Title: Dark Dreams (1/?) Author: Lily`s Eyes E-mail: hasefant@hotmail.com Pairing: Viggo/Orlando Rating: PG Summary: A successful painter buys an old house and discovers a dark secret. Warning: AU,Violence,Death A.N. Lyrics at the beginning of the chapter by Marsha Norman. A man who came to my valley, A man I hardly knew, A man who came to my Garden Grew to love me. He`d bought the cottage purely on a whim,and although he was somewhat prone to do things on impulse,those things didn`t include buying houses he`d only seen on photos.Well,until now.When he`d seen it on the small photo in the realtors window,it had imediately caught his eye.There was something that seemed to speak directly to him.Something mysterious yet welcoming.He`d never before experienced such a strange feeling of urgency.It felt as if the house itself was urging him to buy it. So he`d gone in and bought it.After all he was Viggo Mortensen,a celebrated artist,his paintings sold for small fortunes,and so money was no object with him,as arrogant and clichčd as it sounded,even to his own ears.The realtor had been considerably astonished that he didn`t even want to look the property over.But Viggo had assured the man that the information he had given him concerning the condition of the house,and what he could see on the photo was quite sufficient. And now he was the proud owner of Old Mill Cottage.He would really enjoy getting away from the bustle and noise of London for a bit.So a week later,he`d left his luxurious apartment for his new holiday home. The drive had been quite pleasant,the weather had been sunny,but not too hot.He´d reached the village,on the outskirts of which the cottage was situated,in the early afternoon.Viggo found himself smiling at the sight of the narrow streets and alleyways,lined by little thatched houses,their window boxes nearly overflowing with flowers in every shade of red,yellow and blue. There was even a quaint village pub,he noted,the “Rose and Crown”.He would have to take the left-hand turn after the church,he remembered,there the asphalt would give way to a dirt road called Old Mill Lane that would lead him right up to the front door of his cottage. “You can`t miss it,it`s the only house on that road,”he`d been told. And then he saw it,gleaming white in the sun,and for a moment he held his breath.It looked like something out of a fairy tale.Like a sugar-iced gingerbread house.One gable end was nearly entirely covered with laburnum,giving it an enchanted look,and there was a small river running through the garden behind the house.Viggo couldn`t take his eyes off of it.After he`d parked his car,he just stood at the garden gate for a moment,taking everything in.He was certain,to buy the house had been the right decision. The garden could have been taken straight from a Monet painting.But probably even Monet would have struggled to capture the wild,abundant beauty of it,Viggo mused.There were purple,yellow and pink lupins like oversized birthday candles,flowerbeds holding nothing but roses of every colour,fragrant jasmine bushes,two appletrees,one almost totally covered by pale climbing roses,clusters of bluebells and foxglove and the entire lawn was strewn with white and pink daisies.He felt like he`d wandered into paradise. Suddenly he remembered that he hadn`t even been inside the house yet.So he took the key out of his pocket,unlocked the blue wooden door,and stepped inside.He now stood in a small hallway.At the other side of the hallway were the kitchen and pantry,and behind the door to his right was,if he remembered correctly,the livingroom.The bedroom,the bathroom and a small spare room were upstairs. It was exactly like he`d imagined it.Like an illustration from a children`s book come to life. Time seemed to have no meaning here.He spent a good deal of time “exploring”every room,and found he couldn`t keep himself from grinning like a small boy.The rooms were light and beautifully decorated,they had nothing of the oppressive atmosphere and dankness so often associated with old houses.And Old Mill Cottage was quite an old house indeed.As far as Viggo knew,it had been built in the late 17th century. When he happened to glance out of the small kitchen window,he was surprised to find it was already growing dark outside.Had he really spent the entire afternoon and evening just walking around the small house and the garden?He felt himself getting very tired,but looking at his watch,found it was only a few minutes past nine.Usually he seldom went to bed before midnight,but since he could hardly keep his eyes open,he quickly went to get his suitcase from the car,brushed his teeth and climbed into his lovely new bed.Within minutes he was fast asleep. +++++++++++++++++++++++++ He was walking across the snow covered courtyard of a castle,past what seemed to be the stables,as he could smell the distinctive smell of horses and leather.Out of the corner of his eye,he noticed a person moving about in the stables.He looked closer,and found it to be a slender,dark haired man,saddeling one of the horses.Although he could only see the man from behind,Viggo had the impression that it was still quite a young man.Despite the cold,the man wore nothing but a coarse shirt,worn breeches and a dark waistcoat,not even shoes. “You there,”Viggo heard himself say in a strangely unfamiliar sounding voice,”what happened to your shoes?”The man turned around,but before Viggo could see his face the image faded away.Now he was standing on the banks of a river.The sun was shining and the grass beneath his feet was almost white with cherryblossom petals,so it had to be spring now.Although Viggo didn`t recognize the place,he knew he`d been there before. Suddenly,he heard someone laugh happily behind him.He turned and saw there,sitting on the grass,a man writing into a book with a huge,oldfashioned quill.He realized that it was the man he`d previously seen in the stables,although he now was less shabbily dressed.The man seemed to take no notice of him,and for some reason,Viggo suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to touch him,to make him look up from his writing,so he could see his face.Yes,he had to see his face.Viggo reached out his hand,and lightly touched the other man`s shoulder.The man looked up,and Viggo found himself staring into the loveliest,and at the same time, the most frightening face he`d ever seen.Big,brown eyes in an ashen face stared wide-eyed at him,the beautiful lips were blue,like that of a drowned person and the slender neck was marred by an ugly,almost black bruise.He was looking into the face of a corpse. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Viggo awoke with a start and,for a moment,felt quite disorientated.He couldn`t remember ever having had such a frightningly realistic nightmare before,not even as a child.He ran a hand over his eyes,shuddering at the memory of the man`s face.Although thinking about just what it had been that had made it so horrible,he realized that it had been it`s expression of suffering and utter misery.Viggo didn`t want to think about what terrible things must have happened to that man to make him look so miserable. *Nothing happened to that guy,because he doesn`t exist,it was only a nightmare,*he reminded himself.*That weird man is only an image created by your brain.* Determined not to lie awake for the rest of the night just because of a nightmare,Viggo took a couple of deep breaths and tried to remember every flower and plant in the garden.Soon he felt his nervousness seep away and,a little later,was asleep again. The next morning,sitting in his cozy kitchen,sipping coffee,he wondered why he`d been so scared anyway.Probably he was getting old.He could see himself,twenty years from now,little old grandpa Viggo,hiding behind his enormous armchair at the sight of his own shadow.After he`d finished his coffee,he got up to wash the cup,and as he was looking through the window above the sink,his gaze fell on something he hadn`t noticed before.Somebody seemed to have scratched words into the windowpane.The writing was very small,and Viggo had to strain his eyes to make out every letter.He read: Orlando Listen?