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AI Fic: All That Time, Silent Still (4/29)
TITLE: All That Time, Silent Still
AUTHOR: Mari
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Mavid, Tiedam, miscellaneous hints of others both slash and het.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own this sandbox, and all of the sandbox games played within are entirely fictional.
SUMMARY: Civilizations have crashed before under the impact of one great catastrophe. Make it two, and what’s left behind is barely recognizable. Slavefic AU.
CONTAINS: Coercive themes by definition; sex, violence, language, and torture both onscreen and off. Contact me if you want or need to know more.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three



Part Four

Most of the upper-class homes derived their power from solar panels placed on their roofs, and generators powered by precious petroleum when there were clouds covering the sun for long enough to wear out the stored power in the panels’ batteries. Unfortunately, the batteries wore down frequently. Volcanic explosions in the western half of the continent decades before had wrought climate changes that had yet to dissipate; the climate for growing crops in the Midwest was nowhere near what it had once been, and they were still doing better than most. Every couple of years, they even shocked themselves and had a surplus. The oligarchy in St. Louis was always quick to take advantage of that fact in service of Eastland’s war efforts, and the aristocracy’s to turn a profit.

David glanced out the window at the house that he had seen every day for so long as he had been old enough to remember, wondering what it must look like for the first time to the slave riding up top with Jason. It was big, large enough to be called a manor, especially when one took into consideration that it had been constructed entirely of stone that had given it a leg up on all of the years that had passed since stone construction had come back into vogue for its durability. The blinking black panels like insect eyes that covered most of the roof were the only thing that stopped it from being right out of an Austen novel, the kind of book that David was not supposed to have read, because of the individualistic themes. It almost distracted from the low wooden barn shoved behind the house, and the fields lush with the last winter crops they would be able to get beyond those. The horses were still lovely, though, no matter how many times David saw them. He hoped that the slave above was able to appreciate their long, clean lines the way that David did. He hoped that Jason had been able to have a conversation of sorts with him on the way to the estate. He trusted that Jason would be able to walk the line between reassuring the new slaves that he was not going to be dismembered and fed to the dogs as soon as the carriage came to a halt without actually tipping his hand as to how David’s estate was different from others. Not when David still not given Archuleta the all-clear after over a month of ownership.

Speaking of. Archuleta had remained in his seat without speaking for the entire duration of the ride back; now that they were out of public, he wasn’t trying so hard to be the perfect body slave, or maybe he was now just so anxious that he could not hide it any longer. The biggest things on his entire body, David swore to God, were his eyes. David sighed. “It’s fine,” he said.

Archuleta shifted about. David decided that he was going to pretend that it was because the carriage was just now coming to a halt, and his roads were no fucking better than those run by the government. He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Get my study ready for me. I have a lot to do,” he told Archuleta. “All right?”

Archuleta’s nod was almost pathetically grateful to be given something to do, and he leapt out of the carriage so fast that David almost snatched him back for fear that he was going to get himself crushed beneath wheels that had not had a chance to stop completely moving yet. He didn’t think that the freewoman that he had spoken with earlier had been exaggerating for effect when she had claimed that it would take weeks to get opiates, and they had so precious little on hand as it was. But by some miracle Archuleta hit the dirt with only a slight stumble, collected himself, and then was bounding off into the house before David had even reached the carriage door. He still remembered his training enough to not slam the door, but just barely.

David followed at a more sedate pace, glancing up at the driver’s seat and the space directly beside it as he went. Jason had retrieved a blanket from the long metal box behind and draped it around the new slave’s shoulders as they had ridden along; he was putting it away again as David’s boots touched the ground. David pretended that he did not notice. He did, however, put his hand up to help the slave down from the bench at the same time that Jason was engaging the brake and leaping down from the other side. There was a beat of hesitation, and then a strong, warm hand was clasping David’s own while the slave clambered down to the ground. He was cold, and tired, and undoubtedly hadn’t been eating anything remotely near an adequate diet over the past few weeks, and so David guessed that he should have realized that the chances of him falling were high before he managed to touch earth again. It was more of a stumble, really, and David could feel the slave stiffening in horror almost immediately, but for one long, damnably lingering second they were thigh against thigh and shoulder against shoulder again, and this time without David being so scared for what might be happening to Archuleta that he could scarcely think straight. And there was heat. David jerked back as soon as he realized what what was happening, leaving only his fingers curved about the slave’s elbow to be certain that he was not going to fall again.

“It’s fine,” David caught himself saying as he remembered to disentangle himself.

“Yes, master,” the slave murmured, eyes cast towards the ground. David still startled slightly to hear the new title, never mind that it was the appropriate address from the point at which the collar had been fastened around the new slave’s neck onwards. He shared a glance with Jason instead, trusting on the new person in their mix to be studying the ground too hard to actually pick up upon it. Jason had his hand fastened to the lead horse’s bit; he met David’s gaze and lifted his shoulders, very slightly. No way to tell.

Wasn’t as if he had never dealt with difficult situations before. David inclined his head in Jason’s direction and watched as Jason started leading the team towards the barn before he started walked to the door of the house. The slave followed him automatically, still limping just slightly. Maybe the indentations that David had noticed were going to turn out to be bruises in their own right. He was shrugging off his coat within seconds of being inside of the house, it was such much comparatively warmer than it was outside, but he still saw the slave tilting his head back as soon as the door was closed behind, taking a few seconds to enjoy it before he knew that David was paying attention to him again. David took an extra-long time to unbutton his coat buttons before he handed the garment off to the lovely, dark-haired woman who had drifted into the front hall as soon as she had heard the door open.

Carly paused when she saw that David had purchased a slave, and her fingers stilled as they smoothed the jacket across her arm, folding it away without putting a single wrinkle into the wool. The look that she cast David managed to say universes without moving a single muscle in her face; there was a dull, brushed-steel collar poking up over the neckline of her dress. Even among the slaves that David had known--and at this point, they numbered a lot--no one could hide their simultaneously hide their emotions and speak them more plainly than Carly. That still didn’t mean that he was knew all of the nuances of the language, just that he had picked up enough to keep himself out of too much trouble. In this case, he had a feeling that Carly would be entirely willing to call him an idiot in terms that he could understand later.

“Here,” David said softly, and took the new slave’s wrists without asking permission. Archuleta had procured a key from the trader sometime between retrieving the carriage and getting in, though David had absolutely no idea how, and kind of thought that the kid might in fact turn out to be made of magic. Not magically enough to wish himself free. It was thoughts like that that made it hard for him to remember that he was young and wealthy.

David could feel himself frowning and did not bother to hide it, never mind that a brand new slave who had no idea what to expect in the household did not need to be seeing that shit. He inserted the key into each of the new slave’s wrist manacles as one and released them, briefly pressing his thumb into the same purple-red weals as those that he had been wearing on his ankles when the trader had released those. Had David been a better person, he guessed that he would have had the carriage pulled over and released the slave as soon as they were out of sight of the St. Louis city limits, but if he was not such a damnable coward, he supposed that he would not be owning slaves at all.

Carly had snatched the chains out of his hands and clubbed him over the head with them so hard that he had seen stars for days as soon as she had been free, and Kristy fucking Lee of all people had been the one to get between them so that she would not finish the job. The new slave stood so very still that David was tempted to curve his fingers against his wrist to make certain that he even still had a pulse and not found a way to die upright, but there was enough of the crackle of the same skin-against-skin, the same as when David had helped the new slave down from the carriage, as it was. He was a good-looking man in spite of the scars. David was still not a rapist. That ended it.

He stood back with the chains still clutched in his hands, fought back the urge to hurl them to the side. “Carly,” he said with a calmness that he did not feel, “make sure that he gets something to eat, something to wear, and a place to sleep.” To the slave, “We can talk more in the morning.” Eerily still face or not, David noticed that he could not stop his eyebrow from jerking up at the implication that what they were going to be having was a discussion, rather than David issuing orders and the new slave following them. “Your ribs. Are they broken?”

“I--no.” The slave shook his head.

“If you puncture a lung--”

“Master,” the slave broke through, and then looked slightly horrified. David did not know if it was due to the address, or to the interruption. The swiftness with which his shoulders become a series of tightly coiled knots testified to the latter. “They are only bruised. I have felt broken ones before.”

David tightened his grip about the chains so that he would not give in to that urge to throw them. It would be better if he vented that kind of spleen outside, anyway. He was fairly certain that he could get them to go far. “All right, then.” Carly stepped up to the new slave’s side so that she could lead him away. “What’s your name?”

They both paused and looked faintly surprised. The slave’s was likely due to being asked at all, and David had little doubt that Carly’s was due to the fact that David had not found out before now. It had been...it had been a day.

“I am whatever you want to call me,” the slave said. He was good; David had to be watching for it in order to see the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“But what’s your name?” David insisted.

“I--” It had been the longest that there had consistently been someone sitting behind the slave’s eyes since David had found him. “Michael. My given name is Michael.”

“Michael.” David nodded. “I’ll speak to you in the morning, then.” Carly led Michael away, her fingers curved around his elbow in the same way that David’s had been when he had stopped Michael from falling. David had no doubt that Carly’s touch was the far more welcome.

He sighed and then turned towards his study, deeper in the house. It was not until he was inside, and the door shut behind him, that he realized he was still holding the chains. They made a very nice dent in the wall; David did not even realize that they had left his hands until the echo was clanging away.

“Fuck,” David said up to the ceiling. “Fucking fucking fuck.” He pinched at the bridge of his nose and wondered if his headache could be counted as severe enough to dive into the analgesics now before he finally noticed that there was a fire burning in the grate, and Archuleta had helpfully straightened out the perpetual clutter on the enormous cedar desk that was almost a dining room table and had actually seen the first of the volcanic explosions that had changed the climate. David froze, studying the desk, and then muttered another obscenity beneath his breath. He stalked in a slow circle about the study so that he could examine the bookshelves, the drawers, the desk itself. Nothing had been moved save for what David had given Archuleta clearance to move. The drawers on the desk were still locked. All the same, David pulled the keys from his pocket and, upon unlocking them, watched carefully as the hairs that he had placed so that the tiniest shove would dislodge them fell away. It was only then that he sank down into the heavy leather chair and put his face into his hands. It was several minutes before he could even move to pull out the slip of paper that he had secreted away on his person hours before. It was so battered and worn by that point that David was afraid that he would be unable to read it at all.

We need more.

Well. David guessed he was lucky that it was a simple message, then. He thought about dropping his face into his hands again, but forced himself to stand inside so that he could throw the paper into the fire. After the scrap had curled away into nothing more than ash, David returned to his desk long enough to pick up the phone. Several clicks echoed over the line as David was dialing, just like always, and just like always, David wondered if the clicking was supposed to distract people from the other ways in which their conversations were actually being monitored. He was going to have to break his own rule and dive into the medical supplies if this headache got much worse.

The line rang several times before a man’s voice answered, “Yes?” He already sounded snappish, and David hadn’t even had a chance to speak yet.

“Mayer.” David leaned back further into seat. “I need to speak with you about something in person.”

“Am I going to regret giving you the direct line?”

“Probably. But I didn’t feel like waiting for thirty minutes while someone first tried to find you and then tried to get up the nerve to interrupt you. I’d like you come over so that we can speak about a business proposition.”

“Really.” David could imagine Mayer sitting up straighter in his own study, and his expression suddenly becoming sharp and calculating. “So you’re finally ready to commit further?”

“I can’t stay out here in the middle of nowhere and hope that the land holds out forever,” David answered. His tone was light, easy; even to his own ears he was convincing. “Tomorrow night at eight?”

“Welcome to the fold,” Mayer said, and hung up. Tomorrow night, then. David set the phone back into its cradle and laced his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, propping his feet up on the edge of the desk. There were bookshelves in this room, filled with the approved literature of the state, much of it bad and all of it boring, telling tales of one’s duty to their government, to their people, about heroes virtuous and true who had done whatever it took to uphold both. There were the books that David had been smuggled by his parents as a child, hidden behind locked doors in their cases and also with hairs to mark when they had been disturbed, which had instead said that there were certain things that were right and certain things that were wrong, and it didn’t matter what anyone else said on the matter if you knew that they were committing the latter.

There had been spies in those books, too. Andrew had always thought that the spies were cowards. It had been a good thing that Andrew had not been the first son.

A soft knock at the door startled David; his boots made a clumping sound as he brought them heavily back down to the floor. “Come in,” he said, already knowing who the person on the other side of the door was going to be.

Archuleta slipped in, dressed in loose drawstring pants and a cotton shirt that clung to him. “Do you have further need of me tonight, sir?” he asked. Body slaves who could not satisfy their master’s needs soon found themselves belonging to other masters, and very likely in lower and even more dangerous statuses than providing warmth and entertainment within a bed. Archuleta was unlikely to make a successful body slave to any other master, anyway, for when he was not in public he had one of the most open faces that David had ever seen.

“No,” David said after a long moment, and watched Archuleta shiver back as if David had tried to strike him. “I’ll deal with the fire myself when I’m done in here.” He could see the boy pressing his lips together to avoid blurting out that that was not what he had meant. “Go get some sleep, Archuleta.”

“Yes, sir.” Archuleta turned, but his shoulders were still tight, and David could see that it was only an extreme act of discipline that was keeping him from clenching his hands into anxious fists.

“Archuleta,” he called. The kid pivoted back so smoothly that David was tempted to check his feet for wheels. “I don’t blame you for what happened earlier today.”

“Thank you, sir.” That didn’t erase any of the tension from Archuleta’s body, but he was looking David in the eye, and David was willing to take all of the progress that he could get. He glanced towards the boring, false, evil books that he was supposed to have grown up on. Spies never came to good ends in them. Funny, they often didn’t come to good ends in the books that he was not supposed to know about, either. But sometimes they did. He had had to trust everyone here, sooner or later, and it had not brought him to a bad end yet.

“And I want to make it clear to you,” David started, leaning forward across the desk at Archuleta and lacing his fingers together, “that I do not force myself upon anyone unwilling to get into my bed with me, and I don’t allow anyone else to do it, either. Not in this house.”

Archuleta’s mouth fell open a little; thank God they were not in public. “I am your body slave, sir,” he said finally. “I am always willing to get into bed with you.”

There was a sour taste in David’s mouth. “The fact that you’re not allowed to be unwilling doesn’t make you willing,” he said. “Go to bed, Archuleta--go to your bed. And put something warmer on, Carly’s going to be turning the heat down soon.” The solar panels on the roof had busily been gathering energy all day, but the batteries would still run out before morning if they were used too liberally.

“Yes--yes.” Archuleta turned and left. David could still see the faint amazement written across his face, and knew well why. While David had not technically said anything that crossed a line--Archuleta belonged to him, and he could do or not do whatever he liked--acknowledging that there were lines which existed that had not been set by a small group of very powerful people in the capital was dangerous enough to put David’s life into Archuleta’s hands almost as much as Archuleta’s was already in David’s.

He laced his hands behind his head again, stared up at the ceiling, and pondered next moves.

End Part Four

Continue to Part Five