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Alone	By : shidoburrito Category: M through R > The Pendragon Adventure Views: 1403 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pendragon, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Alone
- 1
Hey there folks! Wow! I was so surprised at the great comments on my last fic Matchmaker that I have now been turned into a comment whore (oh no)! Anyways, I had to do a Saint Dane fic, since I love the character to a level that is not healthy. I hope you enjoy!
This is just the first part… smut will follow in the next chapter!
I do not own Pendragon, or any of the characters. This makes me sad.

Part 1: Alone Again…

Saint Dane stood at the window that overlooked the territory of Quillan. He was at least 30 stories up and yet he could still feel the depression that had soaked into the population. Everyone walked in an organized fashion, and cars drove without incident. Everything about this territory looked perfectly organized, but it was the atmosphere that gave it away. A frown made the corners of Saint Dane’s mouth twitch. He should have been happy. Here he was, standing in a deluxe office as one of Blok’s leaders, and the destruction of Mr. Pop had tipped the scales in his favor. He even had a young Traveler to help him in his mission. Yet, it seemed that the depression that covered Quillan, like smog, had infiltrated his body also. Emotions that the demon hadn’t felt in a long time were once again stirring back to life. Saint Dane was lonely.

You can’t possibly be lonely; you’re too busy to be lonely. Only the weak of heart ever feel those emotions, and you destroyed that part of you long ago. Saint Dane closed his eyes and brushed a hand over his head. His fingers felt the rough skin that were the scars running over his head. He looked at his hand in disgust. He missed his hair and was beginning to think that his little pyrotechnic trick had not been the wisest thing he’d ever done. It was great fun to see the looks of horror in the eyes of Mark and Courtney, but he was tired of reaching up to sweep his hair back, only to find that it was gone. Plus he looked absolutely horrendous bald; so much so that he was even scared to look at himself in a mirror at times. The power trip he felt when the travelers looked at him in fear had dimmed and it only made his loneliness increase. No one wanted a tall, bald, scary man with insane white eyes to love them.

Saint Dane’s head snapped up quickly at this thought. Had he really just thought that? Sure he was willing to admit he was lonely, but love didn’t have anything to do with it. Did it? It did once upon a time, but Saint Dane was sure that he’d gotten rid of any weak part of him that could bring him down. Love was for fools. Maybe all he needed was a good fuck.

Saint Dane’s eyes trailed to the office door, where he knew, behind it, was Nevva Winter, organizing something or doing some tedious bit of paperwork. His thoughts of angst took a moment to change to disgust at the thought of having sex with Nevva. She was way too young, and extremely uptight and boring for her age. She was a perfect pawn for Saint Dane’s plan, and a perfectly willing little fool to play along with him, but the thought of her writhing beneath him in pleasure sent shudders of horror down his spine. He did not want to use her in that way. When it came to sex, women were too compliant for Saint Dane, and his taste for rough sex was never satisfied. Men, on the other hand, he had no problem drilling into the bed until even he was sore and exhausted. They were always willing to put up a fight, making Saint Dane’s sadistic conquering of their bodies even more satisfying.

He grit his teeth to try and get those thoughts out of his head. He didn’t want to add lust to the list of long dead feelings to his list. Loneliness was bad enough. Yet he couldn’t help but think of when he was, as he calls it, still “human”. Back when being a Traveler meant adventure and a chance to be with a certain other Traveler that had caught his interest. That was all lost the day he had found out the truth of the Travelers, but what was worse was that it was the same day his love was betrayed. Saint Dane’s eyes squeezed shut as he clamped down on the tears that still arose even to this day. It had been years since he’d caught Press with Osa, but time had always been a lousy healer. It still hurt his heart. He had been so flustered about the secret of the Travelers that Saint Dane had rushed blindly past the evidence of Press’s guest. Only when he saw the two in an intense lip lock did he stop, and stare, and feel his pain and despair deepen.

“God damn it!” Saint Dane shouted and punched his clenched fist into the fine oak desk. Nevva was immediately by his side, picking up fallen papers and a name plate.

“Are you okay, sir? You look flushed, do you need a doctor?” Nevva flittered about, worried, and raised a hand towards his forehead.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, slapping her hand away hard. Her eyes widened, startled at the outburst, and Saint Dane could detect the fear that she tried to hide. It pleased him at first, to know that he had so much control over the Traveler, but then his mind went back to his thoughts from moments before. Even this loyal minion of his was afraid and disgusted of him.

The office began to feel stifling in the silence that followed and Nevva quickly averted her eyes towards the floor. “No!” Saint Dane growled as he took her chin roughly between his fingers, “I want you to look at me.” He stared deep into her hazel eyes, watching as the pupils grew large in fear. “Now answer truthfully, am I frightening to look at?”

The conflict that flashed across her face was amusing to watch as she tried to decide which answer her master wished for. Did he want her to say yes, he was scary, intimidating and one of the most powerful men in Halla? Or did he want her to sympathize and exclaim that he was handsome, tall, and strong? “Saint Dane, sir, of course you’re not-“

“Never mind, your expressions have already told me all that I need to know. Summon a dado transport, I wish to flume to another territory right away.”

Nevva stopped her motions in picking up the phone, shocked. “Are we ready for another territory, sir? My paperwork indicates that there are still some things left unsettled here.”

“There’s no ‘we’ on this trip. I wish to flume alone and spend some time by myself for a day. I have confidence that you’ll be efficient in keeping up with the work here.”

Nevva blushed at the compliment and gave an official nod. “Thank you, sir. Your transport is downstairs waiting. Shall I accompany you?” Saint Dane waved a hand to dismiss her. “No, thank you, I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll be back later.” And without further explanation he walked briskly out of the room on the long legs of his disguise as Mr. Kayto.

As promised, the large, sleek, black car was there at the front of the building waiting for him. Saint Dane folded himself into one of the backseats as the two guard dados rode in front. Finally away from Nevva and that nostalgic funk he had sunk into at the office he was able to lean his head back on the seat and relax. The sunlight of Quillan filtered through his eyelids, making him see red, but the red was better than thinking of the past. Better than thinking of Press. Oh, who was he kidding? No matter what he did, or where he went, he was not going to be escaping his memories or past anytime soon.

With a sigh, Saint Dane opened his eyes back up, turning them to look at the territory flashing past the car window. People milled about the street, occasionally glancing at the large screens. He saw a myriad of expressions as they looked at those screens. Joy, anger, pain, loss, sadness, relief; but every face looked drawn and tired. Blok had drained the life out of its own people, but they were the ones to blame. They had invited the vampire in, and it was their own fault they got drained. This little thought managed to bring a small smile on his face.

“We are here, Mr. Kayto, sir. Is there anything else you wish of us?” The dado driver waited expectantly as the other one opened the back door. Saint Dane waved his hand to dismiss them. “No, go back to the main building and wait for further instructions. I will call you when I have need of you.” He didn’t watch the pair of robots drive off, instead he gazed up at the building he was about to enter; the building that harbored the flume in its basement storage.

The basement was pleasantly cool as Saint Dane entered into the storage room, filled with wooden crates of Blok’s merchandise. No longer needing the illusion of Mr. Kayto’s form, Saint Dane let it drop, picking out what he would need for his trip to the next territory. A simple Cloral bar would suffice, since no one knew him by his true form there, and since the economy was doing so well, a good alcoholic drink was cheap. Twisting reality to his will as one would easily change a television channel he was immediately dressed in a simple, Cloral outfit of a sleeveless black shirt and a pair of comfortable black slacks. Yet what pleased Saint Dane even more was the fact that he had hair again. It may have been only an illusion, but it was nice to be able to run his fingers through the soft, shining, silver strands pulled back in a ponytail.

He was startled out of his reverie when he felt a slight bump at his leg. Looking down he saw eight glowing little eyes gazing back up at him. He heard the tip tap of hundreds of legs coming towards him. Instead of being frightened Saint Dane merely smiled at the spider quigs. They had been his most clever creation and he had fun creating a different quig for each territory. Robot spiders were a nice touch, if he did say so himself. He gave it a quick pat on the head, the way one would a dog, and made his way through the maze of crates to the far back wall. The quigs scurried out of his way and eagerly followed behind him, watching as he removed the part of the wall that lead to the flume’s door.

Saint Dane gingerly stepped through, which was quite difficult given his height, and the quigs watched with robotic interest until his face appeared again. He gave a little wave to his creations, “Good bye my lovelies, I’ll be back,” and he was gone once again. The spiders stood still, their ears hearing the shout of “Cloral!” the sound of musical clinks, and then all was silent.

Saint Dane floated along silently, with his arms crossed, as he sailed through the flume. Time and space no longer held any amazement to him as it drifted past the outside of the flume. Instead he was remembering past flumes when the awesome sights of past, present, and future were the furthest from his mind; his interest had been captivated by the man he flumed with. The man with such beautiful brown, curly hair, usually tossed back in a careless ponytail. His face had the gruff look of carelessness about it also as he would go for days without shaving, and soon a shadowy beard began to grow on his strong jaw. Press would tease Saint Dane by floating about him during the flume ride and the two would play a game of tag, trying to catch one another on the anti-gravitational ride. Saint Dane was lucky on the days when he could catch Press, since the man was a natural pro at maneuvering around the flume; but when he was victorious, Saint Dane would wrap himself about Press’s body to ensure his sexy prey would not escape.

Saint Dane gave a shiver at the memory as he could almost feel Press’s strong body against him once again. Flume rides were never long enough for even a quickie, but they had managed to get some very serious kissing done in that time, and even a hand job if Saint Dane caught Press early on in the game.

The increase of the chime’s volume broke Saint Dane’s train of thought, and he looked down to see the square of light grow larger to engulf him. It was when he heard the water he mentally cursed himself for forgetting. He was about to get very, very wet.
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Alone