Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
Author's Note: Oh boy! I got to use Elvish in this chappie! *grins* The translation is at the end of the chapter. If people would rather have it in brackets right beside the words let me know, I just prefer this way. Much thanks to Christine for beta'ing! *Grins* And to those who put pillows under my head when I started banging it on the desk. Again. :-p to those who just laughed! I'm looking at you, Satan!
Remember the amount of work I do on this is directly related to the amount of feedback I receive! :-)
Chapter 2
It was cold in the dungeons.
Jason had never been one to care about the extremities. Cold and heat did not bother him. That it was cold in the dungeons was just an observation.
He did not like having his arms bound over his head by chains. The metal was too tight and bit into his wrists sharply. The pain mattered not, he had suffered worse in recent times, but the feel of that heartless metal against his skin was not pleasant. He despised being trapped like that.
It would be of no use to show he was uncomfortable. He had long schooled his features to be unreadable, perhaps even slightly arrogant. None who entered the cell would be able to tell how much the metal made his skin crawl.
None were in the cell with him. He waited for the king to come, no doubt to beat him and snarl vilely, that would not be escaped he knew, but an understanding would have to be reached. If he were to train the boy he would need more control than he had. No matter what the king thought of his place, he had been bought to teach the prince to be a warrior and he could not do that without the proper rules.
The metal was starting to edge on Jason's nerves. It was unusual that he would be this affected by such a touch, nor would the dirty stone walls and floor be as much of a bother, but there was an evilness inside the Palace that seemed to penetrate every inch of nonliving creation, and some living flesh too. It made him heartsick to feel such evil though he knew it could not take hold of him.
It would not do to have the feeling distract him from the task that would be at hand once the king arrived. No, Jason would not allow that.
His eyes closed and his breathing began to slow. It was easy to find. It reached for him, as it always did, even when he did not seek it. It pulsed through him, strong but tender, giving him new vigour. For a moment nothing existed, save him and that steady, life giving pulse...
Then he came back to himself. The sounds of heavy footsteps fell on the stone floor of the corridor, but if they had not, Jason still would have sensed the king drawing closer. The evil that had sunk into the very stones of the castle wall came from within that man; Jason had known it upon their first meeting.
His body had been ready for this meeting since before he rose at dawn that morning. He had known this confrontation would come from the moment he had been sold to this excuse of a man, as he knew many more would come in the future.
His mind and soul were ready too, but for what lay beyond the conflict set to arrive in mere moments. In everything but body, he was past the moment before it began. It was of little consequence to him.
The door was flung upon and hit the cell wall with a sharp clash. A scare tactic, no doubt. Jason nearly smiled, and he would have done so had he not felt it important to keep his features emotionless. He was not the one who was frightened.
Four guards filed into the dank room. Jason waited a beat, smirking mentally when the king came in with a flourish after pausing for a more dramatic entrance. The man was vying for control. He never knew that it had slipped from his grasp the moment the coins that had bought him Jason's keeping, slipped from his hands.
Daemon was surprised to see the condition of the slave. Most would cower at his appearance. This one did not even flinch. And those eyes...They burned with a cold fire of ice.
He nodded to one of the guards who quickly cut away the tunic Jason wore. His blade was not careful and a thin line of blood soon trickled down his side. Jason did not react to the metal that sliced his skin nor the bite of the cold that assaulted his half naked body.
Daemon did not like that.
"Your little performance out there did you no good." Daemon motioned for the guard to stand behind Jason, a whip posed over the scarred back. "You should be reminded of your place."
Daemon's whip fell across Jason's back for the first time. He did not react at all.
"I know my place." Jason said with a steady voice and impassive features. "There has never been a time when I was not aware of where I belonged."
"Then we severely disagree." Daemon let the whip fall again. No reaction. "And no one has the right to disagree with me."
"In all due respect, your highness, I cannot teach your son if I have no authority over him. You know I will not be able to teach him without control. He will not be made into a warrior by being babied." Jason told him. "He would learn better if you allowed me to teach him my way. It has not failed me yet."
"You are a slave," A cruel smiled flickered over his face as the whip came down again, "I would say that is a failure to one who claims to be a warrior."
"You have seen what I am capable of." Jason felt the whip lick across his back. Pain flared momentarily before settling to a dull throb. His features had long ago been schooled not to show any vulnerability. Flinching would only give the king before him satisfaction. "My becoming a slave does not concern you."
"You are right about that. I care not how you came to be such a foul, lowly creature, just that you are. I will get the gold I paid for you back in services, do not doubt that." Daemon sneered at him. "You will teach the boy and teach him well."
"That I will. If you do not interfere I can mould him into a great warrior." Jason said tonelessly as the whip lashed across his back. "The more you interfere the less I can teach him. He is not a prince but a student when he is with me, even outside of the designated lesson time. Otherwise progress will be slow and small."
"I am not stupid. I know how warrior training must be." The king smirked, taking the whip out of the hands of the guard and using it himself. "I will be watching, however, and when you step out of line I will remind you of your place."
"I am not the best student," Jason's voice was suddenly cold and cutting. If Daemon had seen the ethereal eyes at that moment he would have flinched in fear. "especially when the lesson is wrong."
Daemon growled and cracked the whip a little harder. He was becoming frustrated with the lack of response he was getting from his slave. "Just remember when the prince is finished his training you become mine to do with as I please. I would keep my uncivilized tongue behind my teeth if I were you."
"If you were me many things would be different." Jason replied. "But the dishonour you would do to all I have ever stood for would be too great. You could not be me if you wanted it to be so, with all your heart."
The blow to Jason's head was vicious but it fazed him for less than a heartbeat.
"I am the king here," Daemon snarled, bringing the whip down on the abused back in rapid succession. "You would do well to remember it! You are *my* slave. Your life is in *my* hands. I can end it at anytime if I so choose."
"Arauko, narlyë morna ar tevië. Inyë vanyë lintel analyë." Jason replied, his words soft but frightening in their intensity. "I do not fear death. Nor is pain a threat to me. Do what you will. I care not."
Daemon flushed in anger and handed the whip to one of the guards before he simply killed the slave he had paid good money to own. "Remind him of his place and do it well. He has to be able to give the prince his first lesson tomorrow so do not damage him too badly. There will be time for that later."
The guard with the whip nearly smirked but curbed the impulse. It was hard to tell when the king would take issue with such a liberty as that. "Yes, sire."
Daemon stopped in front of Jason before he left, daring the slave to meet his eyes. All before had not but those strange eyes stared straight back at him. They unnerved the king as very little did.
"You will tremble before me in the end." Daemon said in feigned confidence.
For the first time the emotionless mask Jason wore shifted as he laughed mirthlessly. "You shall see, Arauko, one day you shall see."
Daemon was nearly trembling in fury himself and his hand connected hard with Jason's face. For a moment Jason's head snapped back, but only for a moment. The blue eyes danced with flames as they bore into him. The red trickle that crawled from a cut made by Daemon's ring contrasted sharply with the pale, near shimmering skin. For an instant true fear clutched the heart of the king. This slave before him held a power he could never grasp; he saw a glimpse of what he was toying with in that slow heartbeat.
He abruptly left the room. One does not sprinkle pepper on a dragon's nose and then wait for the sneeze that follows. He would not wait to see exactly what the slave he had acquired had been before he had been captured.
It was late when the guards showed Jason to the slave quarters by the way of cruel jabs and trips. His back bled from the bites of the whip and bruises were already beginning to form on his mistreated body. He was barely aware of the pains of his body.
It was an odd sensation but one he knew well. It was all but pounding through him by the time the guards pushed him roughly to the ground in front of a dilapidated building. He was on his feet in the next instant, simply to show them they had not conquered him. They were shocked, and he could see fear on their faces as he had seen it on the face of the king, but in the next moment they had recovered and were laughing as they shared ideas of how to break him next time.
And Jason knew there would be a next time.
But he would not focus on that. Instead he leaned against the side of the building and just breathed. There was little that grew on the ground surrounding the dingy building but there was grass and a few wilting weeds and flowers. It was more than enough to soothe him.
He closed his eyes and let out a long, steady breath, feeling it creep over him like a wave washing over the shore. He let it take him. He let it pull him into a comforting embrace, strengthening and healing all parts of him.
For long moments he lingered there, protected by a guardian that could never be destroyed or taken from him. A soft breeze stirred and caressed his face with a touch as real as the stars.
A difficult thing on a night of no wind.
Jason was very aware of everything within the range of his senses while he lingered in that moment. He heard the creak of the floorboards before the door opened and a young man, still a boy really and probably born into slavery, stepped outside.
Jason's eyes were open then, and looking up at the stars.
"Sir?" The boy asked.
"The stars are beautiful tonight, are they not?" Jason said, still feeling it comfort and cradle him.
"Are you badly hurt?" The boy asked, nervous around this strange, new slave.
"It is nothing I cannot bear." Jason replied. He was on his feet in one fluid motion causing the boy's eyes to widen.
"But your back...It's bleeding." He stammered.
Jason had felt the trickle of warm, thick liquid trailing slowly down his back and ignored it. It would heal in time and would not hinder him much while it did. It was of little concern.
"We cannot do much for you but your wounds can at least be bound and it is warmer inside." The boy told him.
Jason was surprised. "What is your name?"
"Trip, sir." He replied gravely.
"You know, Trip, that the king will not take kindly to any who aid me, even if the help is simply a kind word." Jason told him.
"I know. We all do." Trip reported. "Please, come inside. It is not much but it is the only comfort we have."
Jason followed the boy inside though he knew he would draw more comfort if he remained outside under the stars. He had to warn the other slaves at the very least. The king had marked him for torment and any who were seen helping him were very likely to receive similar treatment.
He was not surprised to find all eyes upon him when he entered the bunk house.
"The king has a vendetta against me." Jason warned. "I do not know what action he will take against those who offer my aid in any respect."
"It has been long since we had any hope." A slightly older, though still young, man asked[stated]. He had a hardness about him that Trip did not possess. Jason wondered briefly what had spared the young slave from that fate. "You give us this again and I, for one, will bear whatever comes to keep this gift."
"I am no saviour. I am only a teacher." Jason cautioned. "Do not expect miracles from me for I cannot give them."
"You were not born to live the life of a slave, that is plain to all those here, yet you do not act as if you were above us. Instead you are concerned for us." The man observed. "You are not a saviour, this we all know, but you are different."
"No person should be born, or made, into a slave for another." Jason spoke the words on instinct. Such a thing had been utterly foreign to him before he himself was shackled and owned by another and it violated everything he had ever been taught.
The young man smiled broadly, the look somewhat strange on his tight features. "My name is Eric and you are welcomed as one of us. We will take care of you as we take care of any who are wounded. You are not alone."
"Thank you." Jason replied humbly. It was warming to know he would have human support. It was something he had not grasped in years.
"Come, we will bind your wounds and find you a new tunic." A woman said, coming forward and leading him into the midst of the slave barrack.
The next morn, when he rose at dawn to prepare for the first official lesson Thomas would have, he was grateful for the help he had received. He knew the day would bring either the first step towards shaping his new student or his ruin.
And there was an equal chance for either course to end the strongest.
Author's Note: Oh boy! I got to use Elvish in this chappie! *grins* The translation is at the end of the chapter. If people would rather have it in brackets right beside the words let me know, I just prefer this way. Much thanks to Christine for beta'ing! *Grins* And to those who put pillows under my head when I started banging it on the desk. Again. :-p to those who just laughed! I'm looking at you, Satan!
Remember the amount of work I do on this is directly related to the amount of feedback I receive! :-)
Chapter 2
It was cold in the dungeons.
Jason had never been one to care about the extremities. Cold and heat did not bother him. That it was cold in the dungeons was just an observation.
He did not like having his arms bound over his head by chains. The metal was too tight and bit into his wrists sharply. The pain mattered not, he had suffered worse in recent times, but the feel of that heartless metal against his skin was not pleasant. He despised being trapped like that.
It would be of no use to show he was uncomfortable. He had long schooled his features to be unreadable, perhaps even slightly arrogant. None who entered the cell would be able to tell how much the metal made his skin crawl.
None were in the cell with him. He waited for the king to come, no doubt to beat him and snarl vilely, that would not be escaped he knew, but an understanding would have to be reached. If he were to train the boy he would need more control than he had. No matter what the king thought of his place, he had been bought to teach the prince to be a warrior and he could not do that without the proper rules.
The metal was starting to edge on Jason's nerves. It was unusual that he would be this affected by such a touch, nor would the dirty stone walls and floor be as much of a bother, but there was an evilness inside the Palace that seemed to penetrate every inch of nonliving creation, and some living flesh too. It made him heartsick to feel such evil though he knew it could not take hold of him.
It would not do to have the feeling distract him from the task that would be at hand once the king arrived. No, Jason would not allow that.
His eyes closed and his breathing began to slow. It was easy to find. It reached for him, as it always did, even when he did not seek it. It pulsed through him, strong but tender, giving him new vigour. For a moment nothing existed, save him and that steady, life giving pulse...
Then he came back to himself. The sounds of heavy footsteps fell on the stone floor of the corridor, but if they had not, Jason still would have sensed the king drawing closer. The evil that had sunk into the very stones of the castle wall came from within that man; Jason had known it upon their first meeting.
His body had been ready for this meeting since before he rose at dawn that morning. He had known this confrontation would come from the moment he had been sold to this excuse of a man, as he knew many more would come in the future.
His mind and soul were ready too, but for what lay beyond the conflict set to arrive in mere moments. In everything but body, he was past the moment before it began. It was of little consequence to him.
The door was flung upon and hit the cell wall with a sharp clash. A scare tactic, no doubt. Jason nearly smiled, and he would have done so had he not felt it important to keep his features emotionless. He was not the one who was frightened.
Four guards filed into the dank room. Jason waited a beat, smirking mentally when the king came in with a flourish after pausing for a more dramatic entrance. The man was vying for control. He never knew that it had slipped from his grasp the moment the coins that had bought him Jason's keeping, slipped from his hands.
Daemon was surprised to see the condition of the slave. Most would cower at his appearance. This one did not even flinch. And those eyes...They burned with a cold fire of ice.
He nodded to one of the guards who quickly cut away the tunic Jason wore. His blade was not careful and a thin line of blood soon trickled down his side. Jason did not react to the metal that sliced his skin nor the bite of the cold that assaulted his half naked body.
Daemon did not like that.
"Your little performance out there did you no good." Daemon motioned for the guard to stand behind Jason, a whip posed over the scarred back. "You should be reminded of your place."
Daemon's whip fell across Jason's back for the first time. He did not react at all.
"I know my place." Jason said with a steady voice and impassive features. "There has never been a time when I was not aware of where I belonged."
"Then we severely disagree." Daemon let the whip fall again. No reaction. "And no one has the right to disagree with me."
"In all due respect, your highness, I cannot teach your son if I have no authority over him. You know I will not be able to teach him without control. He will not be made into a warrior by being babied." Jason told him. "He would learn better if you allowed me to teach him my way. It has not failed me yet."
"You are a slave," A cruel smiled flickered over his face as the whip came down again, "I would say that is a failure to one who claims to be a warrior."
"You have seen what I am capable of." Jason felt the whip lick across his back. Pain flared momentarily before settling to a dull throb. His features had long ago been schooled not to show any vulnerability. Flinching would only give the king before him satisfaction. "My becoming a slave does not concern you."
"You are right about that. I care not how you came to be such a foul, lowly creature, just that you are. I will get the gold I paid for you back in services, do not doubt that." Daemon sneered at him. "You will teach the boy and teach him well."
"That I will. If you do not interfere I can mould him into a great warrior." Jason said tonelessly as the whip lashed across his back. "The more you interfere the less I can teach him. He is not a prince but a student when he is with me, even outside of the designated lesson time. Otherwise progress will be slow and small."
"I am not stupid. I know how warrior training must be." The king smirked, taking the whip out of the hands of the guard and using it himself. "I will be watching, however, and when you step out of line I will remind you of your place."
"I am not the best student," Jason's voice was suddenly cold and cutting. If Daemon had seen the ethereal eyes at that moment he would have flinched in fear. "especially when the lesson is wrong."
Daemon growled and cracked the whip a little harder. He was becoming frustrated with the lack of response he was getting from his slave. "Just remember when the prince is finished his training you become mine to do with as I please. I would keep my uncivilized tongue behind my teeth if I were you."
"If you were me many things would be different." Jason replied. "But the dishonour you would do to all I have ever stood for would be too great. You could not be me if you wanted it to be so, with all your heart."
The blow to Jason's head was vicious but it fazed him for less than a heartbeat.
"I am the king here," Daemon snarled, bringing the whip down on the abused back in rapid succession. "You would do well to remember it! You are *my* slave. Your life is in *my* hands. I can end it at anytime if I so choose."
"Arauko, narlyë morna ar tevië. Inyë vanyë lintel analyë." Jason replied, his words soft but frightening in their intensity. "I do not fear death. Nor is pain a threat to me. Do what you will. I care not."
Daemon flushed in anger and handed the whip to one of the guards before he simply killed the slave he had paid good money to own. "Remind him of his place and do it well. He has to be able to give the prince his first lesson tomorrow so do not damage him too badly. There will be time for that later."
The guard with the whip nearly smirked but curbed the impulse. It was hard to tell when the king would take issue with such a liberty as that. "Yes, sire."
Daemon stopped in front of Jason before he left, daring the slave to meet his eyes. All before had not but those strange eyes stared straight back at him. They unnerved the king as very little did.
"You will tremble before me in the end." Daemon said in feigned confidence.
For the first time the emotionless mask Jason wore shifted as he laughed mirthlessly. "You shall see, Arauko, one day you shall see."
Daemon was nearly trembling in fury himself and his hand connected hard with Jason's face. For a moment Jason's head snapped back, but only for a moment. The blue eyes danced with flames as they bore into him. The red trickle that crawled from a cut made by Daemon's ring contrasted sharply with the pale, near shimmering skin. For an instant true fear clutched the heart of the king. This slave before him held a power he could never grasp; he saw a glimpse of what he was toying with in that slow heartbeat.
He abruptly left the room. One does not sprinkle pepper on a dragon's nose and then wait for the sneeze that follows. He would not wait to see exactly what the slave he had acquired had been before he had been captured.
It was late when the guards showed Jason to the slave quarters by the way of cruel jabs and trips. His back bled from the bites of the whip and bruises were already beginning to form on his mistreated body. He was barely aware of the pains of his body.
It was an odd sensation but one he knew well. It was all but pounding through him by the time the guards pushed him roughly to the ground in front of a dilapidated building. He was on his feet in the next instant, simply to show them they had not conquered him. They were shocked, and he could see fear on their faces as he had seen it on the face of the king, but in the next moment they had recovered and were laughing as they shared ideas of how to break him next time.
And Jason knew there would be a next time.
But he would not focus on that. Instead he leaned against the side of the building and just breathed. There was little that grew on the ground surrounding the dingy building but there was grass and a few wilting weeds and flowers. It was more than enough to soothe him.
He closed his eyes and let out a long, steady breath, feeling it creep over him like a wave washing over the shore. He let it take him. He let it pull him into a comforting embrace, strengthening and healing all parts of him.
For long moments he lingered there, protected by a guardian that could never be destroyed or taken from him. A soft breeze stirred and caressed his face with a touch as real as the stars.
A difficult thing on a night of no wind.
Jason was very aware of everything within the range of his senses while he lingered in that moment. He heard the creak of the floorboards before the door opened and a young man, still a boy really and probably born into slavery, stepped outside.
Jason's eyes were open then, and looking up at the stars.
"Sir?" The boy asked.
"The stars are beautiful tonight, are they not?" Jason said, still feeling it comfort and cradle him.
"Are you badly hurt?" The boy asked, nervous around this strange, new slave.
"It is nothing I cannot bear." Jason replied. He was on his feet in one fluid motion causing the boy's eyes to widen.
"But your back...It's bleeding." He stammered.
Jason had felt the trickle of warm, thick liquid trailing slowly down his back and ignored it. It would heal in time and would not hinder him much while it did. It was of little concern.
"We cannot do much for you but your wounds can at least be bound and it is warmer inside." The boy told him.
Jason was surprised. "What is your name?"
"Trip, sir." He replied gravely.
"You know, Trip, that the king will not take kindly to any who aid me, even if the help is simply a kind word." Jason told him.
"I know. We all do." Trip reported. "Please, come inside. It is not much but it is the only comfort we have."
Jason followed the boy inside though he knew he would draw more comfort if he remained outside under the stars. He had to warn the other slaves at the very least. The king had marked him for torment and any who were seen helping him were very likely to receive similar treatment.
He was not surprised to find all eyes upon him when he entered the bunk house.
"The king has a vendetta against me." Jason warned. "I do not know what action he will take against those who offer my aid in any respect."
"It has been long since we had any hope." A slightly older, though still young, man asked[stated]. He had a hardness about him that Trip did not possess. Jason wondered briefly what had spared the young slave from that fate. "You give us this again and I, for one, will bear whatever comes to keep this gift."
"I am no saviour. I am only a teacher." Jason cautioned. "Do not expect miracles from me for I cannot give them."
"You were not born to live the life of a slave, that is plain to all those here, yet you do not act as if you were above us. Instead you are concerned for us." The man observed. "You are not a saviour, this we all know, but you are different."
"No person should be born, or made, into a slave for another." Jason spoke the words on instinct. Such a thing had been utterly foreign to him before he himself was shackled and owned by another and it violated everything he had ever been taught.
The young man smiled broadly, the look somewhat strange on his tight features. "My name is Eric and you are welcomed as one of us. We will take care of you as we take care of any who are wounded. You are not alone."
"Thank you." Jason replied humbly. It was warming to know he would have human support. It was something he had not grasped in years.
"Come, we will bind your wounds and find you a new tunic." A woman said, coming forward and leading him into the midst of the slave barrack.
The next morn, when he rose at dawn to prepare for the first official lesson Thomas would have, he was grateful for the help he had received. He knew the day would bring either the first step towards shaping his new student or his ruin.
And there was an equal chance for either course to end the strongest.