Stench of Slavery

23 Oct 18

Summary: Set in a world where each caste system has a certain scent to it and decides where you end up as soon as you are born. Mathew is a slave who has caught the attention of the noble Francis Bonnefoi. Without knowing that he'd caught his attention while shopping for his master, Mathew went home and only there where he was cornered by his master about his scent changing did he even learn about it. Before he'd had no idea. When his master went to hit him was when Francis walked in and took Mathew from him.

Hierarchy. That was what ruled this world, and kept it thoroughly downtrodden. And Mathew hated that hierarchy and particularly those people at the top of it.

Especially because he was at the very bottom of it. The very very very lowest bottom. After all, he was a slave, and not only that, his scent was strong enough to clearly tell everyone else that. He had no hope for ascensions. This was his lot in life, and he just had to deal with it. No matter how unhappy it made him.

Francis could feel the tension vibrating in the air as soon as he stepped inside the room. Hell, he'd been able to feel it even outside of the house. To be cliché, very cliché, it was thick enough to be cut with the ornamental rapier at his side…or by the exquisitely sharp and perfectly deadly knives he had hidden about on his person elsewhere. One did not simply display their true blades in public in polite society after all, you see.

But, apparently his present company was unaware of that fact. Especially considering the butcher knife the vile man in front of him was waving around at the blond man Francis had smelled earlier and was now not only duty bound to protect but who he was also already intrigued by. It seemed that his suspicions of the man being in the role of a slave had been correct. But how could that be? He had smelled as pure as the princesses he had visited just last week. And he would know the scent of royalty anywhere…he was, after all, the Crown Prince. And if that beast of a man actually struck the blond there would be hell to pay, and an execution to plan. The Royals were not allowed to be struck. Ever.

Francis' eyes narrowed, and he coughed, delicately, of course, to alert the man of his presence.

One strike. This disgusting behaviour was all he would allow. If he struck his mate, or new brother, or whoever he was meant to be…not even the Fates would be able to protect the lumbering giant who was even now staggering around to face him in what he hoped was exaggerated surprise. Or maybe the man was just blindingly stupid. Who knows?

"You will not hurt that boy any longer." Francis declared powerfully, his voice carefully calm.

The man sneered. He apparently hadn't seen how well made and polished Francis' clothes or his bearing was as the next thing he said was, "and who are you to tell me what to do?"

The man blinked and seemed to come to a realization, though not one that would save his life.

"What the hell are you doing in here?! Get the HELL out of my house!" He thundered, and began to advance on Francis, his butcher knife held up threateningly.

Behind the oaf, Francis could see the delicate looking blond man back away and cower, closing his eyes against the death or violence the boy likely felt sure to follow.

Well, that would be true in a sense. But not how he likely though, Francis thought to himself with a smirk, and calmly flicked his rapier up, severing the mountain of a man in front of him's arm.

The butcher knife held in that now severed hand went clattering to the floor as the man looked at his arm in shock, then anger quickoly grew on the man's face along with pain.

A dangerous combination.

"Stop now. Do not do anything further," Francis warned, "and you will only be brought before the court justice and may retain your life."

The pain seemed to vanish from the man's face as it was consumed by pure anger.

"ARGH!" He thundered and went to attack again, until Francis drove his dagger straight into the man's heart.

Considering he planned on just leaving the man, he'd likely bleed out within the next few seconds or minutes. With that amputation, he'd already had a limited time, and would have only been saved by Francis' court healing powers. Now that he'd had that fatal blow and considering Francis' current feelings for the man?

He had no chance.

Francis stepped over the quietly gurgling body, the man's eyes looked up at him pleadingly, his mouth opening and closing like a beached fish before the eyes dimmed, and Francis left him to go towards his new charge.

"It's alright, little one," he murmured as the gorgeous blond opened his eyes, a stunning light violet Francis noted, and looked at him with those eyes wide open and scared but also hopeful.

"I will make sure you're safe from now on. You can trust that." Francis vowed, and wrapped the blond in his cloak. He would not have his new charge being seen in rags any longer.

He would only be allowed the best, and his needs would be assessed and any damage from his upbringing healed.

"What is your name?" Francis asked, murmuring his words carefully into the other man's hair as the other shivered within his arms, obviously still reeling from the effect of his emotions over recent events.

"…Mathew." Was the even quitter reply.

Sorry! Meant to get this up a few days ago but everything is so busy. Oh well

Hope you like this idea! Please tell me if you like it or not XD

HUGS

North of the North