Roses Thorns 6/?
anonymous
June 24 2011, 06:44:10 UTC
Arthur could start to feel more things tugging on him. They were thin things, they felt a lot like snakes of some sort, and they were actually quite warm, which also supported the thought that they might be snakes. But they made no hissing sounds; the only sound they did make was the slinking sound they made against the wood of the cart. They were far longer than any snake Arthur had ever seen. One traveled up his spine, and coiled around his head, as if to cradle it, while others wrapped around his arms, torso, and other leg.
These things -- whatever they were -- lifted him from the cart, and pulled him out into the rain. The slave trader seemed none the wiser, for Arthur could hear the cart ambling off into the distance. The things that held him kept moving, though where, Arthur couldn't say. But it didn't take long for strong, warm arms to take him from them.
Arthur hadn't realized how much he missed warmth till he was in this mysterious person's arms. If he was able, he would have curled in around it, because he was just so cold, and with a source of warmth so close it was much easier to concentrate on that fact. But Arthur's inability to move hindered any such actions; his body remained as limp and useless as a doll.
“I've got you! You're safe now.” A soft voice whispered to him, but without any means of answering, Arthur could do nothing for it. It was a man though, probably young, maybe still only a boy, but there was no way to know for sure. He heard the man’s feet softly head away from the cart. Arthur paid special attention as he went, realizing early on that the mysterious man was walking on grass, and not the muddy path that the slave trader had steered his cart down.
After some time - there was no way for Arthur to tell just how long it was, but all noises of the cart and the slave trader were long gone - the man's pace slowed, and he set Arthur down on the wet, dying grass. “You can wake up now. I promise I won't hurt you!” The man said cheerfully, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder and lightly shaking it. Arthur wished that he could, but there was nothing he could do in response.
“There's no reason to be scared, if that’s what it is. I'm sure that wasn't fun, but you're safe with me! I promise!” Whoever this was, was likely dense. If he thought Arthur was sleeping, he was going to be quite surprised at the actual reason why he would receive no answer. When the other man received no response, he reached down to Arthur's face, and felt his cheek and forehead.
“You're so cold...” The voice now sounded confused, and quite concerned. Arthur would have huffed, if given the option. This guy hadn't realized how cold he was while he was being carried? The next hand went to cover Arthur's mouth, and after a few seconds the man suddenly gasped.
“You aren't breathing! Oh gods, they couldn't have killed you! No! Oh, ah, what do I do!?! Please don't be dead!” The boy sounded so concerned, his voice cracking, and his hands roaming Arthur's body in some faint hope of finding indication of some sort that he was alive. Arthur would have loved to hit this dolt upside the head, because having his big lugging hands roaming all over him was hardly proper. He also would have loved to tell him that he was somehow still alive, and even though he wouldn't admit it, he wanted to ease the obvious concern in that voice, but there was nothing for it.
“I don't understand, you were find the other day...how could you be dead!?! You're no use to them dead, it doesn't make any sense. Oh gods, please don't be dead. Please please please don't be dead...” The boy seemed quite convinced of his conclusion, and Arthur could hear his voice cracking in remorse that simply could not be staged. Those big hands gingerly picked him up, and Arthur could feel the warmth of the boy's chest as he was held, the boy rocking the both of them back and forth.
Roses Thorns 7/?
anonymous
June 24 2011, 06:48:13 UTC
It all struck Arthur as very strange; this voice wasn't familiar in even the slightest way. It couldn't be someone from the village, he was sure of it. None of them had cared a lick about him, not the miller’s daughter that he would have likely married, or the children that he tried making treats for. He knew them all, and that chapter of his life was now painfully over. No, this boy, couldn't be one of them, Arthur would have recognized him by now. But this person was holding him so tenderly, and from what Arthur could feel - which was, realistically, highly suspect - the other seemed to be shaking in genuine grief.
“No no no no no. Y-you can't...I was supposed to save you and introduce myself.” The voice broke at that, and from the blubbering sound, this man was obviously crying. “You just can't be dead!” The response was a mixture between a strong denial and a heart wrenching moan, and it probably conveyed a lot more emotion than Arthur could detect.
The other nuzzled his head into the limp crook of Arthur's neck, cradling Arthur's head so that it didn't hang limply. The boy sniffled a few times before tightening his hold and bringing Arthur with him as he stood up.
“Francis will know what to do. He'll help you, I promise!” Ever so lightly, the boy kissed Arthur on the cheek before his feet started rapidly stomping through the forest, the speed of it making Arthur's hair fly in ever which direction.
Arthur was quite baffled. He had no idea what so ever what had just transpired. First he was to be a prisoner, and now he was saved by a strange boy who was either far to affectionate, or had some sort of feelings for him. It was all rather confusing, and horribly out of context, and since Arthur was quite incapacitated, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He couldn't reassure this youth that he indeed was not dead, or ask what was going on. Arthur was simply along for the ride at the moment.
Between the rain, and the strong grip around him, Arthur felt more comfortable than he had since the binding had been placed on his neck, and that was saying a great deal. Focusing on anything other than hearing was difficult, it exhausted him to try and feel the rain or the warmth the boy radiated, but it was well worth the trouble. Arthur strained and strained as much as he could. It was a strange feeling, having to work so hard to have the most basic of sensations work, but he feared greatly not being able to feel anything at all, so he persisted without a second thought.
After a time, the boy seemed to slow, he was panting rather loudly, and if Arthur strained, he could feel the boy's arms spasm here and there. They must have been going for a long time, but Arthur had no reference of it. It could have been five minutes or five hours, and Arthur wouldn't have been the wiser.
“Francis! Francis!!” the boy yelled frantically, and not too far away, Arthur heard the pounding of feet, and the opening of a door. Hurried footsteps could be heard approaching them, and as he could feel his body being lifted up, another hand traced over Arthur's cheek, then trickled down his neck to the collar.
“Francis! He isn't breathing, and he's so cold! I don't know what to do, you have to help him!” The boy pleaded, his voice cracking, and his breathing harried.
The other, Francis, as he had been named, hummed softly in thought, before calmly responding. “Alfred, dear, take him inside and clean up. You've worked yourself up. If you aren't careful, you'll make yourself sick. You know what the cold does to you.”
The younger one, Alfred, growled and held Arthur protectively to his chest. In all honesty, Arthur adored the warmth of it, but he could hear Alfred's heart erratically beating in his chest, and it occurred to him that he hadn't been this close to someone since his mother had died. So much fuss for him, from someone he had likely never met. It was still quite baffling.
Roses Thorns 8/?
anonymous
June 24 2011, 06:50:15 UTC
“I don't care about that! Francis, you have to help him!! Please, help Arthur!” Ah, so this Alfred did know his name for what ever reason. Perhaps Arthur really did know him? A chance meeting perhaps? It was impossible to tell at this point. At the least, the names were not familiar.
Francis sighed. “Alfred, believe me, he will be fine. I'm more worried about you. Did you run all the way here from the road? You're always so reckless, what am I to do with you?”
That comment was actually a relief for Arthur as well, and he could feel Alfred grip him tighter, and nuzzle his head into Arthur's just a bit. “He'll be alright. I'm so relieved, you have no idea Francis, no idea. He's just so cold, and he isn't breathing. I was so afraid.” And the boy sounded so honest, so relieved with the news. It was a strange feeling, to have someone you'd never met so pleased to hear that you would be alright. Arthur found it quite queer indeed.
Francis sighed again, and moved closer to Alfred's side, more than likely coaxing him inside where ever Francis had come from. “Come, come, let’s get you inside next to a warm fire. You're chilled to the bone, dear.” Arthur registered slightly that Alfred was indeed shaking as the both of them were ushered inside, though he couldn't tell if it was because of the cold, or for some other reason. Where exactly they were being ushered, was still something Arthur couldn't tell, but it surely was warmer at the least.
“Set him on the bed, Alfred. I'll attend to him in a moment.” Alfred seemed to falter for a second before holding Arthur closer to him. “But, he's still so cold. Can I keep holding him? He feels so fragile like this.” Francis huffed again, but this time it seemed more good natured than it had before.
“If it will make you feel better. My guess is he will appreciate the warmth.” Francis seemed to be fumbling around a bit. From what Arthur could hear it seemed like he was in the kitchen, because things seemed to be clanging. “Though, I assume he isn't feeling much of anything at this point.”
Alfred plopped himself down close to the crackling noises of perhaps a fire, and seemed to angle himself backwards before answering Francis. “What do you mean?”
Francis was still fumbling about, but he seemed to finish what he was doing and came to sit down next to Alfred. He ran a few fingers through Arthur's hair and then down his neck to the large black metal collar. Francis tapped it a few times, and Arthur felt like his whole body shuddered at the small contact, though he knew that in all reality, he didn't move an inch.
“This is the problem. You should have made your move sooner Alfred, my dear. This will make it harder on him.” Francis lingered around Arthur's neck for a few minutes, before retreating again.
“I-I just wanted it to be perfect.” Alfred stated, quite forlornly. “I wanted to sweep him off his feet, but not like this. Never like this. I guess I didn't have all the time I thought I did.” Alfred paused for a minute, in which time he ran small circles down Arthur's back that normally would have made Arthur shiver. “What do you mean, Francis? How is this, the problem?”
“Drink.” Above him, Arthur could hear a soft sipping noise, as Alfred must have done as was instructed, before Francis did so himself. Once he had taken a drink, and seemed to settle, Francis continued. “It is a cursed item. Have you ever wondered how slave traders can capture magic users without having them retaliate? This is your answer.”
There was a pause, in which Francis took another drink of whatever he had before continuing. “Its strong name magic, simply stated. It steals the victim’s name. It is essential equipment for slave traders, and an expensive one at that. When the slave is bought on the auction block, the name of the new owner is carved into the collar, and it then releases. From that point on, the slave must do as their master tells them, because the person who carves their name, now owns theirs. It is a very advanced sort of bond, entirely submissive. He'd never be able to disobey you, or lie to you. That sort of bond is hard on a person of even the strongest character. It is meant to break people.”
Roses Thorns 9/?
anonymous
June 24 2011, 06:51:58 UTC
There was another pause, in which Alfred seemed to double the strength in his hold, but Arthur hardly noticed. He was too wrapped around the concept. Name magic? So that’s how it worked? Arthur knew of the power of such things, but had never imagined that a name stealing curse could ever be this effective. He'd never be able to do what he wanted to again, all because some slave trader had by proxy, stolen his name. Arthur supposed he had expected the loss of freedom, but the rescue had sparked some hope in him - a hope that was not quite dead yet - but now it was starting to wane. His situation was really as bad as he had feared.
It was Alfred that spoke up next. “How can we get it off then? I...don't want that sort of relationship with him. I want him to want to stay, not be made to want to stay by me.” A few seconds passed, before Alfred mumbled softly, “Did that make sense?”
Francis, in response, sighed and took another drink, before offering Alfred another. “That is the problem, I'm afraid. You don't have that choice any more. Slave Traders have no intention of returning their merchandise, and over the years of losing products, they've developed strong ways of ensuring that their merchandise doesn't wander off on its own. The only way is to carve your name into the collar. Otherwise, he'll stay like that until the day he dies. But I know that sort of bond isn't what you want.” Francis took another sip, and his next statement was jovial, almost childlike. “We could sell him. I'm sure he'd fetch a pretty penny, even if he has those hideous eyebrows.” Alfred outright snarled at that, and held Arthur tighter.
Francis huffed softly. “Oh, don't give me that look, Alfred my dear. There are plenty of fish in the sea. So this one didn't work out, that doesn't mean you should dedicate your life to being bonded to him. It isn't fair to either of you.”
Arthur realized that he really didn't like this Francis character.
“This is my fault. If I had done something sooner, or kept my nose out of it this wouldn't have happened. I can't just abandon him now. There has to be another way. Could I carve his own name? Would that work”
But the pause that enveloped the room, Arthur could guess that Francis was considering the outcome of such an action. Finally, he responded. “No, don't think so. The physical act of carving one's name, is the binding element. If it was that simple, this normally would not work, because only a select few individuals know their own true name. Most people go by the names they are given at birth, so in reality, they are not carving their true names either. I don't think it would do you any good.”
“But,” Alfred paused, and after running his fingers through Arthur's hair, spoke again. “You have a point. If only it was that simple.”
Again, Francis hummed softly. “Perhaps after making the bond, you could find a way to restore his name to him. It would be difficult, but certainly not impossible. There have been cases of it. If anyone is hard headed enough to find out how to do it, it would be you, Alfred.”
“Yes! I could do that, I don't know how, but we could find out together!! Arthur and I! Then, once he has his name back, I'll become his familiar. It'll work. It has to.” Alfred stated confidently, before slowing down some to speak again. “Should I wake him now? I don't want him to stay, like this, any longer. He looks so fragile, and he's still so cold...”
Francis hummed again, before Arthur could hear him shift. “It would probably be a good idea. He's likely exhausted, and as he is he won't have any rest at all. This sort of process is very damaging, and he'll need time to recover before you two head off on your grand adventure. Not to mention, the season is just beginning. If you think I'm going to let you follow your fancy in the dead of winter, you are quite mistaken. If you are convinced this is what you want to do, Alfred, then yes you should wake him. He'll need all the time he can get.”
Alfred didn't answer Francis, but Arthur could hear Francis getting up from his position. There was some more shuffling around, before one of Alfred's hands left Arthur's side.
Roses Thorns 10/?
anonymous
June 24 2011, 06:54:27 UTC
What happened next, happened all at once. Suddenly, there was a searing pain emanating from his neck. After not feeling anything at all for goodness knows how long, Arthur's senses overflowed with pain. There was nothing else to his entire being, but that pain. He wanted to scream and claw at his neck till it stopped, but his body still refused to move even the slightest bit. The seconds dragged on into what seemed like years, and he couldn't feel anything but the pain. It was such a sharp stabbing sensation, like someone was jamming a rusty knife into his neck over and over and over but he just couldn't die from it.
Then without any sort of notice, Arthur gasped, his eyes flew open, and he could feel everything. He could feel where the villagers had dragged him out of his home, how he'd slammed his foot against the wall in an attempt to stop them, but how it had only bent irregularly and bruised down to the bone when they'd forced it through. He could feel the bruises where they'd held him, and dragged him. He could feel how his neck ached at how roughly the slave trader had yanked him, and how his head still hurt from where he'd gripped his hair. How he'd landed hard on his arm when he'd crumpled to the ground as the slave trader had clamped the collar around his neck, and how it still seemed to pulse. The lump on his head where he'd been tossed seamlessly into the back of the cart and his head had slammed against the wood. How the chill of death still clung to him and he couldn't stop shivering because he'd been out all night in the cold, and he'd never been this cold in his life. How there were splinters stuck in his arm from where Alfred had somehow dragged him across the wood of the cart. How he had acute bruises all over his wrists and ankles and waist. How he was drenched head to toe, and how he could suddenly breathe after so long and how his lungs stung with the sudden use. He could feel the warmth of Alfred around him and of the fire and he could fell those arms holding him as he shook and his whole body seized up uncontrollably. His eyes moved rapidly around, trying to take everything in, but it was all to fast and all to sudden and he couldn't process any of it. And he could feel his neck as it bled and how he wanted to just tear it out right then and there and save himself the trouble, but someone was holding him down, and he couldn't fight it. All that had been lost, it all came back to him in moments and it left him reeling and nauseous.
After hours, probably days of feeling nothing at all he felt everything. Arthur could see and feel and everything ached and hurt and throbbed. It was all too much. A wheeze turned gasp turned scream escaped his throat, a disgusting gurgling sound, and Arthur knew no more.
Tada! As I said OP, I've rather ruined your request, but hopefully you don't dislike this to much? Thank you for reading everyone!!
Re: Roses Thorns 10/?
anonymous
June 24 2011, 08:43:25 UTC
Not OP, but the plot is good and interesting and has a varying theme compared to the first fill. I like that. Eagerly awaiting updates in this one too, authornon!
Re: Roses Thorns 10/?
anonymous
June 24 2011, 11:46:37 UTC
I'm very excited about this! I don't think I've ever encountered a story about trying to rescue a slave! Alfred would be perfect for doing such a feat, what with his heroism. I love the fantasy elements incorporated in it as well! And that ending was very powerfully written, when suddenly Arthur had to deal with all the pain he had been experiencing when he was numbed. I really hope you continue this, anon! :)
Re: Roses Thorns 10/? [OP]
anonymous
June 24 2011, 16:22:28 UTC
Hello Op, I've sort of bastardized your request. I hope you don't mind to much.
Oh no, I thought when I first saw that. This is it. This is karma. Karma for that time I wrote crack when the OP wanted a serious fill, or maybe that one time I trolled on that request, or-- hey, this is actually pretty awesome! :D
Actually, I'm kind of loving how you've bastardized my request. ;) After all, even if you've changed it up a bit, it still retains the basic elements of what I wanted (aka Alfred + Arthur bond with Alfred in control). The way you started what with the village, the slaver, and the way the collar works shows that you've given a good amount of thought to the entire thing, which makes me very happy that my request could inspire you like that. I also like how much darker it starts out in contrast to the first fill; variety is the spice of life, after all! Actually, I'm particularly excited by the fact that there's another fill in general. I didn't think this request would get one fill, let alone two. I'm excited to see just where both of these go! :DDD
I'm curious about how Alfred already knows Arthur. His devotion just screams "adorable stalker," doesn't it? Francis is...Francis, of course XD, and I'm wondering just what he is. Is he an elemental too, and if so, what kind I wonder? Poor Arthur is having such a rough time...hopefully things improve for him eventually. ^^; Not sure how he's going to react to all this once he's coherant, though...
Your fill really is quite lovely, anon, and I can't wait for you to update it. <3
Re: Roses Thorns 10/?
anonymous
June 24 2011, 18:08:23 UTC
Ooohhh I love the way things play off in the start!!
Poor, poor Arthur, I hope he relearns how to trust. Though from the way Alfred spoke, I suspected that part of the good harvest had been Alfred's supposed gift to him (such a boy, wanted to impress his crush) which backfired on him. Alfred sounded young and full of idealism, he's going to have a hard time with Arthur, who had been betrayed and broken. I see a future of angst, especially if Alfred is too young to fully understand the gravity of the power he yields over Arthur, but I really hope both of them can get thru it.
Some technicalities I want to ask - why can't Alfred be Arthur's familiar straight away? Arthur is still a witch right? Then, that way, their relationship is kind of in balance, since familiars are supposed to obey their witches.
In any case, the plot you've chosen is very interesting and your writing style is lovely, I'm looking forward to your updates!
These things -- whatever they were -- lifted him from the cart, and pulled him out into the rain. The slave trader seemed none the wiser, for Arthur could hear the cart ambling off into the distance. The things that held him kept moving, though where, Arthur couldn't say. But it didn't take long for strong, warm arms to take him from them.
Arthur hadn't realized how much he missed warmth till he was in this mysterious person's arms. If he was able, he would have curled in around it, because he was just so cold, and with a source of warmth so close it was much easier to concentrate on that fact. But Arthur's inability to move hindered any such actions; his body remained as limp and useless as a doll.
“I've got you! You're safe now.” A soft voice whispered to him, but without any means of answering, Arthur could do nothing for it. It was a man though, probably young, maybe still only a boy, but there was no way to know for sure. He heard the man’s feet softly head away from the cart. Arthur paid special attention as he went, realizing early on that the mysterious man was walking on grass, and not the muddy path that the slave trader had steered his cart down.
After some time - there was no way for Arthur to tell just how long it was, but all noises of the cart and the slave trader were long gone - the man's pace slowed, and he set Arthur down on the wet, dying grass. “You can wake up now. I promise I won't hurt you!” The man said cheerfully, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder and lightly shaking it. Arthur wished that he could, but there was nothing he could do in response.
“There's no reason to be scared, if that’s what it is. I'm sure that wasn't fun, but you're safe with me! I promise!” Whoever this was, was likely dense. If he thought Arthur was sleeping, he was going to be quite surprised at the actual reason why he would receive no answer. When the other man received no response, he reached down to Arthur's face, and felt his cheek and forehead.
“You're so cold...” The voice now sounded confused, and quite concerned. Arthur would have huffed, if given the option. This guy hadn't realized how cold he was while he was being carried? The next hand went to cover Arthur's mouth, and after a few seconds the man suddenly gasped.
“You aren't breathing! Oh gods, they couldn't have killed you! No! Oh, ah, what do I do!?! Please don't be dead!” The boy sounded so concerned, his voice cracking, and his hands roaming Arthur's body in some faint hope of finding indication of some sort that he was alive. Arthur would have loved to hit this dolt upside the head, because having his big lugging hands roaming all over him was hardly proper. He also would have loved to tell him that he was somehow still alive, and even though he wouldn't admit it, he wanted to ease the obvious concern in that voice, but there was nothing for it.
“I don't understand, you were find the other day...how could you be dead!?! You're no use to them dead, it doesn't make any sense. Oh gods, please don't be dead. Please please please don't be dead...” The boy seemed quite convinced of his conclusion, and Arthur could hear his voice cracking in remorse that simply could not be staged. Those big hands gingerly picked him up, and Arthur could feel the warmth of the boy's chest as he was held, the boy rocking the both of them back and forth.
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“No no no no no. Y-you can't...I was supposed to save you and introduce myself.” The voice broke at that, and from the blubbering sound, this man was obviously crying. “You just can't be dead!” The response was a mixture between a strong denial and a heart wrenching moan, and it probably conveyed a lot more emotion than Arthur could detect.
The other nuzzled his head into the limp crook of Arthur's neck, cradling Arthur's head so that it didn't hang limply. The boy sniffled a few times before tightening his hold and bringing Arthur with him as he stood up.
“Francis will know what to do. He'll help you, I promise!” Ever so lightly, the boy kissed Arthur on the cheek before his feet started rapidly stomping through the forest, the speed of it making Arthur's hair fly in ever which direction.
Arthur was quite baffled. He had no idea what so ever what had just transpired. First he was to be a prisoner, and now he was saved by a strange boy who was either far to affectionate, or had some sort of feelings for him. It was all rather confusing, and horribly out of context, and since Arthur was quite incapacitated, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He couldn't reassure this youth that he indeed was not dead, or ask what was going on. Arthur was simply along for the ride at the moment.
Between the rain, and the strong grip around him, Arthur felt more comfortable than he had since the binding had been placed on his neck, and that was saying a great deal. Focusing on anything other than hearing was difficult, it exhausted him to try and feel the rain or the warmth the boy radiated, but it was well worth the trouble. Arthur strained and strained as much as he could. It was a strange feeling, having to work so hard to have the most basic of sensations work, but he feared greatly not being able to feel anything at all, so he persisted without a second thought.
After a time, the boy seemed to slow, he was panting rather loudly, and if Arthur strained, he could feel the boy's arms spasm here and there. They must have been going for a long time, but Arthur had no reference of it. It could have been five minutes or five hours, and Arthur wouldn't have been the wiser.
“Francis! Francis!!” the boy yelled frantically, and not too far away, Arthur heard the pounding of feet, and the opening of a door. Hurried footsteps could be heard approaching them, and as he could feel his body being lifted up, another hand traced over Arthur's cheek, then trickled down his neck to the collar.
“Francis! He isn't breathing, and he's so cold! I don't know what to do, you have to help him!” The boy pleaded, his voice cracking, and his breathing harried.
The other, Francis, as he had been named, hummed softly in thought, before calmly responding. “Alfred, dear, take him inside and clean up. You've worked yourself up. If you aren't careful, you'll make yourself sick. You know what the cold does to you.”
The younger one, Alfred, growled and held Arthur protectively to his chest. In all honesty, Arthur adored the warmth of it, but he could hear Alfred's heart erratically beating in his chest, and it occurred to him that he hadn't been this close to someone since his mother had died. So much fuss for him, from someone he had likely never met. It was still quite baffling.
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Francis sighed. “Alfred, believe me, he will be fine. I'm more worried about you. Did you run all the way here from the road? You're always so reckless, what am I to do with you?”
That comment was actually a relief for Arthur as well, and he could feel Alfred grip him tighter, and nuzzle his head into Arthur's just a bit. “He'll be alright. I'm so relieved, you have no idea Francis, no idea. He's just so cold, and he isn't breathing. I was so afraid.” And the boy sounded so honest, so relieved with the news. It was a strange feeling, to have someone you'd never met so pleased to hear that you would be alright. Arthur found it quite queer indeed.
Francis sighed again, and moved closer to Alfred's side, more than likely coaxing him inside where ever Francis had come from. “Come, come, let’s get you inside next to a warm fire. You're chilled to the bone, dear.” Arthur registered slightly that Alfred was indeed shaking as the both of them were ushered inside, though he couldn't tell if it was because of the cold, or for some other reason. Where exactly they were being ushered, was still something Arthur couldn't tell, but it surely was warmer at the least.
“Set him on the bed, Alfred. I'll attend to him in a moment.” Alfred seemed to falter for a second before holding Arthur closer to him. “But, he's still so cold. Can I keep holding him? He feels so fragile like this.” Francis huffed again, but this time it seemed more good natured than it had before.
“If it will make you feel better. My guess is he will appreciate the warmth.” Francis seemed to be fumbling around a bit. From what Arthur could hear it seemed like he was in the kitchen, because things seemed to be clanging. “Though, I assume he isn't feeling much of anything at this point.”
Alfred plopped himself down close to the crackling noises of perhaps a fire, and seemed to angle himself backwards before answering Francis. “What do you mean?”
Francis was still fumbling about, but he seemed to finish what he was doing and came to sit down next to Alfred. He ran a few fingers through Arthur's hair and then down his neck to the large black metal collar. Francis tapped it a few times, and Arthur felt like his whole body shuddered at the small contact, though he knew that in all reality, he didn't move an inch.
“This is the problem. You should have made your move sooner Alfred, my dear. This will make it harder on him.” Francis lingered around Arthur's neck for a few minutes, before retreating again.
“I-I just wanted it to be perfect.” Alfred stated, quite forlornly. “I wanted to sweep him off his feet, but not like this. Never like this. I guess I didn't have all the time I thought I did.” Alfred paused for a minute, in which time he ran small circles down Arthur's back that normally would have made Arthur shiver. “What do you mean, Francis? How is this, the problem?”
“Drink.” Above him, Arthur could hear a soft sipping noise, as Alfred must have done as was instructed, before Francis did so himself. Once he had taken a drink, and seemed to settle, Francis continued. “It is a cursed item. Have you ever wondered how slave traders can capture magic users without having them retaliate? This is your answer.”
There was a pause, in which Francis took another drink of whatever he had before continuing. “Its strong name magic, simply stated. It steals the victim’s name. It is essential equipment for slave traders, and an expensive one at that. When the slave is bought on the auction block, the name of the new owner is carved into the collar, and it then releases. From that point on, the slave must do as their master tells them, because the person who carves their name, now owns theirs. It is a very advanced sort of bond, entirely submissive. He'd never be able to disobey you, or lie to you. That sort of bond is hard on a person of even the strongest character. It is meant to break people.”
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It was Alfred that spoke up next. “How can we get it off then? I...don't want that sort of relationship with him. I want him to want to stay, not be made to want to stay by me.” A few seconds passed, before Alfred mumbled softly, “Did that make sense?”
Francis, in response, sighed and took another drink, before offering Alfred another. “That is the problem, I'm afraid. You don't have that choice any more. Slave Traders have no intention of returning their merchandise, and over the years of losing products, they've developed strong ways of ensuring that their merchandise doesn't wander off on its own. The only way is to carve your name into the collar. Otherwise, he'll stay like that until the day he dies. But I know that sort of bond isn't what you want.” Francis took another sip, and his next statement was jovial, almost childlike. “We could sell him. I'm sure he'd fetch a pretty penny, even if he has those hideous eyebrows.” Alfred outright snarled at that, and held Arthur tighter.
Francis huffed softly. “Oh, don't give me that look, Alfred my dear. There are plenty of fish in the sea. So this one didn't work out, that doesn't mean you should dedicate your life to being bonded to him. It isn't fair to either of you.”
Arthur realized that he really didn't like this Francis character.
“This is my fault. If I had done something sooner, or kept my nose out of it this wouldn't have happened. I can't just abandon him now. There has to be another way. Could I carve his own name? Would that work”
But the pause that enveloped the room, Arthur could guess that Francis was considering the outcome of such an action. Finally, he responded. “No, don't think so. The physical act of carving one's name, is the binding element. If it was that simple, this normally would not work, because only a select few individuals know their own true name. Most people go by the names they are given at birth, so in reality, they are not carving their true names either. I don't think it would do you any good.”
“But,” Alfred paused, and after running his fingers through Arthur's hair, spoke again. “You have a point. If only it was that simple.”
Again, Francis hummed softly. “Perhaps after making the bond, you could find a way to restore his name to him. It would be difficult, but certainly not impossible. There have been cases of it. If anyone is hard headed enough to find out how to do it, it would be you, Alfred.”
“Yes! I could do that, I don't know how, but we could find out together!! Arthur and I! Then, once he has his name back, I'll become his familiar. It'll work. It has to.” Alfred stated confidently, before slowing down some to speak again. “Should I wake him now? I don't want him to stay, like this, any longer. He looks so fragile, and he's still so cold...”
Francis hummed again, before Arthur could hear him shift. “It would probably be a good idea. He's likely exhausted, and as he is he won't have any rest at all. This sort of process is very damaging, and he'll need time to recover before you two head off on your grand adventure. Not to mention, the season is just beginning. If you think I'm going to let you follow your fancy in the dead of winter, you are quite mistaken. If you are convinced this is what you want to do, Alfred, then yes you should wake him. He'll need all the time he can get.”
Alfred didn't answer Francis, but Arthur could hear Francis getting up from his position. There was some more shuffling around, before one of Alfred's hands left Arthur's side.
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Then without any sort of notice, Arthur gasped, his eyes flew open, and he could feel everything. He could feel where the villagers had dragged him out of his home, how he'd slammed his foot against the wall in an attempt to stop them, but how it had only bent irregularly and bruised down to the bone when they'd forced it through. He could feel the bruises where they'd held him, and dragged him. He could feel how his neck ached at how roughly the slave trader had yanked him, and how his head still hurt from where he'd gripped his hair. How he'd landed hard on his arm when he'd crumpled to the ground as the slave trader had clamped the collar around his neck, and how it still seemed to pulse. The lump on his head where he'd been tossed seamlessly into the back of the cart and his head had slammed against the wood. How the chill of death still clung to him and he couldn't stop shivering because he'd been out all night in the cold, and he'd never been this cold in his life. How there were splinters stuck in his arm from where Alfred had somehow dragged him across the wood of the cart. How he had acute bruises all over his wrists and ankles and waist. How he was drenched head to toe, and how he could suddenly breathe after so long and how his lungs stung with the sudden use. He could feel the warmth of Alfred around him and of the fire and he could fell those arms holding him as he shook and his whole body seized up uncontrollably. His eyes moved rapidly around, trying to take everything in, but it was all to fast and all to sudden and he couldn't process any of it. And he could feel his neck as it bled and how he wanted to just tear it out right then and there and save himself the trouble, but someone was holding him down, and he couldn't fight it. All that had been lost, it all came back to him in moments and it left him reeling and nauseous.
After hours, probably days of feeling nothing at all he felt everything. Arthur could see and feel and everything ached and hurt and throbbed. It was all too much. A wheeze turned gasp turned scream escaped his throat, a disgusting gurgling sound, and Arthur knew no more.
Tada! As I said OP, I've rather ruined your request, but hopefully you don't dislike this to much? Thank you for reading everyone!!
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Oh no, I thought when I first saw that. This is it. This is karma. Karma for that time I wrote crack when the OP wanted a serious fill, or maybe that one time I trolled on that request, or-- hey, this is actually pretty awesome! :D
Actually, I'm kind of loving how you've bastardized my request. ;) After all, even if you've changed it up a bit, it still retains the basic elements of what I wanted (aka Alfred + Arthur bond with Alfred in control). The way you started what with the village, the slaver, and the way the collar works shows that you've given a good amount of thought to the entire thing, which makes me very happy that my request could inspire you like that. I also like how much darker it starts out in contrast to the first fill; variety is the spice of life, after all! Actually, I'm particularly excited by the fact that there's another fill in general. I didn't think this request would get one fill, let alone two. I'm excited to see just where both of these go! :DDD
I'm curious about how Alfred already knows Arthur. His devotion just screams "adorable stalker," doesn't it? Francis is...Francis, of course XD, and I'm wondering just what he is. Is he an elemental too, and if so, what kind I wonder? Poor Arthur is having such a rough time...hopefully things improve for him eventually. ^^; Not sure how he's going to react to all this once he's coherant, though...
Your fill really is quite lovely, anon, and I can't wait for you to update it. <3
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Poor, poor Arthur, I hope he relearns how to trust. Though from the way Alfred spoke, I suspected that part of the good harvest had been Alfred's supposed gift to him (such a boy, wanted to impress his crush) which backfired on him. Alfred sounded young and full of idealism, he's going to have a hard time with Arthur, who had been betrayed and broken. I see a future of angst, especially if Alfred is too young to fully understand the gravity of the power he yields over Arthur, but I really hope both of them can get thru it.
Some technicalities I want to ask - why can't Alfred be Arthur's familiar straight away? Arthur is still a witch right? Then, that way, their relationship is kind of in balance, since familiars are supposed to obey their witches.
In any case, the plot you've chosen is very interesting and your writing style is lovely, I'm looking forward to your updates!
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b-b-b-but I want _more_ :(
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I love it and I love the story elements, so far. I feel bad for Arthur but I'm glad Alfred saved him.
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http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/18772.html?thread=78872916#t78872916
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