Arena: Chapter 19: Homecoming, Part II
Title/Chapter: Homecoming, Part II
Author: muck-a-luck, posting in brainofck
Pairing: SB/VM (other pairings in later chapters)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Viggo is somewhere else, where everyone and no one is the same
Content/warnings: AU. Violence.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's own porno script, populated by the individuals she feels would be ideal to fill the various roles if she ruled the universe if she were ever fortunate enough have the opportunity to bring her vision to the screen. *snortle*
Archive rights: www.rugbytackling.com, Green Opals, if they're interested, and my journals muck_a_luck and brainofck
Further Disclaimer: Any resemblance to Ancient Rome mostly incidental. I have never seen any gladiator flick. Ever. Honest. Not even Gladiator, which I have been informed did not steal FOTR's Oscar, as it won the Oscar the year prior. I still blame Russell Crowe, though. *glares*
Blame: uisgich, for encouraging me
The Arena Homepage
Chapter 18: Homecoming, Part I
"So what's our real business?"
"I want to be more than this city's richest whore," Laurel said. "I want you and Viggo to help me with that."
"I would have thought that you know every dirty little secret in the city, running a place like this," Sean replied, leaning back and taking another long drink of the excellent wine Zara had been pouring for them all morning. "Don't you have every Senator and Counselor in the city wrapped around your little finger?"
She shook her head.
"I know things, but not enough. And I don't want power from behind the scenes. I don't want power by proxy, manipulating an influential citizen here and there."
She thumped her cup down onto the table hard.
"I want to hold the power. Myself. In my own hands."
"You want to sit in the Senate," he said.
She shook her head.
"No. I want more."
With the amount he had drunk, he couldn't stop himself from laughing.
"No woman has ever been a member of the Council!"
"No woman in this city has ever had the kind of wealth and knowledge that I have at my own command," she retorted. "What I lack is the strength to make them fear me."
She leaned forward, urgency in her expression.
"You and Viggo could give me that strength," she practically growled. She rose to her feet and paced the room, every line of her form and posture about aggression and grace now, the delicate courtesan replaced by a warrior who would have been easy and confident in the barracks.
"You could build a guard for me. Keep who you want, recruit who you need. Train them. Run them. Maybe even set up a couple of arena fighters for me, as a show that I'm serious."
She stopped her pacing and rounded on him suddenly.
"But more importantly, you'd let me set up a house for the two of you here in town."
Startled by her sudden attention and the apparent change of topic, Sean blinked a little stupidly.
"How does that help you? I was with you up 'til the house thing..."
The killing gleam was back.
"We both know who Viggo is. I imagine there are other people who have suspicions. I would make sure that the right people knew that the way to Viggo's services was through me. Or channels that I controlled. Make sure that the right people had the right suspicions..."
Sean thought about it.
"So news that I'm on the hunt for my old patrons drives everyone out of town," he mused. "And while they're gone, you bring me on as the new head of your guard, and Viggo as your hired assassin in the wings? The Emperor takes notice, and makes a decision and extends you an invitation to join the Council and there's nobody here to stand in the way."
Sean thought about it as she sat back down across from him and poured herself another cup from the flask.
"Two problems I see with it," he said slowly. She gestured broadly with her free hand for him to proceed.
"First," he said, "and I mean no insult to you, but I won't agree to be the Captain of the Guard for this house."
She nodded with the solemnity of the nearly drunk.
"That's fine," she said, "I don't need you to take the position. Just be the obvious power in the shadows. That's all I need. Your convincing presence."
He nodded with equal solemnity.
"Then the other problem is your timing," he said.
"If you're right about Viggo and Sennet, then we all need for me to move now. If Sennet decides it's too risky for Viggo to move freely, he could send him back to the arena, or worse. We could lose him."
"But if you free me now, and send them to the hills, you won't have time to get all your rumors and guard and whatnot into place before you have them all back in town again."
She leaned across the table to him.
"But you and Viggo could help me with that, couldn't you? Would it be too much to ask for you to keep the town clear for me?"
The possibilities ran like cold fire through Sean's wine-lubricated veins.
"Maybe we should think about a second list," he suggested, and reached over to refill her cup.
Zara was attempting to make herself useful and invisible at the same time, a trick she had been perfecting for years, and had never wanted more than she did today. It was unsettling to see two of the most controlled people she knew drinking and even drunk. But it was especially frightening to hear them plot death and violence in the city and see the glee in their faces as they did it.
The second list was chilling. Sean and Laurel debated the pros and cons of strategically targeting and killing a dozen of Sean's most hated patrons. She wondered if she really would be murdering the Steward after all. Possibly not, though. Sean clearly had better deaths to think about now.
"What about Zara," Sean said suddenly. Zara had been going to the door to order food for an early afternoon meal. Now she froze where she stood, terrified to be the new topic of this bloody discussion. Now the object of two predatory gazes, and she returned their considering stares with a weak smile.
"Mistress?" It came out as a squeak.
"You want her?" Laurel asked. Zara's heart skipped a beat. She was fond of Sean and cared about him, but she didn't like the idea of being sold out of this house as a mistress to a man as dangerous as Sean was. Or possibly to two men as dangerous as Sean was, if she considered Viggo. A lot could be expected of the mistress of a powerful man. Not to mention that it was almost expected that a slave mistress would eventually did at the hands of a new, jealous wife. She would rather stay in this place. The Laurel was safe, comfortable, and she thought her mistress was training her for more. The pathetic smile she had managed began to tremble.
"I don't like the idea of leaving her here," Sean replied.
Laurel slumped back on the chaise where she was already reclining, then flopped onto her back and raised her arms over her head, admiring her rings and jewelry.
"I won't sell her to you," Laurel said flatly. "She's mine, and I have plans for her."
Zara could have fallen to her knees in gratitude.
"That's not what I'm proposing," he said quietly. "Zara spends a lot of time with me. The things she says about how you use her time... She sounds like the slave that the swordmaster has chosen for his special journeyman - the one he is grooming for a master's exam..."
Sean's insight startled Zara. She had no idea he paid that much attention to her chatter when she came to his rooms.
"I would think that if you had plans for her, you'd eventually be freeing her. Do it the same time as you unbind me, and it'll be the easiest night of her career. She perches on the cushions next to me, and nobody will touch her with a ten foot pole."
Zara found that her mouth had fallen open, and she snapped it shut, hoping her mistress hadn't noticed. Sean was grinning at her, delighted at the shock on her face.
Laurel shoved up onto one elbow and considered both of them. The she began to smile, herself.
"If we do this, Zara, would you stay, or go?"
Zara hardly knew what to say. When she didn't answer immediately, Laurel turned to Sean.
"Would she be welcome in your household? Having her there would strengthen the rumors about the ties between the houses, and she could decide what she wanted. You might find her very useful to have around. A house run by bachelors is always a hellhole to live in. She'd bring you a woman's touch."
And apparently the decision was made without another thought for her. Zara stood there, halfway to fetching lunch, and hardly knew what to do with herself.
Sean had never circulated in the front room. Despite two years in the house, because of his refusal to behave, there were many roles of the whore he had not played, and this was one of them.
He really wasn't wearing much less than he would have worn into the arena, but there the stakes were different. The uses of his clothes were different. And other people were very far away.
This room was for the sale of his cock and his ass, and the other people were very, very close.
Still, the invitations had gone out and the Laurel was empty. He, Zara, and the door wardens were very nearly the only people in the front room. Since they were being unbound, any person off the street could have come in and demanded their services, but the Laruel had a reputation, and people didn't come in off the street. By the deepest hours of the night they were both droswing in the large, upholstered couch, legs tangled together, bellies full of tasty morsels from the sideboards. The worst of the evening had been the guards discreetly ogling them.
The blacksmith came with the first light of dawn. He noted Sean's heavy muscles and battle scars and affection for the girl. Not his day for a free fuck, the smith decided with a shrug. He marked them both as free, and left.
Sean stood in the stable yard. The new brand on his thigh throbbed as only a burn could.
He was reeling.
Three days ago, he had been almost completely without hope.
Two days ago, he had taken Viggo to his bed.
Today he was free.
Chapter 20: Homecoming, Part III
Author: muck-a-luck, posting in brainofck
Pairing: SB/VM (other pairings in later chapters)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Viggo is somewhere else, where everyone and no one is the same
Content/warnings: AU. Violence.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's own porno script, populated by the individuals she feels would be ideal to fill the various roles if she ruled the universe if she were ever fortunate enough have the opportunity to bring her vision to the screen. *snortle*
Archive rights: www.rugbytackling.com, Green Opals, if they're interested, and my journals muck_a_luck and brainofck
Further Disclaimer: Any resemblance to Ancient Rome mostly incidental. I have never seen any gladiator flick. Ever. Honest. Not even Gladiator, which I have been informed did not steal FOTR's Oscar, as it won the Oscar the year prior. I still blame Russell Crowe, though. *glares*
Blame: uisgich, for encouraging me
The Arena Homepage
Chapter 18: Homecoming, Part I
"So what's our real business?"
"I want to be more than this city's richest whore," Laurel said. "I want you and Viggo to help me with that."
"I would have thought that you know every dirty little secret in the city, running a place like this," Sean replied, leaning back and taking another long drink of the excellent wine Zara had been pouring for them all morning. "Don't you have every Senator and Counselor in the city wrapped around your little finger?"
She shook her head.
"I know things, but not enough. And I don't want power from behind the scenes. I don't want power by proxy, manipulating an influential citizen here and there."
She thumped her cup down onto the table hard.
"I want to hold the power. Myself. In my own hands."
"You want to sit in the Senate," he said.
She shook her head.
"No. I want more."
With the amount he had drunk, he couldn't stop himself from laughing.
"No woman has ever been a member of the Council!"
"No woman in this city has ever had the kind of wealth and knowledge that I have at my own command," she retorted. "What I lack is the strength to make them fear me."
She leaned forward, urgency in her expression.
"You and Viggo could give me that strength," she practically growled. She rose to her feet and paced the room, every line of her form and posture about aggression and grace now, the delicate courtesan replaced by a warrior who would have been easy and confident in the barracks.
"You could build a guard for me. Keep who you want, recruit who you need. Train them. Run them. Maybe even set up a couple of arena fighters for me, as a show that I'm serious."
She stopped her pacing and rounded on him suddenly.
"But more importantly, you'd let me set up a house for the two of you here in town."
Startled by her sudden attention and the apparent change of topic, Sean blinked a little stupidly.
"How does that help you? I was with you up 'til the house thing..."
The killing gleam was back.
"We both know who Viggo is. I imagine there are other people who have suspicions. I would make sure that the right people knew that the way to Viggo's services was through me. Or channels that I controlled. Make sure that the right people had the right suspicions..."
Sean thought about it.
"So news that I'm on the hunt for my old patrons drives everyone out of town," he mused. "And while they're gone, you bring me on as the new head of your guard, and Viggo as your hired assassin in the wings? The Emperor takes notice, and makes a decision and extends you an invitation to join the Council and there's nobody here to stand in the way."
Sean thought about it as she sat back down across from him and poured herself another cup from the flask.
"Two problems I see with it," he said slowly. She gestured broadly with her free hand for him to proceed.
"First," he said, "and I mean no insult to you, but I won't agree to be the Captain of the Guard for this house."
She nodded with the solemnity of the nearly drunk.
"That's fine," she said, "I don't need you to take the position. Just be the obvious power in the shadows. That's all I need. Your convincing presence."
He nodded with equal solemnity.
"Then the other problem is your timing," he said.
"If you're right about Viggo and Sennet, then we all need for me to move now. If Sennet decides it's too risky for Viggo to move freely, he could send him back to the arena, or worse. We could lose him."
"But if you free me now, and send them to the hills, you won't have time to get all your rumors and guard and whatnot into place before you have them all back in town again."
She leaned across the table to him.
"But you and Viggo could help me with that, couldn't you? Would it be too much to ask for you to keep the town clear for me?"
The possibilities ran like cold fire through Sean's wine-lubricated veins.
"Maybe we should think about a second list," he suggested, and reached over to refill her cup.
Zara was attempting to make herself useful and invisible at the same time, a trick she had been perfecting for years, and had never wanted more than she did today. It was unsettling to see two of the most controlled people she knew drinking and even drunk. But it was especially frightening to hear them plot death and violence in the city and see the glee in their faces as they did it.
The second list was chilling. Sean and Laurel debated the pros and cons of strategically targeting and killing a dozen of Sean's most hated patrons. She wondered if she really would be murdering the Steward after all. Possibly not, though. Sean clearly had better deaths to think about now.
"What about Zara," Sean said suddenly. Zara had been going to the door to order food for an early afternoon meal. Now she froze where she stood, terrified to be the new topic of this bloody discussion. Now the object of two predatory gazes, and she returned their considering stares with a weak smile.
"Mistress?" It came out as a squeak.
"You want her?" Laurel asked. Zara's heart skipped a beat. She was fond of Sean and cared about him, but she didn't like the idea of being sold out of this house as a mistress to a man as dangerous as Sean was. Or possibly to two men as dangerous as Sean was, if she considered Viggo. A lot could be expected of the mistress of a powerful man. Not to mention that it was almost expected that a slave mistress would eventually did at the hands of a new, jealous wife. She would rather stay in this place. The Laurel was safe, comfortable, and she thought her mistress was training her for more. The pathetic smile she had managed began to tremble.
"I don't like the idea of leaving her here," Sean replied.
Laurel slumped back on the chaise where she was already reclining, then flopped onto her back and raised her arms over her head, admiring her rings and jewelry.
"I won't sell her to you," Laurel said flatly. "She's mine, and I have plans for her."
Zara could have fallen to her knees in gratitude.
"That's not what I'm proposing," he said quietly. "Zara spends a lot of time with me. The things she says about how you use her time... She sounds like the slave that the swordmaster has chosen for his special journeyman - the one he is grooming for a master's exam..."
Sean's insight startled Zara. She had no idea he paid that much attention to her chatter when she came to his rooms.
"I would think that if you had plans for her, you'd eventually be freeing her. Do it the same time as you unbind me, and it'll be the easiest night of her career. She perches on the cushions next to me, and nobody will touch her with a ten foot pole."
Zara found that her mouth had fallen open, and she snapped it shut, hoping her mistress hadn't noticed. Sean was grinning at her, delighted at the shock on her face.
Laurel shoved up onto one elbow and considered both of them. The she began to smile, herself.
"If we do this, Zara, would you stay, or go?"
Zara hardly knew what to say. When she didn't answer immediately, Laurel turned to Sean.
"Would she be welcome in your household? Having her there would strengthen the rumors about the ties between the houses, and she could decide what she wanted. You might find her very useful to have around. A house run by bachelors is always a hellhole to live in. She'd bring you a woman's touch."
And apparently the decision was made without another thought for her. Zara stood there, halfway to fetching lunch, and hardly knew what to do with herself.
Sean had never circulated in the front room. Despite two years in the house, because of his refusal to behave, there were many roles of the whore he had not played, and this was one of them.
He really wasn't wearing much less than he would have worn into the arena, but there the stakes were different. The uses of his clothes were different. And other people were very far away.
This room was for the sale of his cock and his ass, and the other people were very, very close.
Still, the invitations had gone out and the Laurel was empty. He, Zara, and the door wardens were very nearly the only people in the front room. Since they were being unbound, any person off the street could have come in and demanded their services, but the Laruel had a reputation, and people didn't come in off the street. By the deepest hours of the night they were both droswing in the large, upholstered couch, legs tangled together, bellies full of tasty morsels from the sideboards. The worst of the evening had been the guards discreetly ogling them.
The blacksmith came with the first light of dawn. He noted Sean's heavy muscles and battle scars and affection for the girl. Not his day for a free fuck, the smith decided with a shrug. He marked them both as free, and left.
Sean stood in the stable yard. The new brand on his thigh throbbed as only a burn could.
He was reeling.
Three days ago, he had been almost completely without hope.
Two days ago, he had taken Viggo to his bed.
Today he was free.
Chapter 20: Homecoming, Part III