Magic's Slave

laksdjhl 11 page chapter of DOOOOOOOM
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The rest of the week passed with Anders on pins and needles the entire time. When the Templar didn’t show up on the appointed day it made everyone in the Keep nervous. Everything had been prepared, the guest rooms were ready, and Thomais kept pacing in the courtyard until he was dragged off by a determined Zevran.

Later that evening however, a surprise of a different nature arrived.

Anders looked up from his baking with the cook with a horrified expression when he heard the fanfare. Barely a few seconds later, the door of the kitchen slammed open and Nathaniel rushed in, wild eyed. “King Alistair is here!” He blurted. “Come on Anders, Thomais wants us downstairs NOW!”

Anders dropped what he was doing and rinsed his hands in the small bucket Henri kept for such a thing, and then ran after his master. “What should I do?” He asked fearfully.

“Keep your head down. Don’t say anything unless spoken too, especially in the presence of his guards. They’re going to be Templar. And don’t do anything unless you see me give the okay first, or unless the King gives his okay.” Nathaniel picked up the pace.

Anders mulled over that in his mind as they sprinted along the corridors of the Keep, finally emerging in the main hall. Nathaniel barely reached his spot by the wall and Anders dropped to his knees to the right, when the door opened and Alistair walked in with a huge smile on his face. And no escort.

“Everyone, relax.” He waved a hand, “I didn’t make this a formal visit because I didn’t want any formality.”

Nathaniel sighed and relaxed a fraction of an inch, and of course, tensed up all over again when Alistair shot him a look, and then turned his gaze to Thomais and Zevran. “This is Rendon’s son, am I right, Thomais?”

Thomais quirked a grin. “Oh yes. And a Grey Warden now too. Broke into the Vigil before I got here, determined to lay traps and try to kill me. Took four of the Orlesian Wardens to bring him down.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “And you made him a Warden?” He clanked over to the large table and took a seat across from Thomais. “You seem to collect people that want to kill you, or who’ve tried to kill you.” He flashed a grin at Zevran, and then looked askance at Thomais. “Are you starting a harem, my friend?” He asked in a lighthearted tone.

The unexpected levity caught Thomais by surprise and he choked on his ale. Nathaniel, standing behind the table, also started choking, on his own saliva it seemed. Zevran and Alistair, on the other hand, burst into laughter while Anders tried to muffle his giggles.

After Thomais managed to get in a few good lungs full of air, he grinned back. “No, that one has his eye set on someone else I’m afraid. And this one would gut me if I even tried.” He gave Zevran an affectionate squeeze.

“I’ve become a very jealous man.” Zevran smirked.

“Well then.” Alistair’s grin faded nervously. “On to the purpose of my visit. After your letter, I wanted to meet this mage of yours and talk to him about what’s been going on at the Tower since…since Greagoir died. I know he kept the other Templar from doing anything extreme, but I don’t think he knew everything that went on in the Tower. In fact, I know he didn't. Honestly, after Irving died years before, I don’t think he much cared what went on,” Alistair mused.

Thomais motioned behind him to where Nathaniel was standing and Anders knelt on the floor. “He’s right behind me. Though, if you want to speak to him alone, you’re going to have to ask Nathaniel.”

Alistair stood up and held out his hand. “May I then, Nathaniel? I think it’s better if I spoke to him alone, if he’s willing to talk to me.”

Nathaniel looked down by his side with a sigh. “Are you alright with this, Anders?” He said softly.

Anders nodded and stood. “I’ll be fine,” He murmured.

“Good.”

“Wonderful then!” Alistair motioned to Anders. “Come along. I want to take this some place quiet. The library I think.” He looked to Thomais. "Is there a library?"

The elf grinned. "Anders can direct you."

Anders nodded and trotted along behind Alistair as they navigated their way through the keep. When Alistair motioned for him to take a seat, he did so, staring apprehensively up.

“I want you to answer me fully and honestly, alright?” Alistair stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t want you to hedge around the truth. I want you to tell me exactly how bad it was for you and all the others.”

Anders’ hands shook, but he nodded.

“Good. Now, I think I remember you. But I try very hard to not remember my days in training. You were there then, weren't you, Anders?”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty. I-I remember you, though. You and Carroll were always nice to us.” Anders replied.

Alistair snapped his fingers in remembrance. “Yeees. I remember you now. You’re the one that kept trying to escape.” He grinned. “And now it looks like you’ve finally managed it. How does it feel? Are you happy out here?”

Anders opened his mouth, and then closed it, thinking. “I… Yes, Ser. I’m very happy out here. Nathaniel is kind to me. He never asks anything of me, and complains constantly when I try to perform my duties.” He blushed. “The cleaning and such. He… almost hurt me last week. But he pushed me away before he let his emotions get the better of him.” Anders squeezed his eyes shut. “He’s a good master. And the Commander said if anyone was too… forward with me I was to tell him, and… he would take care of them. Or Zevran would.”

Alistair nodded. “I see. What about life in the Tower? What exactly did they do to you, to make you want to run away so many times?”

Anders paled. “Please, Ser. I don’t want to talk about that. Not ever again.”

Alistair nodded grimly. “I think that answers that question.”

Anders trembled. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Ser. But, the memories of that awful place… No one deserves that,” He mumbled.

“You’re right.”

Anders looked up on shock. “I’m… what?”

“You’re right. No one deserves that sort of treatment. I should have done something to put a stop to this sooner.” Alistair started pacing. “I want your help. Thom has already applied for three more from the Tower, but I need to know who is doing the worst.” He rubbed his forehead. “I need to know which Templar have been… abusing their power.”

“Rylok, Ser,” Anders said softly. “And Cullen.”

“Cullen?” Alistair blinked. “But he was… what happened?”

“Rylok, Ser. She’s what happened. When she couldn’t…” He flushed. “When she found out I don’t like women, she stopped trying to be nice.”

Alistair nodded. “I see.” Then he sighed and sat loudly into a chair. “Bitterness does strange things to people.”

“To be fair, Ser,” Anders said, trying to control his own venom, “She was a right bitch before she found out she couldn’t bed me. Even if I’d been particular to women it wouldn’t have been towards her, in the slightest.”

Alistair laughed. “You’re right, of course. The woman is a harpy.”

Anders merely sat there, biting his lip as if he wanted to say something.

Alistair caught the gesture. "Was there something else? Another Templar you wanted to speak against?"

Anders shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. I...just wanted to...thank you. For what you did for me. And for the others."

Alistair smiled. "Well, I'm not quite done with that yet, am I? I should thank you, Anders. For speaking out. Now, I suppose I’d better get you back to Nathaniel before he sends out a search party, right?”

Anders nodded, relieved. “Yes, Ser.” He stood, and then followed Alistair back out into the main hall.

“Wait a moment…” Alistair stopped him with a hand before they reached the door. “What Thomais said, that Nathaniel already had his eye on someone, what do you know about that?”

Anders flushed scarlet. “I think he meant me. But he couldn’t have. Mas… Nathaniel doesn’t know of my preferences and if he did, I doubt he’d want a slave.”

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. “I see. Well, let go on then, shall we?”

“I… Yes, Ser.” Anders nodded and hurried back into the main hall.

The talking ran late into the evening, but when Anders finally yawned and curled up on the floor, leaning against Nathaniel’s leg, the rogue decided he’d had enough.

“It’s time for bed I think.” He stood and stretched, his back popping noisily. He held his hand out to help Anders up and then guided the poor mage off to bed.

Alistair watched them until the door was closed, then he turned back to Thomais and Zevran. “Let me get this straight, that’s Nathaniel Howe? He seems far too gentle to be spawned from that bastard.”

Thomais chuckled. “Yes, though he doesn’t believe it of himself. I’m sure Anders will help him figure that out eventually.” He leaned on Zevran’s shoulder. “They do have the right idea though. It’s very late and we have no idea when the Templar are going to arrive.” He smirked. “I’d like you to stay out of the way, my old friend. I want to see how they act when their king is not in attendance.”

Alistair nodded. “I can see why. Don’t worry though,” he hastened to assure them, “If they deny you, I’ll give the entire weight of my authority to get those mages out.”

Thomais stood and clasped Alistair’s hand in his. “Thank you, my friend. It’s good that we can move on.”

Alistair grinned. “I’ve grown. I understand now that what you did was necessary. I don’t want it to hamper our friendship anymore.”

Thomais smiled broadly and then was nearly hauled from the chamber by Zevran’s hand around his waist.

Alistair sat staring into the fire until he finally heaved himself up with a sigh and left to the guest rooms.

The occupants of Vigil were startled from their slumber early the next morning by the fanfare announcing the arrival of the Templar. Thomais was not happy. “They camped outside our walls until morning I’m sure of it.”

Zevran chuckled as he stretched underneath the covers. “Well, don’t keep them waiting. It’s you they’re here to see, after all. I’m going right back to sleep.”

Thomais glared at him as he pulled his clothes on. “I’ll remember this. Just you wait and see.”

“Promises, promises.”

Anders was already up and dressed, having steeled himself to the notion of wearing the...costume...Nathaniel kept buried in his trunk. Tugging on Nathaniel’s arm, he was all but pulling him out of the bed. “Come on, Ser! You’ve got to get up, they’re here!”

Nathaniel stumbled around the room, pulling on his clothes. “I swear they were waiting for the perfect opportunity to catch us off guard.” He grumbled. “Now remember, Anders, you don’t have to do anything they say without my permission first. Though, I’m sure they won’t force you into anything strenuous, what with the King being here and all,” he said as they sprinted through the keep.

Alistair, meanwhile, was still asleep, and dreaming of cheese.

As they all assembled in the main hall, bleary eyed and blinking away the crusted tears, they formed an arc in front of the doors, with the Seneschal and Oghren in the middle, Nathaniel and Anders to the left, and Thomais on the right.

The door to the hall finally slammed open, Rylok leading the way, flanked by two Templar. Carroll, on her left, he recognized, the other was unfamiliar to him.

“Welcome to Vig--” Thomais began.

“I demand to know why we were kept waiting!” Rylok interrupted with a glare. “You don’t seem to need these slaves so very badly if you can afford to keep us cooling our heels for so long.”

Thomais’ eye twitched. “I assure you, Ser Rylok, that we wasted no time getting you inside. You see, most of us were still abed when the horns announced your arrival.” His tone was polite, but anyone who knew him could tell he was irritated.

“Still abed at this hour?” She sneered. “My Templar are awake much earlier than that, and the slaves before them. Must be nice to lie about all morning, while other people are working hard.”

Thomais smiled blandly. “Yes, you could say that.”

Her eyes flicked over to Nathaniel and then to Anders who was kneeling at his feet. “Who told him he was allowed to be on his knees? Slaves are to be on all fours, like the beasts they are.” Her lips curled into a cruel grin as she saw his hands clench. There was no missing the way her eyes raked over him, taking in how little the vest covered his upper body and the fact that the material of the pants left little to the imagination. “Though, I must say, it’s a good look for him. He practices often, I take it?”

Nathaniel let out a wry chuckle. “I do believe I’m allowed to command my slave any way I want to, correct? And whether he spends any time on his knees or not is of no concern to you. It seems to me like you never saw him in this position anyway, to be so… delighted by it now.”

Rylok’s hand clenched and she went for her sword and then stopped, startled by the sound of Oghren guffawing. “He’s got you there!”

Thomais bit the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter under control. “Now, Ser Rylok, I believe you were here to take a look around and determine if this was a suitable place?”

“I came here to test if you could tame the troublemakers,” she snarled. “Hand him over to me for the day. If I determine he has been suitably tamed, then you will have your permits.” She smirked. “I even brought them with me.”

Thomais shook his head. “I can’t allow you to do that. Any commands must be relayed through his current owner, then Nathaniel will decide whether or not to relay your commands to Anders.”

“No!” Rylok snapped. “You are not going to keep me from my job. If this mage cannot behave under my commands then he isn’t tamed properly and could still turn on you.” Her voice turned sweet. “After all, you wouldn’t want to wake up with half of your… arm burned off, do you?”

Thomais folded his arms impassively. “We either do this my way, or we can send for the King and do this his way.”

“You'd really drag the king all the way out here for something as trivial as this? Just hand it over.” Rylok was clearly getting impatient with them.

“We can do what my way?” Alistair stood in the doorway, hair disheveled and wearing breeches with a loose muslin shirt. Seeing all eyes now on him, he yawned and continued into the room.

“Alistair!” Rylok’s lip curled. “What are you doing here?”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “King Alistair, remember that Rylok. I’m not an initiate you can bully anymore. And to answer your question, I was here visiting my friend.” He clapped Thomais on the back and grinned.

She took a step backwards and bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty. My apologies. I will remember my place next time. But we are here discussing the suitability of this place to house more mages. The Commander won’t see fit to let me perform any tests to see if they have indeed tamed the one they already have.”

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t see any reason why your tasks would be any harder than Nathaniel’s. I am going to give him full discretion on what is appropriate for his slave though. Seeing as the man is his property.”

Rylok snorted. “If we're not doing this by our determined methods, then we're not doing it at all. I’ve no time for this middle-man nonsense. Come on." She motioned to her bodyguards. “We’re leaving.”

The group watched them leave with trepidation.

“Well. That didn’t work.” Alistair shook his head, looking apologetically at Thomais. “Looks like I’ll need to go to the Tower and get them myself. Though, without the papers, it’ll be hard, even for a king.” He grimaced.

The group remained together, quietly discussing what their next course of action should be. A few moments later Zevran entered through the front door, whistling. “That Templar lady left in a very big hurry. She bumped into to me and didn’t even apologize! But why do you all look so glum? I thought today was to be a good day, no?”

Thomais slumped, looking defeated. “Rylok refused test Anders. Not that I gathered it would have been done fairly anyway. On top of that, she took the papers for the others with her when she left.”

“You mean these papers?” He pulled a set of folded-up parchment from his pocket and held them up. “These look like ownership papers to me and if so, shouldn't be dropped so casually." He tsked. "Then again, it might be best if the king took a look at these. I’m not so familiar with your Ferelden legal terms.” He smirked.

Alistair plucked them from Zevran’s hand with a smile. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

Not even a minute later, Rylok stormed back into the hall. “I want them back! Now!” She glared around. “Which ever one of you slippery-fingered weasels has my papers, give them to me now!” She stomped her foot.

Oghren burst into another round of laughter.

She narrowed her gaze on Zevran. “You! Elf! You slammed into me; it must have been you that stole them. You dirty, little, knife-eared--”

Alistair cleared his throat, and tried his best to not laugh. "I'd mind the insults, if I were you, Rylok. You're not exactly endearing yourself to the Commander with them, nor to me. I gave the elves a place in the Landsmeet, did I not?”

Thomais grinned a little and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’d say our audience with the Templar is over now.”

Rylok took a step back. “You can’t just dismiss me like this!”

Alistair stood. “I believe we can. You aren’t the Knight-Commander, Rylok. Oh, and wait for me, would you? I’ll be needing an escort back to the Tower.”

Rylok paled and rushed from the room.

Nathaniel tapped his fingers on Anders’ head. “Do stand up, and follow me. We have a few things to talk about.”

Anders nodded and rose, ignoring his protesting knees. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Then he bowed, and followed Nathaniel from the room.

Alistair tapped his chin. “That’s a good man. When I return from the Tower with the other mages, I’ll be taking his collar off.”

Thomais narrowed his eyes. “About that. Alistair, would you follow me? I think we need to have a discussion, my friend.”

“Am I in trouble?” Alistair grinned.

“Not yet, I don’t think. The collar isn’t the issue. That’s a wonderful idea but,” He led the way to his study and shut the door behind them, "you and I need to have a little talk.”

Alistair nodded warily.

“After you get the mages, I want you to take one of them, Jowan, with you…back to Denerim.”

“What? Why? I don’t need a slave!” Alistair protested.

Thomais raised an eyebrow and tried a different tact. “Have you slept with Anora yet?”

Alistair sputtered and went bright red. “No, and don’t see what that has to do wit--”

“Why not?”

He coughed. “She’s taken up with that Cousland fellow. Fergus.”

“Mhmm. And are you still a virgin?” Thomais grinned.

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. “Not that it's really your business, but yes, I am. I haven’t found the right girl yet.”

Thomais started chuckling. “I don’t think it’s a girl you’ll be looking for, my friend.”

Alistair blushed even harder. “You don’t know that! How could you know what I like? I like women. I know I do.”

Thomais put on a very serious expression though he was itching to laugh. “Lampposts, Alistair. You compared licking a lamppost to having sex. If that’s not a sign that you fancy things phallic, then I don’t know what would be.”

Alistair started sputtering all over again. “But I was talking about licking something. Just in general, that was the first thing to--”

“You’re only proving my point if ‘lampposts’ was the first thing to come to mind. Sorry, you're not going to win this one.”

“So why this Jowan?” Alistair interrupted, eager to turn the conversation.

Thomais sighed. “From what Anders has told me, Jowan is going to take his place as the Tower’s favorite. And even not knowing what they did to him, I can’t imagine it’s going to be easier on Jowan.” He rubbed his forehead. “According to Anders, he’s a calm sort. Easily spooked. He’s going to need a gentle hand and a quiet life and we can’t provide that here, Alistair.”

Alistair nodded. “I see. I wouldn't exactly call court life calm, but you're right. It's better than this." He grinned.

“Just think about what I said. And see if it makes any sense later. And make sure that you keep this poor soul well fed, and comfortable.” Thomais grinned and then shoved Alistair out into the hallway.

On the other side of the keep, Nathaniel waited for Anders to enter their room before he shut the door and locked it. Anders gave him an odd look but said nothing. Nathaniel took a deep breath, then two, then started to speak. “I need you to tell me why she terrifies you so much.”

Anders shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t tell you what she did to me, what it means to be a favorite in the Tower.”

“Damn it, Anders!” A soft sound, nearly like a sob. “I need to know. I…” He took a deep steadying breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyelids fluttering shut. “She did something to you. Something that made you shake the entire time she stood there. I need to know.”

Anders shook his head again. “Why is this so important to you? Why do you have to know what she did to me? Do you just hate me that much that you need to hear every sordid detail?”

Nathaniel shook his head violently. “This is not about me,” he said and received a short bark of laughter from Anders. “This is about helping you! This is about getting you past everything that happened! I just want-” he choked. “Andraste’s blood. I just want you to be happy!”

Anders snorted. “Happy? No one wants their slave to be happy. Tell me, Nathaniel Howe, what do you really want?”

Nathaniel let out a shuddering breath. “Maker damn you, mage. I want you. I want you to want me. I want Anders, not ‘the slave.’ By the Maker, I don’t want to hurt you again! I want to be able to hug you and hold you and keep you as mine without this sense of duty or those damned papers getting in the way.” He took a step forward. “You want to know the truth? I like the power I have over you right now. And I hate myself for it. I hate that I enjoy the fact that I could order you to your knees right now and you wouldn’t resist me. You’d just… roll over and take it. But Andraste help me, I want you to fight. I want you to challenge me, I want…” He finally broke off and his shoulders sagged. “Maker help me because I’m just like my father.”

Anders stared. “Dominance. You crave dominance but over someone that can fight back. But not just a fighter, someone who cares for you… And not just for the sake of breaking someone.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Nate snapped his head up to stare right back.

Anders looked down from his challenging stare and balled his hands into the sheer fabric of his pants. “Well, fair is fair. If you're giving the truth, so should I,” he said quietly. “She never liked the fact that I never liked women,” he muttered. “She refused to think that it was just the way I am. She did her best to ‘fix’ me, to make me just like the others who lived for her every word.”

Nate’s eyes opened and he stared. “She…? That over-righteous hag!” His jaw clenched, and Anders saw the rippling of his cheek muscles.

“She never succeeded.” Anders took a step toward Nate. “When she realized she couldn’t, she threw me to the other Templar. You see, they never abused the women that way. Babies were too hard to explain away," he said softly. He reached a hand out, touched Nathaniel’s cheek. “You protected me from her,” he said softly. “You wouldn’t let her hurt me. Even when you knew she could have killed you for that comment…”

Anders was so close and he could feel the warmth of his bare chest through his own shirt. Nate took a step back, a sick feeling curling in the pit of his stomach, even as the lust flared and he felt his back hit the door. “You can thank King Alistair and Thomais for that. I just stood there and looked menacing. Anders, please!” He put his hands out and settled them on the mage’s shoulders. “Don’t do this out of some sense of gratitude. Please, don’t do this because you think I, above all people, deserve something.”

Anders tilted his head and smiled. “Are you afraid of me, Master?”

That one, damn word. He had to use that one word. Nate hissed, “Afraid? No… I’m not afraid of you Anders. I’m terrified.” Then he pulled Anders against his chest and pressed his lips to the others’ in a short, fervent kiss. He pulled back, half afraid the mage was going to bolt from the room again, but Anders just smiled lazily, almost catlike, and leaned forward to kiss him again.

“Maker’s breath, mage.” Nate let out a deep sigh. “You’re going to be the death of me.” Then he pulled Anders in tight to him, trying desperately to ignore the costume.

“You really aren’t your father,” Anders murmured quietly into his ear. “If the stories I heard were true, he would have just forced me by now. Forced me for the sake of having dominance over another living creature. So no, Nathaniel, you are not your father."

Nate couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped from between his lips as he held the blonde tight to his chest, daring to finally believe those words.