Eight: Elves (Puck: Drow, Kurt: human slave)
A/N: Moving sucks. :(
A/N 2: This is one of my favourites. :D
Well, the female leaders of their worn down parody of a civilization might be cruel and unusual, especially when it came to the distribution of humans but at least the method was, in its own way, fair. After all, you can't exactly deny the one who just beat you within an inch of oblivion. How the combatants interpreted a fair fight, however, completely depended on the ones fighting.
Puck spat on Karofsky's prone form, kicking off the pale grey hand grasping weakly at his ankle. The knotted bruise smarting on his shoulder blade erased any pity he might've had for the cheap half-breed bastard. His hand shook around the sweat slicked handle of the axe that Karofsky had side smacked him with and Puck mustered up the strength to hurl it at the wall of the ring, sharp blade embedding into the stone. He turned at met his mothers pale gold eyes with his own, ignoring Shelby and Sue where they sat.
"I claim what's rightfully mine." Puck's voice rang out over the hum of the crowd and the masses hushed as he motioned at the white skinned human tied and perched on a squat stone stool between his mothers chair and his sisters. His split lip pulled painfully when his mother stood and grabbed the bound wrists, pulling the boy from his seat.
"And it shall be granted. Congratulations, my son. Take your spoils to do with as you will." His mother had a small body, thin and short, but she was deceptive in her stature. She drew the human into her arms and hoisted him over the balcony. If Puck couldn't catch him then all that he deserved was a corpse splattered on the hard dirt. The boy shrieked behind his cloth gag as he dropped and shivered in Puck's arms when he was caught. Puck could already see the purple bruises forming where his arms cushioned the fall and thought of how his own contusions would blend into the colour of his skin.
He didn't bother to thank the heads of council, turning on his heel and striding from the arena with purpose.
They made it back to his hastily constructed shack on the outskirts of their territory without delay. All the males who had competed for the prize were confined to their cots, though not by any other elf. The damage wrought by other fighters was enough to keep then out of the way for the foreseeable future and the ones who waited for the outcome like the vultures they were knew to give to champion at least a day before instigating another round of combat. If they didn't the council would bear down upon them full of righteous fury. If there was one thing the council hated, it was having their decisions speculated upon, and a challenge of ownership so soon would definitely be categorized under, 'questioning motives.'
It meant that Puck had a full day to acclimate to a foreign presence in his home, to decide if he wanted it there before he had to defend it.
He untied the ropes, calmly cataloguing all the injuries that had been acquired in the transition of custody between the council and himself. The bruises from where Puck had caught him, the rope burns from the initial struggle to test the limitations of his bonds, and the lacerations from his capture. The other prizes had been placed on their pedestals frozen with fright and as unharmed as the Drow would ever allow but this one, this one had fought and the scouts had come home worse off than him. He would fight the process and when he broke, he would be glorious, of that Puck was sure.
"What's you name?" His tone wasn't soft, wasn't kind. If this human was taken from him, his new owner would be harsh and vicious and until Puck assured his claim, so he would be as well, to prepare him for the worse.
There was silence, only for a handful of seconds, but enough time for Puck to ready himself for the use of physical force before a soft, high voice spoke. "Kurt." Wary blue eyes, so different from any he'd seen, stared at him and Puck realized that Kurt stood on the same level as he.
Shaking off his thoughts Puck took a deep breath to steady himself and unclasped his pants. The post-fight adrenaline remained with him, as did its effects. "Good, now get on your knees."
