A/N: This is attempt number two at Cameo Amalthea's prompt, "slave." She was looking for something a little different than "Yes, Master," and I like a challenge, so here we go! I'm glad I'm doing this now, rather than in the middle of AkuRokuRiSo month, as it's a little trickier, story-wise. It's already become clear to me that it has to be a multi-parter, haha.
Chapter One: An Impulse Buy
It was they boy's eyes that caught Axel's attention. Not the dead, vacant gaze in them, no, that he was accustomed to seeing behind the bars and chains that lined the slave market. He may only skirt the slave sector, but that was enough to see the worst that the trade had to offer. Broken spirits, disfigured bodies, creatures fit for little more than to be used until they finally gave out completely, and then discarded like so much trash. It was far from pleasant, but it was the way the world was.
It was there, just on the edge of the sector, that Axel's focus turned to the dull blue eyes, flat like unpolished stones, but still such a stunning hue under those lowered lids.
Perhaps it wasn't the best criteria to choose a slave by, but then, Axel had always been peculiar like that. He already had a house slave, a gift from his parents, when he had earned a ranking position in the Organization with his talent for fire. She, too, had brilliant blue eyes, a cornflower blue that sparkled when her master was kind to her. She came from the other side of the slave sector, a gently-trained thing, obedient, and fit for his status, but he'd chosen her for those lovely eyes, more than anything. He didn't need another, the dark-haired girl was more than adequate for the few tasks required to maintain his home, but then, no one ever needed slaves. The lower classes got by without them just fine, or so he'd heard.
But he didn't have time to stop and make the purchase. He'd already dawdled, and it was a critical day for his latest project. He spared a final glance for the battered boy, before long strides carried Axel away from the slave sector, and towards the hulking structure of the Organization.
Axel's day passed quickly, his mind on his work, but also flicking back to half-lidded cerulean. He manipulated a flame into the blue of high heat, guided it to shape the intricate apparatus Vexen required, his brow furrowed in concentration. If he could complete the project without any complications, he might be able to drop it off in the scientist's workshop and leave early, return to the slave market before the evening rush. Hopefully before the boy could be bought by someone else.
Of course, Axel could not count himself so lucky. Just a tiny error, an imperfection in the difficult metal, and he had to backtrack through several hours of coaxing the thing into shape. Axel was not a perfectionist, far from it, but Vexen was, and an irritable man, at that. Fixing the error now, despite the long hours, would save him from the man's ire later. So it was that the sun was already setting by the time Axel had finished crafting the apparatus to Vexen's specifications, oranges and reds filtering through the windows that lined one wall of his workroom.
Axel took a moment to bask in the warm glow, finally able to relax in a warmth that didn't sap at his strength the way his own fires did. Though, he decided, he did miss the blue of the midday sky, and the heart of the hottest of flames. The thought gave him a second wind as he collected himself and bustled back out into the streets, his feet following their usual path towards his home, although his intended destination was the slave sector.
In the gathering twilight, he had some trouble finding the merchant who had displayed the blue-eyed boy. Admittedly, he was more used to passing the slave sector without much thought, rather than entering it with purpose. He was certain that many of the other members of the Organization knew the place backwards and forwards, but Axel had little interest in the business, as a matter of course. But those blue eyes…he coveted them.
He was less visible in the low light, but Axel caught sight of the boy, unmoving, and in almost the same listless state as he'd been earlier that day. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy had moved much at all during the course of the day, and winced a little in pity. But at the same time, he was glad the boy was still there, instead of sold to another into an uncertain fate.
The grubby proprietor snapped to attention when he saw Axel's nod, his eyes quick to identify the silver chain of station hanging across Axel's chest. "Ser, 'ow might I help you?"
"That one." He gestured to the owner of the blue eyes.
"Nu'er thirteen, Ser? I have better." The man simpered and wrung his hands, before pointing out a young woman, and then a still-strong man, both with downcast eyes. "They'll be a lot more use to you than that'un. An' there's more inside, I keep the good ones—"
Axel cut him off. "I want that one." Catching the shifting posture of the owner, he snapped a small flame into existence. "And I will know if you cheat me." His voice cut cold, as threatening as the small ball of fire in his palm. Even he was not so naïve of the slave sector to fall prey to a scam.
The owner flinched. "Aye. Thirteen be the number, and the price, Ser."
The small fire dissipated. Axel produced the coins from his purse, holding them just out of reach. "And the papers?"
"Of course, of course!" Axel watched as the requisite papers were fished out of a strong box, and the man began scribbling in his ledger. "Your name, Ser? For the records."
"Axel Cendres, Rank Eight."
The scribbling paused at the addition of the rank, bloodshot eyes glancing at his customer, but returned to the task when Axel impatiently shook the coins in his hand. A few more scribbles, and then he laid the pen down and stamped the paper with his business mark. "Everythin's in order, then, Ser Cendres."
Axel examined the documents, letting the coins fall into the man's hands once he was satisfied. He nodded and pocketed the papers. "Very well."
The merchant chattered as he unlocked the chain securing the boy to his post, a mix of flattery and business, but Axel ignored him, instead giving his new acquisition a brief once-over. He was short, especially next to Axel's looming height, and as listless as Axel had first thought, those blue eyes barely flickering to acknowledge the change of hands. The shapeless smock he wore was even grubbier than the merchant, and he stank. Axel scrunched his nose in distaste. Well, he could be cleaned up, and with gentle handling, perhaps his eyes would shine like Xion's.
"Come along, then," Axel murmured, giving the boy's chain a light tug, urging him to follow for the rest of his trek home. It seemed to take him a moment to realize what was expected of him, but another gentle pull of the chain sent him into a stiff, shuffling gait. He was slow, and they'd barely gone a block before Axel realized he would either have to force the boy to move faster, or slow his own stride to accommodate him.
Axel stopped and turned to the boy, cocking his head. He kept his voice gentle and addressed him. "Well then. What shall I call you? Thirteen? I guess that will have to do for now. Thirteen, can you move faster?"
The blank expression he was met with was a little eerie, he decided, and the rest of the journey home was heavy with silence.
o - o - o
Once home, Axel had handed his new purchase off to Xion, still a little unnerved by the unresponsiveness of the boy. Her eyes had widened at his state, but she silently escorted him into the separate bathing chamber she'd been allowed, leaving Axel to the late dinner she'd prepared for him.
Xion had never known a cruel master, had never been unhappy enough with her lot to disobey, but she had heard stories of the slaves that had. More than that, she'd seen the slave sector, and knew what disobedience and cruel masters looked like. She recognized the empty eyes in the boy's face and tried not to wonder what had caused them to look like that.
"What's your name?" Xion asked. A slow blink was the only response, making her frown. "Well, we can at least get you clean. Can you do that?" The silence was answer enough.
"You poor thing," she murmured, pushing back her sleeves. She didn't expect a response anymore, and instead filled the quiet with gentle assurances as she pulled the filthy smock over the other's head. "I don't know why the master chose you, but I'm glad he did. You'll be safe here. He's very kind, he's never hurt me, and always makes sure I'm fed and comfortable." Her breath caught as she took in the pale lines criss-crossing her charge's gaunt skin. "We're so very lucky to have him."
Xion tossed the dirty garment into a corner to be thrown away later, and guided the boy into the washing stall. He was like a doll, nearly lifeless as she moved him under a stream of lukewarm water, not even flinching when the water sluiced over an angry wound on his side that had been hidden underneath the filth. Xion continued her mantra of soothing words, her hands just as gentle in her endeavor to wash him.
His skin was clean before long, but his hair was another matter. It was so matted and dirty that soap and water was of little help, and a brush would be just as useless. She would have to cut it, which would require her master's permission, she realized. So she left that for last. For the moment, she dried him off and led him to her modest quarters—likely they would share them, now—to find him something other than a towel to cover up with. Whether because he was young, or malnourished, or a combination of both, they were of a size, and Xion helped him into a pair of loose trousers and a shirt from her own wardrobe.
The boy blindly followed Xion to find their master. Axel was bent over a large book in his study, and Xion waited until he noticed their presence before she spoke. As kind as their master was, even he could get angry, and she'd already learned that interrupting him from his work was a surefire way to earn a punishment.
Green eyes flickered over the pair of them, and Axel found himself mesmerized by the two sets of blue eyes, only barely distinguishable from each other. "Yes, Xion?"
Xion dipped into a small bow of supplication. "Master, the boy's hair is too tangled to save. With your permission, it may be better to cut it." Axel nodded. "And there is another thing. He is badly injured."
Axel frowned. Of course, the boy was damaged goods, he had to be, in that corner of the slave sector, but it hadn't occurred to Axel that he'd still bear unhealed injuries. And the boy had made no indication that he was in pain on their walk home.
"Show me." When the boy didn't move to comply, Xion took over the task, nudging him forward and lifting the shirt to reveal his torso.
Axel cursed softly as he finally got a good look at his purchase. The stark outline of ribs under scarred, greyish skin, that he'd expected, but the weeping gashes across the boy's flank was a surprise. Not that it made any difference. Axel had bought the boy, and had had every intention of keeping him from the start.
"What'd you do to deserve this, kid? Xion, get the salve. And bandages." Xion placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder before leaving the room. Axel eyed the boy's hair next. It was still wet, and dark with dirt, full of matted clumps that stuck out in spikes, and, as Xion had said, would have to go. "I suppose you probably have lice, too." Axel ran a hand through his own hair, healthy, long, and brilliant red. "Well, I'm glad you were so cheap. Thirteen coppers for Thirteen, eh?" He let out a little chuckle. "Anyway, let's get this over with. Sorry I don't actually have scissors, don't use them much, so a knife will have to do. Not in here, though, don't want to make a mess."
Axel pulled his hair into a ponytail and steered Thirteen through a door and into his work room, flicking a hand to light the lamps lining the walls. "You're not allowed in here without me. Don't forget it," he instructed, voice firm. "There is no lock, but a wrong move could blow the whole place up." Thirteen didn't offer any indication that he'd heard or understood, but when Axel picked up the knife from a table, there was a flicker in his eyes. He hunched into himself when Axel stepped close and began shearing the clumps of hair.
Axel didn't notice the new tension until he heard the soft cries as he worked. He stopped and backed up a step. "Hey, hey, what's this? It's just hair. It'll grow back." Thirteen's eyes had a spark of fear in them, now, and Axel followed his gaze to the knife he'd been using in lieu of scissors. "Hey, I'm just cutting your hair. I'm not going to hurt you. Geez. You're more likely to get burned than cut in here, anyway." Thirteen was quiet when Axel returned to his task, but the tension was still there, tears still tracing down his cheeks. Deciding there was nothing for it, Axel finished as quickly as he could, being careful to keep his word and not cause any new injuries.
Xion was waiting at the door of the work room when Axel finished, holding the jar of salve and some bandages for him. "Thank you, Xion. I'll need to draw up some instructions for you to deliver tomorrow, so put out my writing supplies. And Thirteen may need to eat, so you can prepare something for the both of you once that's finished."
Xion nodded, sparing a pitying look for the other slave, before turning to her new tasks.
Xion had flinched away from him, at first, because even the most obedient slaves never knew what to expect from a new master, but he was clear and fair, and Xion knew that she had a better lot than most slaves. Axel hoped Thirteen would learn that, as well.
If he ever did more than cry or shuffle around like a dead thing.
Despite his reaction to the knife, Thirteen didn't flinch away from Axel's hands as he applied the salve. "Looks like a brand gone wrong," Axel muttered. "A second-degree burn, that's this," Axel traced a finger along one edge of the wound, "but here in the middle, it's like they dug into it to make the shape more pronounced. I wonder if that's why the knife bothered you, hm? But this has to hurt, and you're not even flinching." Axel bandaged the wound with an irritated sigh. "Branding isn't even an accepted form of identification anymore!"
o - o - o
To Axel, slaves had always been more like useful pets, than anything. Thirteen wouldn't be useful for a while, if ever, but he was still a pet, and Axel was excited about his new acquisition. He was determined to fix him up and at least make him look like he belonged in a ranked man's household. Which meant ordering new clothing, and of course a metal band to circle the boy's neck, rather than the plain slave's collar that hung there now. Some lotion to combat the possibility of lice. A doctor to make sure the boy had a clean bill of health, beyond the ugly brand.
It was almost fun, too, until he saw the listless blue eyes, and remembered he would have to treat this one with special care.
Axel traced patterns of fire in the air while he waited for sleep to come. He could be patient, right? Thought the man who'd just made an impulse buy. He chuckled to himself.
Xion found it difficult to sleep, that night, with Thirteen huddled into a corner, eyes still gazing flatly ahead. Axel was kind, but broken spirits weren't easily mended.