Deeper Meaning

Summary: Follows Every Breath You Take. What if...it was possible to Awaken a Lifeless fully?

Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the book Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson; AU; references to violence; some references to suicidal behaviour

Pairing: Arsteel/Denth

Author's Note: A new multi-fandom series where I answer a 'What if?' question with a fic. Feel free to make suggestions.

Warbreaker is an awesome fantasy book currently available to read for free on the author's site. It's a really good world with very intriguing characters.

The magic system in the world of Warbreaker relies on breath. The higher number of breaths people have, the higher level of power/ability they have, to the point of being able to awaken corpses. These corpses retain muscle memory, but little else and have to be given orders, or Commands.

The other main thing about this world is the Returned. These are people who have died in a way that demonstrates a virtue (e.g. bravery) and are able to return back to life, though lacking memory of their previous life.

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Becoming aware, truly aware, had taken time. He wasn't even sure of when it had started, only that he had noticed the difference the longer the princess had been with them. Even when she'd got away the second time, having caught onto Denth's ulterior motives, it hadn't stopped him longing for colour; or at least the ability to speak.

Like one of the living. Like the Returned he'd once been.

In all of the confusion of the Lifeless soldiers marching on Idris and then the stone army, Kalad's army, Awakening to march after them, he'd been separated from Jewels. Separated...and able to think. To reason. Not just stay in one place and wait for orders.

He'd been a good tracker once. A lifetime ago. Back before they'd all changed.

In the aftermath of the confusion of so many stone soldiers marching after the flesh Lifeless, he was able to leave the city. Walk with sharp, jerky steps he'd never had before. The glimpses of his grey arms and legs drove home to him just what a monster he'd become.

Not the grey of a Drab. The grey of a Lifeless. The grey of death.

The group had made no attempt to hide their presence. Why would they? There was no reason for them to suspect anyone would follow. And he didn't need to sleep. He didn't need to rest. Didn't need to take a break. Twigs snapped against and cracked his skin, but he didn't feel the pain.

He just moved with purpose.

The small group had stopped for the night by the time he reached them. A tiny fire had been left smouldering, wisps of smoke escaping into the air around.

He paused, eyes taking in the three sleeping forms around the fire. Each was wrapped in a coat, as if they were cold; but he had no idea what the temperature was really like. He didn't feel cold. He didn't feel warm either. He didn't feel anything as his gaze drifted over the three sleepers, even though he really should. The two men had been important to him, once. Before the relationship had been fractured.

He must have made a sound. Groaned, perhaps. Or whimpered; not in pain, but at the memory of pain. Either way, one of the men was on his feet; sword drawn, looking around warily.

The other man shifted to his feet as well, but rather than draw his own sword, he just held the sheath in his hand.

The princess, Vivenna, sat up slowly, her hair beginning to lighten to white. “What is it? What's wrong?” Her hand crept towards the hilt of her own sword, but although her fingers wrapped around it, she made no attempt to draw the weapon.

“Someone's close, Princess,” Denth stated. “Watching us.”

Taking that as his clue, he lurched forward, into full view of the campfire.

Vivenna was the first one to react fully to his presence, her eyes raking over his body before darting around frantically. “Clod. Where's Jewels?”

That wasn't his name. He remembered that much.

“Arsteel.”

That triggered something inside him. It still wasn't his true name, but it was more recognisable than 'Clod'. He turned to face the other man, Vasher, and cocked his head to one side.

Vasher stared at him, but only for a second or two before looking away and towards Denth. “Why would she send him on ahead with no orders other than to stand and stare at us? You know Jewels better than I do. What's her motivation?”

“She barely lets him out of her sight,” Denth answered. “The only time he did was when he saved Vivenna from the Lifeless. And from what Jewels was saying, she wasn't expecting him to battle the Lifeless and get injured saving Vivenna. She stitched him up fairly well, though. You'd never know his chest had been opened now.”

He glanced down the length of his own body, remembering the blade being shoved into him. It hadn't killed him, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. He just couldn't show it. Couldn't react to the pain. Perhaps it was due to Commands he didn't remember being given.

“Did he act without being commanded?” Vivenna asked softly.

“That's not possible,” Vasher stated firmly.

Denth took a step closer to Arsteel, peering into his eyes. “We still don't really know much about the Lifeless. If they can think or reason.”

“And how are you going to prove Arsteel's different?” Vasher shook his head. “You're looking for something that's not there.”

“If Arsteel is inside Clod somewhere, he'll be able to act. To influence without needing a Command to interpret.” Denth moved right into his personal space. “Clod would stand there and let me hit him without even attempting to defend himself.” He drove his fist towards Arsteel's face.

It was automatic, instinct driving everything forward. A movement he'd performed several times over before. He didn't step out of the way of the punch. He ducked and he reached up, closing his fingers around Denth's wrist. Before the man could move out of the way, he yanked forward, pulling Denth off balance. And then his free hand connected with a sharply placed smack to Denth's backside.

Silence fell over the area following the crack of hand against clothed bottom.

Vasher was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat. “No one would have commanded him to do that.”

Wrapping his arms around Denth's body was almost automatic. Arsteel couldn't speak; couldn't make his voice work. But he could retain enough of himself to hold onto someone he remembered caring deeply about when he was alive.

Denth didn't pull back from Arsteel's arms. It had been a long time since they'd held onto each other like this and Arsteel wasn't sure he'd let go even with a Command.

“He might have memories and react like Arsteel, but he's still not himself,” Vasher said. “He's a Lifeless. They can't talk.”

“What if he gets more Breath?” Vivenna asked.

“It wouldn't work,” Vasher replied promptly. “All you'd do is waste it. A Lifeless would just soak up any amount of Breath you poured into it.”

“Did any of you try giving Breath to a Lifeless like Arsteel?” she pressed. “Has there ever been a Lifeless like Arsteel before?”

“No.” Denth muttered the word into Arsteel's neck, his warm breath wafting over Arsteel's skin. He held on tightly, like a child clinging to their mother after a nightmare. “Who would risk losing more of their Breath when it sticks to a Lifeless?”

“I want to try it.” Vivenna's voice was firm. Determined. In the same vein, she continued, “Denth clearly needs him. Clod, Arsteel, obviously feels the same. I never realised a Lifeless would hold on so tight without being given a Command.”

“They've always loved each other.” Vasher's voice was soft; wistful, even. “If Denth was Tonk Fah's control, Arsteel was always Denth's.”

He retained enough of himself to hear that note in Vasher's voice, but Denth still held on so tightly to him; and even though his senses shouldn't work in the same way as they had before, Denth's scent washed over him; deep and musky, with a faint hint of sandalwood. He let his nose press against the other man's neck, nuzzling.

Vasher and Vivenna talked quietly for a few moments and then her hand closed around Arsteel's wrist and then the words were uttered: “My life to yours, my Breath become yours.”

Pleasure flooded through him and he rocked backwards; would have fallen, if Denth's grip hadn't been so strong. When he opened his eyes (not even realising he'd closed them), his body was no longer grey. He felt old wounds stitching together; raised his arm to stare at it as his skin lightened. If he cut himself, would he bleed red blood instead of the ichor that had replaced it?

“Arsteel?”

He focused on Denth, looking into the other man's eyes. “I'm here.” His voice came out a croak, sounding dry and hoarse, but it worked.

His eyes suspiciously damp, Denth pressed forward and wrapped his arms tighter around Arsteel, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Turning his head to one side, Arsteel pressed his lips to Denth's, sliding his hand behind the other man's head and clasping it.

Even when they separated from the kiss, Arsteel didn't let go of the other man. He glanced past Denth, towards Vivenna and Vasher, before addressing the man in his arms. “I'm glad to see you and Vasher have finally reconciled.” It was easier to talk the second time. Easier, but strange. His voice sounded overly loud to his own ears.

“I was prepared to let Vasher kill me,” Denth admitted quietly.

Arsteel let his hand slide a bit lower, towards the other man's bottom. He felt Denth tense up, but the other man didn't pull away; and stayed in place when Arsteel swatted him, letting out a choked-sounding sob.

This was the first time in months Arsteel had been fully himself. He wasn't even sure what power had enabled Vivenna to bring him back to some semblance of life. But he was grateful for it; grateful that he could hold Denth in his arms and know what he was doing.

“Denth isn't the only one who's made mistakes and I think a lot of his mistakes came from what I did,” Vasher said quietly. “I....” He took a deep breath and then stepped forward, his earnest gaze meeting Arsteel's eyes. “I killed you, Arsteel. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

One arm stayed wrapped around Denth's waist as Arsteel freed one arm from him and reached out with his other arm. He wrapped it around Vasher's shoulders, drawing him into a tight hug. Holding both men felt good. It felt right.

Arsteel lost track of how long he held onto the two men for. The passage of time didn't seem nearly as important as finally holding onto two of the people he cared most about in the world.

Finally, Vivenna cleared her throat. “Do...do you want me to give you some privacy?” she asked. “So that you can handle things?”

Arsteel didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about. Denth had admitted to trying to manipulate Vasher into killing him; it was obvious that Vasher was suffering from an intense feeling of guilt. There was no way he was going to be able to move them past this without making both of them answer for their actions. He pulled back enough to look at the two other men and raised his eyebrows.

Denth held eye contact with Arsteel before nodding and then shrugging. “It's not like she hasn't seen you swat me twice already,” he said, a tiny bit of humour creeping into his voice. “Besides. She also heard Vasher taking me in hand.” He glanced sideways at the third man, almost seeming to list towards him, as he added, “Instead of what he should have done.”

Arsteel looked at Vasher too and raised his eyebrows.

Vasher could only hold his gaze for a few moments before he looked away, muttering, “It seemed like the best thing to do at the time.” A flush spread across his face.

Arsteel waited, but when no other comment was forthcoming from either man, he locked eyes with Vivenna once more. “Stay or leave. Whichever you feel most comfortable with.” He then hesitated, gaze sliding over first Denth and then Vasher.

This was hardly the first time he'd be taking them both in hand. Even before the fracture in their group, Vasher and Denth had picked at each other; fighting as much as they worked together. Yes, Vasher had ultimately taken on more of a guardian role for Denth, but until they'd settled into those roles, Arsteel had found himself as peacekeeper more often than not.

“Vasher.” He waited until the other man looked at him and then nodded to the sheath Vasher held. “Put Nightblood down. Then I want you to stand facing one of the trees.” There wasn't a corner he could put either of them in, but it wasn't the first time he'd had to improvise.

Vasher stared at him, his mouth set in a thin line. He didn't have to speak; Arsteel could guess at the thoughts whirling inside his mind. He was considering whether he should slip back into the same role as before; if he could trust that Arsteel would no longer allow him to go his own way and instead pull him back.

Fear. Arsteel had allowed it to dictate him once. When he'd chosen to duel Vasher, instead of taking him in hand like the other man had so desperately needed. Arsteel had feared driving an even deeper wedge between the three of them. And ultimately, he had. Ultimately, Denth's dark spiral had continued, until it was nearly too late.

He had more than just his own life to thank the princess for.

Finally, Vasher closed his eyes and bowed his head in acceptance. Swallowing, he took a step back and then walked towards one of the trees. He placed Nightblood on the grass and then stood facing one of the trees.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arsteel noticed Vivenna hadn't moved from her spot; only shifting a little for a better view. He then disregarded her, placing both hands on Denth's upper arms and looking seriously into his eyes. “We've got a lot of ground to cover here.”

Denth didn't look away, meeting Arsteel stare for stare. “Does it make any difference that I'm still tender from Vasher punishing me?”

“I've told you before. It doesn't matter if you've literally gone over his knee even a second before I get my hands on you.” Arsteel squeezed his arms. “You know what I expect of you. You know what I will and won't stand for from you. Don't even think about trying to argue with what you know you deserve.”

“You can't tell me not to think about it,” Denth protested mildly. “Trying to get myself out of trouble comes as naturally as breathing. And it's not like you were around these past couple of years.”

Years. Even for Returned like them, two years was a long time. Using his grip on Denth's arms, Arsteel drew the other man closer, pressing a kiss to his lips; tasting the salt of lingering tears. He pressed until Denth's lips yielded to his and then pulled back just enough to speak. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“You can't promise that.” Denth's voice was barely a whisper; his eyes were damp. “For two years, Arsteel. You didn't know who I was. The only glimpse I had of the real you was when you fought.” He laughed, but there was a hard, bitter edge to it. “I could almost forget, then. That you were dead and gone. That all that was left behind was an empty shell.”

Even before the last words were out of Denth's mouth, Arsteel had him in his arms once more. Denth was warm and solid and fit perfectly against him. “I can't imagine the pain you felt,” he whispered. “But I was fighting my way back to you. I was never going to be away from you forever.”

Denth wrapped his arms around Arsteel in a fierce, tight hug. “Don't you ever get yourself killed again, Arsteel. Next time, I really will follow you into death.” He whispered the words into Arsteel's neck.

In response, Arsteel hugged Denth tighter; perhaps a bit too tight, though the other man didn't protest or try to get away. He clung onto Denth for a few moments, letting himself feel the warm presence of the other man, and then slowly pulled back. He slid his hands down Denth's back, wrapping one arm around his waist and drawing him towards a tree on the other side of the clearing to which Vasher stood.

In lieu of somewhere to sit down and put Denth across his knee, Arsteel propped his leg up against the tree trunk. With Breath-enhanced strength, it was easy to pull the other man up and over his raised leg. It helped that Denth wasn't fighting; and, indeed, helped by pulling himself into the position.

As soon as Denth was settled in place and unlikely to fall, Arsteel raised his free hand and slapped it down sharply.

The smack echoed through the clearing, a dull sound of palm slapping against fabric.

Denth didn't really react, either to the first smack or to the ones that followed, even when Arsteel moved his hand a bit lower to target the other man's thighs. Only when Arsteel had covered his entire backside with the firm smacks three times over did he begin to move. And then it was only to shift slightly.

Deciding that was enough of a warmup, Arsteel tugged Denth's pants and underwear down, baring his backside. It was barely pink, showing little evidence of the swats it had absorbed so far.

The first crack of bare skin to bare skin echoed through the area and Denth gave a barely audible gasp. At the same time, he reached down with one hand and wrapped his fingers around Arsteel's ankle.

The sound of flesh striking flesh was all that filled the clearing and as Arsteel's palm reached Denth's thighs for a fourth time on bare skin, the first hitched sob escaped.

Arsteel paused, letting his hand reddened palm run over Denth's bare back. He waited until the other man's breathing calmed and slowed and then he began to smack the pink skin once more; harder this time.

It was only after reaching Denth's thighs in the newest circuit that the other man lost the ability to hold still, squirming in position over Arsteel's leg.

By the time he paused again, Denth's bottom was a deep red, bordering on scarlet. Quiet, choked back whimpers escaped through the other man's tightly clenched lips.

Arsteel kept his grip firm on Denth with one hand while his other went to his belt. He pulled it loose and doubled it in one fluid motion, speaking quietly. “I don't care what you think you've done. What you think you deserve. You will not force someone else to harm you. To kill you.” He brought the belt down in a hard strike across the fullest part of the reddened buttocks.

Denth's yelp was loud and heartfelt. His whole body tensed before it slumped in position over Arsteel's leg and his tars reached his disciplinarian's ears.

A stripe of dark red showed vividly up against the punished skin. The mark and the tears were almost enough to make him stop. To call it enough.

Almost...but if Vasher hadn't chosen a different path, Denth would have been lost. If he'd succeeded in killing himself....

Despite wanting to make the punishment as memorable as possible, Arsteel couldn't bring himself to use more than a fraction of his true strength. Still, after only a half dozen stripes with the belt, he had to stop.

Denth was crying hard; harder than he ever had at a spanking before. But Arsteel knew it wasn't the physical pain that had broken him. Emotional wounds could hurt even worse than the visible ones; and, in many cases, were much harder to heal.

Arsteel let Denth cry for a few more moments; let him release the poison inside. All through the storm, he kept rubbing the other man's back.

By the time Arsteel helped him to stand, Denth's face was red and tear-stained. But he looked centuries younger; less of a weight on his shoulders than when Arsteel had died.

What are you doing? Arsteel told you to stand still.

Nightblood's voice abruptly echoed through Arsteel's mind; as if the sword had suddenly decided to allow him to hear it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arsteel saw Vasher reaching for the branch of one of the trees. Heard the snap of it being pulled free. Watched as the other man pulled a dagger free from his belt and began to strip the switch of leaves and sharp twigs.

He didn't tell you to cut the trees, the sword continued.

Grasping Denth's shoulder, Arsteel led him towards Vasher and then reached out with his other hand, drawing Vasher towards him.

The other man came willingly, thrusting the switch into Arsteel's hands without a word, his eyes downcast.

Denth stepped into Vasher's spot without hesitation or protest. His hands rested against his sides, avoiding his scarlet bottom and thighs.

“This area is safe to camp for the night.”

Arsteel turned his attention back to Vasher at the words. He knew what the other man meant. Knew that Vasher wanted to be beaten until he couldn't move because of the pain. Even with Breath, recovering fully would take at least a day. That was, if Arsteel punished him as severely as Vasher thought he deserved.

The other man didn't resist as Arsteel grasped his shoulder even tighter, pulling him against his chest. His free arm wrapped secure and snug around Vasher's waist and then he thwapped the switch against the seat of Vasher's trousers.

His entire body jerked and his breath hitched. But he simply wrapped his arms tight around Arsteel's torso and breathed in deep.

The angle meant that Arsteel couldn't get a very strong swing, but he didn't intend to physically break the other man. He just held on tight and snapped the switch against bottom and thighs repeatedly.

After a few rounds, Vasher's body began to shift and a low groan escaped him. He pressed his face into Arsteel's neck, tears soaking skin.

Arsteel didn't keep count of how many times the switch landed. He just kept holding onto the other man until Vasher's whole body slumped against him; and then he stopped s he heard the audible sobs that came from one of his best friends. The switch dropped from his fingers.

Vasher pulled back as soon as the implement hit the grass. He swiped the tears from his face and looked into Arsteel's eyes. “That's not enough.”

“You're asking for a harsher punishment than I would ever give you.” Arsteel shook his head. “No crime is worth that.”

“Murdering my best friend is worth that,” Vasher whispered, his voice breaking.

Arsteel thought about it. He considered leaving the punishment as it stood. But Vasher had never been able to hide. Not from him. Every emotion the other man felt showed vividly on his face; and if Arsteel stopped the punishment here and now, the guilt would be too much to bear. He didn't need to read Vasher's mind to know that.

“You're in my hands, Vasher.” He paused. Long enough for the words to hang in the air between them. To ensure Vasher knew that it wasn't him in control; it wasn't him who decided how long or how harsh a punishment was. He waited long enough for Vasher to nod in acceptance and then he reached out, placing his hands on the other man's waist. He slid Vasher's trousers down, over his hips and legs...baring the bottom half of his body. Then, he gently pulled the other man forward, bending him over under his arm.

Vasher's bottom was already a mass of red stripes from the switch. It must have been painful. Arsteel didn't want to add more pain to what his friend already felt, but he knew Vasher needed this. Needed to feel like he'd paid enough, so they could move past what had happened. So he didn't hold back. He slapped his palm against the red, hot bottom and he did it again and again.

Vasher held still, but the tears were obvious. His sobs carried to Arsteel's ears, the sound deep and harsh. Like they were ripped from somewhere deep inside his soul.

Arsteel kept his grip tight, his arm wrapped around Vasher's chest. “You're my best friend, Vasher. I know the guilt tears you up inside. But I've forgiven you. And I'm back now, brother,” he whispered. “I won't leave you again. I promise.”

No response was voiced, but the sobs increased and Vasher's body abruptly slumped, no longer tense and clenched. His body slumped and Arsteel followed him down. Somehow, they ended up on the grass; Vasher curled in his lap, arms around Arsteel's waist, face buried in his chest as he sobbed hard.

It took a long time for the storm of tears to cease, but eventually, Vasher's body stopped shaking. When he raised his head to look into Arsteel's eyes, his face was red, his eyes large and wet, his nose running...but he snuggled in closer and pressed against Arsteel. “I know you can't promise anything,” he whispered. “But....”

“As long as I have anything to say about it, I won't ever leave you again,” Arsteel promised. He raised his eyes to Denth, still standing by the trees. “Either of you. Come here, Denth.”

The third man stumbled to Arsteel and Vasher, not even bothering to pull up his own trousers. He knelt next to Vasher and threw his own arms around Arsteel, snuggling in close.

The three-way hug went on for a while before Vivenna cleared her throat, alerting Arsteel to her presence once more. He looked up at her, still holding onto the other two men. “My apologies.”

“There's no need.” She walked over to her packs, taking out food and water skins. “But you must be hungry. You didn't eat at all while you were a Lifeless. Not that I saw, anyway.”

“You're right,” Arsteel agreed. “But I didn't really need to. Now that you mention it, though....”

“A meal sounds good.” Vasher straightened, wiping at his eyes. He pulled his trousers back into place and then walked over to join Vivenna at the packs.

Denth didn't move. Instead, he tightened his embrace around Arsteel's waist, snuggled in close and pressed a kiss to his breast. “I love you so much. I'm so glad you're back,” he whispered.

“Me too.” Arsteel tightened his embrace. “I love you. And I won't ever leave you again.” He kissed Denth's hair, sighed and closed his eyes.

Finally, he could take a breather. Finally, he could be with the man he loved. His brother. And a new family member. He'd been a stranger to peace for too long, but no more.

The End