Bonds

She might have told me that once I'd laid eyes on the pond, once I'd touched its waters with my hand, that I could not have stopped myself from shedding my clothes and melting into the water for any treasure in the known world. She'd told me that the garden was singing. I heard it now, felt it in my blood, in my bones, in my soul. This was what magic was. This was what it was to be fae, to be part of the magic. I'd somehow forgotten this feeling, living for centuries among humans who knew no such connection. What did the mage feel when he touched this waters, I wondered? What was a human mage that made them stand apart from other humans but still so totally out of the realm of fae? Did this touch him at all? Did he understand what this meant for me? Would he still allow it if he did? Cradled in the water like a child newly born, I understood what Inlim meant about a sense of gratitude. Surely this was worth my freedom… I could happily serve this place for all my days even if it meant serving the human who held it, couldn't I?

The sun was setting, casting golden flares on the panes of leaded glass overhead, a thousand points of color. I stretched, relishing the simple wonder of cool water flowing down my back…and opened my eyes to find my new master watching me intently.

There was a catch in his breathing, something nearly imperceptible… but I’d become very good at perceiving the unspoken in my many years of servitude. The realization sent a shiver down my spine…He wanted me.

I flushed under his gaze, a tremor running through me, suddenly wishing for clothing. I knew the effect my unhidden nakedness could have on humans. Stupid, that I hadn’t considered that he might want THAT from me… He certainly wasn’t the first human to seek such service. I quelled the pang of revulsion that went through me at the thought. There were those who had taken me for the sake of power and pain – humiliation and torment had been their only goal. Such memories were all too recent.

He met my eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, and I had to look away. I thought on the compassion in his eyes upon first seeing me, the gentleness of his fingers as they tended my wounds, the quiet power in his hands as he painted magic upon me. This man’s attentions would certainly not be the worst I’d known. I might even enjoy it, if I allowed myself to.

"My lord, I didn't hear your approach…" I stammered, glancing toward my hastily shed clothing at the side of the pond.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to disturb you."

"Was your endeavor successful?"

"What?"

"You were called away…"

"Oh...oh yes, that. I suppose. As successful as such things may be."

"I apologize for my idleness, my lord, it's only…"

"Idleness? That was some of the finest work I've ever seen. If your idleness produces such wonders, I can only guess what your effort would accomplish."

"My lord?"

"Gray. And come have a look…"

I felt my face flush again as I avoided his gaze. I felt his eyes on me, regardless of whether he was actually watching as I dressed and braided my damp hair. He led me along the flagstone path, but I walked in the grass beside it, loath to lose contact with even the least part of the garden.

"See how it grows thinner as we reach the outer walls? This far out I've never seen anything but grass and a few venerable trees that manage to survive the drought with the dept of their roots. Occasionally there's a smattering of flowers, but those tend to wither without constant attention. Nydiel, this wasn't here half an hour ago…"

He made a sweeping gesture over the gently rolling rise beside the path, where the ground blushed under a dense thicket of ivy. The pale edges of the leaves seemed almost to glow in the last of the sunlight.

"I…I don't understand…"

"The garden did this. For you. You did it."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I tried to comprehend that. That so little effort on my part could accomplish anything at all, much less something as dramatic as the clothing of a hillside.

"I think I will do well here, my lord," I finally managed to breathe, turning to look at him. "Was…is there anything else that you wish of me?"

He was silent for a long time, letting my question hang in the air. He stooped and ran a hand along the new growth, closed his eyes, took a breath. I was suddenly acutely aware of everything he did. Waiting for his answer.

"There is…something else," the mage finally said, his voice very soft. He'd come so close that I could feel the warmth of his skin against the cooling evening.

"Anything you ask of me, sir…"

He paused for a long moment, looking at me and looking away again. He was still looking away when he spoke.

"I've always wondered…how elven seed would taste."

My breath hitched as the meaning of that caught hold of my mind. Silence stretched between us again, and he looked back at me with quiet desperation in his eyes, as if he feared my response. Absurd. He was my master and could have anything he wanted from me, and what he wanted promised to hold a great deal of pleasure.

"If that would please you, sir," I replied carefully, my mind racing.

"Would it please you?" he asked, his hands ghosting across my hips through clothing that suddenly felt less substantial than spider silk. I could only nod, not trusting my voice. I watched in rapt attention as the mage dropped to his knees before me. I was already half hard at the suggestion, at the sight of him kneeling there, looking up at me as he fingered the laces of my leggings.

How long had it been since anyone had offered me pleasure? More than a century… those who sought such service of me didn't often return the favor. Here was inarguably the most powerful man I'd ever called master, on his knees before me.

Gray's mouth was paradise. I groaned aloud and heard the sound echo in the silence as I fell victim to wet heat and swirling tongue. Had it ever been this good?

I felt the connection to this place and its magic spring back to sudden attention, and I opened myself to it. It seemed suddenly that the world sang with my joy.

Instinct brought my hands to the softness of his hair, holding him to the task. Impertinent and well beyond my station, but my master didn't seem to care. I ran my hands through his hair, and he purred, and I felt that I might die from the perfection of the sensation. I felt alive. As I hadn't felt since my capture, I felt…powerful.

There could be an eternity of this. This mage could hold me in thrall for the rest of my life. Hold me here, in this place. Hold me to pleasure like this. That realization more than any other shattered my mind and had me bucking gracelessly into the welcome heat as I found release. He was swallowing, the sensation suddenly too much. I fell to my knees, into his arms, my forehead pressed against his shoulder. His arms crossed my shoulders, pulled me into an embrace, into his hunger. And to be held thus was as wonderful as anything that had come before.

"Your thoughts?" he asked softly into my ear, his breath playing across sensitive flesh in a way that made me tilt my head to grant him greater access.

"I can only hope that you're pleased, my lord, for I should like very much to go on serving you in this way."

"How many times must I tell you, call me Gray."

"Gray, then, as it pleases you."

“You know, you could have anything you desire from me,” he purred into my ear, and I very much wanted the reality of lips and tongue there. I knew what he meant by it, of course. He was trying to offer me pleasure, and I was a fool not to embrace the offer. But the words he chose made bitterness rise in me, stung like a lash. Indisposed as I was from his previous attentions, I answered before I could school my voice with reason.

“I truly desire my freedom, my lord, no matter how great a blessing it is to serve you.”

And he was gone. Pulled back from me as if I'd burned him, sitting on his heels and looking at me with a bewildered pain. What could follow but rage? I hissed, closing my eyes, knowing that I’d damned myself, cursing the deathless streak of pride that had made me do so.

“I'm sorry…I thought…" He took a shuddering breath, looking away. "I was a fool to think that I could keep you here.”

Another silence, and I heard his voice catch, as if the next words were very difficult. “You… don’t have to stay. If you tried to leave, I wouldn’t bar your way. I… had hoped that you wouldn’t ask. At least not this soon.”

Impossible.

I spun quickly, turning to face him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“You would free me?” I asked desperately, reaching out and taking hold of his chin, making him face me, as he’d made me face him when I lay dying on the ground. He didn’t fight. And his eyes held such pain that I had to look away.

“I never meant anything else. I bought your freedom when I threw that bag of useless metal at the monsters who drove you here. There was never a time here when you weren’t free. I’d just hoped that it would be a bit longer before you realized that.”
Damn him! And damn me as well. I hadn’t asked. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask. I’d just assumed… and now that my life was my own for the first time in half a dozen human lifetimes, I hadn’t the slightest idea what to do with it.

I still felt the weight of debt upon me. Now more than ever. His kindness, all that he’d given me, it could have been waved away as a master’s indulgence toward a favored slave, as a man caring properly for a possession of value. Now… he’d given me life back. I owed him SOMETHING.

We sat in silence for a very long time, looking at each other, our eyes meeting only in brief, fleeting moments.

"I have to ask it, before I say anything more…How did it come to pass that a human mage should hold court over an elven garden?"

"I was born a serf in a small village in Gilcorim. The youngest of six sons. By the time I was twelve years of age my father and all five of my elder brothers had been taken to battle by our lord, and all of them had fallen there. I was taken the following summer. There was no bother about training. We'd been brought for numbers, not skill. I don't know if any of us were expected to live. You understand, this was toward the end of the war. Gilvrain had already been taken, the elven court toppled, fae of all sorts slaughtered on sight. We buried dozens each day. Everyone I'd ever known. And then one day, in the heat of battle… I called a fire. It was the first time I'd ever shown potential for magecraft. I was fourteen years old. I was pulled out of the infantry then, taken to be trained as a mage. I had no choice in it. I was made to do things that sicken me. But I played my talent well, and by the time I was twenty I was installed at Gilvrain in the king's court. The king was overthrown five years later. I never had any reason to be loyal to him, and so I promised my aid to his successor. It happened again. I arranged for laws to be written that essentially attach me to the garden; insomuch as I'm anything, I'm a fixture of the palace now. Whoever the king may be, I remain the archmage of Gilvrain keep. For two hundred years I tolerated the politics of it, tried to sway my king through advice. Some twenty years ago the king was especially worrisome. Cruel to his subjects. Hell-bent on conquering. I refused to tolerate that. That's when I found Kelgar. He…he was like the younger brother I'd never had. I taught him all that I could, and then I arranged for the king to die heirless. And I emerged from the garden to announce in a sufficiently cryptic fashion as to how the next king could be found. And they found Kelgar. For ten years, the kingdom prospered. And then Kelgar was killed in the battle of Galraid. His wife's brother stands as regent now, and does well enough, but nothing has moved forward. I hope that his son will take more initiative; there's still much work to be done in making Gilvrain a just kingdom."

No fault of his own, then, damn him. Nothing I could blame him for, hate him for. He had to be a just man, didn't he?

“If you have any idea of where you’ll go, I’ll do my best to see you there safely,” he finally said, looking off into the distance of the garden. I followed his gaze, the evidence of need apparent in the failing trees and barren patches. It called to me. Where else in the world would I find such as this? Where would an elf be more welcome, more needed, more cherished.

“And when I know where I’ll go, I’ll seek your aid. Until then… you’ve been very kind to me, Gray. Too kind. And your garden needs tending.”