Collared

Collared. Claimed. A slave, and now the chancellor's property in every way. Even if she ever had the collar removed, a wayward mate would always be returned. She would never be free again.

Avi felt somber, crashing now from the high of her first heat. She hoped she had made the right decision - would it have been better to go to the king's harems? At least there she could have maybe plotted an escape, free of any claiming. But no, likely they would have kept her on a shorter leash there. Maybe even an actual leash - she knew there were some very particular tastes allowed within the harem walls. She was likely to be safer here, she hoped. She felt like she had whored herself out to...to not be a bigger whore she supposed.

They washed in the bathroom, rinsing away days worth of saliva, cum, and sweat. The memories stayed. The necklace of his kisses stayed, the claiming mark to display forever. He had trouble meeting her eyes, though he kept his own carefully neutral. With a pang she saw her own hickey on his neck, still vibrant against his pale skin. Her own mark across his scars. Around them danced the filtering blue light still, darkest around him. She had managed to acclimate to the color, the vividness fading to a muted filter. It was like adjusting to sunlight after a winter in the dark - overwhelming at first, but gradually recalibrating. In her chest the new bond hummed. She steeled her resolve - she must learn to live with her choice. Any other way lay madness.

They got fully dressed, now clothed for the first time since her heat started. Avi in her creased and lightly stained dress, Chancellor Resmond in formal court attire. They had avoided all duties for the last three days, cloistering themselves from the outside world. The room had been their shelter, an island in a world that continued to turn around them. Now the doors were open again, obligations flying in at full force. The truth potions lay unused on the chancellor's desk, the king's orders left unheeded.

He knew he must leave immediately to beg forgiveness from the king, both for ignoring his orders and for claiming a war prize the king would see as his due. At best he would be publicly reprimanded, at worst the king would see it as treason. He could only hope he would catch the king in a lenient mood. Praying to any of the long list of deities didn't even cross his mind - he had learned from a young age that their only response was silence.

Avi's brain too, was a whirlwind of activity. So many questions ran rampant, clamoring for attention. Why had the potion failed? Did she have other family that were Elsar -

her mother

? Was she

pregnant?

What would be her duties now - would he expect her to bend over at his beck and call? She also realized with dread that the house must also all be aware of what had taken place. Avi's cheeks flushed at the thought.

He was at the door ready to leave, but looked like he wanted to say something to her. She found that she could read his subtle expressions better now after the last few days. It was amazing the things one picked up after having sex hundreds of times. Okay maybe not a hundred, she considered. Or was it? She tried counting the number on her fingers and realized she didn't have that many. Her eyes returned to his countenance, and all she saw simmering there was

guilt.

The bond thrummed inside her, reminding her again of their connection. She considered now how much he had put his neck out for her by his claiming. If he had just given her to the king, he would likely be rewarded for the gift, forgiven for his absence. Instead, he had shirked his duty and then claimed a rare prize for himself. The king was unlikely to be pleased. Did he do it to claim notoriety for himself? To spite the king? Did he do it in order to protect

her

?

She closed her eyes. Then when she opened them she looked at him and said honestly, "Thank you."

He flinched as if she'd slapped him.

"For what," he sneered, "forcing you to be bonded to me? Keeping you as a slave and now a pet?"

Before she could respond, he said quietly, "I cannot delay any longer. I'll find you on my return," and swept out of the room.

After taking a moment to collect herself and finish untangling the tragedy that was currently her hair, she decided to brave the rest of the house. First, she needed a change of clothes. She exited the main house and went towards the servant stair. A clump of servants in the courtyard quieted when they saw her. Staring. Some with pity, others with jealousy, many with judgment. Her cheeks flaming, she kept her head down and watched her feet take one step in front of the other. She reminded herself to breathe, measuring a deep inhale, then a forceful exhale. Repeat. That's how she survived the death of her mother, the loss of her father and brother, then forced eviction into slavery. Just one step in front of the other, in whatever direction they could take her, as long as she kept moving.

This time her steps eventually reached her rooms. She changed into a new shift and dress, choosing a pale blue one with a higher collar that obscured the most egregious of the marks. Looking around the cramped space, she realized that her vision was back to normal. The color spectrum was as it should be, the shimmering blue light gone. She supposed it might be a manifestation of the bond, showing her when her mate was near? She had never heard of such a thing, but claiming was a more rare and archaic method of joining nowadays - most opted for the traditional handfasting ceremonies, where a court-ordained mage would officiate a magical binding. A bit more expensive than claiming, perhaps, but reversible should the couple choose to part. One also needed a certain amount of Elven magic in order to manifest a claim, which made the number of couples that could bind this way rather sparse. As a result, common knowledge on the aftereffects of claiming was almost nonexistent. If she were a mating scholar she might know the answers, but these were not topics that she had previously studied to be a common healer... a decision she now regretted.

With a start, she realized that if one needed magic to initiate a claiming, then it must mean that the chancellor

did

possess some power. Why didn't her vision catch it previously? She filed that mystery to ruminate over later. First, her baser needs needed to be met.

She went and begged for some food from the kitchens. Luckily for her, the boy with the burned hand was on duty. He grinned at the sight of her, more amused than anything else. A selection of different bread and pastries were collected and dumped in her eager arms. She noticed that his hands were now both clean and smooth, whole and un-blistered. She smiled a grateful 'thank you,' and bit into the pastry as soon as his back was turned. It was good and she was famished.

She traced her steps now to the healer, the remaining baked goods wrapped in a handkerchief as she munched on her breakfast. It seemed like the pastry chef she was sold with was really quite talented. She gingerly stepped over the threshold and eventually found Wisant in the lab. He was in the midst of grinding some herbs, but turned when he heard footsteps.

He did not seem surprised to see her, and instead eyed her appraisingly. She could see him cataloging her body- eyes flickering over the marks on her neck that peeked over the high neckline, her flushed appearance, her messy hair (despite the brief wash she had this morning). Embarrassed by his perusal, she pushed the bread to him as a silent apology. His eyes glanced at the handkerchief but then went straight back at her. He was

concerned.

"Are you all right?" He asked quietly. She hesitated, then nodded. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then tried again.

"Yes."

"Do you need any healing?" She shook her head no. Other than some aches, she felt surprisingly good. Walking still made her a little sore, but she was definitely not going to admit that to someone her father's age.

She was similarly embarrassed about her next request, but decided to push forward. "Do you...have any pregnancy test potions?" She managed to croak out. They wouldn't pick up on any conception for another week or two at least. But she wanted to keep one close for when that day came.

His mouth flattened at her question, as if confirming what he suspected. Still, he nodded and plucked a small puce colored liquid in a tiny vial from the top shelf and handed it to her. The thought of a child right now amidst all the uncertainty, in captivity...she couldn't even fathom. She hoped she wouldn't need to.

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off," she realized the healer was saying. "I'm all caught up today and you look like you could use some more rest. If you feel up for it, come back tomorrow." Avi nodded gratefully, her eyes shining with affection for his continued kindness. In between marathon sex sessions and heat-induced anorexia, she was exhausted.

Before she could throw herself on her pallet, she needed to investigate another pressing concern. Why had her heat suppressant failed? She realized that must have been what the potion was, and cursed herself for not figuring it out earlier - the penny royal, shepherd's purse...pretty much every ingredient was an abortifacient or a pregnancy prevention herb of some kind. Now that she'd put it together, it was obvious what her mother had been giving her.

She went and checked over all the ingredients she had used in the apothecary. Each was examined minutely in the light of day, sniffed to assess for potency. Her scrutiny did not reveal any defect - each herb was in perfect condition. Many had been collected and dried personally by her to ensure maximum effectiveness. The ingredients were right, she felt confident of that.

So it meant that maybe her magic had failed on the incantation? She willed her magic to the surface, feeling the strain of even such a small feat. It always felt like dredging honey through a pinpoint opening, but eventually she felt a few drops await her instruction. She willed it to heal her claiming wound. It stung slightly less afterwards. Well, it seemed like that was fine too.

At this point, she was now too exhausted to formulate any more theories and began the long trudge back to her room. By the time she reached her room at the top of the stairs, her eyes were closing before her head even hit the pillow.

She awoke later that night. Without a window it was hard to tell the time, but she thought it might be after midnight. She stretched lithely, most of her body aches having faded with her rest. She realized she hadn't heard from the chancellor and wondered how his audience with the king had gone. Now that she was fed, watered, and rested, she let herself replay over the last few days. The memories of his hands and mouth all over her body caused her to shiver despite the warm coverlet. For someone that supposedly never took a pleasure slave he was remarkably talented with his appendages. Or maybe she was just easily satisfied - it wasn't like she had much prior experience for comparison. However, something told her that there was more to it than just eagerness.

Passing her hands over her breast to stimulate her nipple until it pebbled, she reenacted the feel of his large, warm hands. It didn't have the roughness of his calluses or his fluid dexterity, but it fed her arousal all the same. With her other hand, she trailed it slowly down her belly until it reached her pubic bone. She pinched her nipple with one hand, the other delving in between her folds. She brought a bit of her dampness to swirl around her clitoris and shuddered. It was still sensitive, but it heightened her pleasure to have that edge of rawness. She rubbed it slowly back and forth and then in a circle, recalling the feel of his lips along her neck, the tingle as he traced her clavicle. A solitary finger slipped into her dampening channel, slowly inserting back and forth. Avi thought of the feel of his silken length, the way it filled her up deeply. She added a second finger to try and recreate the sensation, then a third. The memory almost brought his scent into the room with her, hints of pine and sandalwood.

Remembering the overwhelming sensation of his presence over her, she let out a muffled moan. She pushed her fingers into herself deeper and faster, chasing the now familiar climb. But she needed

more

. His lithe body, his mouth, his hands, his cock in between her legs. Holding desperately to the memory of all of these things she managed a weak orgasm, a mere shadow of the floodgates she had recently experienced. It left her feeling even more unsatisfied.

Afterwards she laid there, contemplative. She felt like she had jumped from virgin to a sex-crazed vixen. Well, she never did like to do things halfway. Suppressing a yawn, she felt her eyes start to droop again. She was still exhausted, the subpar orgasm having worn her out further. Her eyes fluttered shut, her mind finally blissfully blank.

The next morning she awoke to a firm knock at the door. She roused nervously, unused to having any guests. The door opened and she curled under her blanket to cover her body. A guard in livery addressed her, different from the ones she saw a few days ago.

"The chancellor would like to see you now. Get dressed." He had the decency to step out as she hurriedly pulled a dress over her head, then tying the stays closed. It was dark in her room, but when she exited she could see the dawn light. A faint blue light was shimmering, clueing her into the chancellor's return. She followed the guard until they reached the main house, where he pointed her upstairs with a jerk of his head before taking his place at the main door.

Her small figure struck a lonely image as she ascended the stairs. She used the bannister to steady her hands as she took each stair step by step. As she neared his rooms, she could see the gradual darkening of the watery blue light. The chamber doors were open, framing a tall figure inside. As she got closer to him, the deep blue emanating from him darkened into a wide circle, starting about thirty feet away from him. She wondered if she would feel a difference in her bond as she entered the barrier, and toed one foot in to test the feeling. She tested this a few times, leaning forward and backwards on the tips of her feet to shift her body in and out of the region. It didn't seem to feel any different to her if she were in or out of the line, however.

"What are you doing? Miming jumping over a wall to try out for the players?" His voice drawled, eyeing her gingerly stepping forwards and backwards. She blushed and crossed the rest of the distance to him. She thought about asking him if he saw the same things she saw, when suddenly another thought occurred to her. Could it be this is what his Relic looked like now to her vision magic?

"What's your Relic?" She found herself coyly asking, congratulating herself on finding an indirect way to get him to answer her question. He eyed her suspiciously, "That's quite a personal question. Why not just ask someone what their favorite sexual position is?" That sounded like something useful she would want to know as well. She opened her mouth, "What's your favorite sexu..."

"Enough," he cut her off, his face stern. "The king has demanded an audience with us. He does not like to be kept waiting. Put these clothes on." He thrust some gauzy aquamarine silks into her arms with some bracelets. Bed slave clothes. 'Of course' she thought, with a grimace. She supposed she was a bed slave of a sort now, and would be expected to present that way at court. After eyeing the clothes warily, she gave a frown. They were very flimsy.

Despite him recently seeing, touching, and tasting her entire naked body, Avi still felt a little self conscious undressing in front of him. She gave him an imploring look, causing him to throw his hands up in the air in frustration, but he still turned around to give her some privacy. She hastily removed her secondhand dress, and tried to figure out where all the sheer scarves were supposed to lay on her body. The top appeared to be one shouldered, and secured so that her claiming marks would be on display. The bottom seemed to be long flowing pants of some sort, though the sheerness left little to the imagination. Her midriff was bare. She grimaced at the silver upper arm bangles meant to complete the look - did no one here care what color jewelry would bring out her olive skin tones? She guessed it was to match her collar though, and snapped them into place.

"Do I look all right," she ventured, letting him know it was ok to turn around. He ogled her for a moment which she took to mean 'yes' before he closed his jaw and said "I suppose it will be acceptable. Now come," and walked briskly out of the room. She pretended like she wasn't lightly jogging to keep up with his long strides. If he noticed he didn't comment, though he did slow down the tiniest modicum.

Once they were seated securely in his carriage, he turned to her. "He is furious about what has transpired, as suspected. He has asked that we both meet him this morning in front of the court. He will likely publicly reprimand me in some way. I think it is unlikely he would hurt you in my place. You are of little use to him now that you've been claimed. However, it is important to not make eye contact, obey all orders, and stay quiet. No matter what happens in there, do not draw his attention to yourself. Do you understand?" His eyes were deadly serious as they bored into hers, trying to impress on her the often malicious and mercurial nature of King Joren's court.

She merely nodded. There were many chilling stories circulating about the sorcerer king. Although most were likely to be exaggerations, she did feel very intimidated to be summoned into his presence. He was not, by public opinion, a kind or patient man.

The remainder of the carriage ride was quiet and somber, both lost in their thoughts at the upcoming meeting. Her bond hummed in his proximity though, and the flickering blue light felt comforting, like the warmth of a familial hearth fire. The carriage continued onwards, past the palace wall glittering in the light of an ironically beautiful morning. The softly singing birds in the fruit trees, the dewy petals on the summer roses, and the gentle murmur of a marble fountain provided a contrasting backdrop against the gnawing anxiety inside her stomach. It was hard to focus on the scenery when her heart was doing its best to pound out of her chest.

The pair exited the carriage, and she followed behind his black robes as he tread the familiar path to the great hall. The hallway decor seemed to feature palace guards, large windows, and carefully chosen works of art. With a start, she realized all the pieces were pilfered from the conquered. A few gold wrought pieces and tapestries from Acterus, some framed works and notable statues from Portaugh. The pit in her stomach grew further when she recognized a large oil painting that used to hang in a prominent church in Visgath, now on a blank wall between two vases. As their feet neared their destination, they could hear a quiet din of voices inside. Once they entered, everything stopped, and all eyes turned to them; the porter announced them, but it was unnecessary. It was clear everyone knew who they were.

Avi surveyed the scene from her lowered lashes, doing her best to act the part of an obedient slave. The chancellor was a surprisingly informal master, and she felt grateful that she only needed to pretend to be broken rather than the real thing. The hall was large and spacious, with majestic open arches leading to alcloves and other chambers. One side solely featured a startling mosaic of stained glass, the sun gently casting blues and greens into the room. The walls were freshly painted with frescos featuring notable natural areas around Balen. There were a few clusters of pompously dressed noblemen and women around the room, though the early morning meant it was only a small section of the full court. It would have been an eerily serene sight, if it weren't for the presence of the king.