bakerstreet | A Master/Slave Meme

[OOC: Slave or master!]

[War was nothing unusual at all for Pierre's clan. They fought to gain a better land to live in and while they never won they never lost either. Not until now. Declaring war on Ashura's clan had proven to be taking a bigger bite than they could chew. The agreement had been formed between the two rulers that in exchange for the war to end and for the losing side not to have to give away any land they would grant a member from the royal family. Pierre had been picked for that.

He held his head high as he was chained up and escorted to the trading point that had been agreed on. Him against the written deed that they were free from any debt by this exchange. He didn't let his pride falter as guards from what up until now had been his enemies came to take him from his family and the land he called home. He didn't even said farewell to his father or looked back as he was walked to his new king and master.]

[Sometimes even the best plans failed when one went up against someone just too powerful. In this case, the winner was obvious. But the Ashuras were a reasonable clan, and the peaceful option was discussed and accepted. Slavery wasn't common, but it also wasn't unheard of as a viable method to settle ruffled feathers.

Ashura waited amongst his guards at the agreed point, gold eyes curious to see whom the opposing clan had chosen to give him. Preparations back home had been made.

Blond. Proud. The young king stepped forward to accept the noble slave, studying the male thoughtfully as he handed over the deed in exchange. They would keep their end of the bargain so long as the blond behaved.

He turned with a rustle of ornate, court robes, and led the way away from the trading point.]

Let us return home.

[Pierre let the king observe him without moving a muscle in his face. He looked cold and indifferent like this didn't mattered to him, even if that wasn't the case. Being turned from a prince to a slave just like that would not sit well for anyone.]

Yes.

[It was a simple reply, but it held so many things in it. Like how much he despised this fate, but wouldn't fight it for his people. That he simply understood the his home was now somewhere else and that he would follow without question.]

[It was far better than sobbing or other emotional displays, but Ashura had to wonder how long that cold indifference would last once it was just the two of them. Only time would tell, so he led the rest of the way in silence, only murmuring orders when they were needed.

Finally they were in the more formal of his private rooms, and he turned to face his slave, giving a nod to his soldiers.]

I do not believe the restraints are required now. [But his gaze turned back to the prince, head tilting just a little, and let a small smile toy with his lips.]

Are they?

[Pierre felt no need to strike up a conversation as they walked. If it would be required of him to do so, but he wouldn't take the initiative himself. He simply didn't feel like it.

Once they arrived at his new home, Pierre looked around and memorized the way to the kings rooms. It was best to learn the layout as soon as possible.]

I will not try to run or harm you.

[It was a promise that he intended to keep. If he didn't behaved then it could get consequences that he would not be able to stand for. It was much better for both him and his people if he bowed down to this.]

Leithe could smell the usual mix of smoke and leather as he was led through the enemy camp. Of course the soldiers were cheering to see one of the Twelve Knights being brought to their leader blindfolded and in chains, it was a sign that the war was over. It had taken nearly six months of hesitant talks and negotiating for things to come to this point and Leithe had been resigned to this moment for the past several weeks. He was to be handed over as a sign of good faith during the process of exchanging captured soldiers and civilians.

And as flowery as the language was, a slave was a slave, which was why Leithe had deliberately cut his straw so it was the shortest when the Twelve had drawn to see who would fill the terms. His position as Judgement Knight meant that his life was always at great risk of being violently shortened with a knife in his back. It was the reason even his most casual uniform always had armor built into the back. There were always several assistant judges trained to keep things running until another Knight could be appointed the task of scaring the crime rate to amazing lows. Thankfully only his best frienemy and rival noticed and chose to keep silent. He'd miss Creuss of course, but the others would take good care of the golden-haired fluffbrain and his addiction to sweets.

His thoughts were drawn back to his surroundings once more when he was led into what sounded like a very large tent and directed to kneel. There was even a soldier behind him ready to kick the back of his leg if he refused but it wasn't needed. Leithe went to his knees as directed and simply waited for further instruction. It felt so odd to be dressed in a simple shirt and breeches and a plain pair of riding boots after spending nearly ten years in at least twenty pounds of armor.

A slave was a slave, no matter how nicely it was said. Ashura knew that just as surely as his new slave was. But it was required for the war to be over. His clan were warriors by blood, but even they tired of the constant battle. So he had fought tenaciously to figure out a way to end it. He just hadn't expected this member of the Twelve Knights to be handed over. A fine prize, indeed.

He made sure the agreement was followed to the letter. Any who disobeyed were dealt with harshly, as much as he disliked needing such a firm hand even with his own people. Leadership demanded it, and Ashura had stepped up to the task.

He studied the kneeling former knight for a long moment, thin fingers toying with a lock of hair before he stood and walked over to remove the blindfold and tilt the slave's head up with a hand on his chin.

"Obey, and you will be treated fairly."

Dark eyes blinked quickly to force himself to adjust to the sudden light and also resisted his first instinct to pull away from the slender hand. It wasn't from any lingering arrogance or pride, but more like an animal flinching from the unfamiliar. He assumed he'd get used to it eventually.

"That is my intention, my lord." Leithe didn't have to speak in the grand and intimidating manner as he had been taught to do by his mentor, so his voice was oddly soft and lilting. A voice he had only used in private with the other knights.

Yasha listened to the sounds of the camp around him just outside the walls of his own tent and picked out the group of children playing with a young dog, the sound of a pair of women gossiping on their way to the well, the sound of several teens hitting the straw dummy while an older armsman coached them. To most, this would seem like an odd mix of army camp and village living. But to the Yasha clan, this was normal. The whole clan was nomadic with the soldiers of today trading duties with the herdsmen tomorrow. Every single person would be trained to a weapon of course, a warrior-bent clan at heart.

But at the moment, many were discontent that they hadn't been called upon to deal with an uprising to the south. Just about every other clan had been roused except for the Yasha, and only one knew the reason. Yasha had been an admirer to the previous Ashura in his younger days, and so his ability to go against the Ashura clan without holding back had been questioned by some of the higher ranks of the court. Yasha understood the emperor's move to quiet the nobles, he had been content to avoid spending his people's lives for a little while longer.

On the other hand though, it seemed that the emperor was now sending him a gift to show the court that Yasha wasn't in disfavor. What kind of gift wasn't stated in the missive, so he would just have to wait until it arrived. And so he did what any wise and competent man would do on a warm afternoon after being up before sunrise. The man leaned back against the curve of his chair, propped his sword against his shoulder, and let sleep claim him.

A Master/Slave Meme

Ashura | RG Veda | Men preferred, but all castmates welcome

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