Fic: "Devotion/Grief" by kyrdwyn (PG-13, Hints of Tim/Dick and Jason/Roy, Deathfic)
Title: Devotion/Grief
Author: kyrdwyn
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Batman (comics)
Pairings/Characters: Hints of Tim Drake/Dick Grayson and Jason Todd/Roy Harper
Summary: He waits for his Master
Warnings: Slavefic AU; DeathFic!
Beta: None
Author's Notes: I have no idea where this came from.
Devotion
He knelt at the side of his Master's bed, awaiting his Master's pleasure. His Master, his beloved Master, hadn't asked anything of him in a long time, but he could feel his Master's presence, so he waited. Each day he would rise from his bed at the foot of the bed and eat the food brought by one of the other slaves in the household. The freed slave who still served his Master's father as majordomo would often bring lunch to him, glancing at the bed before giving the kneeling man a pat on the shoulder. Another slave would bring him dinner. When the curfew bells rang for the manor, he would rise from his knees and take care of his own personal needs, as previously ordered by his Master, and lay down on his own bed, sleeping until the morning bells woke the house.
When he didn't think anyone was watching him, he would raise his eyes from the floor to the bed, looking to see if his Master needed anything. He never did, so he would lower his eyes again, waiting. His Master would let him know when he was needed.
His Master's younger brother accompanied the majordomo with his lunch, frowning as the tray was set on the small table slaves used to eat from while kneeling. He smiled his thanks at the majordomo and bent his head to eat. He could hear his Master's younger brother talking, then yelling, but paid no attention as his name was not called. He jumped when the tray and table were suddenly pushed out of his reach and he was being pulled to his feet. He started shaking his head, babbling his apologies and asking his Master for forgiveness as his Master's brother turned him toward the bed, yelling at him. The majordomo tried to pull him away from the bed, and his Master's older brother was pulling away the younger.
A booming voice cut through the argument, and he dropped to his knees automatically, pressing his forehead to the floor. His Master's father, the lord of the manor, approached, speaking sharply to his youngest son, more softly to his oldest son and the majordomo. He heard the tray being cleaned up, the table righted, and someone leaving the room.
A touch on his shoulder had him glancing up, seeing he had permission to rise from his position. As he rose back to up to kneel, the lord's blue eyes looked at him with compassion and a hint of sadness. The lord ran a affectionate hand over his hair, as he had often done to his sons, and smiled at him, patting his shoulder and gesturing to the table. The lord's oldest son entered the room then, bringing a tray to replace the one ruined by the youngest. He blinked in surprise at the lord, unused to seeing free men such as the lord's son waiting on a slave.
The lord nodded at him, the sadness increasing as he glanced at the bed, then turned back to the kneeling man, kissing his forehead in a gesture only given to beloved slaves who had pleased their Masters. He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as the lord and his oldest son left.
The lord was pleased with his devotion to his Master.
He ate his lunch quickly, moving the table when he was done and moving back to the bedside. His Master would need him, and he would be there to serve when his Master asked.
Grief
"Drake has been dead for six months. His slave should be given to me. Todd already has a slave, and the household cannot afford a slave that isn't productive."
Jason winced as Damian's strident voice echoed out from their father's study. Bruce's posture didn't change, but Jason knew his father wasn't happy.
They entered the study to see Alfred standing there, looking disapprovingly at Damian. Alfred was rare, a slave who had been freed by Lord Thomas Wayne's will, but who had chosen to stay and raise young Lord Bruce after Lord Thomas and Lady Martha's deaths. Alfred truly was the glue of the family in Jason's eyes. He'd kept Bruce sane after Tim's death, when even Jason wasn't sure anything could be done to alleviate the man's grief.
Jason glanced back at Roy, his own slave, and reached out to squeeze his hand. Roy gave him a small smile. Tim's slave had the others worried in the way he knelt by his Master's empty bed every day, waiting to serve, seemingly unable to accept his Master's death. They all were amazed that Lord Bruce had let it go on for so long.
"Richard is not a slave, not legally," Bruce said as they entered the room, cutting off Damian's tirade. "Timothy freed him, with my blessing, three weeks before his death."
"Does he know that?" Jason couldn't help asking. Richard, called Dick by Tim as an affectionate nickname, didn't act like a freed man.
"He was informed, but..." Bruce trailed off, sighing. "Richard had been Timothy's slave since Timothy was three years old, taken in by Timothy's mother after his parents' died."
"Right, the circus accident," Jason said. "Tim mentioned he'd been there, and Tim's mother bought Richard for Tim afterward, but that doesn't explain--"
"Tim was latent empath, and in that moment, when he and Richard were both in shock over Richard's parent's death, he reached out to Richard, and they formed a k'challa bond."
Roy gasped, and Jason stared at Bruce. Alfred closed his eyes and sighed, but Jason noticed he didn't look surprised. Alfred probably knew, Jason realized. It would explain why Alfred insisted on taking Richard at least one of his meals a day.
"I don't understand," Damian said.
"Lord Timothy and Richard were mind linked, Lord Damian," Alfred explained. "Bound to each other by ties stronger than a slave collar and contract. Stronger than death."
Jason took a step back, reaching for Roy's hand in what he suspected was mutual reassurance. "Richard doesn't realize Tim's dead, does he? He can still feel - hear - the echo of Tim in his mind, so he thinks Tim is still in the bed. That's why he won't leave."
Bruce nodded at his oldest child. "He was always devoted to Tim because of their bond, and nothing will break it. Only Richard's own death will release him, and that I will not do," he added, turning to glare at Damian before the youngest could say anything.
Jason closed his eyes, swallowing. He honestly wasn't sure if he envied Richard or not, to be able to still feel his Master's presence, ignoring that his Master was gone. Jason still turned to talk to his younger brother and still felt that stab in his heart when he realized he'd never hear Tim's quiet laugh, never see his brother's hesitant smile again. Roy had held him through the night almost every night at the end, when Tim had been slowly slipping away from them thanks to a disease no one could cure.
Jason had resented Tim at first, when the younger man had come to live with their father at age thirteen, as was customary under the child contracts Lord Bruce had entered into with their respective mothers. Damian was an exception, as his mother had left him with Bruce earlier for reasons of her own. But Jason had come to love his brothers, and when Tim had gotten sick five years after Jason met him, Jason had prayed to every god and goddess he could for Tim's recovery. None had answered his prayer.
"Timothy knew Richard would not accept his death, and asked me to treat him well for Tim's sake. Those rooms are Richard's, and he is not to be disturbed. He will either realize the truth or...."
Or he'll kneel by an empty bed for the rest of his natural life, Jason mentally finished. "It will be as you say, Father," he said aloud. Bruce met his eyes, and nodded. Jason nodded back. He would honor Tim's request when he became Lord Wayne, if Richard still lived.
Bruce stared down Damian, who finally nodded and left the room, Alfred following. Jason slipped out afterwards, Roy just behind him. They passed Tim's - Richard's - room and Jason choked back a sob at the sight of Richard forever kneeling, forever waiting for a voice he'd never hear again outside of his head.
Author: kyrdwyn
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Batman (comics)
Pairings/Characters: Hints of Tim Drake/Dick Grayson and Jason Todd/Roy Harper
Summary: He waits for his Master
Warnings: Slavefic AU; DeathFic!
Beta: None
Author's Notes: I have no idea where this came from.
Devotion
He knelt at the side of his Master's bed, awaiting his Master's pleasure. His Master, his beloved Master, hadn't asked anything of him in a long time, but he could feel his Master's presence, so he waited. Each day he would rise from his bed at the foot of the bed and eat the food brought by one of the other slaves in the household. The freed slave who still served his Master's father as majordomo would often bring lunch to him, glancing at the bed before giving the kneeling man a pat on the shoulder. Another slave would bring him dinner. When the curfew bells rang for the manor, he would rise from his knees and take care of his own personal needs, as previously ordered by his Master, and lay down on his own bed, sleeping until the morning bells woke the house.
When he didn't think anyone was watching him, he would raise his eyes from the floor to the bed, looking to see if his Master needed anything. He never did, so he would lower his eyes again, waiting. His Master would let him know when he was needed.
His Master's younger brother accompanied the majordomo with his lunch, frowning as the tray was set on the small table slaves used to eat from while kneeling. He smiled his thanks at the majordomo and bent his head to eat. He could hear his Master's younger brother talking, then yelling, but paid no attention as his name was not called. He jumped when the tray and table were suddenly pushed out of his reach and he was being pulled to his feet. He started shaking his head, babbling his apologies and asking his Master for forgiveness as his Master's brother turned him toward the bed, yelling at him. The majordomo tried to pull him away from the bed, and his Master's older brother was pulling away the younger.
A booming voice cut through the argument, and he dropped to his knees automatically, pressing his forehead to the floor. His Master's father, the lord of the manor, approached, speaking sharply to his youngest son, more softly to his oldest son and the majordomo. He heard the tray being cleaned up, the table righted, and someone leaving the room.
A touch on his shoulder had him glancing up, seeing he had permission to rise from his position. As he rose back to up to kneel, the lord's blue eyes looked at him with compassion and a hint of sadness. The lord ran a affectionate hand over his hair, as he had often done to his sons, and smiled at him, patting his shoulder and gesturing to the table. The lord's oldest son entered the room then, bringing a tray to replace the one ruined by the youngest. He blinked in surprise at the lord, unused to seeing free men such as the lord's son waiting on a slave.
The lord nodded at him, the sadness increasing as he glanced at the bed, then turned back to the kneeling man, kissing his forehead in a gesture only given to beloved slaves who had pleased their Masters. He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as the lord and his oldest son left.
The lord was pleased with his devotion to his Master.
He ate his lunch quickly, moving the table when he was done and moving back to the bedside. His Master would need him, and he would be there to serve when his Master asked.
Grief
"Drake has been dead for six months. His slave should be given to me. Todd already has a slave, and the household cannot afford a slave that isn't productive."
Jason winced as Damian's strident voice echoed out from their father's study. Bruce's posture didn't change, but Jason knew his father wasn't happy.
They entered the study to see Alfred standing there, looking disapprovingly at Damian. Alfred was rare, a slave who had been freed by Lord Thomas Wayne's will, but who had chosen to stay and raise young Lord Bruce after Lord Thomas and Lady Martha's deaths. Alfred truly was the glue of the family in Jason's eyes. He'd kept Bruce sane after Tim's death, when even Jason wasn't sure anything could be done to alleviate the man's grief.
Jason glanced back at Roy, his own slave, and reached out to squeeze his hand. Roy gave him a small smile. Tim's slave had the others worried in the way he knelt by his Master's empty bed every day, waiting to serve, seemingly unable to accept his Master's death. They all were amazed that Lord Bruce had let it go on for so long.
"Richard is not a slave, not legally," Bruce said as they entered the room, cutting off Damian's tirade. "Timothy freed him, with my blessing, three weeks before his death."
"Does he know that?" Jason couldn't help asking. Richard, called Dick by Tim as an affectionate nickname, didn't act like a freed man.
"He was informed, but..." Bruce trailed off, sighing. "Richard had been Timothy's slave since Timothy was three years old, taken in by Timothy's mother after his parents' died."
"Right, the circus accident," Jason said. "Tim mentioned he'd been there, and Tim's mother bought Richard for Tim afterward, but that doesn't explain--"
"Tim was latent empath, and in that moment, when he and Richard were both in shock over Richard's parent's death, he reached out to Richard, and they formed a k'challa bond."
Roy gasped, and Jason stared at Bruce. Alfred closed his eyes and sighed, but Jason noticed he didn't look surprised. Alfred probably knew, Jason realized. It would explain why Alfred insisted on taking Richard at least one of his meals a day.
"I don't understand," Damian said.
"Lord Timothy and Richard were mind linked, Lord Damian," Alfred explained. "Bound to each other by ties stronger than a slave collar and contract. Stronger than death."
Jason took a step back, reaching for Roy's hand in what he suspected was mutual reassurance. "Richard doesn't realize Tim's dead, does he? He can still feel - hear - the echo of Tim in his mind, so he thinks Tim is still in the bed. That's why he won't leave."
Bruce nodded at his oldest child. "He was always devoted to Tim because of their bond, and nothing will break it. Only Richard's own death will release him, and that I will not do," he added, turning to glare at Damian before the youngest could say anything.
Jason closed his eyes, swallowing. He honestly wasn't sure if he envied Richard or not, to be able to still feel his Master's presence, ignoring that his Master was gone. Jason still turned to talk to his younger brother and still felt that stab in his heart when he realized he'd never hear Tim's quiet laugh, never see his brother's hesitant smile again. Roy had held him through the night almost every night at the end, when Tim had been slowly slipping away from them thanks to a disease no one could cure.
Jason had resented Tim at first, when the younger man had come to live with their father at age thirteen, as was customary under the child contracts Lord Bruce had entered into with their respective mothers. Damian was an exception, as his mother had left him with Bruce earlier for reasons of her own. But Jason had come to love his brothers, and when Tim had gotten sick five years after Jason met him, Jason had prayed to every god and goddess he could for Tim's recovery. None had answered his prayer.
"Timothy knew Richard would not accept his death, and asked me to treat him well for Tim's sake. Those rooms are Richard's, and he is not to be disturbed. He will either realize the truth or...."
Or he'll kneel by an empty bed for the rest of his natural life, Jason mentally finished. "It will be as you say, Father," he said aloud. Bruce met his eyes, and nodded. Jason nodded back. He would honor Tim's request when he became Lord Wayne, if Richard still lived.
Bruce stared down Damian, who finally nodded and left the room, Alfred following. Jason slipped out afterwards, Roy just behind him. They passed Tim's - Richard's - room and Jason choked back a sob at the sight of Richard forever kneeling, forever waiting for a voice he'd never hear again outside of his head.