6/11/13

This was originally intended as an e/R one-shot for Poetic Kittens but then I got hooked on the idea of slavery and this at least 6 chapter long piece grew so … I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

Love And Slavery

In this I have edited history slightly. It is set in 1812, and at this point Napoleon II would only be one year old. For the sake of this story please pretend he is fifteen.

Chapter 1

Enjolras was leaning on the large oak door, peering through one of the gaps. His fist clenched at the fact he was reduced to eavesdropping. They had no right to do this without him. His father was currently buying his new personal slave; and Enjolras hated it. He hated slavery, he hated his father. His nails slowly dug even further into his palm as his anger grew and grew. "Javert, my good friend," Enjolras' father cheered, and Enjolras' attention was drawn back to what was happening through the crack. His father was stood in the courtyard with a large smile on his face. His usual slave trader, Javert, jumped from the top of his carriage.

"Monsieur Enjolras, I hear you only want the one today. A new slave for young Julien," Javert chuckled as he walked round the back of his poisonous cart. Enjolras' fury built at being shamed as 'young Julien'.

"That is it," Enjolras' father smiled as Javert hauled out the young boy; he could only be around twenty. Most of his slaves were in their mid-thirties, not early twenties. He was just a boy; it sickened Enjolras, using children that should be living their own lives. The boy's brown locks draped over one stunning chestnut eye and contrasted against his southern tanned complexion. It was fair to say this man was nothing like his father had bought him in the past. Maybe he might actually get along with this one.

"Now this boy comes from a great line. He worked for the royals. This one was personal slave to the young Napoleon II. I heard what you requested and he was perfect. He'll be wonderful as a companion to keep your boy out of trouble," Javert chuckled and Enjolras almost barged in there; he needed no companion slave, and no one would be able to stop him doing what he wanted.

"Why did our Emperor let him go then?" Enjolras' father questioned and Javert smiled.

"The young Napoleon stated to form affections for the pretty face, the boy just followed his orders and his young master began to use him in unsavoury ways," Javert admitted and Enjolras' could clearly see the slave tense at the mention.

"But the young emperor is only fifteen," Enjolras' father exclaimed. "How old is he?" he asked pointing to the ever silent slave.

Enjolras looked back to the slave. The slave had a metal gag secured round his mouth that was clearly paining him. All Enjolras wanted to do was dive out there and pull it off his lips. He was chained up like a common pet only with a pair of worn shorts covering his dignity. Whip lashes tore up his back, some old and some new. However what drew the majority of his attention was the TF branded onto the slave's shoulder. He was a convict, used to be imprisoned in Toloun. "He's twenty," Javert replied with a malicious smile and Enjolras' father laughed.

"The young Napoleon must have had the best nights of his life," Enjolras' father chuckled and Enjolras was slightly sick in his mouth.

"Maybe your boy will want to take advantage of pretty boy," Javert sniggered and Enjolras gawped. The slave tensed with panic radiating through his whole figure and stumbled slightly back. Javert noticed this and sent the young boy sprawling on the floor. He skidded forwards tearing his knees but stayed with his head bent down as Javert's spiked boot pressed down on his scarred back. "This one needs to be punished for even the littlest things or he never learns," Javert hissed as he pressed down onto the slave's back.

Enjolras couldn't stand by and watch as this man was being brutally abused for no reason. The slave's arms collapsed underneath him but his expression never changed. It was of pure indifference. Enjolras barged the door open trying to keep a level head. "Papa? What's going on here?" Enjolras asked trying not to lash out at the slave trader. Javert slowly pulled the spikes out of the slave's back leaving bleeding holes in the space in between his shoulder blades. He still didn't move.

"This is your new slave, mon fils," his father smiled, patting his son on the back.

"Then I would quite like him to be able to function tonight," Enjolras practically snarled at Javert. He had always hated the man and that hatred was growing the longer he spent in his presence.

"Get up," Javert ordered the slave and he slowly rose to his knees and knelt with his head bowed in front of Enjolras. Enjolras circled him, playing the part he hated so much, and stopped when he was stood back in front of him again.

"What's this?" Enjolras asked pointing to the gag like device. Javert's sadistic grin returned.

"Napoleon ordered it be on. So he could not spread his poisonous lies anymore and he would not be kissing anyone else anytime soon," he explained and Enjolras felt horrified and slightly sick once again.

"A metal wedge is stuck under his tongue and a band tightened around it," Javert explained with a disgusting glee. "So he cannot talk and…" Javert began before Enjolras interrupted him.

"Give me the keys," he demanded with his palm outstretched.

"I cannot; he has to serve out his sentence. He's lucky not to be back in prison, the little rat," Javert snarled, kicking the hunched over figure.

"How much will it cost for those damn keys," Enjolras hissed, stepping forwards so he was face to face with the sadistic slaver. After a ridiculously large transfer of money Enjolras had to keys in his hand and was stood with the boy.

Once the cart was rattling down the drive, Enjolras pulled the new slave along behind him in a furious frenzy. The slave hurried along despite the pain in his legs, back and mouth. He stumped to the floor and squeezed his eyes shut clearly expecting his first beating. Enjolras knelt down next to him and looked in shock. It was clear he was barely out of his teens yet he acted like an eight-year-old about to be scolded. Yet he stood with pride and faced his foes with indifference. There was a war waging inside this boy; pride and dignity against fear and pain. It was tearing him apart; Enjolras couldn't let what seemed like a fine boy go to waste. He would do all that he could to fix him, which began with helping him back to his unsteady feet. The slave stared at him shocked. The master never helped the slaves. He nodded in thanks and Enjolras smiled. Enjolras led him into the kitchens and slave's quarters. "I need the medical kit, quickly!" he shouted with urgency. He sat the new slave on one of the tables before slowly unlocking the contraption round his mouth and carefully working it off. The slave's mouth filled with blood but he didn't dare spit it on the floor. Enjolras watched the child closely; he could clearly see the pain tearing through his body and the blood clearly building up in his mouth. Enjolras picked up a bucket and held it tenderly under the slave's mouth; he couldn't believe that someone would blatantly disregard his own necessities out of politeness. His slave slowly spat out the blood eying Enjolras' response. He nodded encouragingly. A younger boy ran in with the medical kit, his long blonde hair streaming out behind him. He looked up at the new slave and gawped. "R?" the boy asked and the new slave's head shot up in surprise.