Actually I didn't think this story would be as popular with you guys as it seems to be, but for Christmas, HERE YOU GO. An update on the story I HOPE you've been waiting for. Also, yes I refer to his father as an old man because, in the 1600's, you were ancient if you lived to 50. He's 45.
The next day, Silas stood with his father in the same room the old man had been in the day before, three body guards stationed around the room and Lord Balian once again behind his desk. Everyone, including the shadowy lord, was silent as Silas stood alone in the center of the room, looking down at his feet submissively.
His father looked like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.
"So you are Silas…" the deep voice stated, his tone as enigmatic as his hidden face.
Silas kept his blank eyes on the ground, hands hanging loosely by his sides. "Yes, my Lord," the scholar murmured in a quiet voice.
"Are you durable, my dear Silas?" Balian asked, voice curious and slightly suggestive.
Silas stiffened, eyes widening a fraction in slight panic. "In what way, my Lord?" he asked respectively.
The voice of the faceless lord chuckled. "You are well knowledged in respect. That is good. I meant, how much stress could your body take before you say, passed out?"
The blood froze in Silas's veins as he understood most likely what the lord meant, and the slight noise form his father said the older man understood as well. Silas cleared his throat and swallowed nervously.
"Ah…I am not exactly sure, my Lord. I have never…um….pushed myself that far," he said nervously, glancing at the ground on his right, red eyes no longer blank, but scared and worried.
Though the boy couldn't see Balian's face, not even his mask as even that was in shadow, he heard the smile in the man's next words. "Is that so? Then I will have to inspect the goods. Strip," the order came with the wave of a gloved hand at Silas.
The brunette couldn't help but take a shocked step back, and his father cried out in dismay. "Lord Balian! Please do degrade my son any further!" the old man begged, trying to step forward, only to be held back by a guard.
Silas's eyes were huge and this time held obvious shame and fear, his teeth were clenched, his face red in humiliation.
"He is no longer your son, Averheart. He is my property," the lord stated in a bored tone, gesturing once more to Silas. "Now, Silas. Do as I have said and show me the body I am to be receiving as payment."
Silas's teeth remained clenched, as well as his fists, but his eyes gained a determined look. "Yes, my Lord," he murmured, beginning to unbutton the red overcoat he wore.
His father struggled against the guard's hold on him. "No! Take everything! I'll give you everything else! Just…just Silas, don't!"
The son merely smiled sadly at his struggling father, taking off his waist coat as well. "Father, please. I couldn't bear it if you did that for me. It's okay," he said in a loving tone, though his voice shook slightly.
Balian was silent as Silas removed his shirt finally, and then removed his trousers, hands shaking more and more violently as he went. Said hands hesitated at his underwear, however, as if frozen. Balian stood, smiling slightly under the silver, dragon engraved mask he wore. He walked up to the frozen Silas, whose eyes, now a bright red color under the stress of the situation, were centered on this ground, wide as diner plates.
Balian's dark black hair, so black actual blue highlights were visible, surprised Silas. Because it was long. Though pulled back into a very loose pony tail at the nape of the lord's neck, the raven locks came down to Balian's waist, not to mention the fact that those weren't blue highlights created by the lighting, Balian's hair was actually BLUE where the color was, and there was some purple mixed in with it at well.
A white gloved hand slipped a finger under Silas's chin and tilted the boy's head up, mismatched eyes of purple and blue meeting with crimson. The mismatched gaze also surprised Silas. "There is no need to go any further. I can see everything I need to see as you are," he murmured, voice actually taking on a gentle tone.
Silas's eyes remained wide, staring into the mismatched eyes behind the mask of engraved, blank silver. The hand was removed in an instant, the lord beginning to walk around the shorter boy, eyes scanning his figure. Silas couldn't help but shiver under the intense, yet still beautiful gaze of the lord. Who had purple eyes, really? Let alone ONE purple eye.
He had to fight the urge to cover himself, and it was then that he realized everyone other than himself was very tense and silent, just watching the lord watch him.
"Yes…this is good. I can see you aren't used to hard labor, so therefore I must rule that out. Though, it seems you possess some natural muscle, so you should not be completely useless," the lord commented, his tone once again bored and distant.
"Tch!" said Silas, somewhat insulted. Though…it was true, he was very slim, but did possess light muscle.
"This is degrading!" his father shouted, once again struggling against the guard holding him.
Said guard held fast to him, yet his gaze, along with the other two's as well, was riveted on Silas's figure. The lord chuckled. "Nothing is degrading to him. He is my possession, my slave. An object to be used as I please. Isn't that right, Silas?"
The scholar's rage suddenly burst into being at being called an object. "No. Not right. Fuck. No!" he denied harshly, turning now burning crimson eyes on his owner. "I'm a person, slave or not! I have rights, and feelings. Though I understand the need to inspect me for further use, you could have at least asked the other's to leave or asked if I was comfortable doing as you asked! Acknowledged that I have a will of my own! I will do almost anything you ask, Lord Balian, but I am not an OBJECT!" he ranted, panting by the end of it.
As he had raged, he had made his way to standing in front of the lord without realizing it, chest to chest, his angry eyes glaring up into blue and purple. The lord's cold gaze was slightly amused, but Silas refused to back down, his red eyes boring into Balian's.
"Brave words to say, young Silas, when you are standing half naked in front of me as payment for a debt," the lord replied calmly, gloved hands grabbing Silas's upper arms. The smaller man's eyes dilated realization, anger leaving his expression as his eyes returned to blank red. He lowered said eyes and tried to step back, but was held in place by the lord's grip on his arms.
"Ah-ah. Don't think to run after such an outburst as that," Balian purred.
Silas remained still, pride shot and eyes hooded and blank once more. Balian frowned behind his mask, not liking that the brunette's fire was so easily doused. Perhaps an inferiority complex? He raised a hand to pet Silas's hair, a reward for being good.
"Good boy, Silas. Now, I do believe this meeting is over. Silas shall stay here, Mr. Averheart, you shall go. And, you may get dressed as well," the lord stated, stepping away from the boy.
Silas was shocked at how warm the hand on his head had been, as well as by how quick Balian's moods seemed to change, and looked over at his father as if in a daze. The man looked right back at his son and hung his head in shame.
"Forgive me, Silas. I love you," he said as he was practically dragged out.
Silas merely smiled and waved lightly at his father. "All is forgiven, of course, father. I love you as well," he replied, going over to collect his clothes and slip them quickly back on. Balian made a gesture at the guards, and one brought forward a black box, setting it on the desk as Balian sat down and they all left the room. Silas looked in confusion at his new owner and the box as he straightened his clothes.
Balian gestured to the box with his head. "This is for you. Wear it always so everyone will know you are mine."
Stepping forward hesitantly, Silas took the box and opened it, gaze snapping to Balian's blank mask of a face at seeing the contents of the box.
The man shrugged, his huge grin hidden behind his mask. "I can see you do not approve, but your opinion matters not. Put it on," he ordered boredly.
Silas grimaced, taking out the heavy solid silver collar in the box, the pendant where the tag for an animal's name was instead the Calervan family crest, which Silas was shocked to see was identical to the dragon on his mother's pendant. Gulping, he unclasped the back and put it around his neck, fastening it. The heavy silver felt cold and final against his skin.
Balian was still smiling behind his mask. "Good. That will never come off of you now. Once fastened, it can never be removed, it locks permanently, there is no key."
Silas gasped and brought a hand to the collar. "N-no….That's not even possible!" he whispered in a despairing voice.
"Hmn?" Balian purred. "You do not believe me? Then, I will swear to you this. Should you ever manage to remove that collar, I will give you your freedom."
Immediately, Silas pulled and felt along the collar, trying to find the seam where it had fastened and get it off. But there wasn't one, like it had fused together and made it one solid piece of metal. It was impossible to get it off. His shoulder slumped in defeat as he felt his freedom fly out of the metaphorical window.
Balian sat forward in his seat, setting his elbows on the desk and folding his hands. "Fear not, dear Silas. You have your whole life to work on it. Now, I shall call a carriage to take you to your new home."