Collared Ch 04 2

Disclaimer: This is a darker chapter with some suicidal ideation. Please read at your own risk if that is a trigger.

Thank you everyone that has read this and liked/commented! It means the world to me that you all gave my writing a chance :).

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She felt like the more she knew about him, the less she understood of the greater picture. One mystery was solved - that of the nature of his relic. He seemed a bit apprehensive of her knowledge of that fact, however, and was currently trying to impress upon her the need for continued secrecy.

"You must not tell anyone, you understand?" His expression was intent. Eager. "It's not a true secret, but obviously the fewer people that know, the better. "

She supposed the air of mystery helped his work and would provide extra security to the king at large events. Certainly, it must make interrogation easier, if magical spells for memory locking or suicide wouldn't work.

After Avi had nodded enough times to convince Resmond of her confidentiality, he appeared satisfied. He rubbed his back absently, as if reminding himself that it was healed now. He still looked pale, likely from recent blood loss and exhaustion. She supposed she also had the chance to sleep most of the day yesterday to recover, whilst presumably he had had to deal with an irate king. He must be completely spent, if the bags under his eyes and the weary slope of his shoulders were any indication.

They had briefly discussed various theories on why her powers had worked on him. If their essences had merged, then potentially his magic now recognized her as part of itself? Or maybe she was just more powerful after the claiming? She hadn't heard of the latter before though, and it didn't make sense that a mating bond would increase her power - where would the additional magic have come from?

"Has your magic...increased at all since the claiming?" She queried. He looked at her consideringly.

"Do you mean... am I suppressing magic...even more?" He replied, making sure he understood her correctly.

She felt a little silly. If he were able to inhibit all magic, it seemed already quite complete and he probably wouldn't be able to tell much difference. He looked thoughtful however. "I haven't heard of claiming to increase any magic, or else it seems likely all the Elsar would have been claimed." She considered this and thought it would likely be true. If it were known that claiming made one more powerful, then everyone would do it, instead of it becoming a more archaic way of joining. But could it be something about

their

bond was different in some way?

After discussing around in circles a few more times, they ceased. If they were honest neither of them really knew the answers, and their conversation was not leading to anymore new information. By this point the carriage had reached back to their home, and they both naturally quieted in self reflection of the recent events.

He stepped out of the carriage first and started walking towards the main house before he hesitated. After turning around and gazing at her consideringly for a few moments, he squared his shoulders like he had come to a decision.

"I must get caught up on the work the king wants finished, " he declared, turning away from her as he walked to the main house. He did not glance back at her, and did not encourage her to follow. It was clearly a dismissal.

Avi could only nod, not sure if she felt relieved or rejected that he didn't immediately want her to follow him to his rooms. She wasn't sure where she should be instead, and so found herself walking towards the healers' building.

Wisant was startled into action at the sight of her.

"Avi! Are you alright? What happened?"

She looked down at herself and realized she was still covered in Resmond's blood, the crimson bright against the blue-green of her revealing outfit. The drying fluid was starting to stick uncomfortably to her skin. Wisant quickly readied a bucket of water with a clean towel and brought it over to her. He started to wash away the gore despite her protests.

"It's not mine," she reassured him. But he had already begun to wipe off the blood on her face before moving down to do her hands.

"It's Resmond's. The king had him whipped."

His hand stilled at the news.

"Is he all right? I can bring him some pain and blood replenishing potions."

"No. I...I healed him."

"You healed him," he blankly repeated. His blue eyes searched hers questioningly.

"I'm...I'm not sure how." He stayed quiet at this. After a moment, he resumed his meticulous cleaning, now working on her left arm.

She thought over Wisant's words - he had advocated only for potions, and had not said anything about magical healing. Did he know about his magic dampening?

"You know...about his relic?" She enquired hesitantly. He eyed her speculatively and an unspoken agreement seemed to pass between them. He nodded.

"He has been injured before. And we had to figure out the best location for the healers' building initially."

She considered this.

"But potions work?" Otherwise how would the pain and truth potions be used?

"Yes...it seems that those work on him." She supposed potions worked based on chemistry and alchemy rather than magic, so might not be repelled. Interesting.

At this point he had wiped up to her collarbone and stilled. His hand bumped against her collar. She grimaced - it jarred against the irritated spot on the back of her neck that never quite went away, even with the chafing cream. Glancing over, she realized he was looking at her claiming marks. Her outfit was meant to show them proudly on display, after all. Feeling very exposed, she attempted to cover it with her other hand. But he said nothing, and continued cleaning off the rest of her. When her skin was free of blood he plopped the now dirty rag into the bucket.

"I brought you some of my daughter's old clothes if you would like to change." Looking down at her indecent attire still covered in blood, she nodded at him gratefully. With remarkable quickness, he popped into his rooms before handing her a cloth bag. She accepted the gift with much appreciation, making sure to hold it away from her to prevent it from getting dirty on her clothing.

She left to go change in the empty infirmary for some privacy. Peeling off the now stained silks brought relief, and she quickly pulled one of the dresses from the bag. It was made of light cotton and was a lovely dark green color, if a little faded around the sleeves and collar.

After dressing, she took the clothes the chancellor had given her and washed them outside. For the first time she wondered where he had gotten the outfit from - it didn't seem like him to have a stash of flimsy womens' clothing on hand. Though she laughed a bit at the mental image of the serious and disapproving chancellor sulking at one of the city's open air markets, looking at an array of insubstantial clothing in order to choose a suitable outfit for her to wear at court.

When she finished she came back inside, joining the healer in his lab. He was brewing some fever reducers, his batch having been drained by the recent spread of influenza. She started to voice her gratitude, but he just shook his head with a smile.

"So how come your daughter has so many old clothes to give away?" She asked. Not that she was complaining. His daughter was clearly taller and a bit more curvaceous than she, but her clothes fit well enough after some minor alterations. They were always well made - she must have married a wealthy husband.

Wisant's eyes lit up at a reason to talk about his family. "She just had a new baby a few months ago and unfortunately some clothes don't fit her the way they used to. When I mentioned that my new...colleague did not have much of a wardrobe she was happy to donate what she could." His mouth curved up in a smile, recalling a memory of his visit from a few days ago. "My second grandchild. A baby girl. They've named her Isabel."

A small bubble of warmth formed in Avi's chest at being called a colleague and hearing about his family - it felt familiar, like she had chosen this role, instead of it being forced upon her. She did remember him mentioning about the birth in passing. He tried to visit whenever they had some free time, though sometimes it was hard to find a day to get away.

"So is your wife with her as well? Helping with the baby?" She probed. Thinking back, she had never heard him talk about his wife or seen her around. He lived alone in the healer's compound on the grounds from what she saw.

His movements stilled at her question, his eyes turning a bit hard and sad. She regretted asking immediately - she could tell this was a subject that he did not often like to discuss.

"No," He answered after a long pause. "She died several years ago. There was an...accident. I couldn't get to her in time." His voice cracked a bit at the last sentence, his mouth grim as he relived what was clearly a tragic memory.

Her heart went out to the kindly healer. Her hand lifted of its own accord to try and rub his shoulder reassuringly, but it faltered. Slaves weren't supposed to touch others first.

He saw and gave her a small smile. "It's okay. It is an old wound. I still miss her though." His hands went back to mixing the fever reducer, and he motioned her over to come and help him.

After they finished the potion, she went and checked on their inventory to see what else needed to be replaced. Her hands knew the practiced motions of maintaining an apothecary, and her feet retraced the familiar steps between the rooms. The only reminders of what had transpired over the last few days was the persistent stinging at her neck and a wriggling in her chest from the new bond.

The rest of the day passed, the two of them falling into the comfortable patterns of work. Dinner was begged for and eaten, a short walk was taken, and then she trudged back to her rooms. On the way there she overheard some talk amongst the servants of difficulty overtaking the rest of Portaugh due to continued resistance. Her ears perked up at this, but they quieted as soon as they saw her.

She was desperate to hear any news on how the remainder of her country was faring - perhaps if her country held out or regained their territory, she may eventually learn about what happened to her father and brother. The last thing she heard before the shushing were whispers of rebel activity. The servants cast her furtive looks, forcing her to continue back to her rooms.

It was terribly frustrating. Turns out it's incredibly difficult to get information as a slave from an enemy country, and now the master's pet of sorts. Not that she wanted to gather information to fight for her freedom - she had given that up as a lost cause with being collared and claimed - but just to have a bit of connection to what was once her old life.

When she returned to her room she was feeling emotionally and physically exhausted by the events of the day. Glancing out of her open doorway, she half expected the chancellor to call for her; but the hallway remained quiet.

She laid in the dark on her pallet that night. Now alone, she tried experimenting with her new magical abilities. Each time she tried pulling her magic to the surface, she instead felt the same old strenuous pulling feeling; like trying to force something heavy through a narrow opening. Her head fell back on her pillow, defeated. Only this morning she had felt the power explode out of her with ease. Could she only use that sort of power on him? Or could she only use it in his presence?

She then focused on the power of her sight. Her vision magic otherwise seemed unchanged - she still couldn't see well in the dark, couldn't identify poisons, definitely couldn't peer into the future. Other than she could see the aura of his Relic when he was near, it seemed otherwise everything was largely the same.

But that didn't explain her inexplicable ability to heal him? On reflection, she felt she should be wary of admitting to anyone that she could heal the chancellor despite his Relic. It would only draw unwanted attention. She tried reassuring herself that she had only told the kindly Healer Wisant, who was likely quite trustworthy. Something in her gut told her the king would be terribly unhappy in the knowledge that she had restored Resmond's health so quickly.

She played his punishment over again in her head. The king knew about his magic suppression and yet whipped him brutally. Her stomach churned. He must have known Resmond couldn't be magically healed afterwards and had intended to let him suffer. Even expected him to return to his duties immediately!

The chancellor would have had to continuously take pain relieving potions until his body naturally healed. It seemed unnecessarily savage, to do this to someone he supposedly trusted. What sort of history did her master and the king have, to lead to this? Wisant had mentioned prior injuries earlier, and she wondered if those were also at the direction of his king.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers over the collar, adjusting it to a more comfortable position as she arranged the blankets around her. Then, there was the matter of the new bond. It had felt content being in his presence in the carriage. Since their parting, she found that her bond...missed him. The worm in her chest seemed to tell her that a new claiming should involve a lot of contact between the two of them. A "honeymoon" period to cement a fresh connection. With the chancellor dismissing her, the link felt...limp. Listless.

She tried to reassure herself that it wasn't personal, that he was probably busy catching up on all the intel he missed during the last few days. Afterall, it was a war...not to mention whatever interrogation the king had been expecting, especially in the light of the news of rebel activity she had overheard.

She tried taking calming breaths. The bond was still unhappy and it subsequently made her feel restless and pathetic. Her mind raced, making it hard to fall asleep. After trying every insomnia trick she had, she eventually managed to drift off. There her torment continued - the sound of the whip played over and over in her dreams - sometimes it was Resmond underneath it's sharp tip, other times it was her mother, then the face merging to her brother, then her father, and sometimes it was her underneath it, the crack sounding loudly before the sharp whip pierced her skin...

It was a relief when she woke up the next morning. She rubbed the crick out of her neck and sighed, feeling even more tired after her fitful nightmares. Cracking the door open to allow a tiny amount of light into her room, she chose a clean dress to wear. She washed her face with the remaining water in the basin on her table, the cool fluid clearing some of the cobwebs left after a restless night.

After drying her face with a rag she couldn't find any more reason to dally, so she forced herself to leave her room and start her day. In the hallway, she found herself eagerly looking for the sign of the bluish hue to remind herself the last few days were real. To her disappointment, all she saw was the faint dawn light through the warped glass of the window.

She drifted like a wraith through the rest of her morning. Food. Tea. Herbs. Brew. Repeat. Her body knew the motions of life even when her mind was wandering, lost in thoughts and memories.

Early in the afternoon, her monotonous routine was broken by a visitor. One of the horse handlers had a deep gash on his hand from where it had caught on an unfortunately placed rusty nail. They had been repairing an old wall in the stables when he grazed his limb on an exposed plank. The handler was a large but gentle redhead, still quick to smile despite the discomfort from his hand. His face was ruddy, partly just his complexion partly from the sun, but even with the injury he still retained a pleasant and calm disposition.

Wisant was out at the moment, meeting with a trader outside of the compound for a fresh delivery of silphium. It was surprisingly harder and harder to get a hold of the herb, and both the healers building and the kitchens had been eagerly awaiting the shipment. As Avi couldn't leave without express permission from the chancellor, she usually managed the infirmary when Wisant was out.

She was pleased. This injury seemed like a perfect opportunity to test out her possible new powers. She brought him into the infirmary and sat him down at the main table. Bringing over some fresh well water, she first washed the base of the wound. This was followed by a splash of wine vinegar to help cleanse the base - he hissed at the sting, but kept still.

"Ok I'm going to try and cleanse the wound to see if we can purify it. Sometimes metal injuries can cause muscle spasms," she explained, keeping her voice calm while she managed the injury.

The big man nodded when she mentioned the tetany. "Me cousin died from lockjaw. Brutal end, that."

He stared expectantly at her as he waited for her magic to work on his cut. She focused intently, dredging up her magic. Now they were both staring fixedly at the open gash, waiting for something to happen.

She tried willing her Relic into the wound, envisioning the burst of magic from earlier. But instead it was how it always had been, that forceful feeling of scraping a viscous fluid as she tried to bring her magic to the surface. A tiny spark eventually went into the skin tear.

He coughed politely at this. " 'ey it's all right girlie. We all get performance anxiety sumtime. Me ol' wifer is always sayin' the same, that I don't get it up when I needs to, if yer catch me meanin'."

Avi, unfortunately, did catch his meaning, though the flush on her cheeks suggested that she wished she didn't. And no, this weird lack of magic except around the chancellor was nothing like his erectile dysfunction, thank you very much. But she tried to stay professional and cleared her throat instead.

"I meant I will cleanse it with herbs." She went and grabbed the items she needed from the apothecary.

She proceeded to angrily mash a poultice of St. John's Wort with a small amount of hemlock to help cleanse the wound against lockjaw. To promote healing, she also ground up some myrrh to spread on top. Once she brought these to the infirmary and carefully dressed his wound, she bandaged everything into one neat package. This would help the healing in the meantime.

She gave him some willow bark tea to help with the stinging pain, and told him to return in a couple hours for a recheck and to see Wisant for a healing if it were still bothering him. He cheerily waved as he left, giving her a wink when he said something about her healing prowess. She did

not

share in his mirth.

Back inside the infirmary she sighed to herself. Maybe Resmond did amplify her magic? It didn't make sense for him to have magic dampening but amplify hers. Did something about his presence allow her to access her powers better? She had felt her power unleash easily the day she healed him - now it was back to this bottleneck feeling.

She tapped her fingers idly against the fine wooden grain of the sturdy work table as she thought things over. The next step seemed that she would need to test her magic inside and outside the circle of Resmond's power. Or maybe her power would only work on him? Or perhaps she just needed him near, like a conduit? She laughed at the thought of her dragging him around as she healed people, like a little lapdog. She resolved to do this experiment next time she saw the chancellor. If she ever saw him.

Not for the first time, she wondered what the chancellor was currently working on. Likely catching up on the interrogations he missed. She didn't see his blue aura in the morning so she presumed he must be in the palace dungeons. Thinking back, she recalled the servants' earlier gossip - was he interrogating spies? Rebels? It sounded like maybe Portaugh was holding out...perhaps even some of her fellow citizens were in those dungeons?