrying him inside.
The entrance way was lovelier than Owen could have anticipated and again, he noted the craftsmanship of the furnishings: old but well built. The mayor followed him in and closes the door behind him, shutting out the chill of autumn that was beginning to seep in. "Would you like some tea...?" The mayor trailed off, obviously waiting for a name.
"Owen." He said. "and that would be amazing, thank you." It had been a while since Owen had been able to afford tea, he barely had enough to feed himself.
"I shall go fix us a pot then." The mayor smiled kindly. "There are seats in there if you would like to sit."
"Thank you." Owen said again, slowly walking into the room the Mayor has gestured to.
Owen really would like to sit down, his limbs were aching from the walk over and he was beginning to tire.
The room in question was a cosy sitting room, a fire on the back wall, a low table in the on front of it. There were two chairs with a pillow on each on either side of the table. Owen sank down onto one, groaning at the relief in his stiff joints. He could hear the other man bustling around in the kitchen for a moment before it occurred to him- the house is quiet aside from the clattering echoing from the kitchen. Did the mayor have no staff to help him with tasks?
That train of thought was cut off abruptly as Mayor Goldsmith entered the room, weighed down by a tray.
The tray was laden with teacups, a tea pot, some sandwiches and biscuits.
Owen had never had biscuits. He was far too poor to be able to purchase luxuries like that.
"Help yourself." The mayor gestured to the food and drink, unaware of how long it had been since the lumberjack had had a nice meal.
"Thank you sir." Owen wasted no time in beginning to eat. It wouldn't be long until Mayor Goldsmith realised what he is and kicks him out.
When Owen next glanced up, the mayor's eyebrows are drawn together, not in disgust, rather concern. Nothing was said about Owen's obvious hunger as the mayor continued speaking, "So about this mill."
Meaningless talk ensued for the better part of half an hour until the mayor had final given him the permission he sought. He was told that he could choose the plot of land as he wished for his mill.
"So Owen." Mayor Goldsmith clasped one had in the other. "I have not seen you in the town, why might that be?"
Owen felt his eyebrow raise slightly at the question. "I do not live inside the walls of this town."
I am not welcome inside the walls of the town. He never speaks the words but he has a feeling the mayor can see right through him.
"Alone?" When Owen nodded, the mayor looked slightly surprised. "It's not particularly safe out there, even for a strong young man like yourself. The wolves are around at this time of year." Strong young man. If only he knew the weakness that Owen felt in his very bones.
"I have no interest of living in town." Despite his best efforts to stay pleasant, Owen's tone was cold. "The wolves are the least of my concern sir, no offence." His concerns lay with not only his disease but also basic survival. There were times, especially during the winter that Owen found himself unable to find food for himself. This led to days at a time with little to no substance.
"None taken." The mayor sounded as cheery as before. "Please Owen, don't call me 'sir'. That is a title for stuffy nobles. You may call me Louis."
Owen made a small noise of agreement, fidgeting with the fabric of his bandages. He was becoming restless now but he did not want to seem impolite towards the Mayor- towards Louis.
Louis seemed to pick up on his discomfort. "You have no obligation to stay if you don't wish to, Owen."
Was he really that easy to read? "I had better be off then." Owen stood, cringing internally at the stiffness in his limbs. "Thank you for your hospitality si- I mean, Louis."
"It was my pleasure." The mayor extended a hand for Owen to shake.
For a moment Owen debated the chance of his disease spreading through such a brief contact. He decided there's no harm in the quick handshake they make and he turned to leave.
"Would you allow me to invite you back for tea again sometime?" Louis' eyes were kind, something to!d Owen to trust him.
"I would enjoy that very much."
What Louis saw in Owen that he deemed worthy of another meeting, he did not know but he was not going to complain about free food and maybe a little bit of company.
He didn't have that many years left anyway.