Herida
Pero Tovar x Reader - Soulmates AU
CDT Blogaversary Masterlist
Summary: In a world where one soulmates takes on the other’s physical pain, Pero Tovar is convinced his soulmate could never love him. He may be right.
Wordcount: 4.5K
Warnings: Angst, Descriptions of injuries and mild gore, Mentions of blood, Scaring, Mentions of mild self harm, Enemies to lovers (kinda), sexual themes
Notes: The final fic for this blogaversary business! It’s no secret that I love soulmate AUs and I love Pero Tovar (The Great Wall), so this felt perfect! This fic starts off a pretty heavy but then gets much more tropey, I think. Thank you for giving it (and me) a chance!
One-shot: Penitencia
Pero Tovar was born in Spain to a pair of loving parents, both farmers. He arrived a writhing screaming mess of a baby but soon calmed, the pain of the world taken from him and cast on to another born at the exact same moment if only a second later, destined to take the pain for both of them.
His father was spared from the pain of Pero’s birth, fate's cruel joke on his mother, Pero supposed, and watched with pride as another child was added to their brood. This one born strong and scowling almost as if the little soul was inconvenienced by time as he suckled at his mother’s breast.
The older he got the more of his loving parents' secrets were revealed. While they were soulmates, they weren’t necessarily in love. His father often sought out others to meet his needs, not coming home for days. His mother, irritated, sent his father a reminder by beating her breast knowing that the skin would become tender and he would soon feel the knocks.
As soon as Pero’s mother took to beating her breast, his father would return. Often drunk and irritated at her, rubbing at the pain in his chest. He would dutifully work the land and tend to their needs while she saw to the children and made sure their home was in order until he disappeared for a few days and the cycle continued.
Pero understood that soulmates were real, he knew when he cut his hand while helping his father in the field, watching as the skin healed over. The pain was short and his hand was healed. His soulmate had taken the pain and the scar.
He had seen the love his mother tried to have for his father, but he saw the resent in his father’s eyes whenever she accidentally cut herself, bumped her shoulder a little too hard, or used her method to beacon him home. His father tried to love his mother, but he was unable to.
So Pero grew to understand that soulmates were real but love wasperhaps not. His father grew sick and feeble, and soon Pero and his brothers took over running the farm. Shortly after they set to putting his body in the ground, his mother soon followed.
His brothers married off, going their separate ways before he was one of two left behind. Looking out at the farmland and the small province, young Pero left and joined a group of mercenaries. They were passing through his village looking for young sturdy boys to carry swords, tend to their horses, and train to join them in combat. They promised to show him the world and he took them up on their offer. He followed them to the ends of the earth, learning to wield a myriad of weapons to protect life and take. Learning new languages and how to properly ride and tame horses.
He bedded his first woman, she was older and sweet, guiding him as he lost himself in her within three thrusts, pulling him into her chest as he shook and came down from his high. He visited her as often as he could, learning what she had to give before one day she was gone as well.
Nothing was permanent for Pero, from his parents to the men he rode with, to the women he took comfort in. They all left him at some point and with every loss he grew stronger and tougher. His skin grew thicker and his heart hid deep within.
Even his scars were not permanent. There were occasions where he would have and probably should have died, but the cuts, stabs, gashes, and breaks all healed without a trace. Some within seconds and others within days.
With every day of training and observing, he grew to be more skilled. Feeling almost invincible until a humbling experience reminded him of how cruel fate could be.
Swords clashed in a sea of bodies, grunting and growling on a muddy field. Pero and his companion William fought back to back as the rest of the group was scattered among the soldiers. With a few thrusts and swings of his sword, Tovar had sent men to an early grave that day receiving a few cuts and bruises along the way but one was most unexpected. He was blindsided by a man with a dagger, who had closed in beyond the range of his sword and slashed at him in the face in an attempt to bling him, splitting the skin above the brow of his left eye and down over his cheek. The attack succeeded in blinding him momentarily and lucky for him William swung out and slain the attacker where he stood.
That night Tovar washed in a river nearby, freeing his body of the blood and dirt of the day. Watching as the last of his scars left his body, his eye and face were healed. He sat by the campfire, drying off while he wondered if his soulmate had survived the day and if they did, they must surely hate him.
From that day on he vowed to never find his soulmate, running from them, fate, and the heavens until it was his time to leave this earth. Pero Tovar would make sure to die alone.
*** You were brought into this world screaming and writhing, a mess of a babe who would not stop crying to two loving parents, inn owners. You had been born seconds after your soulmate and immediately inherited all their pain.
You parents tried their best to keep you calm, making sure you were always warm and swaddled in the softest blankets they could afford. As the years went on and you grew, more injuries revealed on your skin.
One day while sitting with your mother, embroidering the edges of some curtains when your palm burst open and a wail escaped your chest. She rushed over to help tend to your wounds, gently wrapping your hand in bandages and eventually sewing the skin to temper the bleeding. It took a while for you to recover and comfortably use your hand once again. In the meantime, you would have the occasional scrape and scratch that would appear. Leaving behind tough skin and on your palm a deep scar.
A few years later the cuts and bruises were more frequent and covered more of your skin. Some on your face, some on your arms, and the more painful ones were on your torso. Deep bruises and a few knicks.
Your mother took to preparing hot baths to soak in to ease your aching muscles. You both learned how to make balms to soothe your cuts and kept plenty of clean bandages on hand. With every cut and bruise that marked your skin you grew resentful and disheartened at your soulmate. They were doing this on purpose and to punish you, and somehow fate allowed it.
The last of your resolve was broken the day you stood in the market and a blinding pain overcame you. You fell to the ground clutching your face as a deep wound opened over your eye, blood pouring from the delicate skin and blinding you. The pain so great you fell unconscious, waking hours later to a bandaged face and a look of sorrow on your parents face.
Soon a fever overtook you, confining you to your bed for a fortnight. Your mother worked to bring down the fever and ward off the infection. Applying balms to ease the swelling and discomfort of the delicate skin around your eye.
When your body had settled you cried tears of happiness. Your vision had been spared however now a delicate scar stretched over your eye, pulling the skin from your eye. You took to wearing hooded cloaks or scarves to obstruct your face, wanting to hide yourself from the world and especially your soulmate.
You had grown to hate them, your soulmate. If they had any love in their hearts they would not allow this much harm to come to you. In your short time on earth, you had experienced unimaginable and unexpected pain. So your skin grew thicker and calloused and you hid your heart deep within.
Sensing your retreat from the world, your parents confined your chores and duties around the inn to the night, avoiding the tavern when possible. You mainly stayed to the kitchen, delivering food to the rented rooms and making sure there was enough feed in the stable.
***
“Take these to the back two tables.” Your mother pointed to a tray of stew and told you the back two rooms had requested baths and the occupants were drinking in the tavern. Nodding to her, you took the trays in hand after placing water to boil for their baths.
The evening had been a little busier than usual, a group of riders had come into the village, drumming up everyone’s interest and giving everyone something new to talk about for a little bit. You had heard that they spread themselves out a bit, some visiting the brothel and a few others coming directly to your inn.
You maneuvered your way through the tavern with the trays of food, the idle chatter coming from patrons almost a dull roar. One voice in particular caught your attention, it was an interesting accent, perhaps Irish, it was hard to tell. He spoke to the figure next to him, who replied rather annoyed.
“I am hungry and I hate this trick. Let us sit and eat, amigo.”
“But if we do the trick, then the barmaid might take a fancy to us and you know…”
The fair haired man grinned at the dark haired one, who had his back to you. His posture much like his tone held annoyance and irritability. Your eyes quickly racked over his form, taking in the leather and plated armor he wore. His boots were filthy and he was in desperate need of a bath from what you could smell, but there was something familiar about him.
He turned in time to see you set down the bowls, stepping out of their way as he motioned to them then spoke to his companion. He grumbled his displeasure at his friend’s request and quickly sat to eat.
Quickly looking over your shoulder you caught a glimpse of his face. His dark scowling features, strong nose, curiously shaped lips, and piercing dark eyes. He briefly looked back at you, making the hairs on your body stand on end. You gasped as you dropped the trey in your hands, spilling the remaining bowls.
A jeer from one of the tables distracted you as you bent down to pick up the bowls and one of the barmaids padded over with some linens to pick up the mess. She tutted as you apologized and quickly walked back into the kitchen.
Armed with more bowls, you again passed the table with the fair haired and dark haired man. This time the barmaid was seated in the lap of the dark haired man, fingers playing with the edges of his soft dark chestnut colored hair and laughing. You had caught her voice, quiet and flirty when you passed but heard the words “owner’s child” and “difficult life.”
You shook your head and dropped the bowls off at the table, apologizing for the accident and offering them extra complimentary bread rolls. Which they cheered for and thanked you before making your way back.
This time the barmaid and dark haired man were now close, noses practically touching as she ducked her head to whisper in his ear. His eyes slid over to you as he listened and in that instant you knew who he was.
Your belly filled with fire, both rage and something else as your breath caught in your chest. He, however, did not show any signs of recognition and only showed signs of confusion before you quickly turned, practically running to the kitchen.
Your mind spun and swam in confusion and disappointment. How could he not know who you were and how could he not see what he had done to you? How could your soulmate be that man out there and why was he here right now?
You slammed the tray down, startling your mother but drawing another cheer from the guests seated close to the threshold. “What has gotten into you?” She clutched her chest before resuming pouring the last bits of stew into bowls.
It was as if every thought you had about that man was trying to leave your lips at the same time and as a result, nothing made its way past. Instead you offered an exasperated grunt of displeasure, which your mother did not appreciate and pushed the last bowls at you to take to your father and for yourself.
You let your feet carry you to the stables, where your father was tending to the boarded horses, just having finished filling their water and feed.
“And what is bothering you?” He took a good look at you as you lowered your scarf, the look of scorn and confusion on your face.
“H-how did you know? How did you know when you met your soulmate? Mother.”
His eyes widened as he blew out a rasp of hair, sitting with you against the barn doors. He chuckled a bit before he continued, “Well, it was interestin’. Your mother was with another boy, they were walking a little too close for just friends, and I thought she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. But did I know she was my soulmate? No, but she knew. She stopped dead in ‘er tracks. As if roots sprouted from her feet and tethered her to earth.” He dipped a piece of bread into the stew, love in his eyes as he brought it to his lips. You watched as he chewed, desperate for him to continue.
“But I didn’t think she would ever want me courtin’ her. So I greeted her and walked away. It wasn’t until she ran up to me and grabbed my hand that I knew. I felt it, it all connected all of a sudden.” He let out another laugh filled with fondness and memory. “She tugged up her sleeve for me to see, and there it was. A little crescent moon shaped scar. I had fallen from a tree, snagged my arm on a branch before I hit the ground.”
You nodded, remembering the story your mother told you about her leg breaking and the wound appearing on her arm. Your father was very apologetic and while she never brought it up aside from when you asked, you often caught him kissing her leg when he had accidentally dropped something next to her, which happened quite frequently.
Your eyes widened at the revelation. You never asked how they knew.
You finished your stews in silence before retreating to the inn to prepare the requested baths. As you were finishing up the last, the door to the room opened. A high giggling and a low grunting filled the air as you quickly stood and watched the dark haired man enter with the barmaid.
“Oh! You can leave, dear. I’ll help him with his bath.” She giggled and winked at you as you nodded, keeping your head down. When you reached the door where he stood, you pressed yourself against the wood, tucking your hands into yourself as you scooted past the broad shouldered man.
His dark eyes trailed your curious movements. Watching you walk by and take dramatic precautions to not touch him, keeping your face and front hidden from him. He trailed behind you, fascinated and wanting to watch your every move as you quickly padded down the hall and out of sight. He cautiously lifted his arm to smell himself, grunting at the need for a bath.
The last you heard was the dreamy voice of the barmaid beckoning him to her, “Tovar, let’s get you out of those clothes.”
That night you had a hard time sleeping, while your room was not near the rented rooms, you could have sworn you heard them, you were positive. You had no right to be mad at him for not recognizing you. What you were mad about was how he had done this to you. You also found yourself rolling his name around, softly saying to yourself before sleep claimed you for the night.
The next day you made yourself scarce, insisting you needed to go to the market as soon as your mother told you the newest guests were staying longer than expected, and pointing outside. Snow had arrived unexpectedly. She also reminded you that the inn was well stocked up and you were not going to the market. Huffing you grabbed blankets to offer to guests for extra warmth as well as making note of any that needed extra firewood.
Once upstairs you softly knocked on doors, sleepy faces greeting you and gladly accepting the little bits of extra warmth. You softly reminded them that there was plenty of tea and a hot breakfast waiting for them in the tavern. Eyes smiled kindly at you as they quickly flickered over your scar. Their kindness either out of gratitude or pity, you weren’t sure which.
Turning, you heard the door at the end of the hall creek open as the barmaid crept out of Tovar’s room, wrapping her arms around herself. She shot you a cheeky grin and hummed to herself as she padded down the hall and out of sight.
Swallowing thickly, you knocked on the door opposite to delay the inevitable. His fair-haired companion answered, already dressed for the day and heading to the tavern to eat. He graciously accepted the blanket from you before heading down himself, but not before banging on Tovar’s room, “TOVAR!,” leaving you standing in the hallway holding the last blanket.
The door swung open with a gravely “QUE?” As he appeared before you, bare chested and bathed from the prior evening. Casting your eyes down and away, you held the blanket out to him and mumbled the words you had mumbled to the other occupants, making sure to not touch him as you dropped the blanket in his arms. He looked at you with curiosity once again, taking in your form. You had ducked your head from him and your stance was defensive, he knew because he often stood that way himself.
“Thank you…” His voice trailed as he took in the scar that puckered the skin on your palm, and how you wore clothing to cover your skin. He ducked his head slightly to get a better look at you but you quickly turned and again practically ran away.
He spent the rest of the morning searching for you around the Inn, but finding that you were either hiding or avoiding him, most likely both. He wasn’t entirely sure why you would, since you had interacted very little but his hand flexed at remembering the scar that adorned your hand.
He soon sat in the tavern with his companion, William and his evening’s companion, the barmaid, close by. She made sure to pay extra attention to them, even if he seemed a bit distracted. Finally having enough of his grouchy demeanor, she switched her attention to William who looked to Tovar questioningly. His hand waved dismissively as his attention was caught by movement in the kitchen.
“Tovar, what has gotten into you?” William leaned in close once they were alone again, the barmaid off to tend to her duties. “You have a beautiful woman to warm your bed, the most decent food we’ve had in months, and we’re in the most quiet village we couldn’t have been luckier to be snowed in… in.” He faulted at the end of his sentence, looking at his companion who again was not quite paying attention.
“Si, she is beautiful and lovely for the night. You have fun with her, amigo.” He again waved a meaty hand through the air. “Careful though, she will latch onto you, in more ways than one.”
***
“Mother please tell her we do not run that kind of establishment here.” You worked bread dough on the counter as if it owed you coin. Your mother watched and huffed, reminding you that the barmaid did her duties and how she spent her nights were no business of yours or hers. Huffing in frustration, you agreed. You knew full well that it wasn’t your business and you were certainly not jealous or possessive over a person you clearly hated. Even if all you could see was his smooth broad chest and wanted nothing more than to weave your fingers through his curly dark hair.
Shaking your head, you continued to work the dough before stopping yourself and hoping you hadn’t over done it. Quickly you grumbled to yourself and left the dough to rise, excusing yourself for some fresh cold air.
Taking a moment to sort out your feelings you mumbled to yourself, stepping into the barn to speak your mind among the horses.
You had vowed to hate him until your dying breath, yet now that fate has pulled you together, he is here and you want nothing more than to be with him. Even watching him with the barmaid, you didn’t care because you knew as soon as you touched him his heart would be yours, but you also wanted him to know he did this to you.
So you sulked and paced in the barn, turning to brush the horses before you set off back to the Inn, however when you opened the door Tovar stood there, eyes downcast with worry and possibly contempt.
You gasped and stumbled almost falling before he reached out to soften your fall. He let you fall a little before pulling you back up. Hands on your waist, before taking your hand in his.
He gaped at you, mouth opening and closing as he looked at you. He took the overwhelming feeling in. He looked at the scar over your eye, the one peeking out from the neckline of your top, and his thumb brushed the raised skin on your palm.
You both said nothing as you shook your hand free from his and pulled back and looked up at him expectantly before he uttered a set of heartbreaking words, “I vowed my whole life to never find you or love you…”
Had you not pushed past him and fled back to your room, you would have heard the rest of his words instead of the pounding of your heart and the rage coursing through your veins.
You moved as quickly as your feet could carry you. You fled past the kitchen and through the tavern into your family’s quarters, into your room. Shutting the door you collapsed to the floor, utterly devastated and forlorn.
Tovar didn’t see you around the inn for the rest of the day, he waited patiently in the tavern or the stables. He held on to hope that he would be able to see you, to talk to you. He also cursed himself, having decided that this was his punishment for inflicting so much harm on you.
He had promised himself to never desire his soulmate, to never seek them out, and to never let himself love. Yet here you were and the second he saw you he was intrigued and drawn to you, having buried himself somewhat guiltily in the barmaid in order to forget, but as soon as they were done his thoughts returned to you. Now he knew why, once he felt the soft heat of your skin on his, he knew you were his and he was yours.
But of course, words failed him. They tumbled out in the wrong order, scaring your heart just as much as his lifetime had scared your body. He absentmindedly rubbed his palm or would trace a line through his brow to his cheek, hoping you would somehow feel his touch and come out of hiding.
The storm only grew thicker and colder, drawing another few days from Tovar and William at the inn.
One quiet morning you trudged to the stables, ready to be around the horses for a bit. You took your time refilling their water and feed, brushing their manes and adjusting their blankets. Lost in thought you didn’t hear Tovar approaching.
He watched in silence, careful to reveal himself. He admired how caring and loving you were with the animals, talking to them softly, even going so far as to respond for them. Had it not been you, he would have thought it childish and ridiculous, but he knew he was yours and this little display made you more perfect in his eyes.
He scowled at himself as his eyes traced over your scars, mad that he had marked you in such a way. He did not blame you for hating him.
“So you’re his horse?” You patted at the beautiful animal, offering it scraps of vegetables left from the evening’s stew. It’s lips reached for carrot tops held your flat hand, breath warming your skin as you rubbed at it’s muzzle.
“He takes good care of you, he must love you.” Your voice was whispered and broken. “At least he cares for something.”
He would not hear you in such pain, he couldn’t inflict any more. “Mi alma.” His voice was low, almost meek and started you from your reveries. Gasping you pulled away from him, hiding behind the horse.
He carefully approached, similarly to how he would approach an untamed animal. Making himself small and voice low. Holding out a hand as he approached, “Words fail me, for that I am sorry.”
His brown eyes were dark and sorrowful, filled with everything words failed to convey. He approached, stopping short of pressing himself to you and took your hand in his.
Ducking his head down to meet your palm, he kissed at the marred skin. He begged for your forgiveness and muttered words of love. His lips trailed up your hand, kissing at your wrist before he cupped your face.
“Look at me, my cielo.” You met his gaze, tears flooding your eyes as he looked at you with love and adoration. “Please forgive me.” He dipped his head to yours, lips skimming the skin above your eye. Marked by the man that tried to blind him.
He kissed at this skin as you stepped closer, pressing yourself to him. The words that tumbled from him, lips now promising to never harm you again, never let harm come to you, and to love you until his dying breath.
You sighed into his touch, leaning into his warmth as you clung to his body. The hate and betrayal that filled your being slowly crumbling and washing away with every promise and every kiss from your Tovar.
You knew then that he was yours and you were his.
***
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