A Stardust fanfic by Blood-red-Wolf aka. Pinstriped Armani

Summary: Tristan is captured and taken to the castle by Septimus while he is separated from Yvane, Septimus attempts to get the information of the fallen star’s whereabouts from Tristan through whatever means necessary…(AU where Septimus knew that fallen star was where he would find the ruby)

Warnings: Torture, slash, angst, also; Septimus and Tristan are related…(but they don’t know it) :) and I also have to warn Septimus fans, he is not quite as nice as he was made out to be in the movie, this is a darker side to him...not that that’s ever a bad thing…

The House of Wolves

Chapter I

Tristan shuddered at the sound of the thrumming hoof-beats that was the continuous reminder of the pursuit. Whoever, or whatever was following him was a mystery to him, the reason of their pursuit even more a mystery.

Fear was churning in his gut as he hid alongside the beaten path; Tristan prayed that his pursuers would overtake him. The hoof beats began to build to a climax, the snorting of horses and crack of whips joined in the cacophony.

He should never have crossed the wall.

He was in over his head.

And now he was going to die.

The hoof beats passed by him, the rider’s whips smacked their horse’s hides.

A brief silence.

Tristan held his breath.

Another horse cantered slowly by. Tristan panicked, the only thought in his mind: Tracker.

“I’ve found prints!” was the shout that echoed across the forest, ringing clearly to the other riders, who, Tristan soon discovered, had stopped not far off into the thin trees.

The boy froze, attempted to inch further into the bushes, make no sound, escape. But it was futile, what was the use in running, when he would just be running further into a world that he was a stranger to?

In a second, Tristan was snatched from his hiding place, wrestled to the ground and roughly restrained.

The boy looked up at his captors, struggling valiantly, not wanting to abandon Yvane, or his quest to return her to Wall, but the man that held him down was strong, far stronger than Tristan, and kept the boy down as easily as a cat may pin a mouse.

Tristan saw the rest of the group of riders beginning to approach; the pitch-black horses were tethered to the sparse trees. Fear nagged at him again, making him go limp in the tracker’s vice-like grip.

“I got ‘im sir.” The tracker stated proudly to the dark-haired man that was obviously the leader, “the little runt was crawling about in those there bushes.” He finished with a smirk while pushing Tristan, bound and struggling again, towards the leader.

The Dark-haired man smiled maliciously, his heavy lidded green eyes studied Tristan with something reminiscent of a wolf. He leaned in close, so close that Tristan and his breath mingled in a white cloud in the freezing, evening air.

“So you’re the boy,” he said in a voice that reeked of faked kindness and insincerity, “they said that you were travelling with a girl…” his voice changed, irritated, “where is she? Where is the girl?” He shook Tristan roughly.

Tristan struggled to hold the icy gaze of the green eyes, his will to fight diminished by the instinct to protect Yvane and return her to Wall.

“I…I don’t know…” he stuttered numbly, managing to glare angrily at his questioner.

The leader drew back, and looked Tristan directly in the eyes. “You are going to regret lying to me boy. You surely know who I am?”

Tristan was silent.

The leader’s expression took on a bored look, “You cannot be in Stormhold and not know of the seven princes…I am Septimus, the seventh son.” He looked inquiringly at the young man.

Tristan mouthed a silent, “oh.” As if he knew exactly what Septimus was speaking about, he glanced nervously at the sinister-looking men that flanked the Prince, the fear that he had felt earlier, returning.

“You’re not going to answer my previous question, are you boy?” The leader asked rhetorically.

He smiled again, more malevolently than before.

“Believe me boy, you will speak. I know that you were with the girl that I seek…my spies reported it less than twelve hours ago. I must know her whereabouts, and you will not hamper my quest.” Septimus’s green eyes were a cloudy hazel when he said this, “I will use whatever tactics I must to make you speak.”

Something in Tristan held strong. Something told him not to tell this man anything, to protect Yvane, deny even meeting her.

Septimus turned abruptly on his heel, shoving Tristan back to the guards and knocking the wind out of him.

“Chain him, and take him to the castle. It is painfully obvious that he is lying, my spies were not mistaken.” Septimus growled, his shoulder-length dark-brown hair whipping out behind him as he turned to the guards holding Tristan.

“You will not last long boy.” The Prince snarled with an abruptness and finality that shook Tristan to the core.

The boy was secured with manacles that chaffed uncomfortably on his thin wrists, the chains a dead weight. Two guards hefted him onto the back of one of the largest horses, the animal having to bear the weight of its rider and the prisoner.

Tristan was seeing this as if it were a dream, it was not his body being roughly strapped to the horse, not his wrists that were bruised by the manacles, not him who was being taken to a castle in a land that he was never supposed to set foot into in the first place. What would his father think if he never returned? Would he think that Tristan had found his mother and had abandoned Wall? And what of Yvane? He would never win his love’s heart without her…

The boy’s thought swirled blankly, he was now on the horse, and they were moving…away from the wall, away from Yvane, and away from his village…Tristan’s vision swam, his chains clinked, and the horses thundered, the world slowly faded out…