Morningstar, like Yuri, had a bit of a kink when it came to letting go of control. Star pretended he didn’t like it, and even rebelled sometimes, but nothing calmed his anxiety faster than when Radu gave him a direct order and proceeded to show him absolute adoration. Lucian struggled to understand both ends of that spectrum as he hated giving up control, and feared letting anyone have that sort of power over him, but knew that was his own trauma rearing its head. He also struggled with being outright demanding, but had to admit something stirred inside him when Theo obeyed a command, willingly dropping to his knees or stripping to let Lucian have his way with him. But Lucian and Star didn’t have that sort of relationship… yet.
Theo hinted that Star might want that. And Radu treated Star with a careful iron grip to keep him in line. Did Star want that from Lucian as well? The former archangel seemed to have a bit of a death wish. Because Yuri was still missing or because he needed more structure?
The attraction was there. Whatever drew them together sparked each time they got close. A touch of Yuri’s presence as Star shared a soul with him? Or something else? Lucian dared not ask.
He remembered the first time he’d met Star, or General Astarion as he now knew the incarnation of the man. He’d never been allowed to touch, but in his days in Johi, suffering incredible humiliation, rape, and torture, the pretty general stirred something in him. At first, Lucian rememberedglimpsing him through the bars of his cage, the overhead lights kept bright to prevent any real rest from helping him heal. He'd had a month of agony suffering the touch of one of Gabriel’s many aligned nobles, and finally been shoved back into the cage for a few hours of respite.
The general appeared, beautiful as Lucian couldn’t recall any other Onari being. Lucian’s eyes burned with tears from the light even while he stared at the man wondering who he was, and why anyone that lovely would look to the pits of Johi for a taste of anything. He could have had anyone who asked, and his armor gave away his status. Someone with power, though Lucian knew everyone had more power than he did. The new man would be no different. His entourage pointed and spoke, but he said nothing, watching Lucian with a narrowed gaze and an unreadable expression.
Lucian had been taken from the cage and put in a room, bathed, which was unusual, and given a robe of soft fuzzy fabric for comfort and warmth. He’d never been treated that kindly before servicing anyone, and it caught him off guard. When the general arrived in the room, Lucian dropped to his knees, expecting to be taken a dozen different ways or beaten if he didn’t comply, but the man ordered everyone else away, and asked a single question.
“Can you read?”
Lucian blinked at him, his eyes overly sensitive from the light, trying to understand the question.
The man huffed and the dozens of candles lighting the room snuffed with a thought, leaving only a handful and a warm glow instead of true brightness, proving his magic was powerful. He crossed the room, and Lucian flinched, fearing a strike, but the man sat down in a chair near the darkest corner, the strength vanishing from him as he leaned back and closed his eyes, appearing exhausted.
Was there a battle ongoing? Lucian had been in the pits for a long time and heard little spoken about world events. He wondered if he should get up and try to comfort the man, show him physical affection at least, but his willpower refused to allow him to submit. It might prevent a beating, but he never willingly offered himself to anyone. Years of torture couldn’t make him compliant, so why did he feel like he wanted to give this stranger something?
“Can you read?” The man asked again. “If I tell you to pick up that book, and read it to me, can you do that?”
Lucian frowned, his gaze going to the table beside the man and the book on it. Was it a trick? He honestly didn’t know if he could read it, as he couldn’t recall the last time he’d read anything. Before being sent to Johi for certain. Perhaps while learning his letters? Was it a skill that went away without use? Would he be beaten if he couldn’t?
He cleared his throat and had to try three times to get words to form. He had been silent far too long. “I think so, maybe. Don’t you want… other things?”
The man stared at him with tired eyes glowing with teal magic. Lucian couldn’t recall seeing an Onari’s eyes glow like that before. Not his sire, or his uncle. The magic in him ached in the back of Lucian’s skull like a living thing begging to be freed. Were there nobles left with more power than his sire? Lucian wondered why they weren’t ruling if that were the case.
“I want to hear that story.” His gaze flipped to the book and back to Lucian’s face. “It’s … from another time and place, but someone I love really enjoys that book. Or will in the future…” He sighed, and closed his eyes as if to sleep.
Lucian reached for the book, afraid, but the general didn’t move. Lucian pulled the book off the table and stared at the cover. He’d never seen this type of book before, the art like a miniature painting, smooth to the touch, but beautiful. Heopened the cover and touched the pages, the texture unfamiliar and coarse, but some kind of paper. His sire and uncle had some books, many scrolls, but Lucian had never seen anything like this.
“Can you read it?” The general repeated, no sign of impatience in his voice.
Lucian glared at the page; the scrawl unfamiliar. His gaze blurred as tears formed when he realized he couldn’t. Whatever language adorned the page wasn’t one he knew. A few short minutes of reprieve, no one lusting after him, beating him, feeding on him, was this all he would ever have because he couldn’t read a damn book?
The general sat forward, and Lucian flinched at the movement, fearing a strike, but the general held out a cup. “Thirsty?”
Where had the cup come from? It hadn’t been on the table.
Lucian swallowed hard, his gut clenching with known horror of a thousand things that could be in that cup.
“You seem parched,” the general continued, holding out the cup gently. It wasn’t a goblet of gold or anything rich, just an ordinary clay cup.
Lucian reached for it, hesitant, but taking it and finding the liquid inside clear and smelling of nothing. Water? He swallowed; his throat terribly dry. The general sat back, leaving Lucian the cup and waited. Lucian carefully tilted it to his lips ready to rip it away if it were something else, though he didn’t know what.
Cool water touched his lips and slid over his tongue. It was momentarily a breath from heaven as the moisture coated the inside of his mouth. Clean and clear he swallowed the first bit and tipped the cup to drink the rest, desperate to drink. He emptied the cup and brought it down, surprised to find it refilled in his grasp.
He gasped. “What is this magic?” He peered up at the general in confusion and horror filled him. “What are you?”
“Can you read, please? I need the rest and wish to hear one of the stories he loved.” The general seemed to fade into the shadow of the chair as he slid down and leaned against the high back.
Lucian held the book in his hand, cup grasped in the other and stared at the cover, the words forming on the front to something he understood. Howl’s Moving Castle. Had he been so dehydrated he hadn’t been able to read? He curled himself around the cup and cradled the book in his lap, then began to read.
At the end of the first chapter the general stopped him. Lucian froze, terrified again of coming pain and abuse. “Rest,” the general said, waving his hand at the unused bed. “Lie down, rest, sleep, and when you awaken, perhaps you’ll read me the next chapter.”
Lucian blinked at him in confusion. “I can keep going…” Rest wasn’t something he was ever afforded until he was beaten bloody and unmoving. His voice might be a touch rough from lack of disuse, but he could continue. He worried at his lip, fearing he’d be sent back to the cage.
“Rest, please,” the general said. “Let me rest, too.”
