Chapter Text
If Kam had been asked what he disliked about being a slave, the first thing to come to mind probably would have been that he couldn't choose his own master. Not that the question was likely to arise, never mind him having any influence over the issue in reality.
The thing was, Kam had had his share of masters. With only nineteen, he'd had the grave misfortune to land more often than not in the hands of men - and one woman - who had either a very short attention span, not enough money to keep him, preferred another slave without freckles suddenly, or possibly didn't like boys after all.
He'd never considered himself especially smart, so maybe it was no wonder that the faces were starting to blur together, he reflected as he lay on the cold stone floor in one of the holding cells of the auction house. He'd been in a steady home once, for one year, and that... well. He didn't want to think about that, it hadn't been a particularly good example of slave keeping. And after that, it had been a year in which he'd spent equal amounts of time at a new master's place until he was returned and waiting in the cells for a new master to buy him.
Maybe a mistress would be good this time. His only mistress had been a different pace from all the men who'd bought him before. At least she hadn't mistreated him - not that all of his previous owners had - and the fact that she'd only wanted him for pleasure and didn't expect him to hang around for anything else hadn't especially bothered him. If he could have chosen a profession, Kam was fairly sure he'd have picked something more solitary himself.
This was his second week at the auction house already, which was frustrating, but he tried not to drift into morbid thinking. He'd spent a whole month here once before, and still been bought; and it wasn't like they let their slaves go hungry. He could deal with the rest. It had been worse last winter. Summer were good months to be spent in the cells. The air was damp and warm-ish, so the cold of the floor was bearable. The faces in the cells left and right of him changed with predictable regularity, and he didn't pay them any attention except when they were loud or scared the other kids with their behaviour. But even then, they were quickly silenced.
Kam was bothered only by the fact that there were no windows. He could guess about any new day starting because every morning he was led upstairs by the two men keeping watch at the doors to the stairway and then prepared for another auction day, a hard scrub of his face and torso, distangling of his hair with quick, businesslike strokes; but the time between evening meal and the next morning passed slowly. He missed being able to watch the moon and the stars.
He fell asleep somewhere between counting the half-sobbing intakes of breath from the girl in the cell next to him (whom he pitied, he really did, but it wasn't like he could do anything for her) and dreaming, like every slave did, of a master who would treat him properly, give him the privacy he needed and bed him with more care than was the general experience.
~*~
"This one's nice," a voice to his left muttered. Female, older. Definitely older. But older was better, sometimes. His stomach had turned into a little ball of hard granite hours ago when the first people had noticed him, then discarded him again to go on to look for better merchandise. It was like this every day; Kam knew he should be used to this already, but the nerves and the embarrassment when he wasn't picked, and the humiliation when someone said something nasty or cutting about him - it never went away. He tried not to clench his hands to fists from fear of what this person had to say about his 'nature'.
"He's older, isn't he? Looks about nineteen." That was another voice. Male, this time. "He should have a slave who's more experienced, most other kids here are barely broken in."
He was allowed to look up when fingers grasped his chin and forced his face into the light. Another hand pushed his bangs out of his face, exposing his eyes and freckles.
"Looks healthy," the man said. He was taller than Kam, imposing, with a wide forehead and black hair. Judging by the clothes, definitely nobility. There were always a few nobles mingling in the auction house, though not very many. They preferred to make their deals in private, sell and buy from well-known handlers.
The woman was a redhead, a strikingly beautiful woman even though she was in her late forties already. They were her fingers keeping his chin up, and her hand wandering over his shoulders, his back, down his arms and his stomach, examining his skin for scars. Then it dipped lower to touch his genitals. That part always made Kam uneasy, even after so many times. At least, he thought with a feeling of relief, she didn't stick her fingers in him, like some others did. Unfortunately, there were no signs at auctions telling people not to touch the goods. It was an open for all buffet, though as far as Kam was aware, accounts were checked beforehand to only allow people in who could afford to buy.
"Look me in the eye, Kam," she suddenly said, and her voice was so authoritative that his gaze immediately swivelled and locked with hers. "Good boy." Kam felt himself flush at the praise. "You've been examined for diseases and injuries, haven't you?"
Kam nodded quickly, only a duck of the chin. Every slave was. The master of the auction house was very adamant about not selling spoiled ware, because it would sully his reputation. Kam got queasy just thinking about what he did with the sick children. He knew he was lucky he was strong and resiliant against all kinds of illnesses, and that he'd been fortunate that his masters hadn't infected him with some kind of disease. Otherwise, he'd have been another part of the pile of burning flesh by now.
"And you're healthy?" She sounded strict, but not unfriendly. "Don't dare lying, because if I find out later you've not told me the truth to get sold away from here, you'll be a lot more uncomfortable than if you'd spent the rest of your life in this place."
Kam nodded again.
"Speak, boy." The man sounded impatient as he looked around, rolling his eyes.
"I'm - healthy," Kam murmured softly. He really wasn't supposed to speak, and they probably knew it too.
"And mute, he isn't either," the woman exclaimed. "Very good."
"So it's him, then?"
"We'll have a look at his file, but from the looks of it, he'd be perfect, don't you think?"
"You're the one buying this present, dear, don't ask me."
The woman huffed. "You could at least give your input. It's not everyday -"
"- what? You buy your son a new 'plaything'? I remember the last one like it was only a week ago... oh, wait. That's because it was."
"But this one's beautiful. And Al has been wanting a slave forever."
"Well, he's getting his wish now, so sign the deal and rid me of his whining, will you?" The man sounded disgusted. "I swear, he's turning into a complete girl. No wonder he wants a slave. Probably help him dress up in those ghastly attires you buy him."
"Oh, shut up," the woman glared. "I'm not having this discussion with you again. And you've said yourself, he's an excellent hunter -"
"- rubbish with anything else but the shotgun, though."
"Well, never mind that. It's his birthday, he's seventeen now and legally authorized to own. Now, let's go see into his file, then, and we should be off, I still have that dress to buy from Silva, you know how long that takes, she always wants to drink a cup of tea while doing up the last stitches."
Kam tried not to watch them go, torn two-ways about that dialogue. For all he knew, they'd see his record and decide not to buy him after all, or they'd take him anyway, and he might be owned by some aristocratic brat. Not that he was complaining, because most nobility was at least rich enough to ensure he wasn't going to die of starvation, and again. It wasn't like he was in any position to pick and choose.
~*~
Al turned out to be Count Heir Alexander of Southcliff, which was almost as much a surprise to Kam as the fact that the Countess of Southcliff and her spouse had actually entered an auction house to find a suitable slave to their tastes. As if there weren't enough other, much cleaner and better-suited places to find a good slave. A slave with actual table manners, for example. Not that, Kam thought, he would be going anywhere near the Countess's table; he'd probably be spending most of his time in his master's bed or wherever they kept their other slaves.
He'd never seen their faces before, even in photographs or newspapers, not where he'd grown up anyway, but he'd somehow always thought that if a person who was more important than the occasional baron came by, he'd notice. Which was silly, because there had to be dozens upon dozens of people like that, but still.
Kam tried to stand as upright and yet look as unnoticeable as he could when the Lady led him into his new master's room the morning a week later. They'd bought him a day after the initial viewing, then there had been the usual paperwork to be done before they could take him and he'd only arrived the day before, had been washed and made presentable before being shoved into a room with four beds on three of which girls had been already sleeping. He was still wondering who they'd been. Other slaves, probably. They'd been long gone by the time he was woken up by one of the pages whom he'd seen around the manor when he'd first entered.
He knew he smelled nice, a different world from the stink he'd carried with him when they'd brought him here. Water wasn't exactly a luxury around these parts, but it wasn't cheap either, and certainly not cheap enough for an auction house owner to afford bathing hordes of passing slaves. His hair was untangled and rid of the dirt and dust and grime and had resumed its normal strawberry blonde color, curling around his ears.
The Lady of the house had been ecstatic when she'd seen him first thing, dressing him in a turquiose-blue tunic, the colors of her family. She'd patted his cheek, complimented him on cleaning up prettily and then shooed him and the accompanying page towards another hall in which her husband was still eating his breakfast and drinking what smelled like a cup of very strong coffee.
It wasn't that Kam was scared exactly to meet his new master - it was a procedure that was new every time, however, and he was scared he'd screw up badly in some way and they'd show him how they punished their slaves on the first day already. He didn't want to know. He just wanted to have a quiet little corner to himself and for the boy he would now belong to not to hurt him too badly. That wasn't too much to ask, was it? Kam wasn't sure. He knew most slaves didn't get either of those two things.
He didn't even realize for a while that the Lord and Lady had gone inside, leaving him out in the hallway for the moment, though his mind readily summoned the order he'd gotten: "Don't move. Stay here until one of us tells you to enter."
But by then, it was already time and the Lord was already opening the door to grab him not quite gently by the wrist and pull him inside.
~*~
"You're beautiful," was the first thing the boy specifically addressed him with, after his parents were gone. He'd looked plenty from beneath his long, dark eyelashes, both with longing and curiosity, but he'd only thanked his parents, never speaking to Kam directly until they were out of the room.
Kam lowered his chin and waited.
"Well, aren't you going to come here?"
"Yes, master," Kam said and forced himself to think of him as that, forced himself to stop saying 'the boy' in his mind, and substitute it with the proper title lest he slip up in the most inopportune moment. There would be no saving him if he did. He stepped towards the bed in even strides and sank to his knees at his master's feet. His legs were naked under his nightgown, his feet not quite as graceful as Kam would have expected from his father's talk. There were blisters and calluses from wearing heavy boots and running long distances.
"My mother has always had good taste," Alexander smiled down at him, petting his hair. "She buys me the prettiest uniforms, too. My father dislikes it when I dress up in fancy clothes, but I admit, I'm a horrible peacock."
Kam tried hard not to grin and failed as the corners of his lips twitched up.
"Oh, look, two minutes alone with me and you're smiling, there's a change from that stiff posture. That's my charm, you see? The girls go crazy for it, too."
That, Kam could believe, as he was handsome, with a roguish look about his thin mouth, high cheekbones and a slender, straight nose. There was a playful light in his amber eyes and he had his father's dark hair to match. Probably drove the boys mad too, unless he was giving it up to most of them. Which, from what Kam had heard during his childhood growing up, would fit exactly what people thought nobleboys his age were doing.
"Love the freckles, by the way," his master went on, as if he was used to holding long monologues. "If you tell me your name, I won't have to torment you by nicknaming you 'Freckles'."
"Yes, master," Kam said after two beats had gone by and he realized Alexander was waiting for a response. "It's Kam."
"Like from Cameron?"
"Just Kam."
"Right. I had a horse once that was called Cameroon. It was very gentle, I was still quite young back then, and my mother bought it for me so I could learn to ride. I liked it a lot. We'll get on marvellously as well, won't we? I always treat my posessions very well, don't you worry."
Kam blinked, and his stomach dropped with a harsh realization that while maybe, this arrangement wouldn't be quite as bad as he'd imagined back when he'd first learned who he would belong to, he'd started to build up a hope in those last few minutes that once again was disappointed. He always did, he couldn't help it, every time he got to know a new master, he hoped and hoped against all odds. And then, he always got hit by the truck of realization, sometimes sooner than later. After all, it was just like the Lord had said as his wife'd had his balls in her hand. Nothing more than a plaything, he was. Probably worth less, in his new master's eyes, than the afore-mentioned horse.
~*~