A Master/Slave Meme

[fishbox]

Congratulations! You are now a slave/master.


Master:
What kind of master are you?
What brought you into possession of a slave?
What will you have your slave do for you?


Slave:
Why are you a slave?
How easily will you adjust to this new situation in life? ie, what kind of slave are you?


Run wild and have fun! RNG is not needed~

Comments

Ashura-ou | RG Veda | M/M

[path_refused]

[OOC: Slave; he'll have had to be magically bound for this, so enjoy~]

[english_dignity]

While the personification of the kingdom of Albion was a small man, the kingdom's armies and navy was a powerful and clever one. And that was the only way they'd managed to not only meet the Ashura clan in battle, but capture their their king, magically binding him. And how better to thank their nation for his magical aid than to gift the fallen king to him directly?

Arthur was lingering at the edge of the group of nobles as Ashura was brought in, far from the most elaborately dressed. Yet he was still the one called forward by his king to take hold of the magic 'reigns' holding the immortal from burning them all.

[path_refused]

Losing a battle had not happened as long as Ashura could remember. Yet it had been a mighty battle and his clansmen had fought bravely. It was only right that he'd found himself bound upon capture, magic preventing his inner fire from flaring at his command to strike his opponents down.

He retained his pride, standing straight despite injuries, as he was brought forward and informed of his new role in life. Slavery. It wasn't a new concept at all. Gold eyes turned to settle on the slight, yet mighty, form of his new master. The one whom had defeated him, and continued to hold sway over the flames that would end them all.

[english_dignity]

Arthur stepped forward to look him over. He hadn't really gotten a chance to look at the other man properly. It was almost a pity they'd had to meet this way.

"Come on, my rooms are this way," he said softly. Arthur turned to give his king a bow of thanks before walking from the throne room. He had his own grand rooms, though he preferred to keep the ones he spent the most time in simple and comfortable, as evident as he opened the door (well guarded and flanked by multiple guards) to lead Ashura in. It was made very obvious that this small man was important.

[path_refused]

Ashura did not bow. But then, he'd only ever bowed to two people in his life, neither of whom were present. But he did cast a glance back at the other king before following Arthur. He hadn't been exactly unfairly treated, his wounds had been treated and his robes cleaned before returned, minus weapons.

But his power was severely restrained to the point the only reason he wasn't actively shivering was because of the warm robes he wore and force of will. The simple but well made and appointed rooms were a relief, along with telling him a bit more about the smaller man. He ignored the guards outwardly with practiced ease, inwardly amused by their presence.

[english_dignity]

"Do you know who I am?" Arthur asked as he took a seat in the sole chair by the fire, a cup of tea already waiting for him. He picked it up to take a small sip, nodding towards the cushions by the fire where Ashura could hopefully sit somewhat comfortably.

[path_refused]

He took the silent nod as permission to move close to the fire and carefully take a seat; the first motion he'd made with extra care, if only with a hand placed on opposite side. "You are the one who fought my fires."

[english_dignity]

The reminder of those flames brought a hand to one of Arthur's arms, his sleeve still covering a healing burn from his singed coastlines. Pulling it away, he inclined his head. "I am. My name is Arthur Kirkland. My king has given me the current title of lord."

[path_refused]

Gold eyes flashed at that name. Kirkland. How often had he heard it, and the mystery that still surrounded the alleged warlock. Ashura's hand also fell away from injury to join the other tore st lightly on his lap. "What do you expect me to call you?" Considering their roles now, in regards to the other.

[english_dignity]

"Lord Kirkland will be fine in public," Artur said as he sipped at his tea. "I'm past the need for serfs to bow and scrape. In private, sir or Arthur will be sufficient. No shortening it." The last part he said a bit sharply, glaring at someone who wasn't there. Good lords, if he was ever called 'Arty' again he would injure someone.

[path_refused]

No shortening it? Why would he do that? Ashura studied Arthur for a moment, considering what that might mean. Clearly someone had disrespected the warlock in the past. That was just foolish.

"Arthur. If you have no use of serfs, what is expected of me?"

[english_dignity]

"From my king's point of view, probably to keep me entertained and here," Arthur said dryly, staring into the amber liquid in his cup. "He doesn't like how much time I spent at the front."

[path_refused]

So he was relegated to mere entertainment. Arthur should be grateful his power was so fully controlled now. Being kept from the battlefield for an unknown period of time... that was a challenge for Ashura to even consider.

"And from yours?"

[english_dignity]

"For the moment, fascinating company who will be bringing me tea," Arthur said, knowing that it likely wouldn't please the other man much more. But that wasn't really his problem. "Later? We'll have to see. But I think it'll be refreshing to be in the company of one who practices magic again. There are very few here."

[path_refused]

So this warlock missed speaking about magic with others who used it as well. Even if that avenue was blocked from him, the Ashura knew it intimately. Regardless.

"Few who match your abilities, certainly." Which made the defeat a little more bearable. But what were his limits...

"Am I permitted to defend myself?" Defend, not attack.

[english_dignity]

Arthur hid a small smile behind his cup, glancing over it at the fire god. "There is no one who matches my abilities. Those who've gotten close have forgotten how."

He considered his question for a time, debating. "It would depend on who you are defending yourself from. Against the king or his heirs, no. I will inform the others not to pester you.""

[path_refused]

Interesting. So Arthur Kirkland was the most powerful magical individual of his land. And had the political power to give orders. While that was a good thing in general, it posed a bit of an issue for him.

Ashura pulled the hand he'd used to stabilize his injury while sitting and turned gold eyes to study the traces of blood that had seeped through the bandages. He didn't look back to Arthur as he murmured only half to himself.

"Is my existence now to ignore my nature and not fight?"

[english_dignity]

"For now, yes," Arthur said. It was a discomfort he was honestly quite familiar with, living in under the current monarchy. "Later... we will have to see. My king will likely find someone new to war against before long, but I won't release the reigns to a wild threat to my lands and people."

[path_refused]

His fingers closed, clenching into a fist at the confirmation. Then returned to his side as Ashura stood and moved to the tiny window of the room. The only window. Arthur would quickly learn the fire god grew restless easily. Wounded or not.

"To do so would be foolish." He wouldn't say he wouldn't attack if his magic was returned. He had no reason to.

[english_dignity]

"I'm very much aware of that," Arthur said with a little snort, getting up to stoke the fire higher. Stone castles got cold so much easier than the small peasant huts. "This was not my first war."

[path_refused]

Cold was one way to put it. And Arthur wasn't even a being of fire. Ashura made an acknowledging little sound, having already figured that out. It was easy, considering how the warlock's people had fought.

He turned back to look at Arthur, considering wording for an option that would possibly give him some of his fire back... and make his 'master' more comfortable.

"How fine is your control over my fire?"

[english_dignity]

The nation looked up at the god, green eyes old and cautious as he thought about it, both reading what he could be referring to, and what he thought of it.

"Tell me what you're considering," Arthur said slowly, straightening up. He knew that fire personally. He wasn't going to risk bringing it against him again if he wasn't sure of the result.

[path_refused]

That wasn't an immediate denial. Perhaps some of this situation would be bearable. Ashura met the warlock's gaze squarely. "Healing my wounds and warming the castle more thoroughly than fire can without aid."

It was a risk implying weakness, but without access to his fire, it would take far too long for his injuries to heal. And it was so cold.

[english_dignity]

"I could, if I have your word that you will not use this loosening of my grip to escape or attack," Arthur said, knowing how dangerous this could be. But he could bind the god again if he had to.

Taking his seat again, he beckoned him back towards him. "I'll need to touch you."

[leithe_judge]

It had taken all twelve of the Holy Knights to put an end to the war, and that was rather telling since one of them was actually a spirit unable to pass on due to a bitter regret. But it was no small relief to Leithe in particular since his duties weren't the type that could be put on hold while he went to the front lines. The courts of justice still had to be overseen, criminals had to be tried and punished, cases needed to be investigated properly... Which was why there was a forgotten tray of food on a side table and a stream of secretaries receiving stacks of completed papers to be delivered elsewhere or filed away from his office.

Leithe, on the other hand, was standing near the window frowning at a letter in the fading light of the sunset. True, his job was to scare the piss out of criminals just by entering the room, but this was a different kind of frowning. More the type one used when trying to decide if something is a practical joke or not. He looked over at the soldier standing at ridged attention and then back at the page again.

He was being given one of the war-prizes as a token of the king's gratitude for his service. Really. What was HE supposed to do with a slave? Especially one who had to be fitted with a nullifying seal? Well, not that he could really refuse, but... A better gesture of gratitude would be to give him a vacation. Not likely in this lifetime.

"And this... person... is waiting in my chambers?" He asked suddenly, and the soldier squeaked an affirmative. His chambers were quite large of course, with several rooms and even a small kitchen it wouldn't be difficult to find someplace to fit a bed. But it was the only place he didn't have to act intimidating and stern, and now that bit of safe haven was gone. Leithe sighed and nodded sharply in dismissal. Well, he might as well go see who, or what, he'd been 'gifted' with.