Oh, this is going to drive me crazy. They're touching up the paint on the side of the apartment building, and one of the rollers is squeaky. Time to turn on some music.
Anyway, early update! Woot woot! XD I have a friend coming over tomorrow who I haven't seen in... god, almost a year! Which is sad, cuz we've lived about 4 blocks from eachother for about two months now. But, that's what happens when you're both busy college students! And as a result, you guys get this sooner... more soon?... sooner. I'm sticking with that.
Alright. So, we get a new point of view in this one. Hopefully it will make some things more clear. It may seem a bit random, since the rest has all been from Arthur's point of view, but... it just had to be done. My writing muse demanded it. P.S. He is going to kill me yet! He went off on some random hiatus for a few years, and then came back with a bunch if plot bunnies that are multiplying like... well, rabbits. I've started another story that I don't have the time for! This one's a Criminal Minds AU though, and I'm being smart this time and not posting it until it's complete (So any CM fans reading, that will be coming eventually. It's a Morgan/Reid. Of course).
Also, last thing, then I'll shut up: I got a very insistent review that I write faster on this story from Fayt of Fire. I momentarily thought my sister had somehow found me online and was yelling at me, until I remembered she doesn't like Merlin fanfiction (she loves the show, not these though). But, don't worry Fayt! I have break coming up in about a week and a half, and I will type my little fingers off! And if I get it all done, I should be able to update more frequently, so here's to hoping I have enough time over break to finish (depending on how cruel my professors are with homework)!
Arthur pushed the door shut behind him, leaning against it with a sigh of relief. They had managed to return to his chambers without being caught. He glanced up at Col, smiling.
The boy was standing in the middle of his room, his fingers under the fabric of the neckerchief, running up and down his skin. His gaze was unfocused, lost in the moment.
"Are you glad to have the collar gone?" asked Arthur.
Col turned towards him, nodding. A slight smile crossed his face.
Arthur returned the smile, walking forward. "You can take that off now," he said, pointing to the neckerchief. "If you'd like."
Col wasted no time tearing the knot free and yanking the fabric off. His hands ran across his neck, exploring the skin.
Arthur walked around the table, plopping down in his chair and watching the boy. He frowned slightly as he thought about what he was going to do with him. Arthur needed to attend a Knighting ceremony in a short while, and he would not be able to bring Col with him. He glanced around the room, trying to come up with things the boy could do to stay occupied.
His eyes fell on the rumpled sheets and the discarded pillows and bed cover on the floor. "Col?"
The boy turned to face him.
"Do you know how to make a bed?" asked Arthur.
Col glanced toward the bed, head tilted to the side. He looked back at Arthur and nodded.
"Alright. I need to leave, just for a while," he added quickly as Col's face paled. "I have to attend a ceremony with my father."
Col shivered slightly and gave a brief nod.
"I want you to stay in here," continued Arthur. "Do not leave this room, understand?"
Col nodded, more firmly this time.
Arthur nodded to his wardrobe. "There are fresh bed linens in there," he explained. "And a basket, over there." He pointed to the corner by the servants' entrance. "Place the dirty ones in there. When I return, I shall set them outside the door. Another servant will pick them up for washing."
Col glanced to the wardrobe and the basket, nodding once more.
Arthur stood with a groan, digging out his nicest tunic and his dress jacket, walking behind the screen to change. He didn't want to go to the Knighting ceremony, he wanted to stay here with Col. He wanted to continue to try to unravel the mystery that was the raven haired boy in his room.
With a sigh, Arthur walked back out. Col was perched on the end of the bench by the table, a slightly nervous look in his eyes that confused Arthur. What was the boy nervous about now?
Arthur walked over to the other end of the table, picking up his belt and sheath. Col watched him with curiosity, slowly uncurling so that he was sitting on the bench, rather than crouched. Arthur fastened the belt around his waist and snatched up his gleaming sword. He saw Col flinch instinctively, and he hurriedly slid it into place by his side. Next he picked up his cloak, draping it around his shoulders.
He ducked his head to fasten the clasps and jumped slightly when he looked back up, finding himself face to face with Col. The boy reached out, straightening Arthur's cloak and dusting off the front of his jacket. He even reached up and pushed back a few unruly strands of blond hair before stepping back, biting his lip shyly.
Arthur eyed him, slightly bemused. "Thank you, Col," he said.
Col smiled at him and bowed his head slightly. Arthur was momentarily confused, and then realized the boy must have picked that up from Tom.
Chuckling slightly, Arthur headed for the door. "I will be back later, I promise," he assured, looking Col in the eyes. "Fix the bed, and stay in the room."
He walked out and closed the door, but not before he saw Col's final nod.
….
As the door clicked shut, he slowly spun around to look at his new master's room. It was grand, very grand. Most of his other masters did not even have homes as big as this room. Some of them, like the last one, didn't have homes at all.
Slowly, he walked over to the bed, glancing down at the rumpled sheets. A small smile played across his lips.
This master was definitely different. He was kinder then the others, not only to other people, but to him as well. It had scared him at first; he thought his master was doing it to trick him or something. But watching him interact with others, he was now starting to think it was just his personality.
His master's father, on the other hand, he was more like the kind of men he knew. He hoped his master would keep him safe from him. He didn't want the father to take him away from his new master. He wanted to stay with this master. This master, Arthur, people called him, was different.
His new master seemed much closer to his own age. All his other masters had been much older. His new master was young enough to still have living parents. Or, at least a father. He had not heard his master mention his mother yet. He felt sad at the thought his new master might not have a mother. He could vaguely remember what it was like to not have a parent, having never met his own father.
His mother had never made a big deal of it, but he remembered having a friend in his village who would say it was weird for him to only have a mom. He missed his friend. He wished he could remember his name. He couldn't really even remember what he looked like. He just had memories of running around playing, laughing, having a good time.
His new master seemed like someone he could have been friends with, if he were a person. But it was not allowed now. He was a slave. He could not become friends with his master. He would have to make sure to keep his feelings in check. It had been easier with his other masters, keeping himself detached. But his new master was making it harder.
He was treating him like a person.
Why would he do that?
This master had given him a name. It wasn't as nice as his real name, but it was a name. The others hadn't named him. They had kept it to the simple "boy" or "you" or sometimes just hitting him to get his attention. He had to admit, it did feel good to have name again.
No, he couldn't start thinking like that!
He couldn't make his new master angry. No matter how his master treated him, he must remember his training. He is a slave.
Breaking that role would result in terrible punishment. He learned that early on.
His other masters had starved him, beaten him. Each one had had their own favorite method of punishment and torture. His third master had loved knives. The thin, white scars lining the insides of his thighs could attest to that. That master would slice into his skin and then lick the blood away. It had hurt terribly, but that master would then give him love.
They all gave him love.
Except for his new master.
A frown clouded his face, sadness filling his eyes.
This master, Arthur, had not given him love yet. Even when he had tried to initiate it, Arthur had kicked him. It was the only time his master had hurt him, and he had seemed genuinely sorry afterwards. But why wouldn't he love him?
This master seemed to be fonder of him than any master before him. They had treated him terribly, yet had still given him love. So why wouldn't Arthur?
He had been a good slave. He listened, done all he was told. But his new master had not rewarded him. His other masters had always rewarded him with love. It hurt, yes, but his masters always hugged him, petted him, told him what a good boy he was.
They told him it was a treat, a special privilege.
They loved how pretty he was. They loved the noises he made. They loved how tight he was, loved how good he felt.
And they told him that they knew he loved it too.
Of course he loved love.
Love was a good thing, a very good thing. His mother had always told him that when he was young. She had said she loved him too, but he knew now she did not love him as much as his masters did. She had only ever hugged him and kissed his forehead.
But his masters had loved him so much more than that. They would strip his clothes off and caress his body. They would plant hungry kisses and bites across his skin, telling him how much they loved the marks it left behind.
Sometime they would tie his hands and feet so he could be completely devoted to the love they were giving him, and not be distracted in trying to reciprocate the love. The smiles on their faces had made his stomach queasy for some reason he couldn't explain, but they were smiles none the less.
And his masters had always been thrilled when he was the one to start the love. They would laugh and cheer, tugging at his hair, running their hands up and down his back. They would say that was how they knew he loved it.
He wished this new master would love him like the others had. He was sure this master would make it hurt less, make it more enjoyable for him. His masters had never seemed to be in pain from love, only him. But he was sure this new master could make that different.
He climbed onto the bed, snuggling down in the sheets. They smelled of his new master, and he breathed in deeply. His thoughts drifted to last night, and he shivered at the memory of the nightmares. He smiled though as he remembered Arthur waking him from them. He had not yelled at him for disturbing his sleep. Instead, he had comforted him and kept him safe from the nightmares. No one had done that for him in a long time. Not since his mother, when he was little.
Before she had sent him away.
Inhaling once more, he scrambled off the bed and striped the sheets, dumping them in the basket. He walked to the wardrobe, stopping to run his finger along the crack in the mirror.
He must have made that when he was having the nightmares. It would not be the first time he had done something like that during them. He would need to be more careful though. So far his new master had not seemed to realize it was him doing these things: killing the bandit, shattering the glass in that old man's room, and now the mirror. But he would have to try and keep a better check on himself, before he did get found out.
Pulling open the door, he dug through the wardrobe till he found the clean sheets. He pressed his nose to them, before wrinkling it in distaste. He didn't like these ones. They didn't smell of his master, of warmth and comfort. He began to put them on the bed, struggling a bit. He had only made a bed once before, and it had been much smaller than this one. He eventually got them on, even if they weren't as neat and tidy as they could have been.
Snatching the comforter up off the floor, he spread it out on top of the bed. He neatly folded the travel blanket, laying it on top of the chest at the end of the bed, before picking up all the pillows and piling them at the head of the bed.
He stepped back to admire his handy work with a slight smile. He did not think he did too badly. He hoped his master would be happy with it.
Glancing at the door, he wondered when his master would be returning.
Poor Col, eh? :( He's a little more damaged than Arthur realizes. But don't worry, he soon will... Although, some may not like the circumstances that causes the issue to arise. Hehehe, I'm a meanie. XD
I am trying, as I read through this for spelling and grammer errors, to make sure it doesn't sound too MinnesOtan. But I apologize if there are some phrases that seem wierd. I'm just so used to them, I don't catch them all sometimes.