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“Bueno.” His father grabs his glass before leaning back in his seat again, the leather letting out a small squeak at the movement. “Then protect our women, guerreropequeño. When the time comes, you’ll be their last line of defense against our enemies. Can you do it?”
Nic’s back straightens where it had started to sag and his gaze snaps to his father's, features solid and determined as his hands tighten over the gun, pulling it to his chest.
“I can.”
His father merely nods in response, his eyes flaring with pride, yet twisted just slightly with something akin to fear. Something that Nic misses altogether. “Go to bed,guerrero pequeño.Sueña mientras puedas.”
“Yes,Papá.”
* * *
“¡Nicolás!” The woman’s voice is beautiful, even when shouting from somewhere in the large house. It has a throaty quality to it that aspiring singers would kill for.
Nic–appearing only a little older than the last vision–doesn’t react in fear or negatively at all, he merely snickers as quietly as possible as he runs on bare feet from the large kitchen, arms full of flaky sweets of some sort. He bypasses one wide archway to sprint down another, his giggles following him the entire way.
Rounding a corner, he’s suddenly tackled to the ground, a couple of the pastries flying from his grip as he lets out a shout of surprise. The woman who tackles him starts to mercilessly poke at his sides, drawing his frantic laughter to the surface, her long, dark hair swinging into his face as she holds him still below her.
“I said those are for our guests tonight,pollito!”
“¡Mamá!”Child Nic squeals and squirms, his face full of unrestrained glee.
“You naughty, naughty boy!” After a few more pokes and joyful laughter, Nic’s mother leans back and gazes down at him, her eyes softening and shining with love and adoration.
Before she can say or do anything else, though, there’s a loud bang somewhere in the house. Her eyes widen with terror as she quickly scoops Nic into her arms and runs to a closed door. She gently places him inside of the small linen closet and presses one finger over her full lips with a plea in her eyes.
Nic nods solemnly, all carefree joy stolen in that one solitary moment as she backs away from him and shuts the door.
Through slats in the wood, he peeks outside of the darkness, watching his mother spin and collect his hard earned tasty treats from the floor, placing them out of sight before sitting stonily in wait on the ornate couch in front of a grand fireplace.
“Where is he?!” The furious voice is followed by heavy stomps right before a dark haired man enters the room, immediately rounding on Nic’s mother and grabbing her roughly by the hair.
“He’s not here.”
“That’s not what I asked, you whore!” He slams a fist into her face, letting his hold on her hair go as she is thrown to the floor by the momentum. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. He’s not here!” Her voice is strong, her back straight as she pulls herself from the floor, standing directly in front of her attacker with her chin held high.
“¡Puta inútil! El realmente debería haber entrenado mejor.”The man stares down at the small woman with disgust evident, lips pulled up in a sneer, and violence brimming beneath every twitch of his muscles. Before he can even lift his hand to try and strike her down again, the closet door slams open and Nic emerges from the darkness, his small trembling hands holding the heavy steel of a gun and pointing it straight at the man.
“Don’t you touch her!” His voice wobbles slightly, but it isn’t from fear. Anger burns hotly beneath his skin, fueling him, pushing him.
“Ah, the little prince’s balls have finally dropped. Isn’t that just…grand.” The man does not wilt or show the slightest hesitation at being held at gunpoint. His body practically radiates irritation, sarcasm dripping from his tone. Just like that, he dismisses Nic completely and turns back towards his mother. “Where the fuck is your keeper,puta?!”
Nic steps forward as the man shouts at his mother, who is mostly ignoring the threat to shake her head pleadingly at Nic, moisture filling her deep brown eyes. When she doesn’t answer the question, the man winds up as if to hit her again, but a loud bang deafens everyone in the room.
With his fist still partly raised, the man turns disbelievingly, eyes widened with shock as red blooms across his white dress shirt. Nic drops the gun at the same moment his mother screams. The man falls to his knees, his hands moving to touch his chest and coming away wet with blood. He gazes down at the sight as if mesmerized, before falling face-forward onto the white rug beneath him and not moving again.
“No,hijo, no! What have you done?!” His mother shouts as she scrambles around the room, panic practically emanating from her every pore.
“I… I protected you?” Nic’s soft voice ends in a tilt. As if at first he was confident in that answer, but is now being forced to question it.
His mother stops moving, coming to a stop in front of Nic and bending to his level. Sadness permeates from her gaze as tears stream down her cheeks.
“Yes. Of course you did,miguerreropequeño. Yes, you did.” Acceptance settles over her watery eyes and she smiles softly at him. The bruise on her cheek is stark against once flawless skin and a small bead of blood settles motionlessly on her bottom lip. “My little warrior. Why don’t you take abuñueloand freshen up for dinner. Our secret,si?”
Nic doesn’t answer, his gaze straying past her to the man now laying dead in the sitting room, but she quickly turns him back towards her, a warning bite now in her tone. “Go now, guerreropequeño.”
He nods, bending and retrieving the gun he dropped when his mother turns her back once more. With one last glance at the man lying face down on the blood soaked rug, he spins and leaves the room, confident in his act of heroism.
