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defendersofaurita · 5 years ago

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Title: Retrace III: Subjugation

Author/Artist: AnchoredTether

Rating: M [graphic depictions of violence, major character death, dark themes]

Pairings: Plance [Pikelavar], Kallura [Thunderyun]

Series: Defenders of Aurita

Chapter: 14/?

Summary: Meklavar has a formidable secret. Pike has an objective for which he’s willing to kill. Despite their odds, they might have a chance of realizing their seemingly impossible desires if they fight for them together. Revelations are brought to light, quests align, and their hope lies in the power of a common cause.

Aurita is on the brink of desolation and it will require more than courage and sacrifice to save what is left. As the stakes continue to rise, what was once a fight for restoring a broken kingdom turns into a war far more sinister.

CH14 :: RETRACE III : SUBJUGATION

][ CHAPTER WARNINGS ][ This flashback chapter is all about Pike's family during their time in slavery. As to be expected, this chapter has very dark themes including subjugation, violence, abuse, death, and implied/referenced nonconsensual sex. With that in mind, the rating for this chapter is still M.

][ music ][

The worst part of it all was that she heard it coming.

And she was powerless to stop it.

In the middle of a warm summer night, Sapphira heard the footsteps of their intruders, the incantations of their spells, the screaming of her children. She heard the frantic beating of their terrified hearts as the nightmare unfolded and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Magic was a powerful thing, especially when it was mana-based used against a race that couldn't wield or even sense mana. They were slaves to the spells long before they were ever shackled and sold. Their resistance was in vain, the magic holding them down or even shocking them when they fought back. She wanted to continue fighting but at some point she lost the energy. It became too painful to struggle and she didn't want to cause further harm to her unborn child.

The dark carriage ride felt like an eternity with her shaking children huddled around her, her husband's presence close and shielding them from whatever harm would arrive next. When they reached their destination, hands yanked them onto their feet and led them to the last place they would ever truly all be together.

It was upon a stage, chained and shackled in front of a crowd of people wanting to buy them.

She will never forget the moment her two eldest sons were torn away from her and she was likely to never see them again. As the destruction of her family rent its course, Sapphira could do nothing but watch in frozen horror. She watched numbly as her husband screamed and fought against his chains, his collar shocking him for his retaliation as he crumpled to the ground, her sons sobbing and screaming as they were pulled off the stage. The price paid for her children was a mockery. It caused the blood to boil in her veins and for the numbness to subside as she clenched her fangs.

"The next khaliit is a girl of six years, blue eyes, strength rating four, intelligence six, health eight. Starting wage: 80,000 gold."

Veronica. She was priced far higher than her older brothers and Sapphira had to wonder if it was merely because she was a girl or because she inherited her blue eyes - a trait considered "exotic" among their kind. Both considerations made her sick to her stomach, the nausea beginning to rise up in her throat like a snake. Sapphira dreaded how much she would be sold for considering she had blue eyes, red markings, and both stripes and spots in her markings - three separate rarities in khaliit genetics. Veronica may have had blue eyes but she had common brown stripes like her father.

The bets were laid, wealthy men and women shouting against their odds and Veronica was sold to a man for 110,000 gold. Before they yanked her away, she looked back to her mother and it was in that moment of locking terrified gazes when Sapphira passed the stage of absolute shock at their predicament and finally broke down in tears.

Her next daughter Rae was sold for hardly 7,000 gold to a different master than Veronica's or their older brothers'. Sapphira figured it was because Rae was only three-years-old and she had common amber eyes and brown stripes, but it still broke her heart that her daughter would forever feel her worth was significantly less. She was old enough to understand numbers. She was old enough to understand that was what the world thought of her: nothing more than cheap labor.

Sapphira was granted a small shred of hope when her husband was sold for 130,000 to the same master as Veronica. At least she can grow up with her father... at least two of my children will have one of their parents with them. Even if she was torn from her entire family she had the minuscule peace of mind that she couldn't be separated from her unborn son. Lionel and Merik had each other and now Veronica had her father Kahedin. Her heart still ached for Rae, the one who would grow up never knowing any of her family...

"The mother is thirty years old, expecting a boy, blue eyes, exotic markings, strength rating seven, intelligence eight, health nine. Starting wage: 200,000 gold."

Sapphira felt her heart skip a beat. She was not expecting to be worth that much, so much more than her husband who was far stronger and more capable for slave work... but then she remembered she was exotic and she was carrying a son who would grow to be like his father and possibly inherit her features. Not all slaves are bought for the purpose of manual labor... she realized as the room began to spin more violently.

She watched her fate bounce from bidder to bidder, her future lying solely on the measure of wealth and greed. Her joined hands in front of her clenched within her cuffs and she could feel her son kicking restlessly inside her, almost as if he felt just as terrified and uncertain. She unclenched her fits and moved her hands reassuringly over her protruding stomach to try and calm her child. Tears spilled from her face as she thought about her son who would grow up never knowing about the freedoms his siblings had enjoyed, however brief. Her grief overtook her senses to the point that she didn't even notice the bids or hear what her final selling price surmounted to, instead focusing on the tiny heartbeat inside her.

It wasn't until the chains connected to her wrist cuffs yanked her hands forward, did she realize she was being dragged towards the same man who bought her husband and Veronica. She felt a slice of guilt at the joy that blossomed in her chest since she still lost over half her family, but a part of her was relieved with the knowledge that Pike would now have a father, and Veronica a mother. At least she could continue to raise two of her children as much as the constraints of slavery would allow her.

She sobbed for the duration of their ride to their new prison, feeling broken and hollow as she held Veronica close and Kahedin embraced them both within the darkness.

][ --- ][

][ music ][

Harkon Volkihar was a wealthy elf desperate to win the affections of a woman whom his money could never buy. In his numerous vain attempts to court Amara, the servants suffered the brunt of his disappointment. It was easy to place the blame upon the slaves and that it was their shortcomings which caused the woman to not show any interest in him; if only the fine china was better shined, or his coat more intricately tailored, or the food served at a hotter temperature, then things would have surely gone better by now.

It was easy to take out his frustrations with reprimands and physical violence. It was easy to send an ounce of mana to their collars and give them a wave of excruciating pain. It was easy to remove all his accountability and place such a burden on someone else.

Harkon Volkihar lived an easy life and would never change his ways.

Pike Cimclan lived a life of hardship and never understood the concept of hope.

When Pike accidentally knocked over a crate of fine wine at the age of four, Volkihar in his anger told him a poison that seeped into his bones and became a hardened truth:

"Once a slave, always a slave. You will never amount to anything more than the animal you are. You were born a slave and you shall die as one."

And that's what Pike believed.

His father died only a year prior and he was just waiting for the inevitable day when his mother or sister would die as well. Slaves didn't live very long from the hard labor and trauma so he knew his days were numbered. He saw what happened to his family when they rebelled or resisted or even hesitated to do what they were told. Pike grew up knowing nothing beyond submissiveness and fear.

Sapphira did all she could to try and help him see differently despite their dark circumstances. It was her constant struggle as a mother to encourage her son that he was more than a tool, more than an animal, more than a number.

"Why'd you make me a cake?" Pike asked on his fifth birthday. He sounded confused, one of his ears swiveled back.

Sapphira let out a small laugh despite the concern that churned in her stomach. "Because it's your birthday, Pike. We need to celebrate."

He asked the classic question of all children, his head tilting. "Why?"

She bit her lower lip for a moment as she tried to piece together a response that would get through to him, but luckily Veronica was in the kitchen as well and piped up from her workstation. "Everyone celebrates their birthdays, Pike."

"But we're slaves," he explained as if it weren't obvious. "Slaves don't celebrate birthdays."

"If the master told you that, it is only his opinion and not fact," Sapphira countered soothingly. "Everyone has the right to celebrate their birthday, and you should not feel ashamed for eating a treat that was made for you, meant for you."

Pike still looked uncertain, his eyes lowering and his head following with flattened ears. His voice was barely above a whisper. "But what if you get in trouble?"

Her expression softened and she crouched down so she could be on eye level with her son, her hands finding place on his small shoulders. "Pike... a mother must always do what's best for her children. I would suffer through whatever pains it took to make you happy." She moved a hand to lift his chin up and his blue hues eventually followed to meet hers. "Alright? It's okay to have some cake. I even made your favorite, three-milk."

His ears perked forward excitedly. "Three-milk?"

"Yep!" She ruffled his hair and stood up to dish out the cake for them to eat. She felt her worry ease when she saw a glimpse of happiness in her son's face as he ate. It was nothing compared to the ideal childhood she dreamed of giving him, spent with days playing by the river and earnest hard work on the farm. But to see his eyes shine and his tail curl up was enough to keep her going. After a moment of silence between all of them, Sapphira prodded softly, "Pike?"

"...yes?" he answered mid-chew, his body stilling as he sensed the seriousness in his mother's tone.

"Don't... don't allow your self-worth to be defined by the dictations of man. By their rules, you will always be sold short. You are so much more valuable than they could ever bargain for." She gave him a sad smile. "You understand?"

Pike blinked a few times but nodded, returning his attention to the cake. She wasn't sure if he truly took it to heart but she decided in that moment that she would remind him of that truth every night for as long as she had him. Every night before they went to bed she would remind him, to the point where he would say it along with her:

"You matter. You are priceless. And there will always be someone in this world who loves you."

][ --- ][

Pike was eleven the first time his master went somewhere and took only him. He was confused about why he didn't take Veronica or even his mother. Veronica was older and better for carrying things and making suggestions on what would make Amara happy. He never took Pike anywhere unless his mother or sister came too but he didn't dare inquire his master about it.

They snuck through alleys and secret passageways within bars and Pike had an inkling of where they were headed. Dread suddenly consumed him with the thought that his master was going to sell him. What had he done wrong? What could he have done better? What was the last thing he said to his mother and sister?

They ended up in a physician's office and Pike's fear only solidified deep in his stomach like a stone. They were here to have a doctor evaluate his physicality so Volkihar would have a price estimate. Pike was shaking and it took the elvish female doctor's soothing words and occasionally the command of his master to get him to do what was asked. It was a very basic checkup where the doctor tested his senses, listened to his heartbeat, and let a small amount of blood which she quickly healed with magic.

"Sir, I'm going to take his collar off real quick," the elf said more as a precaution than asking for permission. When she bended the mana to release the gold band around his neck, Pike exhaled a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding and felt himself relax. The collar was never too tight around his neck but it still felt oddly liberating to have the familiar presence removed. The only times in his life where the weight didn't lie around his neck were the rare moments it malfunctioned or needed to be adjusted as he grew. He felt the strange desire to find a mirror so he could examine the severity of the scars he knew were branched there.

The doctor felt along his neck and told him to swallow and then deeply inhale and exhale a few times. His breadth of freedom was short lived when the collar was once again clasped around his neck, and Pike felt a strange reassurance at having the weight returned.

The checkup seemed pretty standard until the doctor requested he take off all his clothes. When Pike hesitated, still trying to process that the doctor did in fact just ask him to strip down, she offered to do it for him but Volkihar cut in and ordered him to obey. Pike slowly peeled off his layers, not daring to make eye contact with either of the elves. Choosing not to look at them somehow made his complete nudity more bearable.

Despite the extensive embarrassment, Pike found it odd that he was feeling more self-conscious about his stripes than anything else. He wasn't sure why - both the elves had markings that also adorned their skin. In addition to the standard elvish markings by the eyes, Volkihar's were a deep purple that curved around his forearms while the woman had a bright orange that marked up her collarbone and the backs of her hands. Perhaps it was because the only markings of his that were ever visible were the ones on his face, occasionally the ones on his upper arms. Perhaps it was because his markings were exotic and he assumed they were eyeing him like a rare work of art. Perhaps it was simply because he felt like his wild stripes gave more validity to the notion that he was just a cat compared to the elves' elegant designs.

As the elf looked him over he thought his discomfort would consume him but there wasn't exactly anything he could do about it. At least in the midst of the sluggish torture, he learned something new.

"You can discern a lot about a khaliit's health just by looking at their claws," the doctor explained to Volkihar as she held one of Pike's feet, forcing the claws from his toes with some pressure. "When they're nice and clear like this that means they're getting all the nutrients they need."

Pike made a mental note to check his mother and Veronica's claws.

When she was finally done and he was told he could put his clothes back on, relief flooded his chest temporarily. He froze while pulling on his shirt when the doctor asked something he wasn't expecting.

"He seems perfectly sound. Has he gone into heat yet?"

"Yes, his first time was about two weeks ago," Volkihar replied.

Pike didn't hear the rest of their conversation as he sat there wondering why they would start discussing his heat cycles. He put the rest of his clothes back on with trembling hands as worry began to consume his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to go home and part of him was tempted to curl up somewhere in the corner. The closest thing he could do for comfort was wrapping his arms around his waist. When the nurse asked about his price, his ears finally trained back towards their discussion.

"How much was he worth?"

"His mother was pregnant with him when I bought her for 275,000."

"Hmm... judging by his markings and coloring I'd say he'd be worth at least 175,000 or even as much as 250. Even if an offspring only received half his traits you'd probably be able to get around 60 for each kit, easily. Exotic slaves are hard to find and in high demand."

Wait, so the master isn't selling me? What is this talk about kits??

"Would it be easier to pay for a dam or just buy a female khaliit?"

"With your income, it'd be safer to just buy your own. You wouldn't have to split the earnings with the owner of the dam. The kits would also be healthier and therefore worth more if they lived in the presence of both the dam and sire."

"Is Renella and Tasimir the better place for buying right now?"

"Tasimir would have more interest in khaliit at the moment."

Pike didn't notice the rest of their conversation, his brows furrowed as he pieced together the exactness of his master's plan. He was smart enough to know Volkihar was using breeding terms. He could connect the dots. Why the master needed even more money was beyond him, but he figured Volkihar could make easy money by forcing him to have children to sell and all because of his markings and blue eyes. The thought made him sick and he hadn't even reached the horrific realization about what he'd be forced to do with a female khaliit stranger.

Although he wasn't expecting any kind of conversation on the trip back home since the master only saw him as a tool (or a horse, apparently), Pike still felt an uneasiness in his stomach and a need to yell or cry or break something. He knew that if he did anything to reflect the emotional turmoil welled up inside him he'd receive a nasty shock from his collar and he didn't have the energy to deal with that right now. He kept his tears back by biting his lower lip and focused on the blur of trees outside the carriage window as he anxiously sunk his nails into the flesh of his arm.

As soon as he reached the kitchen he ran to his mother's side and clung to her as he sobbed into her apron. She was covered in flour but he didn't care.

"Pike honey, what happened? Did the master hit you??" She tried to pry him off of her to examine his face but when he shook his head against her stomach she gently pressed, "Where did he take you?"

"The master took me to see a physician," he mumbled.

Sapphira's spine grew cold. Owners never took in their slaves for physical checkups unless they were taking them in to be evaluated, which could only mean one of two things. "What did they say?"

"I'm healthy," he moaned as if it were a death sentence.

"I knew that much, sweetie." She chuckled softly to lighten the mood as she stroked his head to try and ease him through his sobs. "Do you know why?"

Pike didn't want to answer.

][ --- ][

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"Master, permission to speak freely?"

Volkihar let out an annoyed sigh from his desk where he sat. "Yes, what is it?"

Sapphira fully entered the master chambers and stood at the side of his desk. "Why are you breeding Pike? What could you possibly need that much money for?"

"That is none of your concern-"

"My son is my concern! There is nothing more you can give Amara that money can buy! Don't you see that?"

"What would you know about winning the affection of the upper class?" Volkihar's hand twitched, a habitual tick which Sapphira learned had meant he was considering giving her a zap. "Besides, I'm doing this as a favor to Kallis. He had his eyes set on buying you, but out of the generosity of my heart, I told him I could instead give him a khaliit with a likeness to you, in turn keeping you with your son."

"...Kallis wanted to buy me?" A shudder ran through her spine, causing her tail to flick. She had seen the man at parties - he would have used her solely for entertainment and pleasure. This information changed her perception of the situation but she still felt disturbed. She didn't like the idea of Pike becoming a father to a child he would never see again who would only know a life of suffering. She realized with a bitter taste in her mouth that there was nothing she could do about it and that such a dismal future was the only one her son could ever know.

"He was persistent. In his desperation, he even tried buying Veronica... but she's much too useful to me to give away."

Sapphira felt her claws itch to unsheathe at the way Volkihar spoke of her daughter as if she were a pretty hammer only to be used on golden nails. "So you think breeding Pike is a better alternative? It'll be years before the child is... of any use to Kallis. It would be better for him to just go and buy his own damn khaliit sex slave!"

"Kallis prides himself on obtaining only the finest." He frowned. "He's convinced there's no better combination than your specific markings and eye color, and your son is an exact replica of that."

"So it all comes down to what's considered exotic..." she growled. Sapphira was considered a beauty among her own kind and she had many suitors, but that had nothing to do with the color of her eyes or stripes. Most khaliit didn't care about markings - it was akin to a human getting excited over how many freckles another had. It seemed pointless to her. A part of her wanted to offer that the master sells her to Kallis in hopes of sparing Pike of such a fate, but Sapphira reckoned Volkihar would eventually breed her son anyways and then he wouldn't have his mother anymore. She regrettably had to admit she was grateful Volkihar had insisted on keeping her. "Can... Sir, if I may request it, can you at least wait until Pike is a bit older? He may be capable of reproducing now but that certainly doesn't mean he's ready."

Volkihar was quiet a moment and her heart fluttered at the idea that he could be considering her proposal. "You said so yourself," he began darkly, "it'll be years before the child is of any use to Kallis. Logically, starting sooner would be better than later. Especially considering it might take a few tries until an offspring inherits an exact resemblance."

Her ears drooped, her gaze falling to the floor. The master would force Pike to breed with a stranger until one looked exactly like him. None of her children looked exactly like her until Pike and he was her fifth child. "You were going to do this to him regardless of Kallis, weren't you..." It was less a question and more a resentful accusation.

"I am a businessman, Sapphira," he said simply. "Of course I'm going to invest in obviously advantageous assets."

Despite the fact she wanted to scream that her son wasn't an asset to exploit, her tone was still vile. "You have enough money. What more could you possibly want?"

"You should know what I want," he said coolly.

Her expression changed from a controlled anger to a dissatisfied glare. "Sir, with all due respect this will not help you charm Amara. The reason you can't win her love is because you are giving her something in which you have an abundance. True genuine love comes from sacrifice, and you aren't sacrificing anything for her."

She was surprised when Volkihar lowered his dark brows and actually looked her in the eyes with a pained expression. He seemed reluctant to ask the question but his curiosity got the better of him. "Since you know so much, then what would you suggest I... sacrifice... for her?"

"The one thing that is limited for everyone: time." Her face softened but it wasn't quite sympathetic. "For the longest time I thought my husband was just like everyone else, trying to win me with all these displays and gifts that suitors presented me, but I eventually learned that... he worked so hard to make or obtain those gifts for me. He had nothing to give but he gave it all anyways." Even the ring he proposed to her was nothing but a tied up piece of a reed stalk, but she knew Kahedin spent days getting it for her. The reed was a magical plant that was a vibrant red during the day but glowed a faint cyan at night. She learned that he had spent days traveling to find it since they were so hard to find. His humble proposal meant more to her than the worth of any kind of precious gems.

"Master, you can't buy Amara, no matter how good your intentions may be. You have to earn her love, and that comes from work, patience, and sacrifice. You've clearly got the patience part down, but you need to work a little harder and find something more valuable than your gold to give her. Something more meaningful."

His expression softened as he soaked in her words and she could never recall her master looking so vulnerable. He seemed to realize this pretty quickly when he rapidly blinked and the familiar hardness returned to his sharp features. "Very well. I will think on your words." Before Sapphira could so much as open her mouth to respond, he cut her off with a lifted hand and a blood-curdling command.

"You will return to my chambers tonight. Perhaps then, you can further persuade me."

She felt a bile churn in her stomach, the forced words feeling heavy as they left her lips and bound her more strongly than the collar around her neck.

"If it's good by my master."

][ --- ][

Pike had never felt more dread in his life than when he first met Nyma. Even though his mother said she had a word with the master it seemed it changed nothing. Volkihar came home with a blonde khaliit girl a few years older than Pike, and he would admit she was pretty but that barely eased the knots in his stomach or made the situation any less disparaging.

"I thought you spoke with the master!" he blurted when he was alone in the kitchen with his mother.

"I did, but..." Sapphira took a shaky breath. "He never agreed to anything... but I was so certain my words got through to him. Yet it still wasn't enough... I'm so sorry honey..." She moved to pull Pike into an embrace, her angry tears flowing as he felt the powerlessness of being unable to protect her family.

He closed his eyes and buried his face into his mother's shoulder. "What's..." He started to shake as he tried to voice his fears. "What's going to happen now?"

She was quiet a moment as she tried to console him with gentle strokes on his head. "You're... going to have to get really close with Nyma, I'm afraid..."

His tears began to turn into something more akin to anger as well. "But I don't want to. I don't want anything to do with her! I don't want- I can't do it. I can't, mom..."

She knew her son didn't have a choice. Even if he and Nyma resisted to fulfill the master's wishes, he would punish them until they complied. Pike was old enough to understand what disobedience to the master meant. He remembers the day with painful clarity even if he didn't fully understand what was happening.

He saw that such resistance resulted in his father's death.

][ --- ][

When Volkihar's mansion was under siege, Pike thought it was some lucid dream. Men and women in suits of armor swarmed the building, shouting commands and throwing spells. Only when he realized that they weren't attacking the slaves did he notice they were royal guards of the king. When a khariit approached his family in the kitchen, she took off her helmet and lifted her hand for some kind of signal. An elven guard cast magic with his hands, causing Pike's collar and the collars around his family and Nyma to unlatch with a resounding clack.

"We have arrested Lord Volkihar for his crimes, thus you are all free to go," the khariit explained.

Pike pulled off the two halves of his collar and held them in his hands in disbelief. He looked up at the guard's sincere brown eyes and asked skeptically, "What do you mean?" He was waiting for some kind of catch or for her to say they were being transferred to a different master or something more believable than that they were simply free.

"Harkon Volkihar bought and owned slaves and that's illegal in Aurita," she answered. "I'm surprised he's gone this long under the radar, but alas, Aurita is a large country, he lives in a secluded mansion up in the mountains, and many guards, unfortunately, are persuaded by gold."

"If you couldn't find us for twelve years, how were you able to find us now?" Sapphira asked, her tone only curious.

"The one who sold the blonde girl," the khariit flicked her wolfish tail towards Nyma, "was actually a double agent. Even had a tracking spell on her."

"That explains why he was so nice to me..." Nyma muttered in awe.

Sapphira suddenly fell to her knees, bending over completely as she buried her face into her hands and sobbed, her collar falling off with a loud clatter to the floor. Pike and Veronica were on either side of her and locked worried gazes as each of them held onto her. "Mom...?" Veronica inquired softly. After a moment she sat up enough to pull in both her kids for an embrace, her tear-stained cheeks a sign of relief and peace. Pike eventually sighed and yanked Nyma in for the group hug since it felt awkward excluding her.

The guards left them to have a moment as they searched the rest of the mansion for any more illegal dealings. Sapphira and Veronica left the kitchen to find the khariit woman while Pike and Nyma stayed behind. Pike was wondering what he should take with him but he was lost. It all felt too surreal. Would they still live here? Where would they go? He knew nothing beyond the mansion's walls. He didn't exactly own anything - everything he had was technically the master's. He kept returning to the golden collar which sat on his bed. It was the only thing that was truly his, and the only thing he would take.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked hollowly to the girl across from him.

"I... I don't know," Nyma admitted, her blue eyes falling to the floor. "I don't know a life outside of this, either."

They were quiet for a long time, but the silence was never awkward between them. Pike and Nyma had learned to endure awkward silences well. She too, was born into slavery but Pike had to count his blessings. He at least stayed with part of his family and remained in a fairly stable situation despite his master's cruelty. Nyma had been bought and sold to so many different masters she had lost count. She didn't know the meaning of family. Despite the strange situation of their circumstances, Pike wanted to offer to her that they could become her family - in a way far different than what their master ever intended.

"You could stay with us if you want," he offered, his tone somber. A part of him rejoiced at the thought of never having to see Nyma again, but deep in his heart he also ached for her and wanted to offer some semblance of a better life than the hell she endured. The freedom alone should have provided that but he felt the aching need to extend an invitation. He didn't want to be another in the long line of people in Nyma's life who had completely forgotten her. He was willing to live with the constant reminder of better-forgotten memories if it meant making her life a little less painful. He diverted his gaze from her, his chest feeling tight. "But... I understand if you want to leave. I don't know what my family will do but I just... I don't want you to feel like you're being abandoned again. You can stay with us. You and I can start over... if that's what you'd like. Because you do matter. You are priceless. And there will always be someone in this world who loves you."

A sniffle caused him to look up and see Nyma was crying, her face a pained expression. "Thank you, Pike. That is..." she took a shaky breath, "That is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I'm not sure what I'll do but... I will definitely consider it."

He offered her a nod with a pained smile, leaving her to her thoughts.

As soon as Sapphira found the khariit guard, she blurted the question that burned into her mind. "Is it possible for you to find the rest of my family?"

"Oh no... you were separated?" she asked with creased brows.

"I have two sons who went to a different master and a daughter who went to another." She lifted her hands and closed her eyes a moment. "I know - I know it's asking a lot, but if there is even a chance that you could-"

"I will find them," she cut in decisively.

Sapphira blinked her eyes open, her ears flicking in surprise. "You...what?"

The khariit held out her hand. "You may call me Olia. I am the best tracker under King Samuel's guard, and I swear to you on my life I will find the rest of your children."

She grasped Olia's hand with both her own but quickly pulled her in for a tight hug, throwing the khariit off by surprise. "Thank you. You have already done more than you can possibly imagine."

"You are more than welcome," Olia replied while returning the embrace.

][ --- ][

][ music ][

"How is this any different than what we did last time?"

"This is an orange cake, the last was lemon. Honestly Pike, I thought you were more observant." Sapphira chuckled.

"No I mean..." He sounded hesitant. "How we used to live."

She stopped, blinking a few times before she set down her icing pipe to properly look at her son across from her. "You mean serving Lord Volkihar verses the Telcontars?"

He nodded.

"You don't get beaten when you're not perfect, that's certainly a big difference." The bitterness left her tone as the emotion hit her. She shook her head softly as troubled tears started to glisten in her eyes. "The difference is that we're free."

"We're still doing kitchen work though. And other housework."

"That is true. But we're doing it as servants, not slaves. It's..." She frowned slightly as she tried to piece together her words in a way her twelve-year-old son could understand. She moved around the table and stood next to Pike, lifting her hands to hold his face, her thumbs stroking the markings on his cheeks. "The difference, Pike, besides a much nicer, kinder way of living, is that you could run away from here, past those castle walls and live whatever life you'd like without a collar killing you." She paused and let out a soft laugh, adding, "Please don't actually do that though." She didn't want him to get any irrational ideas but she also wanted him to understand that he was not restricted to live within the walls of their new home.

"You are not the Telcontars' property. You belong to no one. We work here because we want to, not because we're being forced. The fact that we're still doing kitchen work is simply because that's what I'm good at. We could work at a small bakery or even a restaurant, but wouldn't you rather make cakes for a king? We live a good life here, sweety, and it's not because of the abundance of food or the lavish commodities. It's because we're free." She raised a hand to gently rub one of his oversized ears (he'd grow into them eventually), a sad smile forming on her lips. "The greatest difference we could ever ask for is our freedom. Do you understand?"

"... I think so." Pike purred in agreement. "It is much nicer here."

Sapphira laughed. "I would hope you'd at least notice that difference! It's definitely much more obvious than lemons to oranges." She released her hands and returned to her side of the table where she continued piping the cake. She blinked back tears, her gaze troubled. "I'm sorry your childhood was robbed from you... if there was anything I could have done to change everything, I... I would have done it."

Pike had returned to peeling oranges, his brows furrowed. "I don't think there's anything you could have done, mom. The collars prevented us from doing anything against our master. And it's not like we could use mana to release it. The only thing you could have done... was probably kill our master... which would have been impossible."

"... I tried," she admitted, causing Pike's ears to perk in surprise. "I nearly poisoned them all one night. The asphyxiation would have kept them from shocking any of our collars... but he had a greater tolerance than I anticipated..."

"...Mom?" He was hesitant as he saw his mother's arms begin to shake. She set down the icing and pressed her hands into the table. Pike moved around and held one of her trembling hands with both his own. His mother just admitted to attempted murder and he didn't know what to think. "Mom... why? He could have killed you for doing tha-"

"Because I love you, Pike." Hot tears followed along the lines of her crimson markings. "I was helpless to watch your father die... I couldn't bear - to lose you or your sister too." She sniffled, letting out a heavy exhale. "Sometimes... sometimes the impossible, such as taking a life, becomes easy... if it's for the ones you love."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Were you scared?"

"Terrified." She had gained control of her shaking and stood up straight. "But that didn't weaken my resolve. However... I couldn't attempt it anymore because Volkihar was on to me and he bought Rolo. I couldn't murder the taste tester, a fellow slave who suffered the same as us. So I did whatever else I could to make you and your sister happy."

"...I appreciate that," he answered heavily. "I can't imagine what it might have been like without you there, or worse, to have neither you or Veronica..."

"You thinking about Rae?"

He nodded. "I don't even know her, have never even seen her and I still... I miss her. I feel like she should be here. Instead she's completely alone... she doesn't have you or a sister or a brother to endure through things with..."

Sapphira moved her arm to wrap around his shoulders. "We'll find the rest of your siblings one day. Olia and King Samuel personally made it a promise to me. I know Olia and her troops are out there looking for slaves to free and I'm certain she'll find them because she found us. Volkihar was the most cautious about hiding his slaves. If she found us, she can find anyone."

"I hope you're right," he said, a part of him coming to the dark realization: if they're not already dead.

][ --- ][

Pike ran and ran.

He ran past people who called out to him, wondering why a random castle kitchen boy was running through the town. He ran through crowds of people in the market streets, too many colorful sights and sounds he had to ignore. He ran past the gate and beyond, as far from the castle as he could get without stopping for breath. When he reached the top of a hill panting, he turned to look out at the glorious expanse of the city of Arus laid before him and fell to his knees and sobbed.

You could run away from here, past those castle walls and live whatever life you'd like without a collar killing you.

He had to see it for himself.

He had to feel it.

He didn't realize how something he had never known he could suddenly feel so strongly. It was the relief of a burden far heavier than the collar he once wore, something he could never understand was there until it was gone. He felt like a new creature with infinite paths laid before him. He wasn't born a slave and destined to die as one. He was born a slave but would die however he well pleased.

Pike looked at the glistening white castle and felt a yearning in his heart he had never experienced before. He felt at peace as the tears fell down his face and he came to realize a beautiful truth that was now part of his life.

He was free.

This was his home.

And there, his family truly lived.

#voltron au #voltron fanfic #voltron dnd au #pikelavar #pikelavar fanfic #monsters and mana #plance #plance au #chapters #defenders of aurita

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techcrunchappcom · 4 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/a-letter-to-our-newborn-american-daughter/

A letter to our newborn American daughter

Image copyright Getty Images

You were born on the third night of curfew and in the third month of the Covid lockdown, entering the world as around us an epic history swirled.

When your mother went into labour, police helicopters circled above our apartment building. Our midwife’s assistant was questioned by officers outside the door. And when we looked out of our window shortly after your birth, a convoy of New York squad cars darted over the Brooklyn Bridge towards the towers of Lower Manhattan, lights flashing scarlet and blue.

Every day for a week afterwards, a column of demonstrators made that same journey across the bridge; tens of thousands of them shouting the mantra of the movement, Black Lives Matter, Black Lives Matter.

You gulped your first lungfuls of air as protesters across America chanted “I can’t breathe.”

We opted for a home birth because you were born at a time when people were scared of hospitals. But in the nights beforehand, as roads were clogged with marchers and riot police formed human barricades across the bridges and major avenues within blocks of our home, we feared our midwife might struggle to reach us, and also that our routes to the nearby emergency rooms might be cut off.

Having been forced into hibernation by a viral onslaught that killed more than 17,000 New Yorkers, parts of the city were now paralysed by protest.

Both your mother and I had suffered from coronavirus, a disease we had never heard of at the start of this fateful year. And even in the womb you would have felt the violent convulsions of her body; heard the coughing fits that left her breathless; maybe even sensed her adrenal dread of hospitalisation.

Image copyright Getty Images

So you might well have been conscious of our heightened state of anxiety. After months of living in the worst-affected city in the worst-affected country, it had become habitualised. Your older siblings will tell you that your father is a “worrywart.” But alas, the curse of being a foreign correspondent is to have witnessed too many worst-case scenarios.

At bedtime for weeks beforehand, I read your mother birthing visualisations – soothing and near-hypnotic words designed to comfort our anxious minds. But your birth story felt more like it came from the pages of the classic correspondent novel The Year of Living Dangerously. And tragically, that is what 2020 had become.

Usually parents cry tears of joy when first they see their newborn. For us, they came with a flood of relief. Your safe arrival marked the lifting of months of mental siege; respite after sleepless nights of pre-traumatic stress.

If the contagion makes sense of the masks, the quarantine, and why the faces of well-wishers appeared on screen in a computerised grid, then what explains those protests? The column of demonstrators outside our window that became as regular as your feeds. The chants that almost drowned your cries. Well, in the midst of the pandemic, a video went viral.

It showed a black man, George Floyd, being suffocated by the knee of a white police officer; a killing that lasted almost nine minutes; an allegedly murderous act that came to epitomise how African-Americans have long been held down and smothered by systemic racism.

Media playback is unsupported on your device

Media caption‘This is pain right here’ – Washington DC protests turn violent

The fires of fury were quick in coming, the most widespread racial turbulence since the summer of my own birth in 1968. America found itself confronting three simultaneous convulsions: a health crisis that disproportionately affected people of colour; an economic shock that disproportionately affected people of colour; and civil unrest sparked by police brutality that has always disproportionately affected people of colour. A shattered mirror was being held up to a fractured country.

Nor was this racial reckoning confined to America. In Australia, where your older brother and sister were born, thousands protested against the treatment of Aboriginal people, the long suffering victims of white colonisation, of British colonisation.

In my beloved hometown, Bristol, protesters pulled down a bronze statue of a slave trader, and then dumped it in the harbour where his prison ships once docked.

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Media captionProtesters in Bristol pull down a statue of slave trader Edward Colston

For most of my adult life, America’s racial breach has been something of a personal obsession. I’ve journeyed through the American south, visiting the climactic battlegrounds of the struggle for black equality. I’ve sat down and talked with the activists who were beaten and clubbed. I’ve sifted through the archives of the white supremacist politicians who tried to uphold the system of racial apartheid that separated the races from the cradle to the grave.

In this quest for understanding, I came to learn that the civil war waged on this soil more than 150 years ago never truly came to an end, and that racial division has always been America’s default setting. I can tell you that the turbulence we witnessed in the week of your birth was not some aberration but part of an unbroken historical thread.

All this I know and understand. Yet the one thing I will never be able to explain to you is what it feels like to walk in a black person’s shoes.