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Post by Elcie on Aug 10, 2014 12:52:51 GMT -5
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Post by Elcie on Aug 12, 2014 10:20:20 GMT -5
A Slave of Talvace: Xavier's PastThis will be a story in 3-4 parts covering some important events in Xavier's backstory, starting when he's about 14. Enjoy! (Edit: Except he's much younger in the prologue, obviously) PrologueHe remembers, vaguely, when he first became aware of his powers. It must have been a very long time ago, because his mother was there. He remembers little of what she looked like, except for her long hair, fiery red like his. He remembers running up to her, excited, holding a ball of tiny flickering witchlight on his palm.
“Mama!” he cried, stretching out his hand to her. “Mama, look!”
He remembers that her reaction was not what he had expected; instead of laughing with him and marveling at the small, glittering thing he’d pulled out of the air, her body went taut and her eyes wide. She lurched forward, taking his hand in both of hers and closing his small fingers into a fist, causing the light to wink out of existence. He let out a small cry, indignant.
“Did you make this, Xavier?” his mother whispered, her voice shaking.
He could not quite explain. “I pulled on it, and it came,” he said. “I can do it again! Watch.” He tugged his hand free of his mother’s grip and held it out again.
“No!” She grabbed his hand again, and he remembers the terror in her voice that made him turn and stare at her, wide-eyed. She took his hands and knelt in front of him, looking intently into his eyes. “Xavier, dear one, this is very important. You must never show that to anyone. Don’t ever let anyone see that you can do these things, not even Master.” Her voice shook. “Especially not Master. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he whispered, upset by her intensity, but he didn’t understand, not really. He would do as she asked, but young as he was then he could not understand, the way she must have, that what he had just discovered in himself would one day change everything.
He remembers, and wishes he remembered more vividly, how his mother leaned forward and enfolded him in her arms, hugging him longer and tighter than she usually did. Part 1Lord Rodin Duval, master of the province of Talvace, stormed into the mage craftsman’s shop and slammed the door behind him. Without saying a word, he threw a bronze cuff down on the counter in front of the mage, staring at him with a look in his eyes that did not bode well. “You sold me a defective cuff, mage,” he said.
The mage was used to the posturing of nobility, however, and Duval’s anger did not impress him. His position as a merchant allowed him rather more freedom than lower peasants, so long as he did his job well. And he always did his job. “Let me see,” he said calmly. “I have used these same runes many times before and never had a problem.”
“Well, it’s stopped working, and I only bought it a mere fortnight ago,” Duval said testily. “Fix it.”
The mage picked up the rune-engraved cuff and turned it over in his hands, examining it. “Mm… no, there shouldn’t be any problem with this. The runes are correctly marked. Here.” He handed it to Duval, who automatically took it. The mage gestured, and Duval suddenly yelped with pain. The cuff clattered back to the counter.
Duval hissed. “You--”
“See?” The mage spread his hands, trying to keep a straight face. “Perfectly functional.”
Duval frowned thunderously. “That can’t be possible. The slave I put it on barely even flinched, and while he endures the lash well enough I don’t see how he could withstand that so easily.”
The mage considered this. “Would you allow me to see the slave in question?”
In response, Duval stepped back and opened the door so he could lean outside the the shop. “Xavier!” he called out sharply. The slave, who’d been waiting for him outside, followed him inside docilely. He was a slim, red-headed teenager who did not look up once, even as his master guided him to stand in front of the mage at the counter. Duval’s hand landed heavily on Xavier’s narrow shoulder. “Hold out your hand,” Duval told him, and Xavier complied mutely.
The mage snapped the enchanted cuff onto the slave’s wrist. True to what Duval had said, he didn’t even flinch when it was activated. The man frowned, lifting Xavier’s hand to examine the cuff, then stalking around him to take a look at him from all angles.
“He must have a resistance to magic,” the mage said finally. “These cuffs are meant more as a… correction, so they aren’t that strong to begin with. A punishment collar would probably get through, but this…”
“Why would he have a resistance?” Duval glanced at Xavier. “I’ve never used magical devices on him before, I never needed to.”
“Well… it’s probably a latent talent,” the mage said. “Is there any magic in his pedigree?”
“I’m not sure. The mother didn’t have it, but beyond that I am not aware.” The anger was gone from his face now, and he was considering his slave with a calculating expression. “Slaves with a properly harnessed magical talent are incredibly valuable.”
“It’s a time-consuming process,” the mage warned him. “And mages who know the spellwork charge high. It’d be more efficient to have it suppressed.”
Duval sneered. “I rather think I can afford it,” he said scornfully.
Looking at Xavier’s slim shoulders and narrow frame, the mage wondered if the boy would even survive the process. But, well, that was Duval’s business if he wanted to waste a slave like that. And if the trainer he hired wound up killing his slave, it was fortunately nothing to do with him. He shrugged. “I can give you the name of a slave-trainer I know, if you really want to go through with it.”
The lord nodded. “Perfect.”
He kept his hand clamped firmly on the slave’s shoulder. As the mage gave Duval the necessary information, Xavier kept his head down and eyes fixed on the floor, his long red hair hanging forward to partially obscure his face. If he realized how drastically his life was about to change, if he understood the pain his magical gift was about to bring on him, he showed no sign of it. Duval really did have the boy well-trained. Part 2Something had happened after that day Duval took Xavier to town with him. Muriel knew that their owner had taken a liking to the redhead, and had been keeping him closer, training him to be one of Lord Duval’s personal slaves - but at least he’d always returned to the barracks before, and did most of the same work rotations that all the rest of the house slaves did. Now, Xavier was simply gone. Occasionally she’d glimpsed him at a distance in the castle, always close by Duval’s side, and that was the only reason she didn’t assume he’d been sold. But, maddeningly, he never glanced her way, and never seemed to have the opportunity to leave Duval’s side, and so she never got the chance to ask him what had been going on.
Finally, as she was walking back to the barracks from a late work shift in the cellars, she encountered him. In the gloom of the courtyard between the barracks and the castle, they nearly ran into each other. Xavier cringed back at first, muttering an apology - but then he glanced up enough to recognize her, and the surprise was clear on his face. “M-muriel?” he whispered.
“Xavier!” she hissed, taking his shoulder after she’d glanced around to make sure no one was around. “What’s going on? I haven’t gotten to speak to you in days—”
He moved away from her uncomfortably, shrugging out of her grasp. “You shouldn’t be talking to me, Muriel,” he said nervously. “You really need to leave.”
“Why?” She folded her arms. “None of the overseers have ever cared if we talk to each other, and I’m finished with my work. What’s going on, Xavier?” Her voice softened. “You don’t need to hide things from me, you know that… right?”
“Lord Duval found out that I’m a mage.” The words spilled out of Xavier’s mouth too quickly, as if getting the declaration over with. He hunched his shoulders uncomfortably, looking away. “I— they’ve been… testing me. Th-that’s why I haven’t been on any of the normal rotations. And I think they decided I’m… suitable, so I’m to report for conditioning in the morning…”
Muriel’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Xavier,” she whispered.
“He wants to keep me separate, now I’m valuable,” Xavier said. “So really, I- I shouldn’t be talking to you. I don’t want you to get in trouble for it.”
“There has to be some way to stop this!”
“If he wants me conditioned, it’s his right.”
Muriel fell silent at that, and neither could meet the other’s eyes. Neither of them could deny that that was true.
Finally she looked up, reached out and took his hand, squeezing it hard. “I don’t care, though. When have I ever cared about that? I’ll find a way to see you.” She bit her lip. “I just don’t want you to be alone.”
He stared down at their clasped hands. “I don’t want you to be alone either, but…”
“I’ll help. I can’t stop it, but I’ll try to help you, that’s a promise.”
Xavier looked up to meet her eyes, his own brimming with fear and anxiety. “Just please, please don’t get hurt because of me.”
“I’ll be careful.” Muriel smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “That’s a promise too.”
The sound of footsteps nearby made Xavier jerk his head up warily, pulling his hand away from Muriel’s. The fear in his eyes intensified. “I- I have to go. I’m sorry, Muriel.”
“Xavier, wait—” But he’d already fled, vanishing quickly into the gloom. Back to the keep, where it would have been suicide to try and follow.
Muriel wrapped her fingers around her hand where Xavier’s had been moments before, bringing both hands to her chest. Conditioning. That deceptively sterile, neutral word - Muriel had never met a mage in slavery before, but she knew that they suffered for it. That sometimes, they died.
“Please don’t die, Xavier,” she whispered. “Please.” Part 3CW: torture, suicidal thoughts, generally Dark ThingsMaxen Ross preferred not to let his employers interfere with his work, but it was a risky thing saying no to the lord of Talvace. When Rodin Duval said he wanted to check on his slave’s progress, Ross had no choice but to let him in with a deep, ingratiating bow.
“It’s progressing well, my lord,” said the mage, smiling brightly. “The subject has quite a lot of untapped power. We’re still at the stage of draining and rerouting his natural pathways…”
“Hm.” Lord Duval glanced away from the mage to look down at his slave, bound spread-eagled to the wooden table. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, wet tracks of tears on his cheeks; it didn’t seem that he’d noticed his master’s presence in the slightest. “And how much longer before he’s ready?”
“It will take several months yet,” said Ross, and noticing the disapproving frown on his employer’s face, added hastily, “It would be unwise to rush things. The procedures are delicate. A mistake at this point could destroy your slave.” He didn’t add that they’d already had a close call. It wasn’t uncommon for slaves to collapse during the conditioning, particularly when they were forcing and amplifying the effects of the pull. But for a few minutes Xavier hadn’t been breathing.
They couldn’t let that happen again. Lord Duval paid exceptionally well, but he did not seem like a man who would take disappointment well. The fact that he seemed rather attached to the exotic redhead did not help matters; it wasn’t as if they could offer to pay for a replacement if it was this particular mage Duval wanted.
One of Ross’s assistants approached the table with his wand outstretched. Ross stepped aside to allow him access, his eyes still on Duval. “The good news,” he said, “is that he’s quite strong.” He had to raise his voice slightly as his assistant began his spellwork. “A lot of untapped potential. Once we’re finished, you’ll have a very powerful tool at your--”
“Can’t you stop him making that noise?” Duval snarled, interrupting him.
Ross cast a glance over his shoulder. Even at this distance he could feel, rather than see, the chain of runes from his assistant’s wand spiderwebbing across the slave’s chest. Xavier was not quite screaming, but the noise he made as his body jerked in the restraints was piercing. The mage shook his head. “A silencing spell could disrupt what we’re doing here, it’s very delicate. Do you want to step outside?”
Duval’s mouth twisted irritably. “I’ll manage. Go on.”
“I was only going to say that this is part of the reason it will take so long. The slave’s power is untapped, but there is a lot to bind. I assure you, it will be more than worth it.”
“It had better.” He stalked over to the table to watch the spellwork, and Ross hurried after him, shadowing him closely.
“Please don’t touch, my lord, it could be dangerous,” he said quickly. Gods, if they accidentally hit Duval with one of the spells they were using on Xavier right now…
Fortunately, though Duval seemed irritated by the warning, he complied. “What is he doing now?” he asked Ross. The mage hid a smile. Duval couldn’t see the runes at all. There was always a sense of satisfaction when he worked with non-magic enkis, that little reminder in the back of his mind that however powerful they were, they needed him.
“Opening pathways through your slave’s natural defenses,” Ross said calmly, as Xavier writhed and wept on the table in front of them. “Even without training, his magic will protect him instinctively from outside influence. By tearing those defenses open, we can direct how they re-form…”
By the look in Duval’s eye, he didn’t entirely understand this, but he nodded sagely as if he did. “Very good. Then I suppose I must leave him in your capable hands for now.” Ross’s assistant completed his spell, tying it off with a deft flick of his wand. The runes, visible to Ross’s trained eye, seemed to recede into Xavier’s skin and vanish. The slave jerked once more on the table and then lay limp and trembling, his cries subsiding into harsh, shaky breaths.
When the assistant lowered his wand and turned away, Duval leaned over his slave, a faint smile on his face. Lightly he trailed his fingers through Xavier’s long red hair, and the slave flinched. “I always knew I had a good eye for value,” he said softly. “But who could have guessed you’d be such a prize as this?”
It was unclear whether Xavier even heard the words, let alone understood them, but Duval clearly did not expect an answer. He straightened up, turning to Ross again. “Keep me informed,” he said. “I look forward to seeing further progress.”
Ross bowed again. “We are glad to be of service, my lord.”
The mage escorted him out. For Xavier, lying bound and helpless on the table, it was difficult to tell if he’d imagined his master’s presence or not. Duval could have been yet another fever-dream, conjured up by pain and terror, his possessive touch merely an echo of some other memory.
Nothing, not even the mages with their wands and too-bright blades, was as real as the pain. Xavier let out a piteous whimper, too weak even to pull against his chains although he desperately wanted - needed - to curl in on himself, to hold together the tearing pain in his chest that felt as if it would rip him apart. His skin felt as if it had been split open where the mage’s spell had wrapped around his body. It seemed an eternity he’d been lying here, and it was getting harder and harder to imagine anything outside this room and this pain.
He only had one thought left with anything approaching clarity. It was the only escape he could fathom. Next time, gods, please… next time, maybe they’ll finally kill me.
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Post by Elcie on Aug 12, 2014 10:23:04 GMT -5
So I'm going to write some AUs based on things that could have happened in the RP, but didn't. Seriously, there were so many ways you guys could have broken Xavier, and you didn't. Good job everyone. Xavier’s whole body tensed. That was Ambrose lying there on the ground, sprawled out in what looked like a very uncomfortable posture. And he wasn’t moving.
“Ambrose?” Xavier called out, and then hurried up to him and knelt next to him. “Amb--” His voice choked into silence as he leaned over Ambrose’s limp body, and his hand froze inches from touching him. The old man wasn’t breathing and his eyes were still open, misted over and staring at nothing. Xavier’s mouth opened in horror, but he still couldn’t make a sound. He couldn’t-- Ambrose--
The paralysis suddenly snapped and Xavier flung himself forward, clutching at Ambrose’s body desperately. This couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t be dead - Xavier was starting to tremble as he gripped Ambrose’s shoulders--
“Xavier…”
The quiet, shaky voice behind him made him jump. Still clutching Ambrose, he turned, looking over his shoulder to see Leif standing there. The tears that had already started welling in his eyes started flowing in earnest with his relief at seeing a friend. “L-leif,” he gasped. “They-- s-someone killed him, Leif--”
“I--”
“We-- we have to find out who did this,” Xavier said, an edge of determination creeping into his voice. “Th-they just left him here--”
“Xavier,” Leif said again, and his voice was shaking more than ever.
Something in his tone made Xavier stop and look up at him. Leif was pale, a shell-shocked expression in his eyes, and the hand he held his wand with was trembling-- Xavier’s gaze dropped to that wand, still held out as if Leif was about to use it, and then he looked back at Leif’s face --
“No,” he whispered.
Leif’s face twisted and for a minute Xavier thought he was going to start sobbing as well. “Xavier, I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step forward. Xavier recoiled and the archmage stopped with a jerk, pulling back like he’d been stung. “I-- I didn’t want to do this--”
“You?” Xavier whispered, leaning over Ambrose’s body. He wrapped his arms around the old man, cradling him. “I- no, you- you-” He shuddered, his voice rising, “I trusted you!” His voice cracked on the words. “Why? Ambrose would never have hurt anyone!” He took a deep breath, gulping back a sob. “I- I thought you were kind, I--” Leif was the one who had convinced him that House Jade was better than the Courdonian nobles, that they were kinder, that they wouldn’t hurt people senselessly, and now this--
Leif tried taking another step forward, and Xavier’s head snapped up. “Get away from me,” he said furiously.
In that moment, if Leif had come close enough, Xavier probably would have hit him. But Leif backed away, and then with one last agonized glance at Xavier and Ambrose, turned and fled.
Xavier curled over Ambrose, and let himself sob in earnest. Tagging: Celestial, Tiger |
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Post by Elcie on Aug 12, 2014 18:44:28 GMT -5
Reposting from the 'bloids just to have it here: a snippet regarding Xavier and Elin and the Courdonian rebellion. “I never thought I’d get the chance to actually meet you!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide. “Lord Xavier himself…”
Xavier’s smile was slightly crooked. He still could not quite get over his discomfort at being called that, but as news of his rebellion spread, the title stuck and there was nothing he could do about it now. Besides, as he was frequently reminded, he was a Jade; it was accurate, and it unnerved the Courdonians to be reminded that he was Kythian nobility and not just an escaped slave.
“And you!” the girl said, turning to Elin. Xavier glanced at Elin, raising his eyebrows with interest. He’d heard all manner of rumors and legends about himself by now, but this was the first time that someone had mentioned knowing of her. He was rather pleased. Elin deserved it; she’d been a vital part of the rebellion from the start.
“I’ve heard of you too,” the girl went on excitedly. “Lord Xavier’s beautiful, deadly bodyguard.”
Elin couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, and then laughed even harder at the look on Xavier’s face.
“I—wh—no, that’s not—she’s my wife,” he said, not entirely sure whether he should be indignant on Elin’s behalf or not. She was a leader of the rebellion as much as he was, not just some guard.
But Elin only grinned teasingly at him. “Why can’t I be both?” |
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Post by Elcie on Aug 19, 2014 19:44:37 GMT -5
I added a prologue to Xavier's backstory! And edited it into the backstory post, because ~THREAD ORGANIZATION~
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Post by Elcie on Aug 24, 2014 17:31:36 GMT -5
So one time I wrote up a dream sequence post for Xavier, and then didn't wind up using it. It was meant to be posted the night after Elin was arrested, for context. Here it is. 8D Xavier was running as fast as he could and they were still going to catch him. He knew it with a sense of grim inevitability even as he ran; his body felt heavier and heavier as if he was being dragged backwards. The countryside around him was dark and unforgiving, open fields with no place to hide that stretched endlessly on and on. He could feel, as if it had already happened, the cold weight of iron closing around his wrists.
There was someone screaming and Xavier was running from that too, Muriel’s desperate shrieks behind him - he knew exactly what he’d see if he turned around and the thought of it terrified him more than the slave-hunters bearing down on his heels. While he was trying not to look, the landscape shifted and Xavier realized despairingly that he was running the wrong way, into Courdon, but if he tried to turn around the hunters would have him--
He ran into his master’s manor but found himself in the Jades’ manor, the halls so strangely elongated that they seemed to go on for miles. Someone was still screaming but fainter, as if they were weakening, and Xavier realized with a jolt that it wasn’t Muriel at all, it was Elin.
She was behind the door at the end of the hall - with desperate effort, Xavier managed to reach it and fling it open before the hunters caught him. She was there, pinned by magic as Muriel had been, and as he tried to reach her she shifted and met his eyes with an agonized, accusing stare. He struggled forward, desperately trying to reach her before it was too late and make up for what he’d done - but she was gone then and he realized he was trapped in an empty room, backed up against a corner as the slave-hunters closed in on him.
For the first time, he turned to face them. They were tall, with Courdonian clothing and shadowy faces and curved swords at their waists. One of them drew his blade, and Xavier suddenly saw there was someone standing beside him, one hand protectively on his shoulder, raising a wand against the hunters. Xavier tried to pull away, turning urgently to tell Leif that he had to go, he had to find Muriel--
-- and he woke with a start, his heart pounding violently. He lay in bed, breathing shakily and trying to calm down. It took him a few minutes to recognize his surroundings as his room in Marson’s manor, and a few minutes longer to remember that Elin was gone - safe, he hoped. She would not die like… Xavier’s mind shied away from that thought instinctively. He hadn’t dreamed about that in a long time. |
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Post by Elcie on Oct 18, 2014 16:11:43 GMT -5
More Xavier backstory, about the first time he met Ilsa. =D Safe and DryIlsa Wright was not the greatest cook in town. This was a fact of life in Medieville, and one of the reasons why the King’s Arms Inn tended to be one of the quieter places to drink and socialize. She had a few local customers, but for the most part managed to get by on the business she managed to draw out of unsuspecting and preferably deep-pocketed travelers. All things considered, she got by all right, despite the reputation that had become attached to her kitchen among the locals. It was average, at best.
This, though, this was a first. Despite the teasing from her handful of regular patrons, none of them had ever flinched when she asked to take their order.
She’d seen the young stranger sitting off in a corner of the inn’s common room. He’d come in alone, drenched from the rain which had been pouring down all day. There was no mistaking him for a deep-pocketed traveler; he was just slightly too thin and his wet clothing was well-worn. Still, a customer was a customer, and Ilsa was ready and willing to take his money same as anyone else. The innkeeper bustled over to his table with her usual beaming, exuberant manner, and asked him what he wanted to eat.
Ilsa did not expect him to cringe, pulling back from her and averting his gaze. “I- I just wanted somewhere to get out of the rain,” he whispered, hunching his shoulders. “Please…”
She frowned at him, nonplussed. “So you want a room?”
He winced and shook his head quickly. “I don’t… I can’t pay for it, I’m sorry.” Abruptly he stood up, his gaze still downcast. “I- I didn’t mean to cause any problems. It’s okay, I can leave.”
Ilsa’s eyebrows slowly went up. Ordinarily she would have felt no shame about ejecting someone who had no intention of paying; this wasn’t a charity, after all, she couldn’t have freeloaders taking up space that could be used by valuable paying customers. But - well, it was raining hard, and it wasn’t as if the place was crowded. She could spare a single chair for the evening.
(Besides, something about the way he cringed made her feel like she was kicking a puppy. It was a good thing he didn’t actually have any money, or she might have actually felt bad about cheating him out of it. Totally unreasonable.)
The innkeeper waved a hand dismissively. “Sit back down, I’m not going to kick you out.”
The young man raised his head at this, staring at her wide-eyed. “R-really?”
“Yes. Really. Although,” she added, crossing her arms, “don’t think you’re getting a free night’s stay out of me. You’re leaving at the end of the night, mind you.”
He nodded vigorously, sitting back down and ducking his head again. “Of course, ma’am,” he said, with such abject respect in his voice that Ilsa briefly wondered if this was how the princesses felt all the time. “Th-thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it,” Ilsa said uncomfortably, moving away to check on the other patrons. She’d never thought she would meet someone so deeply grateful for not getting a free night’s stay.
Eventually, as the evening wore on, the rest of her customers filtered out, leaving something of a mess behind. Ilsa sighed, grabbing dirty glasses off of tables. She really should hire someone one of these days - cleaning up could take hours by herself, if she didn’t want the place to look like Bao’s--
Her train of thought broke off as her gaze fell on the young redhead, still hunched over at his table in the corner of the room. She’d forgotten about him. The rain had slackened off a while ago, and she’d expected him to leave then, but apparently not. As she walked up to him, she realized he was asleep, his head dropped down to rest on his arms. For a moment, she was almost sorry to wake him; he looked downright exhausted, and asleep it was even clearer how young he was. Couldn’t have been older than sixteen or seventeen.
Still, she couldn’t leave him on her table all night. Gently she reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. The reaction was violent and immediate; he leaped up and flung himself backwards, cringing backward as his arms came up to shield his face. “I-I’m sorry!” he gasped, ducking his head. “I didn’t mean to--”
“Calm down!” Ilsa said, staring at him with considerable bewilderment. “You just fell asleep. It happens.”
“Oh.” Slowly he looked up at her, lowering his arms, and then back down at the floor. Though he wasn’t cringing anymore, there was something about his posture like he was hunching himself down, making himself small. “I… sorry. I really didn’t mean to, I just… it was warm in here, and I… I’ll go now. Sorry.”
Ilsa tilted her head, curious. “You got anywhere to go for the night?” He shook his head, biting his lip. Considering his complete lack of funds, she hadn’t really expected him to. “Where are you headed?”
“North.”
“Bern? Rindfell?”
“...Anywhere.”
She studied him, curious. That didn’t sound like someone who had a home to return to. She found herself wondering where he was from; that dark red hair was unusual in these parts, and he had a strong accent she couldn’t quite place. Somewhere south of here, perhaps, though it didn’t really sound Corvid.
“Look… I’ll make a deal with you,” Ilsa said. “It’s bound to rain again in the night. Help me clean this place up tonight and serve the guests tomorrow, and I can give you a dry place to sleep tonight.” His head jerked up and he stared at her, apparently speechless, and Ilsa added, “And if you’re looking for work, I might have a job for you. If you’re any good, at least. I need someone to help me out around the inn. Cleaning up, running errands - I can’t always handle everything on my own.”
“You’d… you’d let me stay?” the young man whispered.
Ilsa nodded. “Only if you want to. If you’ve other plans, I won’t keep you. I’ll expect hard work, mind you.”
The redhead nodded vigorously. “I- I will. I promise. I’ll do anything you want, I swear.”
“Good to hear it!” Ilsa grinned at him, and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. He flinched as if he expected the blow to be much harder, and she withdrew her hand quickly. He was so timid; she'd have to be careful. “I’m Ilsa Wright, by the way. You?”
He inclined his head formally, almost like a bow. “Xavier, ma’am. Xavier Lynn.” |
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Post by Elcie on Dec 2, 2014 11:57:57 GMT -5
Hey, remember when I used to write Medieval fics? Me neither. But here's a break from my current writinghiatus to present ELIVIER FLUFF. No title yet. This was written solo but has Gelquie's approval. C: It takes place during Elivier's first year of marriage or so. Elin woke up in the middle of the night to find Xavier lying awake beside her. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn’t sleeping; he was perfectly still, and breathing steadily. Usually, if Xavier woke in the night, it was because of a nightmare; there was no mistaking those. But his eyes were open, watching her, a serious expression on his face.
She shifted to get a better look at him, looking concerned. “Xavier?” she said softly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Xavier whispered, but there was still that strange look in his eyes. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing, and he squeezed back.
He was silent for a couple of minutes until it almost seemed that he was going to drift back to sleep. Then unexpectedly he spoke again. “Sometimes, I look at you, and I wonder if I’m dreaming,” he said softly. “I keep expecting to wake up.”
Elin blinked. “Xavier…”
Xavier gave her a subdued half-smile. From anyone else perhaps this might have been a sweet but ultimately meaningless romantic statement, but he meant exactly what he said. He squeezed her hand again. “Seems too good to be real,” he whispered. “All of this. I… keep wondering… when do I wake up, when does it stop.” He hesitated, then added, “Good things… good things don’t happen to me, Elin. They never have.”
Elin moved closer to him, slipped one arm over his shoulders and pulled him close. “They do now,” she said softly, leaning her head in so their foreheads touched. “This is real, Xavier. It’s not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”
Xavier shifted to embrace her, putting his arm around her. Absently, his fingers twined in her hair. These strange moments, the inexplicable fear that washed over him in his sudden terror of losing this life he’d built for himself, of losing her… somehow, they passed more and more easily now. She was so close he could feel the steady thump of her heartbeat, grounding him, reminding him that this was real and would keep being real. At last, slowly, he let himself close his eyes.
“I’m so glad you married me, meí ziel,” he whispered.
Elin smiled, and turned her head just slightly to kiss him. “So am I.” |
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Post by Elcie on Jan 13, 2015 20:23:15 GMT -5
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Post by Elcie on Jan 15, 2015 18:35:35 GMT -5
More backstory! This one takes place in Xavier's early teens, before his conditioning. Warning for blood/violence/abuse, because Courdon.The FeastThe Talon Festivus was always celebrated lavishly in Jisam. Even the common folk were allowed a day of rest and celebration, but the revels of commoners were nothing compared to the magnificent banquet hosted every year in Jisam Castle. Lord Rodin Duval prided himself in serving the finest wine and the most exquisite traditional delicacies, and he always ensured that his guests were well-entertained, whether with dancers or minstrels or traveling performers.
It was not a celebration, not really. It was a show of force. Only the most powerful and influential of Courdonian lords could have afforded such a spectacle. And every year, when King Malik traveled from Rakine with his retinue to attend House Duval’s banquet, it was a reminder that no other lord had so fully captured the favor of Courdon’s king.
Duval’s display of wealth was not limited to the extravagant dishes he served or the number of guests he entertained. It was also a chance to show off how many slaves he owned, and how well-trained they were. This was the reason that Xavier dreaded the festival every year. Since he’d grown old enough, Duval always had him serving food in the great hall. It wasn’t just because Xavier was docile; the combination of his Cerrish red hair and pale skin made him an exotic talking point. On an occasion like this, Duval liked to place him where he’d be seen. He enjoyed the attention his half-Cerrish slave attracted. Xavier did not.
This year, at least, Muriel was serving at the banquet as well. She usually did not, but a handful of the serving girls had taken sick and the overseers had pushed Muriel into the role. She was not pleased about it. Only a couple of years older than Xavier, her figure had nearly developed into maturity, and she was starting to attract almost as much attention as Xavier did, albeit for different reasons. Muriel’s hair was dark and her skin browned from the sun, like many people in Talvace.
She was sent to the far end of the hall and Xavier was set to serve the high table as usual, but he still felt reassured that she was around. Somehow, even if there was absolutely nothing she’d be able to do to protect him, he felt safer when she was nearby. As the banquet started, he lifted his head slightly and was able to catch Muriel’s eye as she stood behind a delegation from Emryn with a wine pitcher at the ready. She winked. He looked away, wondering how she always managed to seem so fearless.
What made the high table so nerve-racking was that it was always where the King and his family sat. Xavier was on edge, knowing no mistakes would be tolerated if he made his master look foolish in front of the royal family. Duval was in his element, chatting amiably with the king and queen, occasionally casting glances out into the hall to make sure others were noticing what a good host he was, and what a prestigious position he’d been allowed at Malik’s right hand.
Duval and his guests were well into the main course before anyone remotely paid attention to Xavier, which was a relief. He’d been able to do his duties silently without interference, and if Duval didn’t so much as glance at him, it meant he was doing things right. About halfway through the meal, however, he must not have been quick enough refilling the queen’s goblet, because she turned and waved him over impatiently. Quickly Xavier bowed and carried over a pitcher of wine. He leaned in, careful not to touch any of the royal family, as Queen Benna held out her goblet without so much as glancing at him.
At the same time, however, the young princess seated next to Benna leaned in slightly, either to say something to her mother or to take some food from the table. What she wanted, Xavier didn’t know, but he hastily shifted to avoid getting in her way. Too hastily. The wine in the pitcher sloshed wildly, spilling out onto the queen’s dress. She stiffened, outraged, turning to stare at Xavier with her mouth open in shock. Before he had a chance to react, she shoved him back roughly. Xavier struggled to hold onto the pitcher, and flinched as he saw more of the wine splash on the side of the princess’s gown.
Frozen in place, Xavier stared at the ground, aware of too many pairs of eyes fixed on him. A chair scraped against the floor as Duval stood up abruptly. Xavier didn’t need to look at his master to know how enraged he was. He stood there, bracing himself, as the lord marched up to him and then backhanded him across the face. The blow was hard enough that Xavier stumbled, and to his abject horror, the now-slippery wine pitcher slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor.
Xavier cringed as Duval hit him again, staggering and only barely managing to stay on his feet. The bigger man grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him roughly. “You stupid piece of filth, what have you done?”
“I- I’m sorry, master,” Xavier gasped out without thinking, his mind gone nearly blank with panic.
It was a mistake. Glowering, Duval grabbed a handful of Xavier’s hair and twisted, pulling his head down until Xavier was forced into an awkward half-bow. “Did I give you permission to speak, boy?”
Too terrified to speak and unable to shake his head in answer, Xavier remained silent. It was the only response he could have given. Duval let go of him and shoved him backwards. He glanced at one of his attendants, who could not help but pale slightly at the expression on the lord’s face. “Get him out of my sight,” he hissed. “I’ll deal with him later.” The attendant bowed.
He didn’t have to take hold of Xavier; the slave knew what was expected of him. Head bowed submissively, he followed the man out of the hall. Across the room, Muriel stared with briefly unconcealed horror before she forced herself to temper her emotions. Gritting her teeth, she bowed her head and poured another glass of wine for one of the lords from Emryn. If she got herself punished too, there was nothing she’d be able to do for Xavier later.
The attendant took Xavier to a disused storeroom off to the side of the pantry. “You will stay here until his Lordship has time to deal with you,” he said coolly. “You will not move. Is that understood?”
Xavier bowed his head. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.
The man left. Xavier was left alone. He hadn’t heard the sound of a latch, so he probably hadn’t been locked in, but what was the point of running? There was nowhere to go, and it would only make things worse for him when he was dragged back. Instead he remained as motionless as he’d been told, not even daring to sit down. It was bound to be a long wait. These banquets could go on for hours.
It felt like an age before the door swung open again. Xavier’s legs and back were aching from standing stiffly upright for so long but he still didn’t move, remaining rooted to the spot as his master stormed in. There was, he knew, no point in pleading for lenience. He deserved to be punished for what he’d done. All the same, he couldn’t keep himself from trembling slightly in the face of Duval’s obvious fury.
The lord was not one to bandy words with slaves. He made a sharp gesture. “On your knees,” he snapped.
Xavier fell to his knees on the stone floor of the storeroom, grateful for the relief of no longer having to stand. Without having to be prompted, he wordlessly stripped off his shirt and waited. He’d seen the whip coiled at Duval’s waist. His master didn’t need to call an overseer for this.
The first lash seared across Xavier’s bare back, and his face twisted in pain as he struggled to stay silent. Duval was expert at delivering punishment, and he had a strong arm. Soon, as the lashes continued relentlessly, Xavier’s efforts to remain meekly quiet failed and a hoarse cry was wrenched from his throat. His low moans quickly turned to ragged sobs, though Duval did not appear to pay any attention; the blows rained down as steadily as ever.
Gripped by the pain, Xavier had long since lost track of time by the time Duval finally stopped. His back throbbed, coupled with the familiar warm, wet sensation of blood trickling down from the welts left by the whip. By now his arms were shaking with the effort of holding himself kneeling upright, but Xavier fought to remain steady, afraid of what might happen if he collapsed now. He didn’t think he could withstand another beating.
Tossing the whip to one side, Duval crouched in front of Xavier, lifting his chin so he could study the slave’s face. Xavier was gasping for breath, his cheeks wet with tears. “You’ve learned your lesson, I hope,” Duval said in a low voice. “If you ever humiliate me like that again…”
Xavier didn’t dare speak, frozen to the spot like a rabbit under a predator’s gaze. Thankfully, the moment did not last long. The door swung open, and Duval stood, letting go of Xavier so abruptly that the slave nearly did lose his balance and collapse to the floor. Managing somehow to remain on his aching knees, Xavier dared to lift his head a fraction and saw that one of the overseers had walked in.
“Am I interrupting, sir?” the man said cautiously.
“Not at all,” Duval said pleasantly. “I’ve just finished. Take the slave back to the barracks. He’s to be kept on cut rations until I say otherwise, and he’s not to be fed or given water tonight. Is that understood?”
The overseer bowed his head respectfully. “Understood, sir.”
“Then I will take my leave.” Duval narrowed his eyes. “I must go and make further apologies to her Majesty.” He paused at the door, adding, “And make sure someone is sent to clean up this mess, will you?”
He was gone. The overseer crouched beside Xavier, who flinched, but all he did was pull out a vial of cleansing potion and trickle it over Xavier’s back. It stung, and the slave hissed with pain, arching his back involuntarily. Still, he was inwardly relieved. If Duval was allowing his wounds to be treated to prevent infection, it probably meant that the worst of the punishment was over. His master wasn’t angry enough to want him in a state where he could no longer work.
“Up,” said the overseer brusquely, standing. Quickly, Xavier snatched up his shirt where it lay on the floor and forced himself upright. Every movement was agony; his back still burned, and the bleeding hadn’t yet stopped. He had no idea where he found the strength to struggle to his feet, and was so unsteady that he nearly stumbled straight into the overseer. The man barely looked at him, ignoring his cringing.
Xavier did not remember much of the walk back to the barracks, focusing most of his attention on remaining upright. It was a relief when they finally reached the old wooden building at the edge of the castle grounds. The overseer shoved him unceremoniously through the door, locking it securely behind him. The slave made it only a few steps before he finally, mercifully collapsed, curling up on his side beside the wall. Everything hurt, and his stomach was gnawing at him with hunger, but even if he’d been allowed rations that night he didn’t think he could move to go retrieve them. In that moment it was a relief just to be still. Not many of the other slaves had returned for the night. Xavier was nearly alone, and no one else approached him. Slowly he let his eyes slip closed.
Despite the pain, his exhaustion must have gotten the better of him, because the next thing he knew Muriel was crouched in front of him, gently taking hold of his arm and saying his name urgently. Xavier flinched automatically at the touch and started to stir, letting out a weak cry as the movement split open welts on his back that had started to congeal. Muriel quickly reached out to steady him.
“Careful,” she said quietly, and her voice wobbled. Slowly it registered how upset she looked, her eyes glistening with held-back tears. “Gods, Xavier, how many lashes did he give you?”
“…Lost count.” Xavier winced, very carefully sitting up by leveraging himself against the wall. “I- I spilled the wine—”
“I know, I saw,” Muriel said gently. “And I heard what happened after. He- Overseer Brant made me scrub out the spare storeroom…”
Xavier winced. “Sorry.”
“Raven’s beak, Xavier, it’s not your fault. Here.” She reached behind her, unwrapping an ancient threadbare cloaks to reveal a small waterskin. Xavier’s eyes widened slightly; an item like that couldn’t have been easy for her to obtain. “I’m guessing he made you skip rations. Sorry, I couldn’t sneak any food, but I got this off Doran. He owes me.”
Slaves weren’t supposed to have possessions; the very clothes on their backs, and the cloaks that were given them to keep warm in the winter months, belonged to House Duval just like they did. But for the risk-takers there were always ways to slip things by, a tacit black market trade in small trinkets and makeshift tools that could be hidden from the overseers. Xavier couldn’t imagine what it must have taken for Muriel to obtain water, outside the usual rationing. Or what the overseers would do to her if she was caught with it.
He pushed her hand away as she tried to offer it to him. “I- I’m not supposed to have water today.”
Muriel frowned. “You need it. Look what he did to you! And I bet he’ll want you back at work tomorrow, the brute—”
“Muriel!” Xavier hissed her name, his eyes wide in part shock and part terror. A small part of him was impressed at her boldness, talking about their master like that, but mostly he was horrified. It wasn’t right for a slave to talk about their master like that, and if anyone heard her…
“Well, he is one,” Muriel muttered, but to Xavier’s relief she didn’t say it again. “Please, Xavier, just humor me. I don’t want you collapsing tomorrow, gods know what they’d do.” When he hesitated, she grabbed his hand and forced the waterskin in it. “No one’s looking,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll bury the skin afterward.” Another pause. “Look, would it make you feel better if I said you owe me one after this? Just drink the cursed thing.”
Xavier gave a small, hiccupy laugh at this. “I- I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay you back, Muriel,” he said. “Y-you’re always taking risks for me…” Relenting, he lifted the waterskin to his lips, trying to drink it slowly to make each precious drop last. When he was finished, he passed it back to Muriel, who hid it away again. She smiled at him, a little sadly.
“Why shouldn’t I take risks?” she said. “We gotta stick together, you and me.” She edged up to the wall, leaning back against it next to Xavier. Instinctively he pulled closer to her, slumping in exhaustion so his head dropped onto her shoulder. He gave a little whimper of pain as he shifted, and Muriel’s brow furrowed. She reached up to put a protective hand on the side of his head, almost a maternal gesture. “Try to get some rest,” she whispered. “I’ll stay with you.”
Exhausted and drained as they were, it didn’t take long for the two young slaves to fall asleep, nestled against each other as if close contact was the only possible way to stay safe. |
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Post by Elcie on Mar 13, 2015 15:40:03 GMT -5
The next part of Xavier's backstory is up! The conditioning is underway...
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Post by Elcie on Sept 23, 2015 11:35:59 GMT -5
Have some Xavier and Everett fic! \o/ This one is a collab with PFA and takes place right after the coronation. No More SecretsIn the aftermath of the coronation, Xavier left Raven's Keep with Ilsa, exhausted and worn down. Neither of them had discussed it, but it was somehow a given that after everything he'd been through that day Xavier was going home with his former employer. Something in him needed to be close to someone he trusted right now. And Ilsa... after everything that had happened, she deserved some explanation. A real explanation, one that was years late in coming.
As they left together, Xavier noticed that they'd passed someone he recognized. His gut clenched. Somehow in spite of everything that had happened, the sight of Everett Jade still struck some dark, instinctive fear in Xavier.
...But you can't avoid him forever. You need to ask him. The thought was not reassuring. Much as he'd come to care about House Jade, and as much as he liked Leif, the thought of having to return to Corvus with the rest of them gave him chills. He couldn't leave Elin, especially not after everything that had happened to her - and then there was Ilsa, the closest thing he'd had to family since coming to Kyth.
He steeled himself. "Ilsa, I'll see you at the inn," he murmured. "There's... there's someone I need to talk to."
As he approached Everett, he noticed that the man was limping. Apparently, the Lord of Embers hadn't made it through the coronation entirely unscathed. So after a deep, respectful bow of greeting, the first thing Xavier said was, "May... may I assist you, my lord?"
Everett groaned, wincing against the pain of his wounds. It was nothing serious—nothing that wouldn't heal, and it was worth it for the safety of his family. Even so, he wished the healers had been able to do a better job of tending to his wounds. The healers in Corvus were much better trained. But, he decided, it would have to do for now. Perhaps later he could find a proper mage to attend to him.
The sight of a familiar red-headed vigilante boy caught Lord Everett's eye, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The boy was under House Jade's protection, after all, and it would have been on his head if something were to happen to him, so it was good to see he was unharmed. Upon approaching him, the boy bowed low, asking Everett if he needed assistance. Everett raised an eyebrow, absently wondering why the boy insisted on being so terribly submissive.
"I'll be alright, thank you," he replied simply. "I am glad I found you, though; I've been looking for you."
At that comment, Xavier's back went a little straighter. "Y-yes?" he stammered, trying not to show how nervous this made him feel. "Is there something you need me for?"
"I just want to be sure everyone made it through this ordeal in one piece," Everett told him. After a pause, he added, "Have you seen the others?"
Xavier blinked. Concern from Everett had not been what he was expecting. "I... well, I did see Le- Master Leif at the triage," he said, brow furrowed. "He's okay. But I haven't seen anyone else... I don't know where they are, my lord, I'm sorry." He hoped nothing had happened to Lady Jeniver, or the other Jades. Small wonder Everett was worried for his family in all this chaos.
"Hm." Everett thought on this for a moment, before turning to leave with a sigh. "I'll keep looking. Thank you."
"Ah-- Lord Everett, wait," Xavier blurted out, anxiously averting his eyes from the lord's face. "There was something I needed to speak with you about, um, if- if I may..." He ducked his head again in a worried little half-bow, just for good measure. Surely it was disrespectful to interrupt him like this, but Xavier needed to know what the future would hold. He was sick of all the uncertainty.
Everett frowned, glancing back at Xavier. "What is it?"
"I--" Hesitantly, Xavier met Everett's eyes, clasping his hands behind his back where he was twisting them nervously. "I was wondering what your plans for me were, now that the coronation is over. I presume your Lordship will be returning to Solis..." An edge entered his voice, and he had to force himself not to look away. "I'm... I'm happy to serve House Jade, truly. But... I... Medieville is my home, milord." His voice had gone very soft on those last few words, and finally he did look away again, casting his gaze at the ground.
There was silence as Everett considered these words—if Xavier were paying attention, he would have noticed that the Lord of Corvus looked rather perplexed. "Well, of course. I thought I'd stated that you would only be working for us during our stay here."
"But I thought--" Xavier looked up and gaped at him, utterly confused. "You mean-- you don't... need me anymore?"
It felt like he should have been happy to hear this, but he wasn't. After everything he'd gone through for House Jade, the extent to which he'd grown to care about them... this calm, matter-of-fact dismissal from the man he'd never wanted to work for in the first place felt remarkably like rejection.
Xavier found his hands were curling into fists. "I- I risked everything for your House. After you took me from my home in the night, made Ilsa think something terrible had happened- and at first it was only because I thought I had to, because I thought that I was... that you..." He shook his head rapidly. "But then your family was kind to me, and they weren't what I thought they were, and I decided I'd help because I wanted to. I didn't care about the throne but I cared about Leif, and Lady Jeniver, and all of them and I thought--" He sucked in a deep, shaky breath. Leif had said he was one of them now. A Jade, just like him. Belonging, not in the sense of ownership, but as an equal. He had said nothing about being kicked back onto the streets after Xavier had outstayed his usefulness. "But I guess I was always just a pawn, wasn't I?" he said bitterly. "I was right the first time, just in the wrong way."
Breathing heavily after his outburst, it hit him belatedly that all of that emotion had come pouring out at Lord Everett Jade. He felt his heart sink into his stomach. What had he been thinking? No doubt Everett would now take the opportunity to carry out those punishments he'd threatened back when Xavier had been recruited - and for speaking out like that against a nobleman, Xavier would probably deserve every one of them.
It was no surprise that Everett was stunned. Thankfully, at least, he did not lash out this time. "I thought— what? What are you even talking about?"
Xavier stared at him. "But didn't you-- didn't Leif tell you already...?" He swallowed hard. Having come this far, there was no point in holding back on the rest of it. "When you... recruited me," he said quietly. "I thought I was a slave again. Or as good as."
Everett fell into a profound silence. Suddenly, it all started to make sense: the way the boy would flinch and cower in his presence, the extreme subservience, the Courdonian accent... how did he not notice the accent before? Dear 'Woo, this boy was an escaped Courdonian slave.
"Of all the— how did I not—" Everett grumbled as he tried to sort out his thoughts. He groaned, burying his face in his hand. "This is a terrible misunderstanding. You are not, and never have been, House Jade's slave."
A slightly rueful, humorless smile twitched the corner of Xavier's lips. "I sold myself to you that night, Lord Everett," he said quietly. "It was only later that I realized you hadn't understood what I really meant. Leif... Master Leif explained everything to me and..." He shook his head. "N-no, it doesn't matter. I'm- I'm sorry for shouting, I shouldn't..." Xavier trailed off, inclining his head respectfully again with the apology.
Everett felt like a fool for not realizing it. The more he thought on it, the more he realized just how much the arrangement must have seemed like... 'Woo, with all the issues they had with escaped slaves, the thought of anyone thinking the Lord of Corvus would enslave anyone willfully made him feel ill.
"I... I must apologize," Everett eventually said. "I never meant to make you think I was..." He shook his head. "That was hardly my intention."
He was silent for a moment, contemplating what to do now. He wished there was some way to make it up to Xavier, perhaps to help him realize that life in Kyth was nothing like the misery he experienced back in Courdon... suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
"What was it you were saying earlier?" he asked. "Something about wanting to be a part of House Jade?"
Xavier blinked, still thrown off balance by Everett's reaction to his stormy, disrespectful outburst. An apology was not what he'd expected, but it sounded sincere. "I... yes," he said slowly. "I did want to stay in House Jade's service. The only reason I became a vigilante w-was to protect the people I cared about... and maybe I didn't do a very good job of that," he added. His voice shook a little, thinking of Elin. "But I think I could do more good with House Jade. They're... there are good people in your House, my lord. I do believe that now." He looked away, sighing. "B-but I understand if you no longer need my services... And I could never leave Medieville."
Especially with Elin... He was done choosing House Jade over her, and he couldn't abandon her now, especially considering his worry about her earlier collapse.
"So you want to be a part of House Jade, but you don't want to leave Medieville." Everett paused, thinking on this for a moment. "It's not out of the question, if that's what you want."
Xavier looked at him hopefully. "You'd really let me?" he said. "I, uh... I don't know if you would still need a vigilante, now all that is over... but I'd do whatever I can to help House Jade here."
"I'm sure we could find something for you to do. Woo knows Marson could probably use the help." Everett shook his head. "I've heard the others speak highly of you—you've proven to be a reliable ally, so if it's what you really want to do, I'm not averse to it."
"Yes, I - I'd be glad to!" Xavier's smile widened, and though there was still a hint of shyness in the expression, he let himself meet Everett's eyes openly. Though the Lord of Embers looked as serious and intimidating as ever, he was clearly in complete earnest about his offer - and about his praise of Xavier.
He wasn't talking to him like a pawn or a slave at all, Xavier realized. He was truly willing to give Xavier a chance.
"Thank you," Xavier said fervently. "I won't let you down, I promise. And--" He ducked his head apologetically again, but soon looked back up with a small smile. "I'm sorry I misjudged you. You're a good man, milord."
"Oh, er, thank you," Everett replied, seeming a little surprised by the compliment, but not ungrateful. He paused for a moment, before clearing his throat and looking away. "At any rate, we'll have to discuss specifics another time. I still need to find the others."
Xavier nodded vigorously. "Of course. We can discuss it later. I... need to talk with someone, too." Now that it was settled, that he'd be staying in Medieville but also staying on with House Jade, he'd have to break the news to Ilsa that he wouldn't be coming back as her cook. And that was far from the only thing he needed to tell her. He'd kept secrets from her for too long.
On impulse, he bowed low to Everett. "Thank you, milord," he said again. "I... suppose I will see you at the manor later."
Everett nodded. "Of course. I'll see you later."
Xavier nodded, and after a moment's hesitation he turned away, back toward the steps that Ilsa was descending. It's... really going to be okay, isn't it? he thought wonderingly. He was free, a member of House Jade. He could be with Elin now, and she was safe.
Starting to smile, Xavier broke into a run down the steps. He was going to tell Ilsa everything. |
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Post by Elcie on Jan 28, 2016 13:57:01 GMT -5
Different LivesThis is going to be a collection of fics and drabbles about AU versions of Elivier - how they still met and fell in love, despite leading drastically different lives. I got a little carried away with the first one but they won't all be this long... probably. Enjoy~ AU #1: The Slave and the CookHe met her only a few months after he’d come to live at the inn, and they didn’t talk much. Xavier was still mourning, and while his Aunt Ilsa’s kindness had done a great deal to make him feel welcome, the pain was still there. And Elin… well.
Elin didn’t talk much, Xavier soon learned.
No one was entirely sure where Clare Ryer’s new apprentice had come from, but the childless butcher merely shrugged cheerfully and said that Elin was a hard worker and good company, and if she didn’t want to share, then Clare wouldn’t pry. Xavier could respect that. His past wasn’t even a great secret, and he still didn’t like it when people asked too many questions about his parents. It hurt. Maybe Elin had something that hurt, too.
He could see it in her eyes, sometimes, when she came over to unload a shipment of meat or help out at the inn. She didn’t talk much, but he could see that it wasn’t because she was shy. There was something simmering under the surface, some reason her eyes were hard and her hands balled up into fists when someone surprised her, as if she’d hit them if they came too close. Xavier kept his distance at first, but as the months passed something in Elin seemed to relax around him.
She started talking more. A couple times, she even smiled. And when she did, Xavier’s breath caught in his throat, and he hoped she didn’t notice his gaze lingering on her face a little longer than normal.
Then King Starmey died, and everything seemed to go to the ‘Pit all at once.
Elin disappeared. A worried Clare came to the inn to ask around, but no one had seen her, and Xavier felt his heart ache with worry. But he didn’t have much time to dwell on it, because one evening Lord Everett Jade came to the inn, and he wanted to speak to Xavier.
Apparently, the Lord of Embers knew everything about Xavier’s nighttime excursions. He didn’t have much time to be embarrassed about that, because then Everett was asking for his help and Xavier did not have the heart to refuse, did not say he’d planned to take the night off and search for Elin instead. He’d grown up in Corvus - of course it was his duty to help House Jade. He said yes.
He didn’t find out until the feast that apparently he was still searching for Elin, because she was one of the rebels that House Jade was trying to catch. He’d stood staring at her in utter shock, knowing what his duty was and not even slightly wanting to carry it out.
“I- I can’t--” Xavier stammered, his hands shaking. “I’m loyal to the Crown, Elin!”
Elin’s eyes were like ice. “Do you know,” she said, “why I joined the Shadows?”
He didn’t. So she told him.
In short, terse sentences, she told him where she’d come from. That she was from Courdon, a runaway. Unceremoniously she yanked down the collar of her dress and let him see the ugly brand twisting the skin over her collarbone. She was never going back, she told him, and she could not stand by and watch people suffer at the whims of the nobility.
“But… Lord Everett,” Xavier said softly. “He’s not…”
“So you have one kind lord,” Elin snapped. “Some people had kind masters. It doesn’t make it right.”
Xavier told Everett that Elin had gotten away in the night.
He stopped looking for her. The nobles wanted to put an end to the Shadows, and he could see why, but he could not bring himself to do anything that might put Elin in harm’s way. She’d been through enough. Still, they crossed paths anyway. Xavier was selfishly, fiercely glad to learn that she did not hate him for his loyalty to House Jade. It would have been far better for her to stay far, far away, they both knew that, but when he impulsively grabbed her hand as he asked if she was all right - when Elin took just one step closer that brought her within inches of him -
It was all he could do not to lean down and kiss her. And that would be a terrible idea for so, so many reasons.
There was a moment of hesitation, but in the end, Elin turned and ran. As she should. Xavier closed his eyes and pretended his heart was not aching.
He didn’t see her again for several days, until one morning brought with it a nasty surprise.
It seemed that the impending coronation had not escaped the notice of their neighbors to the south, because a flock of gryphons carrying Courdonian nobility had just landed in Medieville. The Jades brought Xavier with them to make a formal greeting, but his mind could not have been further from the politics of the situation. All he could think about was Elin, and he hoped she was far, far away from the town square where the Courdonian delegation had gathered.
She wasn’t.
He heard the altercation before he saw it. A shriek of “Let me go!” followed by a loud slap. Xavier whirled around to see a tall, bearded man hanging onto a struggling Elin.
He didn’t think twice about leaving the safety of the Jades, running full-tilt towards Elin and the Courdonian and shouting “Leave her alone!”
The man lifted his head to lock his gaze on Xavier, blue eyes glittering maliciously. “This doesn’t concern you, boy. I’d keep your nose out of my business unless you want a thrashing.”
“It- it does concern me,” Xavier said, quailing a little under that cold, cruel gaze but forcing himself not to back down. “She’s my friend, you have no right to hurt her like that!”
The Courdonian laughed. “I have every right. That--” -- he pointed at the scar on Elin’s collarbone, revealed by her slightly torn neckline -- “-- marks her as mine. She’s my property, and I am taking her back where she belongs. Now go away before I am forced to do something you won’t like.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Xavier said flatly. Slowly, hoping the Courdonian wouldn’t notice, his hand was inching toward the wand at his belt. Leif had discovered that Xavier was not only a mage, but largely untrained due to his family’s poverty, and had been teaching him a few spells during his stay at Marson Manor. Maybe his beginner’s magic wouldn’t stop the Courdonian, but it could at least buy them some time, give Elin the chance to run--
“Xavier, please,” Elin spoke up unexpectedly. He’d never heard her sound this terrified, her eyes wide as she stared at him. “D-Duval -- Master is- y-you don’t know what he’s like, he’ll hurt you, so don’t… p-please don’t--”
“I don’t care,” Xavier said hotly. “I’m not losing you! And I--”
Unfortunately, at that moment, Duval noticed that Xavier was reaching for his wand. Growling, he reached for the blade at his waist. “Meddling brat--”
Desperately, Elin twisted around in his grasp and managed to sink her teeth into his wrist. Duval yelled in pain and anger, jerking instinctively away from her, but turned almost immediately to swing his fist at her face. Xavier’s heart leaped into his throat and he shoved forward, intercepting the blow. He could hear Elin scream as he was knocked to the ground.
“You think you can toy with a lord of Courdon?” the enki growled, grabbing Xavier roughly by a fistful of his hair and dragging him upright. Xavier grimaced, tears of pain springing to his eyes. “I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget!”
“What, exactly, are you doing?” The voice cut through the air like a knife. Xavier saw two figures hurrying toward them, both wearing green. Leif and Lord Everett. Relief washed over Xavier, although it was tempered with fear. Maybe he could convince them to stop Duval taking Elin back - but she was still a rebel, and what would happen to her then?
When he saw who was approaching, Duval dropped Xavier as if he’d been scalded. “You should keep a better eye on your servants,” he said scathingly. “I hope he’ll be properly reprimanded for his disrespect.”
“He’s not a servant, he’s a member of our House,” Leif spat, helping Xavier up. “I’m sure the queen will be so pleased to hear you were attacking a member of House Jade!”
“Attacking?” Duval said indignantly. “He was interfering with my personal affairs and I--”
“Interfering or not, I must ask you to leave my recruit alone,” Everett said coldly. “Your king claims you have come here in peace, but your behavior is casting that very much into doubt.”
As Duval spluttered at Everett, his attention momentarily taken up by the Jade interlopers, Xavier noticed Elin slowly backing away. This might be her best chance. He tried to catch her eye, and mouthed a single word. Run!
She hesitated a moment, but could see that Xavier was well protected by his noble allies, and quickly turned to flee. Duval noticed, only a second too late to grab at her. “Thief!” he roared. “Stop that girl!”
Leif looked startled. “Was that--”
“She belongs to me!” Duval snarled, immediately abandoning the Jades to give chase and gesturing for a few of the Courdonian soldiers to help him.
But as Elin fled, a very strange thing happened. As she passed a fruit seller’s stall, a blonde teenage boy stumbled into it with almost artful clumsiness, sending apples rolling on the ground right in the path of the pursuing soldiers. “Oh- oh no, I’m sorry,” Xavier heard him say to the merchant, but his eyes were straying in Elin’s direction.
Duval snarled as he tried to dodge around the fallen produce, and a girl who seemed to come from nowhere bumped into him at an angle that made him stumble. He shoved her away impatiently, but before he could quite regain his balance, a blast of loud, tinny noise from the corner of the square drew everyone’s attention. Xavier recognized it as the strange music that had played during the feast.
“Hello, Medieville! How’re you all doing tonight?!” a man shouted, and then paused. “Wait, someone did want a DJ, right? One of you important diplomatic types?”
Duval was spitting curses as he tried to make his way through the thoroughly distracted crowd, but Xavier could already see it was no good. Elin was gone. He couldn’t stop smiling.
The Shadows, it seemed, would look after their own.
He didn’t expect to see her again, at least not soon, but that evening after sharing a drink with Ilsa at the King’s Arms, he encountered her in an alley behind the inn. She was wearing the cloak she’d had earlier as a disguise, her brand safely covered once more.
“I was hoping you’d be here,” she said softly. “I--”
This time, Xavier threw caution to the wind and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. Elin tensed, and for just a moment he regretted his rash action, starting to pull away… before she suddenly, fiercely hugged him in return, clinging tightly to the back of his tunic. He could feel her shaking in his arms, and it wasn’t long before she let her head drop against his chest and started to cry.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” she whispered, almost feverishly. “I almost got you killed, he would have… he’d…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Xavier told her. “I couldn’t let him take you, whatever it took. You… you deserve so much better than that.”
“Stupid,” Elin mumbled into the front of Xavier’s tunic, damp with her tears. “Y-you don’t know what he’s like, you should have run when I said, you…” She broke off, a tearful hitch to her voice. “You really… care that much.”
“Of course I do,” Xavier told her fiercely. “No matter what.”
They remained like that for some time. Neither particularly wanted to let go. Elin spoke in clipped, choked whispers of Courdon, her words sometimes stumbling over each other, as if she was afraid of changing her mind if she stopped even for a moment. Duval had been her master, and she’d escaped only at great risk to her own life. She hadn’t been the only one to try, but she had been the only one to make it. She didn’t say much about it, but she said enough. Xavier understood.
“My brother,” she whispered. “He… he was just a child, and they…” Her voice choked into silence and she broke down again, clinging to Xavier. “I c-can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me. Not ever. And you…” She gave a half-laugh, half sob, pulling back enough that she could look Xavier in the eye. “Gods,” she said, trying futilely to wipe her teary eyes. “I th-think I’m falling in love with you.”
Hesitantly Xavier reached out to touch the side of her face, smoothing back her hair when she didn’t flinch away from her touch. “I think I’ve been falling in love with you for a long time,” he confessed, flushing. “When I saw you today… I…”
Elin didn’t let him finish, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. Without hesitation, Xavier wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back. Thoughts of the Courdonians, the Jades, the Shadows - it couldn’t have been further from his mind. All that mattered was Elin, safe and close in his arms.
Even on the morning of the coronation, Elin still lingered on Xavier’s mind as he prepared to go to the event with the Jades. He hadn’t seen her since that night, and the tension between the Kythians and Courdonians had only grown, with a few rogue acts from the Shadows reminding the nobility that they had not yet given up. Something was going to happen, and it might be very, very bad… but Xavier would do everything he could to make sure everyone stayed safe. There had been worried talk about what the Shadows might do at the rising queen’s coronation, but he was starting to suspect that the real danger was going to come from the Courdonians. And that was certainly true for Elin.
Sure enough, the Courdonians attacked in the midst of the ceremony, revealing weapons and turning on the Kythians. Xavier had been prepared for a fight - wearing a protective amulet that Leif had given him, his wand holstered at his waist, even a knife thrust through his belt just in case - but he’d never been in the midst of a pitched battle like this before, and for a moment he froze up in terror.
Somehow he’d gotten separated from the Jades, and his inexperience put him in a vulnerable position. It was Lord Duval who noticed and took advantage of this. The young, poorly-trained mage was not a strategic target, but that clearly didn’t matter to Duval, who had a cold, vindictive grin on his face as he grabbed Xavier’s throat.
“I told you you’d regret interfering in my affairs,” Duval growled, and reached for his sword as Xavier gasped for breath.
“No!” Elin’s shriek seemed to come from a great distance away, but suddenly Duval had let him go and was stumbling back, growling as he clutched a bleeding slash on his arm. Elin stood between them, trembling slightly but glaring, the knife in her outstretched hand. “Stay away from him. Or else.”
Duval’s eyes blazed with rage. “You do not ever give me orders, girl!” he roared, and hit Elin so hard it knocked her off her feet. “How dare you speak to me that way! You’ll remember your place once I’m finished with you--”
“Never,” Elin rasped, pushing herself up and wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. “I’m done listening to you, and I’m never going back!”
Duval wound up for another blow, but Xavier saw his chance and yelped a quick spell. The enki’s arm was caught in midair. It was not quite the full-body stun that Xavier had been attempting, but it was enough of a distraction. Elin got out of the way, and Duval turned his glare on Xavier. “And you,” he spat. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
He turned toward Xavier, raising his sword - and that was his mistake. Xavier saw at once that he had underestimated Elin. She sprang up behind him and shoved her knife between his ribs. “I told you to leave him alone,” she said in a low, deadly voice.
Gasping with pain, Duval furiously turned on Elin. Xavier’s breath caught, but he quickly realized that Elin was holding her own. She was quick and surprisingly skilled with her knife, landing blows despite Duval’s best efforts to disable her. It became clear that Duval was no longer holding back in an attempt not to harm his former slave, holding his sword aloft in a threatening stance.
“You still belong to me, you worthless wench,” he growled. “You’re nothing!”
Elin lifted her head defiantly, staring him down. “Not anymore,” she said, raising her knife. “And you will never - touch me - again!”
And he didn’t. As Xavier watched, terrified, not a single one of Duval’s blows landed as Elin punctuated each word with a thrust of her knife. As she finished shouting she jumped back, suddenly unarmed, and Xavier realized that her knife was embedded in Duval’s heart.
He tried to speak, but did not have the strength, instead only glaring furiously at Elin until his eyes glazed over and his body collapsed to the ground.
Elin sagged, exhausted. Xavier ran to her side and embraced her tightly, though there was only time to hold her for a moment before they broke apart. Elin put her hands on Xavier’s shoulders, frowning as she saw bruises on his neck. “You’re all right? H-he didn’t hurt you?”
“Are you okay?” Xavier’s eyes drifted to the small tears in Elin’s dress where Duval must have slashed her during their fight. “Y-you’re bleeding…”
“Just scratches. I’ll be fine.” Elin’s hands tightened on Xavier’s shoulders, and he felt them trembling. “I… I want to stay with you, but… but there’s people counting on me, I have to--”
“The Shadows… I know,” Xavier said softly. “Just - just please, be careful.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “You have to come back.”
“I will,” Elin said firmly. “I promise. I--” But she broke off, shaking her head, and instead kissed him, fiercely and desperately. It lasted only a moment - and she was gone.
The rest of the battle seemed like a blur. Xavier fought until he felt he was near collapse, for the first time even feeling the ache that Leif had called “the pull” as he cast spell after spell. He was nowhere near consistent in his defensive spells yet, but it did enough to deter them and help other Kythians fight back or escape.
In the end, the King of Courdon and the Queen of Kyth both lay dead at the bottom of the tower, and both sides slowed to a standstill. As soon as he was able, Xavier took off in search of Elin, running through the crowd and calling out her name. He found her near the new Kythian king with some of the other Shadows, looking exhausted but happy.
“Xavier,” she whispered, “we did it.” Then she collapsed into his arms.
He rushed her to the healers at triage. Something had gone wrong with Elin’s magic, magic he hadn’t even known she had. By the time the healer was finished with her, Xavier was left with more questions than answers… but what mattered was that Elin was sleeping peacefully on a cot and Xavier was sitting next to her, trailing his fingers gently through her hair. She was safe, and free, and alive. There was more left to take care of in the future, of course - he’d have to talk with Everett and Leif, see if there was any way he could continue his magic education and his service to House Jade while staying in Medieville, because there was no way he was leaving Elin - but right now… he could worry about that later. Right now he wanted nothing more than to be here, with her.
Elin’s eyes fluttered open, and she tensed before recognizing Xavier. A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips. “Xavier… you’re still here,” she whispered. “Thank the gods.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Xavier told her softly, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Never.”
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Post by Elcie on Feb 9, 2016 17:49:52 GMT -5
The PurchaseHere's an AU collaboration with... well, I'll reveal them in a spoiler box after the fic. Enjoy~~ The slavers were well south of the border by now. The terrain had not changed much compared to damp, rainy Corvus, but Xavier knew without having to be told by the way they acted, no longer so tense and furtive now that they didn’t have to worry about Kythian authorities. It was, in some ways, a relief; they’d been so nervous about discovery that the slightest noise or wrong move on Xavier’s part led to a harsh reprimand, a kick or a cuff upside the head. Now that they were more relaxed, laughing and joking amongst themselves, they paid less attention to him.
But it seemed a small consolation for the fact that he was no longer in Kyth. The stinging of the slavers’ blows was nothing compared to the deep heartache that had settled in him at the knowledge that it was truly over. His two years of freedom had come to an end, and he would probably never set foot in Kyth again.
The slavers had a single packhorse between them and Xavier was tied behind it by a rope around his neck which had been attached at the other end to the horse’s harness. His wrists were bound behind him, not tightly enough to cause damage, but fastened securely enough that there was no hope of pulling free. Xavier had not tried. He hadn’t even resisted when they bound him; by that point, he’d already been caught, and there was not much hope in fighting.
He still wore the clothes House Jade had given him, though they were so dirty and torn by now that he probably didn’t look anything like a noble anymore. That, Xavier thought miserably, was for the best. He wasn’t a noble, wasn’t anything, and the sooner he learned how to accept that again, the better.
Still… sometimes he could not help but let his thoughts drift back to Medieville, to everything he’d left behind. Ilsa, Leif, Ambrose… Elin… It was always the image of her face, knowing he’d never see her again, which made tears sting in his eyes.
A rattle broke through the ambient sounds of the landscape around the group. Shortly, the source of the noise pulled up near the group of slave hunters: a carriage. It was unmarked but its wood was smooth and finely polished, and the team of well-groomed horses which pulled it indicated that this was not some ordinary cart.
It stopped beside the party of slavers and slowly, the door opened. A few moments passed, however, before somebody stepped out. An old man in rich clothes, his arms weighed down by the Courdonian jewellery he wore. Though he kept his head bowed as he walked out, as soon as his feet touched the ground, he took a deep breath and looked up. His eyes lingered for a second on Xavier before he forced himself to turn his attention back to the slavers.
He took another breath and murmured something under it before lifting up his head. His hands went behind his back as he stretched himself up to his full, rather considerable height. His eyes too, acquired a thin veneer of power, power that he tried to project through his stance and his clothes. Trying to look for all the world like the enki he presented himself to be.
“Good day,” he said quietly, and though his voice had the faint burr of a lilting accent, it was clearly High Courdonian.
Stepping out of the cart after him was a dark woman, her hair pulled back and her body bedecked in some of the finest garments. She stepped next to the man and smoothed her dress out before looking up, scanning each and every one of the slavers before her. Her gaze didn’t linger long on the captive slave before she turned to the first noble, briefly staring before turning back to the slavers and putting her arms behind her back as well. Her back was straight, her posture stiff, and her eyes hard as she stared at the slavers, an air of seriousness emanating from the anki. However, she did not speak.
The final member of the party was climbing down from the driver’s box; despite his position outside the wagon instead of in it, the young man, a little older than the woman who had emerged from the carriage, wore clothes as finely-tailored as his compatriots. The clothing and his dirty-blond hair were both a little mussed, no doubt from his work driving the carriage. Joining the two passengers, he crossed his arms and planted his feet, scowling at the slavers over his hooked nose. His eyes darted over all of the people standing opposite them, including the redheaded slave, never resting too long on any one person.
As the carriage stopped so did the slavers, one of them tugging on the reins of the packhorse to bring it to a stop, and the slave behind it. Their leader, a dark-haired man with a square-jawed face and a nose that looked like it had once been broken, was quick to present himself to the old man and bowed deeply. “Good day to you, my lords - and lady,” he added, with another bow to the young woman. “May we be of any assistance?”
When the group stopped, Xavier had glanced up only briefly, enough to register the rich Courdonian clothing of the nobles who had stopped them. For just a moment, he thought he’d heard… But he shoved the thought out of his head quickly. No matter how badly he wanted to see a friendly face, it wouldn’t happen, and wanting it wouldn’t make it true. So he didn’t show any further reaction to the arrival of the elderly enki and his party, standing perfectly still with his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. It was at the very least a relief to be able to stop and rest his legs, even if he wasn’t able to sit down.
The older man’s eyes darted to his two companions as they joined him in standing opposite the Courdonian slavers. They drifted and lingered for half a second on the redheaded slave behind the men, softening into a look that might as well have translated into a cry of pity. However, as soon as he blinked, a gesture no doubt caused by the dust on the road, that look was gone, replaced by a blankness that gave away as little as he possibly could. He took a deep breath, holding himself as high as he could and looking the slaver that spoke right in the eye.
“Yes,” he said and hesitated as though thinking about his words carefully. Raising one finger, he pointed at Xavier. “Him. How much is he?”
His eyes once again looked over the girl and the young man with him, in particular lingering on the dirty-blond. As if quietly begging for his help.
Catching the man’s glance, the blond brushed at his shoulder and added imperiously, “And don’t say we couldn’t afford what you’ll get for his bounty - trust me that we can, and that none of us are in a mood for much argument.” He tilted his head forward a little, still scowling, gaze still flicking over the group of slavers.
“Like what you see, do you?” said the slaver, glancing at the subdued redhead before looking back at the blond enki. “Can’t say I blame you - unusual-looking thing, isn’t he? You don’t often see Cerrish reds this far north.” He shook his head, clasping his hands behind him. “I’m sorry to say he’s already been claimed. Belongs to his Lordship of Talvace - Lord Duval’s personal housepet, as I understand it.”
The words cut into Xavier despite the fact that he was trying not to listen, and he shivered involuntarily. At least two years since he’d last stood by silently as he was talked about like he was an animal, and yet it was already beginning to feel normal again. The slaver was completely right about what he was.
The woman briefly glanced at the redheaded slave before turning back to the slaver. Her eyes narrowed and her fingers curled for a bit before she seemed to catch herself and soften her glare. However, her gaze remained hard and piercing towards the slavers as if she were examining their each and every move, no matter how small.
The older man’s eyes were drawn to both of his companions again. He unfolded his arms from behind his back and straightened of his hands, palm downwards, twitching them as though he was telling the two younger people to settle down. However, as soon as his gaze shifted back to the slavers, his arms went behind his back again and he stared at them, as though trying to intimidate them, to remind them he was the one in control.
He had been listening to the younger, blond enki carefully, dividing his attention between him and the slavers. When they spoke, his eyes in particular seemed to narrow at the mention of Lord Duval and for a second, he seemed infected with the anger of his companions. However, like a candle sputtering out, that disappeared almost as quickly as it came. He reached into a hidden pocket sewn into his clothes and produced a large pouch of money, rattling it a few times to let the slavers know there was plenty in there.
Gazing right ahead at the men, not letting his eyes waver, he told them in a slow but firm voice. “We can pay more than Lord Duval.”
The pouch caught the man’s attention. Eying it speculatively, he mused, “There may be some… agreement we can reach.”
He gestured to one of the other slavers. “Andrei! Bring the boy over here, so that the honored enki may have a look.”
Andrei, a younger man who looked as if he might have been their leader’s son, quickly untied the end of the rope from the packhorse and led Xavier over, yanking at the rope around his neck when he didn’t follow fast enough. With a practiced air, as if he’d done this many time before, he had Xavier turn slowly on the spot, so the prospective buyers could see his body from every angle. With a hand under Xavier’s chin he tilted the young man’s head up so his face wouldn’t be obscured by his long red hair. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, and Xavier complied mutely as he had with the rest of it, showing his teeth until the slaver nodded sharply and allowed him to return to his previous position. Through it all, even as he’d raised his head up, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground, his face utterly expressionless. He hadn’t been at auction or market since he was too small to remember it, but he knew enough to understand what was expected of him.
“As you can see, he’s very well trained,” Andrei’s father said, with all the smooth intonations of a merchant. “A mage, as well, fully conditioned by one of the best in the trade. I hope you understand, even at auction a slave like this wouldn’t come cheaply.” At this, his gaze fell again on the pouch that the old man held, meaningfully. “Inspect him all you like,” the man added airily. “You’ll find he’s in excellent condition, you’ll get many years of work out of him. I won’t deny he’d be a striking addition to any household… but of course, Lord Duval is so eager to have him returned.”
The blond was looking over the slave with a blank expression, his hands buried in his still-crossed arms, but his eyes flicked to Andrei’s father in obvious surprise. "A mage?" he repeated, before quickly adding, “Well, that could certainly be useful.”
He hesitated a moment, but finally said, “Tell me what you can about the magic. It could certainly be worth paying for. As for Duval..." He shrugged. It was a very compact gesture. "If he couldn't afford you refusing to sell to us, clearly he didn't value him enough."
His fingers tight on the opposite crossed arm, the blond turned to the older man. “Should I look him over, Father, or would you rather do it?”
The older enki had been watching as the men handled the slave that they had with them, showing him off to their potential buyers. His eyes were firmly locked on to the scene as they took in the rough handling. Even though his expression remained frozen, occasionally, something like pity or despair seemed to flicker across his face before it disappeared, leaving no trace it was ever there. It was simply a trick of the light, or heat shimmer, nothing more.
At the mention of the slave being a mage, his expression became one of visible surprise before he contained it. Subtly, his head had turned towards the younger enki with them, listening very carefully to what he had to say. Out of view of the slavers, his hand twitched in a gesture resembling one you would use to calm an angry dog.
However, when he was addressed, he gave a nod to the younger enki, his son, apparently. “I will,” the older man said.
Slowly, giving off the impression that he was in no rush and they had all the time in the world, he began to walk towards the slavers and their redheaded captive. But he barely had time to take a few steps before his eyes grew wide and his expression twisted into one of horror. His hand flew over his eyes but did not quite reach to cover them, exposing his wide pupils and the thousand mile stare that had manifested in them. His body too, froze in mid-step, remaining completely motionless.
The blond went completely rigid for a second, but quickly his expression shifted into a frown. “By - by Carricon...” He went to his father’s side, but looked toward the lone woman in their party. “Adela - go look him over for us,” He nodded toward Xavier. “I’ll help Father.” He set a hand on the old man’s arm, and moved his other as if to place it on his back - but he instead paused with his palm turned toward the woman, and briefly clenched his hand into a fist before holding his hand palm-out again.
To the slavers, the blond said snippily, “Give him a moment.” He shook the man’s arm gently, though it didn’t seem at all effective. “Father - Father, come on now…”
Adela’s eyes widened for a moment at the old man’s reaction, and she gritted her teeth until she caught sight of the blond moving over to help him. At this, she seemed to calm, and after glancing over at his hands, she gave a curt nod and turned without a word. She approached the red-headed slave and bit her lip as she stood in front of him, looking him over. During this, she kept her arms firmly to her sides, avoiding touching the slave entirely. But as she examined his face, she brought one hand over to clench and squeeze her other arm.
The slaver raised an eyebrow as the old man tensed up, but the slightly irritated expression smoothed out into a thin smirk when the younger enki went to aid his father. He didn’t dare comment, not when he knew the younger enki must already be fairly embarrassed by his father’s shameful condition.
Xavier tensed slightly when the young anki, Adela, approached him to examine him. He didn’t dare look up, or make any move that would be seen as disrespectful. To his surprise, she didn’t reach out to touch him. Probably didn’t want to dirty herself, he reasoned. From his vantage point he could only see the fine, rich cloth of her dress, pristine despite her travels. And as the woman looked him over, a very strange, terrifying thought began to grow in his head. What if this was really going to happen? What if they were going to buy him? It wasn’t a possibility he’d ever considered, that he’d be brought back to Courdon only to be sent to a different master… he had no idea how to feel about that. All his life he’d belonged to Duval. And he certainly didn’t want to go back to him, but at least Jisam Castle was a known quantity.
“All right,” the blond enki said, glancing briefly away from the older man’s vacant eyes. “Is there any obvious damage? Broken bones or... bad wounds?” He closed one hand into a fist atop the old man’s arm, while lightly shaking his shoulder with the other.
Adela briefly glanced back at her brother, but didn’t answer right away, instead turning back to Xavier. She bent her knees slightly and examined his wounds and joints, keeping her head down and not looking up at him, her mouth formed into a thin line all the while. Finally she straightened up.
“No,” she said shortly, her voice cutting out as quickly as it came.
There was a sudden gasp from the old enki as his eyes suddenly focused back in on the scene in front of them. He rocked unsteadily on his feet, throwing out an arm for support and continued to draw in sharp, panicked breaths as though he had just run a mile. For a moment, his gaze moved over the slavers but the elderly man barely registered their presence. However, when it settled on the blond enki holding his shoulder, the clarity of realisation lit up his face like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
For a moment, all semblance of the composure he had before his fit had overcome him melted away. A choked sound escaped from his throat as his eyes darted around, taking in the scene. But as he noticed the slavers paying him no attention while Adela was examining the new slave, a sigh of relief escaped from him. The old man flashed an apologetic look towards the younger enki and brushed his hand off his shoulder.
Once he had done that, he straightened out his back again and put his hands behind it, his eyes and expression hardening to be as cold and impassive as possible again, exactly as he had done before. Hopefully the slavers would not think too much of it. Tensely, he turned to watch Adela and the redheaded slave, giving her a nod of acknowledgement.
The blond’s only reply to the older man was a brief nod and a slight lessening of tension in his shoulders. He crossed his arms as he turned back to Adela, quickly shifting the position of his arms and hands so his right hand rested atop his upper left arm, fingers spread apart. “What about his fingers?” He briefly raised his left hand to wiggle his own digits. “They’re all...are they all there?” A bit of hardness came into his eyes, only somewhat masked by the slight tilt forward of his head, like a bird studying something not to its liking.
Adela briefly turned away from the slave to look at the older enki as he snapped out of his daze. Her mouth twitched into a frown and she rubbed her arm, but she only curtly returned the nod. She glanced briefly at the slavers to see that they were still watching her before turning to the blond and watching him as he finished his question. She then quickly turned back to the slave and leaned over to examine the slave’s tightly bound hands behind his back, keeping enough distance so as not to touch him..
“...Yes,” she called back to the blond, a frown on her face. She seemed to hesitate a moment, her eyes glancing over the slave’s hands over and over again until she finally righted herself again, still looking over the slave standing before her.
Xavier made no move as the young anki looked him over, even though he had to resist pulling away as she moved closer to him to examine his hands. When she straightened, he tried to shift slightly so she wouldn’t brush into him, but his legs were tired from remaining upright so long, and he stumbled instead, bumping into her.
Panicked, he froze, his heart suddenly pounding. Automatically he lifted his head slightly, daring to look up enough to try and read the anki’s expression - and stopped, letting his gaze fall on her face a moment longer than he should have. She - she almost looked like…
Adela let out a gasp as Xavier bumped into her, her eyes going wide before she realized he was looking up at her face. Quickly, with her teeth gritted, she lifted her hand and slapped Xavier across the face, just enough so that Xavier’s eye contact was broken.
“No. Down,” She said quickly, her voice sounding urgent, her tone almost lapsing into something lighter before she cleared her throat. “Down,” she said again, her voice taking on a rougher quality. At this, she tried to straighten up, her face neutral but taut. She took a quick glance back to the slavers before looking down at Xavier again, as if to ensure that he didn’t dare look up at her again.
The slap stung, but the sudden plummeting of his heart hurt worse. It wasn’t Elin. Of course it wasn’t Elin; why would Elin be here, decked in Courdonian finery and ordering him to the ground like a dog? His mind was playing tricks on him now, so desperate to see her that he’d see her features in the face of an anki.
Hopelessly he dropped to his knees in response to her order, lowering his head. The head slaver hurried forward, looking horrified. He delivered a sharp cuff to the back of Xavier’s head and gave Adela a quick bow. “My lady, I apologize deeply. I thought he was better trained than that. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Adela frowned, and she put out a hand to the slavers, as if to tell them to stop, shaking her head. She looked down at the slave for some time before letting out a short sigh and turning to her companions and nodding, silently urging them to come over.
The blond, whose entire body had gone tense and sharp at the slave’s raised eyes and his sister’s subsequent delivery of punishment, hurried over, glancing back once to make sure the older enki was following. His expression had been a touch foreboding before, but now it was a full glare, one he seemed to have trouble controlling even as he looked away from Xavier and back to the slaver.
“We’ll fix the training,” he said curtly. “It isn’t as if we’re spoiled for choice out here.” He made a minute adjustment to the jeweled bracelet on his left wrist, and declared, “I’ll finish the inspection.” He motioned for the slaver to step back and took his place near Xavier, scrutinizing the slave with a sharp but not quite as angry expression.
The older enki had also come up, only casting a brief look at the slave but turned away just as quickly. While the blond had busied himself with the redhead, he walked over to Adela and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you alright?” he asked, briefly flicking his palm out so that for a few seconds it was flat, enough time for her to catch the gesture. Adela merely nodded. His eyes ran over her and once he was satisfied that his daughter was fine, the older man turned to the blond with the slave.
“We will take him if all is well,” he stated with as much authority as he could muster before sweeping his head around and meeting the eyes of the slavers. The money he held in his hand jangled again. “We need him. Even if he upset Adela.”
The slaver and his son exchanged relieved glances that the slave’s insolence had not cost them their sale. “I am glad to hear it,” the man said smoothly. “And - well, for your troubles, I feel I should offer this.” He beckoned to one of the other slavers, who hurried over bringing a whip. The man handed it to the older enki with a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t want you having to wait to discipline your new acquisition,” he said.
The slaver’s son, Andrei, had already crouched behind Xavier, untying his hands in preparation to strip off his shirt. Xavier didn’t move, his eyes closed in resignation.
The older enki’s eyes widened in horror and his face twitched before he took a deep breath. It took a moment for his expression to return to the cool one he normally wore but even that gave the impression that his earlier distress had not gone, only sank beneath the surface and now writhed under his skin, struggling to get out. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to look up at the slavers.
“We...we need him to work now and he cannot do that if he is hurt,” the elderly man cast a sideways glance at the blond enki, silently pleading with him for help. “Adela is unhurt. What he did was not bad enough to warrant…”
His body stiffened and he put a hand to his forehead as if searching his mind for something.
“This,” the older enki finally said, his voice becoming strangely quiet at that word.
“Yes,” the blond rapidly agreed. He’d finally uncrossed his arms, though his fingers were slightly curled. “There’s no time for this! As - as Father said, he has to work now.” He took a step toward Xavier and Andrei, scowling. “We’ll handle this ourselves. Later. So - “ His jaw clenched for a second before he finished, “So let’s finish the purchase and move on.”
As the older enkis talked, Adela began to fidget, rubbing her arm as if she were uncomfortable, and she wore a prominent frown on her face. She began tapping her foot as she looked to the slave and the other enkis, occasionally glancing back at the carriage. As time wore on, her fidgeting only increased in frequency.
The slaver’s face shifted into a slight frown. “You can’t have him think such disrespect is permissible,” he said. “Truly, it’s no imposition, my lords.” The abject respect that usually weighted the phrase was now tinged with confusion, uncertainty. The man holding the whip looked to his employer, confused, clearly not having expected his offer to be turned away.
Only Andrei appeared unmoved by the enkis’ protests, calmly finishing untying Xavier’s wrists and then pulling his shirt up over his head. Xavier looked terribly vulnerable without it, thin and bony, with the rope still tied around his neck. His eyes were still fixed firmly on the ground, not daring to look up at anyone.
“Sorry we don’t have a whipping post, but it’s not exactly the kind of thing you travel with,” Andrei said lightly, standing up with the end of Xavier’s makeshift leash in his hand. He seemed apparently impervious to the tension that had arisen in the air, or maybe he was just that convinced that no enki would truly refuse the offer to punish a disrespectful slave.
Trying to keep his breaths as even as possible and his face calm and expressionless while still retaining enough authority, the older enki nodded in agreement with his son. Nevertheless, he had clearly caught on to the tension that had arisen amongst the slavers, for his own body too, had stiffened. After a few moments, however, his gaze hardened into a glare, or at least as much as he could make it into one. Fear played behind the anger in it.
“He will not. We can take care of him but not here,” he told the men, his eyes firmly fixed on them and not at the redhead slave who had been stripped of his shirt. Whether it was because he was attempting to intimidate them or was simply avoiding looking at him was unclear.
“This is ridiculous; why are we even having this argument?” the blond snapped, still glaring in the direction of Andrei and the slave at the latter’s feet. His gaze had gone a little jumpy again, shifting from Xavier’s scarred back to the slaver’s son over and over again. “He needs to drive the wagon - I’d prefer to relax, not wait for the wagon to fly off the road because he’s bled out!”
At the sight of the slave’s scars, Adela’s eyes seemed to widen, but she quickly turned away from both the slave and the slavers. It took some time before she turned back to the situation, her mouth curved into a permanent frown, not looking down past the slave’s face. Instead, she continued to fidget, still glancing back at the caravan every so often as she tapped her foot on the ground.
“Where are you bound in such a hurry?” said the head slaver, his eyes narrowing in open suspicion now. “What House did you say you were all from, again?”
His son only laughed, taking the whip back and flicking it casually in Xavier’s direction. The lash didn’t touch him, but the slave still flinched. “I’ll handle it for you, then,” he said. “As a favor. Besides, I think the young lady will be disappointed if she doesn’t get to see the lashing, yes?” He met Adela’s eyes and smiled, giving her a slight bow.
Adela had a troubled frown on her face as she glanced at her family members and the slaver before stiffly holding the slaver’s son’s gaze. For a moment, she said nothing, merely keeping her cold stare as she pressed her foot ever harder into the ground. She gave another glance to the slaver before letting out a sigh and turning to her companions.
“Father. Brother.” Her voice was stiff and pointed, as if speaking in protest or warning.
The blond flinched slightly, too, when the slaver’s son cracked the whip, though he was quick to recover and take a sharp, long stride toward Andrei. The curled fingers of his right hand had gone very taut, though they hadn’t yet curled into a fist like those on his left hand. “No,” he snapped at the slaver’s son. “Do you really think she wants to be out here in this - godsforsaken heat and dryness? Just to watch you toy with a slave?”
He turned his head toward the older slaver, still scowling over his sharp nose like an irate buzzard. “We have an engagement to get to - preferably, sometime this year! What does it matter to you, anyway? You’re getting paid, and if you don’t know our House on sight - well - “ He hesitated a brief moment, but finally seemed to pull his words together. “I’m not giving you the name to hand over to Duval. We have enough to deal with without coming home to that idiot whining because he couldn’t get his runaway back!” He took another step toward Andrei, raising his left hand in the start of a gesture to demand something be given to him - likely the whip or the end of the rope tied around Xavier’s neck.
Meanwhile, the older enki’s breathing had grown more ragged, as though he had ran a great distance even though he had barely moved an inch. He flinched at the slaver’s questions, his eyes dashing around them as he desperately assessed the situation, flickers of his mental calculations occasionally manifesting on his face. But at the sight of his son advancing towards them, his expression morphed into one of open fear, especially as he saw the position of the younger man’s right hand.
“No, stop!” he strode after him and grabbed him by the wrist. “Enough.” His son yanked his hand free, brief surprise and panic joining the anger in his expression as he whirled around to face his father. The older man stared right into the blond’s eyes, though only he would have been privy to that look. However, he avoided his daughter’s gaze and instead turned to the slavers, once again taking on the steely, nearly emotionless expression he normally wore.
“You’re right. We need him but...we can’t let things go,” he strode over to the slaver’s son and held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
The young man shrugged, unconcerned. “Very well, milord,” he said, passing the whip to the older enki and stepping back. Xavier, clearly anticipating what was about to happen, hunched his shoulders and lowered his head still further, his hands clenching into fists against the dirt.
As soon as he received the whip, the enki shifted it in his hands, passing it from his left to his right. He then strode over to the redheaded slave crouched down in the dirt, staring straight ahead into the distance until he loomed over him. Almost mechanically, his head turned down to look at the boy he was about to punish. A gasp flew out of his mouth and his eyes widened as he saw the scars criss-crossing the skin of the slave’s back. The enki’s breathing suddenly grew rapid, afraid, and his hands shook. He lowered the whip before swallowing what little moisture he seemed to have in his mouth.
The older enki’s lips moved but no sound came out of them. Closing his eyes, he raised it and brought it down sharply upon Xavier’s back.
Xavier did not completely succeed in remaining still and silent, a strangled moan escaping his throat and his back arching under the lash. His fingers dug into the ground as if seeking something to brace himself against, and his eyes were squeezed shut. It had been so long since he’d been whipped, he’d almost forgotten how much it hurt.
Just endure it, it’ll be over soon, don’t give them any reason to make it worse… He cried out as the lash struck him a second time, inevitable tears of pain beginning to sting at his eyes.
At the slave’s cry, the older enki froze as though he had been struck himself. He stared, eyes wide, at the redhead in the dirt in front of him. For a moment, he seemed ready to call off the punishment before he closed his eyes and raised the whip again for a third time.
The blond enki had retreated to stand by his sister. He seemed to have been cowed by his father’s order to stop, standing with his head down and occasionally appearing to check an impulse to rub at the wrist his father had seized. The man’s downcast expression, however, was just as full of poorly-concealed fury as before, and his fingers remained tightly curled. It would have been hard to see from any distance, but his left hand shook. His right did not.
Even Adela seemed to be unable to hide a wince before it shifted back into a neutral expression, the woman’s jaw tight as she watched the whipping and the slave’s obvious pain. Her hands had curled into fists, but her posture was stiff. In-between the cracks of the whip, and apparent only to her brother standing besides her, there was the sound of teeth grinding together. But she did not move or speak.
A fourth strike came down upon the slave’s back and then a fifth before the older man stepped away from the beaten slave. He stared ahead into space, his eyes completely devoid of any emotion, as though his mind had shut down completely. If it had not been for the mechanical movements of his limbs, it would have looked as though he had been struck down with whatever had overcome him earlier.
He turned away and dropped the whip back into the hands of the slaver’s son before he began to walk slowly towards the carriage. The only stop he made on the way was beside the blond enki, to whom he handed the pouch of money that they had tried to entice the slavers with earlier.
“Take him,” he murmured in a shaky, terrified voice. Without even a look at his daughter, the older enki headed back towards the carriage and climbed inside, pulling it closed behind him but not shutting it completely.
The blond nodded, tightening his left hand around the pouch and forcing a deep breath into his lungs before straightening. He started forward, with a pause to nod for Adela to follow him before turning his glare back to the slavers. “Thank you so much,” he spat, “Truly, this is what we wanted when we asked to buy a slave to drive our carriage. And now you’ve - tired Father.”
Reaching Xavier, the blond tossed the coins toward Andrei’s father. His aim wasn’t very precise; the edge of his lip twitched in a brief snarl before the enki controlled his expression again. “Trust me, it’s enough.”
He crouched briefly beside Xavier, reaching for his arm. He hesitated a moment before actually making contact, but finally hooked his left hand under the slave’s arm. His hand up to his knuckles tightened with strain, but the force went no farther than that. “Adela.” The blond nodded toward Xavier’s other arm. “Help me, please.”
Adela seemed to hesitate before she let out a rough sigh and walked towards her brother and the slave. There was a hard look in her eyes as she walked to the other side of Xavier, where she hesitated again, her hand hovering above Xavier’s other arm. She shut her eyes for a moment, taking a breath before bringing both of her hands over to take Xavier’s arm. Giving a nod to her brother, she helped lift the slave to his feet. She then looked to the seat of the carriage and gave a nod to the blond and the slave.
Xavier couldn’t help but flinch as they drew close to him, but he knew better than to pull away. Docilely he let them grab him and pull him to his feet, his eyes still fixed firmly on the ground. The motion of standing made him wince, a faint whimper escaping his lips in spite of himself.
The slaver, meanwhile, was occupied counting the coins that had been tossed to him. At length he looked up, a smirk on his lips. “Paid in full,” he acknowledged, his suspicions apparently mollified by the whipping and by the coins in his hand. “My thanks to you, my lord. I do hope you enjoy your purchase… it does seem your father managed to teach him his place.” He eyed Xavier’s cringing form, standing between the enki’s son and daughter with his face perfectly blank as he stared at the ground.
The blond’s lip twitched again, but after a moment he managed a curt, “Yes. Good day,” and started toward the carriage. Despite his earlier hurry to leave, he kept a fairly slow pace, glancing often at his sister and the slave they supported between them as they made their way to the driver’s box. They hesitated a moment at the side of the carriage, the blond glowering at the vehicle as if it had spited him personally, but at last the siblings seemed to find a way to help Xavier into the seat of the carriage, a bench long enough for two to sit in relative comfort.
“Stay there,” the blond told Xavier in a firm but not quite so angry tone. “I’ll be up in a moment.” He accompanied his sister to the door of the carriage and opened it for her, just enough that the anki could slip inside. The stretch of his arm and the position of his body blocked most the carriage’s interior from the slavers’ view.
Adela stood at the foot of the carriage door for a moment as she briefly turned to the slavers, giving them a brief nod before turning and giving another one to her brother. Her eyes briefly went up to the slave’s, who didn’t seem to be looking her direction. She only tilted her head down slightly in his direction before sighing and turning back to the carriage, quickly stepping in. Soon, she was inside and out of sight.
The older enki had curled himself up in a seat in the corner of the carriage, away from the light pouring in through the door. His eyes had been stained red as though with tears, and there was unrestrained horror on his face. When Adela had entered, his head shot up to face her and he opened his mouth to speak before immediately shutting it again. Instead, he hid his face in his hands, not daring to look up at her or at the two outside. Especially at the slave they had just bought.
Just before closing the door, the blond enki whispered something brief to the carriage’s occupants. He pushed it shut and waited for the sound of the interior latch clicking before trudging back to the head of the carriage, fiddling with the bracelet on his left hand again. The blond hoisted himself into the driver’s box and took the horses’ reins.
“I’ll get us back on course,” he said, loudly enough that if the slavers were listening, they could probably make out the explanation. “We might as well avoid getting lost on top of everything else.” He kept his face forward, focused on the horses, but his eyes kept flicking toward Xavier. It seemed, however, that whatever the beak-nosed man was looking for was not important enough to delay them any further; he flicked the horses’ reins and started them back toward the path.
If Xavier was surprised not to be set to his duties immediately, he didn’t show it. He kept his head down and his hands tightly folded in his lap, his body tense. He still shivered occasionally, flinching when the carriage hit a bump in the road and jostled the welts on his back. It was something of a relief to be allowed to sit down, even if the motion of the carriage was making the pain in his back worse. Still better than having to walk.
It was a relief, but one he knew would be short-lived. He had no way of knowing what to expect from the man who sat in the driver’s box next to him, or what kind of masters he and his family would be. Xavier wanted to pull away from him, to close his eyes and pretend none of this was happening, but he didn’t dare. Instead he sat like a statue, awaiting the inevitable moment when his new master would decide he was needed.
And, distracted by the expectation of that moment and by the pain in his back, Xavier didn’t register that the carriage was moving north, back toward Kyth.
During the ride, the blond enki’s eyes had been flicking restlessly over the trees springing up alongside the road. At last, his gaze settled on the start of a fairly thick cluster of foliage, a small dirt path just barely connecting woods to road. He craned around to check the path behind them - it was clear of any sort of wagon, horse, or pedestrian. When they reached the path, the blond took it, slowing the horses to let them more carefully pick their way through the trees, ensure the carriage didn’t get stuck, and avoid rattling the vehicle’s occupants and riders too badly.
When the main road was out of sight, the enki pulled the horses to a full stop and let the reins drop. He stood and turned around, lifting one foot on the bench and, after making a gesture near the bracelet again, placed a hand on the top of the carriage to support himself. He held up his right hand, fingers curled in the same way that had alerted the older enki to trouble when they had been dealing with the slavers. After a moment of watching and listening, the blond flicked his wrist and a brief, quickly stifled flicker of green light darted away from his hand and disappeared into the trees. He waited another minute or so, eyes narrowed…
And finally, he let out a sigh of obvious relief, rapped sharply on the top of the carriage, and in Kythian that bore no trace of Courdonian in its curt, precise accent, gasped, “Oh, thank ‘Woo! Xavier - ” He whirled back toward the slave, lifting his left hand toward his own face - to guide the tip of whatever was in his right hand as he dragged it just underneath his left eye. There was a brief flicker of green, and when it faded, the skin there bore an odd, dark, swirled marking. “Xavier, it’s us - me and Elin and Lord Ambrose - I’m - I’m so sorry, what we had to do - “ his eyes flicked to Xavier’s back - “but you’re safe now - I’ll heal the lashings, and then we’re getting you out of this ’Pit-spawn country and back home!”
Xavier had tensed as the man brought them off the road, unsure of what this sudden deviation might mean - but his body went positively rigid when the supposed enki spoke. That voice… it couldn’t be, it was impossible, his mind was playing tricks on him again, he’d misheard - but why would an enki speak clear, unaccented Kythian, why would he know those names - but it didn’t matter, it had to be a trick of some kind, because Xavier had let go of the idea that he would see any of his friends again, and it was too good to be true. As these thoughts shot rapidly through his mind, he froze, still staring rigidly at the ground in front of him as if afraid to move.
Not long after Leif rapped on the carriage did the carriage door open, and the woman quickly jumped out rather than take her time to step down. Although she was still in her Courdonian garbs, she had a tacky cloth hanging from her shoulders, ruining the image of an anki. The woman quickly ran up to the front of the carriage, her eyes fixed on Xavier.
“Xavier, I’m so sorry,” she said desperately. Any trace of Courdonian in her voice now was lost, replaced by a fluent but peasant-like Kythian, both in accent and words. “I-I couldn’t let you see me just yet, not in front of them, we…” She reached out a hand, but winced and stopped when she saw Xavier’s scars once more, and she turned to Leif. “H-heal his back, please.”
It took a short while but eventually the older man got out of the carriage too. Though he still wore the Courdonian garb, he had stripped off the jewellery that had marked him as an enki, and instead of the cold, assured gaze he had worn while dealing with the slavers, his eyes and posture were bowed and submissive. He leaned against the carriage, not daring to look at the others as his hands began to shake, the motion spreading across his entire body in a mere moment.
“Xavier, Leif, Elin...please, forgive me...for what I did,” his words, Kythian now instead of Courdonian, were tinged with a faint lilt of an accent which marked him out as from the north. “If I didn’t, who knows what they would have done. But…”
He brought a hand up to his eyes and choked back a sob. “I still caused you so much pain. Even if I had to, I still...it still sickens me.”
Turning his head, his gaze met Leif. “I beg you, heal him. He already has enough scars, please don’t leave the ones I inflicted there too,” the older man managed to somehow turn his eyes to Xavier. “And...please, don’t blame me for what I did. I had no choice.”
At the sound of the woman’s voice, Xavier slowly, jerkily lifted his head, his eyes still wide and staring. After the beating he’d suffered it was hard to make himself keep his eyes on her face, but even a quick glance… she did look like Elin, he hadn’t imagined that earlier. And then the older enki emerged, speaking in that familiar lilting Bernian accent, and… Shaking a little, still not quite daring to meet their eyes, Xavier spoke, his voice hoarse and ragged from his earlier screams. “...is it… is it really you?”
Suddenly shivering harder than ever, Xavier wrapped his arms around himself as if to hold himself together. None of this made any sense but he wanted so badly for it to be true… Slowly he lifted his eyes, making himself take a good, long look at the young woman’s face, then nervously turning to look at the old man who’d whipped him.
Bizarre as it was to see them like this, here, bedecked in Courdonian finery… there could be no doubt about who they were.
Staring at Ambrose, his eyes filled with tears, and he looked away, still perched on top of the driver’s box where he was now curling in on himself. “You’re here, but… why, how--” His voice broke off, unable to even articulate the questions running through his mind. A part of him didn’t even care what the answers were. However it had happened, they were here, really and truly here for him.
“Well, we weren’t going to let them take you back to Duval,” Leif said, as if this were obvious as the color of the sky. He lowered his still-invisible wand toward Xavier’s back, keeping his fingertips at the tip to keep from poking the bloody, torn skin with the instrument. “I’m going to heal your back, all right? I’m...I’m so sorry. About everything back there.” There was a pause as he considered where best to start; with a quiet “Vulnera Sanwootur!” he began carefully tracing the air above one of the lashes. Ribbons of green light seemed to spill awkwardly from his fingertips, rushing into the wound and beginning to knit the skin back together.
Ambrose gave Xavier a weak smile as he spoke and carefully approached the driver’s box where Leif was beginning the healing. To his great relief, there was no anger or blame in his friend’s voice for what they had to do to him, just disbelief that they were here in the first place. That on its own would not be enough to heal the guilt but it, combined with the healing spells that he trusted would leave no scars to add to the already ugly collection on Xavier’s back, had to do for now.
“After everything you went through and knowing what would happen if Lord Duval took you back, we couldn’t leave you to your fate. I’m just...sorry it had to be like...like this. But what else could we do?” the Stallion murmured, trying to keep his voice quiet and comforting. Carefully, he stretched out a hand and touched Xavier’s with the tips of his fingers, both to assure himself that they had gotten him out and to let the young man know that he was real. “It is us though. I promise. You don’t have to be scared.”
Xavier was silent, but after a moment he curled his fingers around Ambrose’s, holding onto his hand as tightly as he could manage as if he was clinging for dear life. The pain in his back was starting to fade, washed away by the strange tingling warmth of Leif’s healing spell. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but not uncomfortable, and Xavier sat as still as he could manage so as not to make things more difficult for the archmage. All the while he held tightly to Ambrose’s hand, his own hands shaking slightly, as if all of this would stop being real if he ever let go.
The smile spread on the Stallion’s face grew wider as Xavier took ahold of his hand. Ambrose’s eyes began to fill with tears. He was going to be alright. Even after the whipping and the horror of having been abducted, Xavier was going to be fine. They had gotten him out of there.
As Leif worked, Elin kept her gaze on Xavier, trying to catch his eyes. “I’m sorry for hitting and shouting at you. I didn’t mean it. I... I was trying to warn you to keep your eyes down to avoid suspicion. But I…” She shifted self-consciously. “...I didn’t know the Courdonian word for ‘eyes’. They tried teaching me on the way here, but there’s so much to learn.”
She leaned forward slightly, her hands on the edge of the driver’s box, wanting to step up onto the driver’s box if not for the lack of room and if not for Leif’s spellwork. “But this was our plan to get you back. They were too well-armed, and we had to do something. And…” She gulped. “When they took you, I was so-- we were so worried. The last thing I wanted was for you to be enslaved again. ...But we can take you back now. You’ll be safe. I’m not going anywhere.”
“None of us are,” Leif agreed, moving on to the second laceration. “Well - all four of us are going north, obviously, but we won’t let it happen again. ...I’m sorry it happened in the first place.”
“They aren’t going to take you again, Xavier, not if...well, all of us can help it. I certainly am not letting you go again,” as to reinforce his point, Ambrose squeezed the young man’s hand. He finally raised up his eyes and for a moment, determination flashed across them. “You’re not going to be a slave again. We’re going home now, and that’s where you’ll stay, with all of us. Not with Duval or any other enki.”
Slowly Xavier looked up at Elin, letting his eyes linger on her face. “I thought I was imagining things, I… I thought I was never going to see you again,” he whispered. Letting go of Ambrose with one hand, he hesitantly reached out to her, as if he needed to touch her to make sure she was real. “All of you, I…” He hunched his shoulders and looked down again, tears starting to form in his eyes. “Th-thank you. This… this is…”
He couldn’t put it into words. That he’d never expected them to come this far for him, or risk this much, that it was so far beyond what he felt like he deserved.
Elin reached out in return, clasping Xavier’s hand in hers as she stared into his eyes. “I wasn’t going to let that happen. And I won’t.” Elin tried to give Xavier a small, reassuring smile. “I’m right here.”
Ambrose had taken a few steps backwards once Xavier let him go, allowing Elin to get closer to the young man. He kept his eyes on both of them, smiling widely with the relief of just having Xavier back with them and safe. But as he watched the two and saw the expressions on their faces, how deeply they looked into each other’s eyes, he frowned slightly. Could it be…it certainly looked like it.
The Stallion respectfully averted his eyes and walked closer to where Leif was still sitting on the carriage. “Master Leif...once you’re done, would you like to come with me for a short walk? Let Xavier and Elin have some time alone.”
Leif frowned as he looked up from healing the last of the lashes on Xavier’s back. “Terwoogeo,” he added, to clear away the blood, before focusing fully on Ambrose. “Why do they need…” Leif glanced back at the two, and finally fully processed that they were holding hands, and staring at each other. Oh. Well, nobody had ever accused Leif of being too quick on the uptake.
All the same… “A short walk,” he agreed. “We can check on the wards. If you two will be all right on your own? We won’t be far.”
Ambrose nodded, content with any excuse as long as it gave Elin and Xavier some time. He took a few short steps away from the carriage and waited for Leif to join him. When he did, he matched the blond mage’s pace and they walked away, leaving the others alone.
Elin bit her lip, feeling uncertain at the thought of being discovered... but it didn’t matter now. She nodded and turned back to Xavier, keeping her ears open as she heard Ambrose and Leif walk off. When she was certain they were far enough away, she climbed up into the driver’s box. And then as she was searching for words to say, she was suddenly glad for Ambrose and Leif’s temporary departure.
“...Oh ‘Woo, Xavier I’m so glad you’re safe,” she suddenly proclaimed, leaning over and putting both of her hands on Xavier’ shoulder. It was a hug at first, but something she checked at the last minute, remembering what she had done and who she was posing as. “I wish I could’ve stopped it when it happened, but when I heard that it did I-I didn’t know what was going to happen to you, I…” She was rambling, and from the look on Xavier’s face, it looked like he was still in shock. So she stopped herself, reining herself in, as difficult as it was. “I’m… I’m so glad to see you. What happened… You deserve better than that.”
“I still can’t believe you’re really here,” Xavier whispered, his eyes wide as he stared into her face. “That you did… well, all of this, for me…” He reached up and curled his fingers over her wrist, squeezing briefly. Then slowly he leaned forward and clung to her, burying his head in her shoulder and shaking like a leaf. The weeks of sustained tension and fear as he’d travelled with the slavers seemed to come crashing down on him all at once, and Xavier started to sob.
Elin seemed startled at first, looking down at him with concern, but she quickly put her arms around Xavier and drew him into a close hug, allowing him to cry. “I couldn’t just leave you,” she said. “But we’re here now, and you’re safe…”
As she hugged Xavier, she couldn’t help but feel his back. Although the wound had been healed and the blood cleared away, she couldn’t help but think of the many scars that he bore, and how many more he would have gotten if the slavers had made it to Talvace first. She shuddered, troubled by the thought of Xavier getting whipped again and angry that someone would do that to him in the first place, would treat him as less than human and think nothing of it…
Her hug tightened, as if she were trying to hold him together. “I’d never let you go back to that terrible place. And I wish we didn’t have to hurt to get you back.” She leaned over and kissed Xavier on the cheek she had slapped. It didn’t really make up for it, but she felt better doing it anyway.
Xavier leaned in against her, still trembling as he tucked his head into Elin’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “Really, I… it’s okay. I’m j-just glad you’re here.” His voice cracked on the words as he gulped back another sob. It was an understatement; he had no idea how to put what he was feeling into words. He could only cling to her for dear life like a drowning man, trying to let her solid warmth ground him in the fact that this was real. “Don’t leave,” he whispered, barely audible. “Please.”
“I won’t,” Elin whispered back. “I promise.”
She pressed Xavier closer to her, and as she did, she could feel tears coming to her own eyes, which she tried to blink away. She knew she had to remain strong for Xavier, after all he had been through… And all that had happened to get him back… And now that they were together again, after all that happened since he was taken…
She relented and let the tears free. “I really missed you.”
"Me too." Xavier buried his face against her neck, taking in a deep, shaky breath. Right now, he didn't want to ever let go.
They remained like that for some time, enough that their tears had dried and their breathing steadied by the time Ambrose and Leif returned to the carriage. At the sound of their footsteps Xavier pulled back and sat up, pushing his hair back from his face where it had been dampened by his tears. One arm remained wrapped tightly around Elin, holding him close to her.
Leif scrutinized them both momentarily, but he seemed satisfied that nothing was wrong and only said, “The wards are still secure, but the longer they’re up, the more likely it is someone - a hunter or the like - will wander into them. And the sooner we’re back to Kyth, the better.” He went to one of the horses and fiddled briefly with a strap. “There’s food and water inside the carriage, and a change of clothes for you, Xavier. It would probably be safest if you rode inside, and more comfortable - I imagine you could use some rest, fast as they were marching you down here.”
Ambrose, meanwhile, did his best to pretend he had not noticed Xavier holding Elin, or that he was smiling at them both. “That is, if you’re both ready,” he added, stepping towards the carriage and starting to climb inside.
Elin took a moment to surreptitiously wipe the remaining tears from her face before facing Leif and Ambrose, attempting to look calm. In response, she nodded. “Right. Ready or not, we should go.” She gave a brief look to Xavier, feeling the way he held her and thinking for a moment before turning back to Leif. “Do you wanna take point first? I’ll switch with you later.”
Not waiting for an answer, she moved to help Xavier step down from the driver’s seat.
“I can go first,” Leif said. It was clear even to him that Xavier would probably benefit a lot from Elin’s company right now.
Xavier followed Elin down from the driver’s seat, stumbling a little as he hit the ground and grabbing her hand tightly to steady himself. Even once he’d straightened, he didn’t let go. “I- I want…” He took a deep, shaky breath, looking around at his friends’ faces. “I want to go home,” he said in a small voice. “Let’s… let’s go home.”
Home to Kyth, with his friends who had risked so much for him… It still seemed too good to be true. But it was real. Elin’s warm, solid hand in his was proof enough of that.
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Post by Elcie on Feb 14, 2016 17:20:28 GMT -5
I'm Proud of YouXavier comes to Ambrose for advice on the eve of a momentous change in his life. There was a knock on the door and after a few moments, a servant’s head poked into Ambrose’s quarters. “My lord, Lord Xavier is here to see you.”
“Is he? Good,” a smile spread across Ambrose’s face. He put down his book and picked up his cane, pushing himself off the chair. “Tell him I’ll be down in a moment.”
The servant nodded and disappeared, leaving the Stallion to make his way down at his own pace. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his crooked nose, Ambrose headed out of the door and down the corridor, making his way to the stairs. There was nothing unusual about Xavier showing up in Stallion Manor. in fact it was always a treat for him when he came around. He had never refused the company of the man he considered his son, even with the thoughts he had been having lately regarding his future.
It took him a while to get down the stairs but there was nothing that could be done about that. For all the powers that Ambrose had coursing through him, it was not enough to prevent the ravages of time on his body. At last, however, he finally reached the sitting room door and pushed it open.
Immediately, the Stallion was struck by how deep in thought Xavier seemed. A gut feeling told him something was wrong. Ambrose wondered if he should ask but no doubt if he needed to know, Xavier would tell him. For now, he was not going to ruin the visit.
“Hello, Xavier,” the Stallion called out, approaching him and smiling. “It’s good to see you.”
Xavier rose to greet Ambrose, smiling warmly, but while the expression was sincere it did not quite erase the troubled look in the man’s eyes. “It’s good to see you too,” he said, reaching out to grasp his shoulder in greeting. “I… I needed to speak with you about some things. There’s been a lot on my mind, and lately…” He shook his head. “... I’ve always trusted your advice, Ambrose, and I think I need it now more than ever.”
“Of course you may. I’m always happy to help you,” despite his cheerful tone a small frown appeared on the Stallion’s face as he tried to guess what this was about but his thoughts on the matter came up blank. Moving away from Xavier, he sat down on one of the nearby armchairs, resting his cane against the side. “What is on your mind?”
"Courdon," Xavier said simply. Just saying that one word seemed to take a great deal out of him. He sighed heavily, sitting down across from Ambrose and leaning forward with his arms across his knees. "Lydia and I... we've been talking about this for years, but I think - I think it's time for us to go back. To actually try and... do something." He looked up at Ambrose with a faint, rueful smile on his face. "I told you once I never wanted to set foot in that place again, and I didn't... but I've never been able to get it out of my mind, Ambrose."
The Stallion took several shaky breaths as he listened to this before he spoke. “I’m sure you haven’t. Nobody can just forget what you went through as though it never happened, not fully,” Ambrose replied in a quiet voice, not meeting Xavier’s eyes. “That said, I never thought I’d hear you say you want to go back. I’d always been sure you’d stay here.”
He bit his tongue, catching himself on the lie. No, he had not been so sure as of late but he had always just dismissed that as coincidence, except now, with what Xavier was telling him…
Ambrose brought a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose and pushed his glasses up before glancing at his adopted son. “What exactly do you and Lydia plan to do?”
“I want to change things,” Xavier said softly. “I’ve… I’ve done everything I can to help former slaves as a mage of House Jade. And you and his Majesty, and the Shadow Council, I know you’ve done a great deal. It just… it doesn’t seem like enough anymore. The escaped slaves we can help here are only a small fraction compared to those that are still in Courdon, still suffering…” He broke off, his fist clenched. “I know House Jade can’t do anything, not without starting a war. But… I’m Courdonian. And if I swore off my allegiance to House Jade, then Lord Joffery wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences. Only me.”
As the young man spoke, Ambrose’s hands gripped his cane tighter, and even if he wanted to, he could not look away. His heart sped up in his chest as the Stallion processed not just the meaning of Xavier’s words but the anger in his body. “Breaking all ties with House Jade and going to Courdon…” he shook his head weakly. “Don’t tell me you and Lydia plan to do what I think you’re going to do…”
“We’re the only ones who can.” He paused, shook his head. “No… no, we’re the only ones who will. The enkis are too comfortable, the commoners are too scared…” Xavier took a deep breath, and then forced a laugh. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to go storm the gates of Rakine. We’re starting slow, basing ourselves in Kyth first… raiding across the border, freeing slaves from border towns if we can.” There was a grim smile on the man’s face. “Perhaps it will be a taste of their own medicine.”
“Yes…” Ambrose nodded, though the motion was a tiny one, barely visible to the naked eye. His eyes, however, fixated on Xavier, taking in the younger man’s features as though he was seeing him for the first time. After a few moments, however, he pulled away, sinking deeper into his chair with a terrified look.
“Woo, it was you...it has always been you,” he murmured cryptically before turning back to his adopted son, his eyes still wide. “Xavier...it isn’t like I don’t approve of this. You’re right, what happens in Courdon is beyond awful, and it should stop but...it won’t remain confined to border raids. I think you’re starting something far, far bigger.”
Xavier leaned forward, meeting Ambrose’s eyes and noting the intensity in them. “Bigger how?” he said. “Have you seen… do you know something about what’s going to happen?” He had not come here seeking Ambrose’s insight into the future, only his wisdom and advice; there was never a guarantee that Ambrose had seen anything relevant in his visions. But if he had, Xavier knew better than to discount it.
The thought pricked a memory at the back of his mind. The very first time they’d met… hadn’t Ambrose said something about slavery in Courdon? It was, Xavier remembered, the first and only time he’d disbelieved something the old man said about the future, only because he could not even imagine that such changes could come to Courdon.
It was the first time such a thought had even crossed his mind… Xavier’s head spun.
Ambrose nodded in response to his question, confirming his suspicions. “I don’t claim to know what’s going to happen, or how it happens. All I saw over the course of my lifetime were a few individual flashes, of...what I can only describe as a war. Some of the soldiers had marks on them, marks which I later learned were brands. It all looked like it would be soon but I couldn’t tell when. Until...”
He shook his head, rubbing his eyes again. “I saw...I saw the leader of the slaves, or at least that’s what it looked like from the context. He was leading an army into battle, a vast one, most if not all of them branded. I do not know if they won but...they did not have the look of men who were on the verge of defeat,” Ambrose breathed out, still not daring to meet Xavier’s gaze. “But that’s not all.”
Should he even tell him? Telling people a future they had no impact on was one thing but this felt far more dangerous than that. The Stallion had no doubt what he saw was true, and that he knew what he saw, but what if in telling somebody their preordained future, he somehow changed it? But the wheels had been set into motion, it was not like he could stop them with his mere words. Besides, he could not keep this a secret from Xavier for much longer.
“It took me a long time...to realise who the person I saw was. And when I did, I thought I was mistaken but…now I know for certain there could be no mistake,” Ambrose glanced up at the younger man opposite him, his eyes wide. “It was you, Xavier.”
Xavier stared at Ambrose for a long moment, unable to speak. Then slowly he lowered his gaze, staring pensively at his hands. “...I’d be lying if I said we’d never considered taking this further,” he said. “We’d hoped… but…” He trailed off, frowning. War. Hearing the word from Ambrose put everything starkly into perspective. If this went as they had planned, if they weren’t stopped, there would be war. He could keep Kyth out of it, thank the gods, but if he went ahead with this there could be no doubt that he and his family were going to be swept up in something much, much bigger than themselves.
He looked back up at Ambrose, the agitation plain on his face. “...Am I doing the right thing, Ambrose?” he whispered. “We’ve built a good life here. Elin completely supports what we want to do, and the children are almost grown, but even so…” He ran a hand over his face. “Muriel wants to come with us, you know. I tried to caution her against it - she’s so close to becoming a knight - but she’s set on it. She’s so like her mother…”
“That she is, she’s always been,” Ambrose said with a faint smile and reached out, placing his hand on Xavier’s. “I cannot tell you whether you’re doing the right thing or not. Your cause is a good one but all too often good causes cause more blood to be spilled than is worth it, or are twisted into something far worse than what came before. And certainly it is far, far safer to remain as you are. But…”
He sighed deeply, lowering his eyes. “Sometimes there can be no peaceful solution. War is an awful thing but to universally condemn everyone who fights one isn’t right either. There’s no getting around the fact that what you are going to do will cause untold misery, but ask yourself: do you think what you’re going to do is worth all that?”
Xavier stared at his hands in his lap for a long moment - but to his own surprise, he didn’t need to contemplate the question very long. “Yes,” he said softly. “Honestly… I really do. You know how much I’ve always admired Elin and the Shadows for what they did, how much they managed to change without any bloodshed, but - but Courdon is broken, Ambrose. It won’t be like that there. We don’t have a Galateo to rally behind, or someone like you who will listen to our cause.” He swallowed. “If we want to be heard, we will have to shout.”
“Yes you do,” the Stallion nodded, though the motion was slow and half-hearted. “Courdon won’t listen to anything else except violence, I know that. But I’m still afraid, for you, Xavier.”
His grip on the younger man’s hand tightened. “I don’t just mean you being killed, though I’m scared of that too. There are things besides death that worry me,” he took several deep breaths, trying to bring his racing heart to heel. “You have such high hopes now, and that’s admirable but I know the person who begins this war won’t be the same person who ends it. I’ve seen war but even I’ve been told that I don’t fully understand what it’s like to be in the middle of it, how it changes people.”
Ambrose forced himself to meet Xavier’s gaze. He needed to look him in the eye when he answered this. “You’re a good person, Xavier...do you think you can keep this goodness up even when the world around you is encouraging you to turn to cruelty to further your cause?”
“I… I don’t know,” Xavier admitted, the conflict plain in his face as he met Ambrose’s eyes. “I don’t… but… I’ll have to. Somehow. There’s no point to any of this if we can’t be better than that. And I’d rather die a slave in Courdon than live to become another enki like the rest of them.” A small, wan smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “Muriel didn’t save me for that,” he added softly.
The Stallion sighed. He had no idea what Muriel, the slave who had saved Xavier all those years ago, would have thought of all this; he had never met her after all, and it was not his place to speculate on the thoughts of a dead stranger. Shaking his head, Ambrose forced himself to focus on the situation at hand, and the tangle of fears that still simmered inside him that he wanted- no, needed- to discuss with Xavier.
“It won’t just be up to you, Xavier. I know you, you’re a good person, with the strength and determination to carry your ideals though, but you won’t be doing this alone: there will be people with you who are far less kind,” he swallowed, taking a deep breath. “People are going to want revenge against their masters, for one thing. That’s how people are; turn the tables and they will inflict as much suffering as was inflicted on them.”
Involuntarily, memories of his visions flared in his mind and he forced a hand up to his mouth, suppressing the bile rising up in his stomach. “It will be up to you to stop them,” Ambrose forced himself to look up at Xavier again. “And you won’t be popular for not turning into a monster just like the enkis. Your own people might even turn on you.”
“I hope I can be the leader they’ll need,” Xavier said quietly. “It’s… hard to imagine leading an army. That anyone would actually follow me.” He couldn’t help but think of the leaders he’d known and respected over the years. Ambrose’s brother Alain, or even the man who’d first recruited him into House Jade… It was easy to imagine following the late Lord of Embers into battle. Xavier couldn’t help but think the man would have been able to control an army effortlessly. He, though… Xavier did not think he had ever been intimidating. Even if he did manage to raise an army, would he actually be able to guide them? Or would he merely make it worse, bringing more chaos into a kingdom that had already seen too much pain?
“I don’t know if I’m the right man to do this, Ambrose,” he said, his brow furrowed. “Perhaps I’m the first to be able to, with my resources, but… I’m no general. Even my title is mostly a formality. I’m not like your brother, or the king, or…”
Despite his fear and hesitation, Ambrose could not help but smile at Xavier. “Generals are not born generals. My brother had the personality for it, certainly, but he still had to learn how to be one and you know how well he mastered that knowledge. Even so, I cannot imagine him ever commanding an army of slaves; he was not the man for such a task.”
The Stallion lifted up his hand, placing it on the younger man’s shoulder. “I think that you will be the general that the slaves of Courdon need. You have the resources for it, and you were once one of them. That is a start,” he sighed. “I can recommend learning the theory of war, but even so, Alain once told me that theory does not necessarily prepare you for it. Going out there is what really makes a general. I believe you can do this, but, I will be honest...”
He lowered his eyes, his grip on Xavier’s shoulder tightening. “No matter what I say, I am still scared for you”
Xavier smiled, his eyes grim. “So am I, Ambrose,” he admitted softly. “More than just for myself - Elin, Muriel, Lydia… I know I can’t do this alone. But gods, I would if I could. I don’t want to put anyone else in danger, and there’s… there’s no way around the fact that I have to.” His voice shook slightly. “People are going to die. And from what you saw in your vision, we have a good chance of succeeding, but…” He swallowed convulsively, his jaw clenched. “I am scared, Ambrose. For all of us.”
“And that’s alright. I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” the Stallion removed his grip from Xavier’s shoulder, letting his hand drift down to take the younger man’s hand. “People are going to suffer and die, and in large numbers too. People you even care about might die as well. However, you’re right, you cannot do this alone. Nothing of this magnitude was ever achieved alone,” he smiled a little. “But I feel like Muriel and Elin would not let you do it alone; they’d want to come, even if it meant danger. I don’t know Lydia that well, but I am sure she would not want you to be alone and they want to do something about this.”
He squeezed the younger man’s hand. “Even if it’s going to lead to unimaginable suffering...” Ambrose swallowed, lowering his eyes. “There’s already enough suffering in Courdon, and it needs to stop. You know that better than anyone. And I...I want to help too, however I can in my old age.”
Xavier gave Ambrose a weak smile. “Thank you, Ambrose. I wanted to go with… with your blessing, if I can even call it that. It’d be a strange thing to bless a war, I know you want to avoid bloodshed as much as I do. But for Courdon… I cannot think of any way around it. Someone must take a stand. The enkis will not relinquish their power easily.”
He looked away. “I will miss your counsel, Ambrose,” he said softly. “I will miss you. More than I can say.”
A lump formed in Ambrose’s throat which he did not fully succeed in swallowing. Tears began to prickle at his eyes as he reached forward and wrapped his arms around his adopted son. “I’ll miss you too, Xavier, and not just you; Elin and the children as well. But this is your destiny. I cannot be so selfish as to keep you from it simply for my sake.”
He drew away a few inches to face the young man again. “Sometimes wars are a necessary evil. My brother had to fight the wars against Lange, not because he wanted to but because otherwise everyone who depended on him would have died. I could not begrudge him that, just like I cannot begrudge you going to do what you must,” he patted Xavier’s shoulder and smiled weakly. “So I suppose you have my blessing, on the condition that you remember that this is a necessary evil; do not provoke more suffering than you have to.”
“I won’t,” Xavier promised. “I will never forget that. And it… it will be worth it, when all the people of Courdon can stand free. No one else will ever have to die like Muriel did.” He paused, swallowed hard. “It will have to be worth it.”
“If there is any way this rebellion will be worth it is with you at its head,” Ambrose sighed, though the gesture was at odds with the widening of his smile. “Woo, I cannot believe you’re the same person I met at King Starmey’s funeral feast. How much you’ve grown.”
Xavier shook his head, a small smile on his face. “I was so scared. I would never have been able to comprehend that one day I’d think of you as the father I never had.” His smile widened. “Yet somehow you’ve become a part of my family anyway. A father to me, and grandfather to my children… I must be the luckiest man in Medieville, Ambrose.”
“As long as you’re happy, it does not matter whether you are or aren’t,” Ambrose said, his voice warm and wistful. Carefully so as to not overbalance, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Xavier. “I’m so proud of you. And no matter what happens, no matter where you are...I will always love you.”
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