bakerstreet | A Master/Slave Meme

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?"

"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."

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.

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.""

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?"

"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."

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.

"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."

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?"

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.

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.

"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."

Giving his word implied Arthur wouldn't doubt it. One thing Ashura appreciated. And Arthur had bound his power once, he'd be able to do it again and the experience was one he wasn't eager to repeat.

"You have my word for the time being. For a more permanent agreement... we'll see." Ashura walked back over and held out the clean hand in silent acceptance.

"That will have to be enough for now," Arthur agreed, taking Ashura's hand and gripping it firmly. It was work, shifting the finely crafted wards, but like nesting serpents they slid into an ever so slightly different configuration.

Gold eyes flew wide at the touch. Old. Arthur wasn't just old, or powerful, he had the sensation Arthur was a great deal bigger than what his eyes told him. It very nearly sent him actually to his knees. This... was no mere wizard, nor human. What he was, Ashura wasn't sure.

Then he felt just enough control shift back to him and he let out a quiet breath. He let Arthur pull away before reaching into the fire with his bloodied hand, scooping a lick of flame out and pressed it to the worst of his injuries.

The nations lips curved in a bit of a smirk at that response, subtle as it was. So the god could feel what he was, at least somewhat.

Still, he watched in fascination as Ashura so easily handled the flames from his fire. Yes, getting to observe the former king up close would be fascinating. "Better?"

Feel, yes. It was hard to miss it with touch.

Ashura felt the wound close, leaving a faint outline of where he'd been injured. He stood just a little more at ease, even if it meant showing some of what he could do at close range. A small price to pay.

"Much." He reached once again for the fire, then hesitated before casting a glance at Arthur. "Inform me when the temperature reaches a comfortable level for you." Likely not as warm as he'd like, but... it would be better than how it was now.

"That should be fine," he said once he was satisfied with the rising temperature. It was enough to keep the place dry at least, and hopefully cut down on the coughs that tended to spread around the servants. Yes, it was likely cooler than Ashura's own homeland, but it was the temperature of a nice spring day for Arthur. Comfortable.

With a thought, he looked at him. "Are you able to heal the damage from flames as well as cause it?"

Better, yes. Ashura resisted ignoring that comment and reigned in the fire to hold that temperature. It would take a modicum of his attention, but that was easy. Child's play, really.

Heal a flame's damage? "Explain. Do you speak of damage to the land? Or burns to living flesh?"

A bit of both, actually, but how to explain that? Instead of trying, he carefully removed his vest so he could undo the tunic he wore under it, exposing his arm where the burn from Ashura's attack on his shores had appeared.

Hm... Ashura turned to fully face Arthur again, then reached out to lightly touch the burn with a faint furrow of concentration between his eyes. When had the burn been done?

Recent. Again, the sense of it being somehow bigger than what his eyes told him it should be. With a bit of a mental lurch, only one thing came to mind.

"You... are this land." With all the benefits and downfalls that were included.

So he'd finally put it together. Arthur smiled somewhat mysteriously, green eyes seeming to bring forth reminders of the fields and forests that filled his country.

"A personification, I suppose you could say," Arthur said softly.

That was one way to get a fire god to behave. Ashura studied Arthur for a long moment. Then looked back at the burn, considering what he might be able to do. "I will do what I can."

He settled more comfortably on heels, focusing on what he could and could not see. Then reached for fire to get to work. It was much slower and delicate work than normal. When he pulled back, the burn was less pronounced, likely quite a bit less painful as well.

It wasn't fully healed, but then again he hadn't really expected it to be, so Arther flexed the arm slightly before nodding in satisfaction. His people and time would do the rest of the job.

"Thank you," he said as he put his clothes back to straights, covering up the burn and the many other marks he'd collected over the years since the start of his existence. "I suppose my first order should be that you keep that information to yourself. Those who need to know already do."

It wasn't a wound he could fully heal. But what he'd managed, Arthur seemed pleased by, so that would have to do. Ashura moved back, reclaiming his previous seat on the cushions in front of the fire and letting the immediate area around him warm up just a little more.

"Of course. I would appreciate you not informing others how I heal unless necessary." A request only.

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