Collared Ch 05

It felt strange to be in his rooms again. The suite felt too big somehow - the open spaces and extra corners gave her a slight uneasiness. Her room had been small; with the walls at her back she had felt secure. It had fit her well. But with the hell she went through last week, she was willing to leave it for a new beginning.

Even if this place was too...lofty. There were too many windows exposing her, too many chairs to sit in, and too many random decorative objects. She warily eyed a vase shaped like a bird, its open beak holding a colorful array of flowers. After living with the bare minimum, everything else seemed unnecessary. It was exhausting even to figure out where to put her things. She had attempted to set her small bag of worldly possessions on a free chair, but there was a finely woven blanket with tesselating birds already covering the seat.

As if catching the direction of her thoughts (or maybe the emotion was strong enough for him to feel it?), the chancellor turned to see what she was looking at and shrugged.

"My housekeeper has done the majority of the decorating here. I'm afraid I'm not in much."

Well, she supposed that explained the unnecessary amount of pillows on the bed. Was one shaped like a swan? The housekeeper clearly must have something for birds.

Avi didn't recall this excess of avian-themed furnishings last time she was here, but she supposed she had been...more distracted. Most of the pillows and blankets had been thrown into a big nest on the bed during her heat. A flush rose to her cheeks at the thought of the servants having to clean their previously used bedding.

She glanced over the remainder of the room. Twisting her vision to handle the glare from the chancellor's relic, she noticed again the spellwork surrounding his bedchamber. The intricate lattice of purple fire still burned in the walls - clearly Resmond liked his privacy. They looked like wards, encasing the ceiling and floor in an intricate web. Something about them nagged at her somehow, though she couldn't put her finger on it.

It had taken her an embarrassingly short amount of time to gather up her things. All she had to her name was some secondhand clothes that barely filled a cloth bag. He had looked away when she was packing; he had been uncomfortable seeing how few possessions she truly owned. Luckily, they had made the trek over to his chambers before dawn fully broke through the sky. Avi didn't think she could stand the shame of walking through the servant's hallway on the way to the chancellor's rooms; there were so many rumors of her "working on her back" to climb socially that she generally avoided meeting the servants' eyes nowadays.

Avi was surprised at how embarrassed she felt living with someone for the first time. She wanted to clean the sticky evidence of last night's activities from her thighs and empty her near-bursting bladder. But did one just...use the chamberpot with someone else in the room? He seemed to sense her discomfort though and gave her a knowing smirk. He escorted her to the bathroom, and then removed himself to his antechamber, out of hearing range.

She was grateful for the privacy. After relieving her bladder, she admired the bathroom. Cool sandstone tiles covered the floor, each one cut carefully into a hexagonal pattern. A large circular window of stained glass let in the morning light, shining cheerily on an ornate sink and sunken tub. An elaborately wrought mirror hung over the sink, the polished silver reflecting the dawn rays. She cleaned herself off and washed her face, feeling considerably more refreshed afterwards. She chose her least frayed dress from her bag and shrugged it over her head before exiting the bathroom.

He had changed already into what she considered his palace outfit. He seemed to have an innumerable amount of black robes all cut carefully to his tall figure. She supposed they must hide stains easily. Tilting his head to gaze at her in that considering way of his, he seemed a bit lost at the situation. It reassured her that she wasn't alone in this - he clearly wasn't used to living with another person either. What did a couple even do together in the morning? Should she kiss him goodbye and wish him luck in breaking the rebels, and assure him that yes, she'll have dinner ready when he returns? She laughed a bit to herself at the absurdity of their relationship.

They ended up sharing in an awkward and brief nod instead before they left for their separate tasks - he to the palace, and she back to the healer's lodge. Happily, the rest of her day passed uneventfully.

Wisant seemed relieved to see her interacting more normally. When she asked him a question about his day, his tense shoulders relaxed further. The only time she had used her voice the last week was to respond to any direct enquiries with monosyllabic answers. In classic Wisant fashion he did not probe as to what led to the change in her demeanor. He was always happy to let her reveal when she was ready.

When they finished for the day, she wasn't quite sure what to do next. She was joking about making him dinner this morning, but did he expect her to bring up his meals now? She didn't think he would...he had so many staff around that having her be his sole chambermaid seemed unnecessary. She also wasn't sure what time he would even return, so she followed her usual schedule, just in case. For all she knew, he typically ate in the palace nightly and then she would be left hungry for the rest of the night.

After finishing her dinner of bread with goat cheese and sausage, she hurried back to the main house. Keeping her eyes down, she tried her best to ignore the servants' conversations and their sidelong looks. Her steps faltered when she overheard a snippet of "rebels caught" but forced herself to continue. She knew she wouldn't be able to hear more of the conversation by stopping anyway. They usually clammed up whenever they saw her around. She kept her eyes lowered as she walked through the main entrance. The guard did not acknowledge her, though she recognized him as the one who brought her from her room previously.

Quietly she moved up the staircase, now shrouded in shadow as evening darkened. Strangely, she did not feel afraid, though the environment was still so new for her. The dim hall was comforting somehow, and she found solace in the way it obscured her from prying eyes. The thick carpets absorbed her footfalls, the interlocking geometric patterns still vivid in spite of the gloom. Her shoes were thin with wear, and when she wiggled her toes she could feel the plush texture beneath the cloth. She thought of all the hands it must have taken to create each of these carpets - the indigo coloring alone must have been a fortune. While her family had been comfortable, she had never seen this level of luxury.

The hallway on the second floor was better lit, still catching the last of the summer rays. It gave the corridor a faint otherworldly glow, feeling more like a favored memory than real life. A golden vase and matching candlestick glimmered in the nearing dark, luminous in the encroaching shadows. Further in the hallway behind her, a servant girl was just starting to light the long, tapered candles set evenly throughout the hall. Her footsteps left a comfortable echo against the wooden floor of the second level. Avi kept to the shadows though, not wanting to interact with the housemaid if she could avoid it.

At last she reached his door. Her heart fluttered seeing that he had left the door ajar for her. The large windows of his rooms with their clear, expensive glass allowed more light than in the hallway. As a result, the doorway glowed brightly against the shadowy depths of the rest of the passageway, as if highlighted. After waiting a heartbeat, then a second to gather her courage, Avi opened the door.

He was sitting at his desk, looking over a sheaf of papers. She took a moment to admire his profile. He had a lean but not gawky build. Though he sat casually at the desk, something about him reminded Avi of a snake coiled but ready to strike. His long, straight nose gave his face a regal appearance, though his eyes and mouth were stony and inscrutable. Those eyelashes though...once upon a time she would have sold a part of her soul for such dreamer's lashes.

She walked over to him, peering over his seated form. Glancing sidelong, her eyes scanned the top paper he was reading. The coarse and fibrous paper was covered in symbols she didn't recognize. On the edges of the page were knots tied in thin string, seemingly in a random pattern. She quickly looked away.

"Sorry! I didn't see anything important," she babbled, starting to back away from her position just over his shoulder. Clearly, it was some kind of important coded message. She was expecting a harsh reprimand, but instead he just snagged one arm around her waist and dragged her onto his lap. Once he settled her securely on his thighs, her back snug against his chest, he continued his perusal. His chin rested on the top of her head comfortably, as if this was how they usually passed their evenings. She squirmed on his lap, causing him to move one arm down to hold her hips still.

"If you continue your squirming I'm afraid I will be very distracted from my work," he murmured into her hair. She could feel his cock starting to respond to the feel of her bum on his lap. She stilled.

"Should I be looking at this?" She queried, wondering if the king would be angry that she had clearly seen some sensitive messages.

"If you can decipher this code, I'll hire you myself," he responded, giving the part in her coppery hair a small kiss. Now with permission, she looked over the document in intense interest. The characters meant nothing to her though, with their alternating circular patterns, each featuring an intricate pattern of ticks. Periodically the small knots were sewn into the paper itself. Her finger came up to stroke the thin thread, a pale red against the cream fiber. However, she couldn't see a pattern to start deciphering it. She didn't even know if it was based in Common.

She raised her chin and voiced loftily, "I had no idea Portaugh had so many resources left at their disposal," putting as much cool indifference in her voice as she could in an attempt to mimic the chancellor's tone. There was a pause and then he broke into abrupt laughter. He hugged her tighter on his lap but did not elucidate further on if she were right or wrong.

His free hand put down his paper after a few more moments and he started playing with her frayed sleeve. It was the dark green gown she got from Wisant's daughter, now quickly one of her favorites. He frowned seeing the worn out edges, his fingers gently touching the underside of her wrist. She turned her forearm to allow his exploration of her skin. The sleeves were too long for her, so she usually folded them over whenever she needed her hands. His fingertips traced over the resultant wrinkles at the edges.

"We should get you some more clothes. It'll be cold here soon. Our autumn and winter are chilly compared to your sunny Visgath," he softly intoned, his mouth now close to the shell of her ear. Avi felt herself relaxing into his embrace, comforted by his even, gentle stroking of her arm and his large presence behind her back. Who was this tender person, holding her like she was something precious on his lap? Offering to buy her clothes so she wasn't cold when the first snows fell?

"Can they have openings for pockets?" She queried back, half in jest and half serious. She was rewarded with another laugh. Enjoying his benevolent mood, she allowed one of her burning questions to be released.

"Where did you get the clothes from? The ones I wore to court?" It seemed very unlike him to just have a set of revealing silks easily at hand for last minute court appearances with a pleasure slave. He wouldn't have had much time to obtain them either.

He stilled at her query. His head backed away from hers, as if trying to put as much distance from her question as possible. His hand dropped, ending his soothing circles on her wrist, his hold on her hip immediately slackening. His mouth flattened into that familiar tense and cold line. She regretted ruining his contentment, and had just started to apologize when he responded.

"My mother."

'Oh okay. How strange,' Avi thought. That he would go to his mother and request clothes for his slave like that, but perhaps she should be flattered he had spoken to her right away? Did his mother have a pleasure slave?

"They were hers."

Well. At first Avi was embarrassed to have worn basically his mothers lingerie, but then she took a moment to consider. These were bed warmer clothes. No self respecting servant would ever wear something so sheer, so revealing, let alone a lady of standing. It seemed unlikely his mother would own such a thing. Unless...

"Was she a pleasure slave?" Avi ventured. His mouth tightened further, a confirmation to her interrogation. Her heart tightened - so he was likely a bastard. The life of a pleasure slave was tumultuous enough, let alone the son of one. Avi felt terrible for her intrusive examination.

She wondered how many in the court knew; Balen followed a patriarchal inheritance, and most court rank was based on the status of the father. To have an unknown father and a mother a slave...it was incredible he had risen so high. She let him have his silence and did not press further.

But after a pause, he glanced at her. He looked like he wanted to make an effort to continue for her sake. Taking a deep breath, he continued,

"Yes. She was a harem slave. I never knew who my father was, and if she did she never told me. I was twelve when they discovered my Relic. The prior king took me away for

training

... They knew I would be useful. She was devastated." He paused again, collecting himself. His fingers continued to be clenched into a tight fist though, knuckles white. This was not history he had ever willingly shared.

Avi caught the past tense of his sentence - she

was

a harem slave. Avi hoped,

prayed

that meant she was now freed, maybe that Resmond had bought her out. But the weary emptiness in his eyes told her that this wasn't the case. She felt like she was watching an accident in real time, but couldn't stop herself from asking,

"Is she still in the harems?"

"No." A pregnant pause followed. The silence felt expectant, like the way one expects to vomit when the nausea starts. In the way that one knows to expect the bite of a sword when one's head is on a chopping block.

"She killed herself less than a year after I was taken into the king's service," he said in a small, low voice. Was the first time he had ever told anyone this?

"I was able to keep some of her things after. A trunk is all I have left of her. Looking for those clothes was the first time I've opened it in years."

She had never seen him this way, so sad and withdrawn.

Vulnerable.

Immediately, she turned around and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. She was a healer; she wanted to hug the pieces of him back together with her arms. He tried to move to get out of her embrace but she just squeezed harder. He eventually relented, and laid his head on her shoulder. He was quiet, almost eerily still.

She stroked his back and murmured encouraging words against his dark hair. She felt like she held a child in her arms, and perhaps in a way she did right now. The part of him that was still thirteen years old. The part that must have died when his mother did, a part he had buried with her body. He eventually encircled his arms back around her and she kissed his head. Her shoulder felt wet under his face, but she didn't bring attention to it.

She couldn't imagine what that must have been like, growing up seeing one's mother a slave in the harems. Seeing the way she must have been treated, not to mention being lonely and outcast as a bastard. No wonder he had never taken a pleasure slave; he must see his mother in every face. No wonder he felt riddled with guilt. He must have felt that being claimed by him was no different than his mother's situation.

Gods, and being forced into servitude for the old king as a twelve year old! She remembered the thin old scars she had traced on his body - were they from the training? There were healed whip marks on his back, even before they had gone to the court together; she had felt them often under her fingers when she had clung to his back during her heat.

Then finding out his mother had killed herself...leaving him an orphan in a world that must have only been cruel to him. She squeezed him all the harder. Now, she understood his reaction that night when she had been thinking about ways to end her life. It must have been a devastating thing for him to feel through the bond, to have felt the only other person he had gotten close to in his life threatening to leave him in the same, permanent way.

He eventually calmed down and leaned back to look at her.

"Thank you," his eyes were still red rimmed at the edges, his expression hollow. "I've never told anyone that," he admitted. "King Joren's court is not a place for weakness. And certainly not in a position like mine, as you've seen," he said bitterly. He stared forlorn at the claiming marks ever present on her neck. "Not that I'm much better than the rest of them."

"You aren't like them," She admonished forcefully. She knew he was still feeling guilt over their binding. "It was my choice too. A difficult one. But mine all the same."

He lowered his eyes, and she could see he did not believe her words. So she kissed him, letting her actions try and convince him instead. Pouring her whole being into this physical connection between their bodies, Avi tried to convince him that she was here now. They were just two broken souls, trying to survive in a needlessly cruel world that had taken everything else from them. Perhaps between the two of them they could be one whole person.

He eventually broke away from their kiss to catch his breath, but laid his forehead against hers. His warm hand rubbed her back, drawing her closer to his body. He swept her hair away from her shoulder, and ever so gently moved her collar up to give reprieve to that small area on the back of her neck that always chafed. She almost whimpered a small sigh of relief at the pressure change. He leaned forward and gave the area a gentle caress with his lips. Though the skin was still marred, the kiss healed a part deeper within herself.

His hand wrapped around her waist again, finding the ticklish area he had noted from their first time together. She squirmed away from the sensation, causing him to grip her hips tighter. Just a touch too late though, as she could feel his length hardening under her bottom from her wriggling. She held her breath in anticipation, waiting for his strong fingers to reach up to her breast and pinch a nipple, or perhaps delve in between her gently parted legs...

But he did neither, his hands staying resolutely at her shoulders or waist, his lips just a ghost of a touch at the back of her neck.

Instinctively, she understood. After the reminder of his mother, he wanted her to lead if she wanted more. Otherwise he was content in just her nearness. She would take initiative if that's what he wanted; she purposefully arched her back, lining up her ass

just right

against his rigid shaft below her.

He purred in her ear at her purposeful twisting. But he didn't do anything further, waiting instead for her next move. She felt empowered, bold as she decided the next steps. She turned and met his gaze. He smiled lazily, but his eyes were intent on her every move. Predatory.

She wiggled again. His eyes glinted, his cock twitching in response. She turned to straddle him fully. She lowered her head to kiss his neck. He bared it for her, and her heart fluttered at the control she had over him at this moment. Tentatively, she licked at the hollow of his neck, feeling the strong thrumming of his pulse as she did so. She followed with peppering that long column of skin with soft feathery kisses, feeling his hum of appreciation underneath her ministrations.