Siren's Son ASMR Oneshots

Bought by a Noble - Part One

I burrow deeper into the hay. It itches and smells like day-old feces, but better that than subject myself to the cruelty of those who caught me. In the five days I've been here, marked by thin tallies scratched into the wood, I've leaned that if they can't see me, they usually forget I exist unless I do something worth their attention. Every night, it's a struggle to decide whether their attention is worth what passes for a meal in these stables.
"Pssst," hisses a much-too-loud voice near my ear. "Caina!"
I almost manage a grin. It's Addy, the only light in this awful place. I wriggle until my face pokes out of my hay pile and spot her friendly face peering through a gap in the wood separating our stalls.
"Did you get any food today?" she whispers.
"No. You?" I hiss back.
She shakes her head. "Check with Savannah?"
I nod and slither over to the other end of my stall, careful to check for my captors passing by. I press my face to the wood and knock twice, quietly. I know she dislikes being startled.
A severe face appears in a crack between the boards. The first thing I notice is the scar bisecting her right eyebrow. It's making good progress. It's nearly healed over, a vast improvement over the bloody gash she sported when she was first dragged in here unconscious by the brutes. She must have given them quite a fight- the half wolf was the only one I've seen that didn't walk into the stables in chains.
"What," she says, not bothering to keep her voice down.
"Shh," I hiss, alarmed.
She rolls her eyes. Her furry ears twitch, annoyed.
"No food today, for Addy or me," I inform her. "Did you get any?"
"A small cut of meat," she says. "Nothing she could eat, but... I'll split it with you."
I shake my head. "Keep it. I got fed yesterday." It's a lie, but it reassures her.
My stomach growls in disagreement. She looks about to argue, but I talk before she can.
"Look," I say. "I probably won't last much longer. Lady Circie visited the stables the day before you arrived, and I saw the way she looked at me."
Savannah nods in grim understanding. The paramour of the current leader of House Fain always gets what she wants. I am one of the few known half-snakes in Al'Terra, and I saw the hunger enter her eyes the moment she saw me. She gives me no useless sympathy, no white lies. She only asks, "What do you want me to do?"
She knows. She always does. I give her a look of muted admiration mixed with exasperation that she guessed what I was going to say before I said it.
"I need you to take care of Addy, for as long as you're able. Watch over her. Teach her how to defend herself like you do. I'd ask the same for me, but it's too late for me."
She nods, once. Her crystal blue eyes betray her sadness as she looks at me.
I nod back and retreat back into my cell. I mean, my stall.
I'm not enough of a human to merit a cell.
I was caught in the mountains to the west of Montel by a brutish hulk of a half-blood hunter. I was hunting with my little foster brother, Cardan, a seven-year-old faun, when my legs were snapped in a bear trap poorly concealed beneath leaves and moss. Face contorted with pain, I ordered Cardan not to look and told him to go back to our home and get help, knowing he wouldn't be back in time. All I wanted was to get him out of the path of the hunter I knew was coming, who had surely heard their trap go off.
He ran off into the woods. Moments after foliage blocked his form, a brutish man crashed into the clearing, crushing the foliage beneath his filthy boots. He spotted my trembling, weakly thrashing form and gave a grin that is seared into the back of my eyelids even now.
Long story short, now I'm here in the half-blood stables, waiting to either be sold or die. I'm not sure which would be worse.
Suddenly, a new voice splits the silence, a voice different than the stableman's rough, gravelly tone. It's faint, coming from the entrance to the stables. A possible buyer, most likely.
"Hmm. So, this is where my grandfather keeps all of house Fain's merchandise," observes a haughty voice. "It's smaller than I'd imagined."
Grandfather? He must be one of the "noble" descendants of house Fain, and there's only one reason anybody comes here: to buy a half-blood.
"Ah, yes. Young m@ster Killi. Your father told us you would be blessing us with your company this fine morning. Welcome to our esteemed half-blood farm! This is where all of our hunters deposit their quarry for their eventual use in our great, great city. But I'm sure you're already well aware of that, aren't you, young m@ster?" the stablem@ster said obsequiously.
"Spare me the pleasantries, Dirk. I'm only here because my grandfather demands it. I could honestly care less about owning one of these things-" Which means you do care, said the grammar fan in me, "-but that- ugh, that mistress of his keeps putting all these words into his head." A bit of venom entered his tone. "I just wish that old hag would shrivel up and kick the bucket like the crone she is. We all know she's not as young as she looks."
I gaped. I'd never heard anybody speak ill of Lady Circie, assuming that was who he was speaking of.
"So," "Killy" sounded like he was enjoying the shock I could picture on the stableman's face. "Here we are. Show me the cells where you keep these beasts, stablem@ster. At least I get to choose the one I want."
"Yes, young m@ster Killi. Right this way. I assure you, your grandfather is a very wise man. Our hunters only catch the best! The rest we slam into Lady Circie's arena."
"Let's just get it over with, Dirk. I should be studying my magic casting at this time, not flouncing around looking for a glorified pet," comes the noble's disgruntled voice.
A pet. A glorified pet. That's really how they see us. I knew that, but somehow, it's different than knowing it firsthand.
He's still talking. "Once I know enough to be better than every commoner and student there, I'm off to Thessala to enroll in the college of magi there."
I pick up on it the second time. This noble is a mage. That means he's dangerous, though probably not particularly adept at combat without magic. I creep to the front of my stall as silently as possible and press my shoulder to the door, listening.
"...white robe. So make it snippy, stableman," he snoots. That's the best word I can think of to describe the self-important way he talks.
"Of course, m@ster. Certainly. Right this way," the stableman schmoozes.
Their voices go silent, and when they return, they're much louder. The pair of horrible people is approaching our part of the stables.
"Now, in this block we have some more common finds. But it is still customary to show our patrons the entire stock, you know. Even one of the great house Fain."
I shrink back into the corner of my stall. Out of the corner of my ear, I hear Addy and a few others doing the same. Savannah sits resolutely in the center of her stall, staring at the gate just like she's daring someone to look in.
"I see," I hear the noble say slowly. "This place is depressing, Dirk. Can't you at least let in a little sunlight? I was under the impression you give quality care to the merchandise."
Is that pity for our condition? Oh, how nice. How touching that you notice the lack of sunlight when we are LITERALLY BEING BOUGHT AND SOLD AS SLAVES.
"Although they remain docile, these are dangerous creatures, m@ster. If given the change, and not subdued, who knows what kind of atrocities they can wreak on mankind. Remember the stories of Ravenfell? That's why we keep them in a state of submission. We control the beasts so that they don't control us."
Ugh. That's the excuse they use whenever someone wants to justify the atrocities they've wreaked against us. Besides, Ravenfell was a horrible tragedy where a young dragoness with anger issues lost control and burned the city down. She was young, powerful, and unable to control it, but our entire phylum should not be blamed for her mistake!
"And so that control means mold, darkness, and scraps." He sounds derisive.
"Necessary commodities, m@ster. It's not like they're human, after all."
In the midst of my anger, I let a scoff slip out into the cold air.
The voices go silent. Oh no.
"Wait. What about this one?" the voice of the noble draws closer until he leans over to look in the window and I finally get a look at the visitor.
His hair is pure white and shorn on one side, while the other falls in waves just over his shoulder. His skin is pale and his eyes a pale blue, and he's a skinny twig of a man in a brown sleeveless turtleneck with three gold half-rings wrapping around each shoulder. He wears the crest of what must be house Fain around his neck, and there are three strange blue marks on his chin, like they've been painted or tattooed on.
His pale blue eyes are narrowed with self-importance, and his nose is slightly scrunched, likely from the smell of the stables. He's probably never had to smell feces before in his life.
I extract myself from the hay slowly and sit up, eyes locked with his. I can feel straw sticking out of my hair, but I don't brush it out. I stay painfully still, face blank to show I'm not afraid.
I realize how wide my eyes feel and let them relax.
"Oh, that." Oh great. He's gone and drawn the stableman's attention to me. Yippee. "Pay no attention to such a ragged thing. A noble of your standing should only be seen with the best this farm has to offer."
The bearded man who's been my jailor for the past five days is now in view. I can see remnants of food stuck in his thick brown beard. His shirt probably used to be white, but now it's sweat-stained and filthy, and it smells of alcohol.
I shouldn't care what he thinks. I know I shouldn't. My eyes narrow coldly as I hold the nobleman's gaze.
"That's not the answer I was looking for; try again."
I'm filled with confusion, but the chagrin on the stableman's face brings me no small amount of joy. I think the noble notices the glint in my eye, because his eyes tilt and he winks, as if we're sharing an inside joke.
I harden my gaze and glare at him. He doesn't seem to care.
"Young m@ster Killi, such a beast must be sickly, and... not worth the glances of your eye. Perhaps a pedigree would be more your type?"
Ah yes, a pedigree. I mimic the stableman's oozing tone in my head. The poor half bloods who shouldn't exist, bred by the hands of humans to have the most desirable traits, to be the most adept at serving however is needed. The very idea disgusts me and always has. My lip curls in contempt.
"Plus, Lady Circie has expressed intent to have this one thrown in her arena. With that in mind, I say we keep moving."
What? My body goes cold, colder than I ever thought possible. No half-blood ever leaves the arena. It's where the useless, the disobedient, the sick, the old- anyone deemed unfit or undesirable for servitude- go to fight to the death for the entertainment of the cruel-hearted people of Montel.
If I go there, I know I won't be coming out. I do my best, but I can't stop my face from betraying a hint of my fear. My eyes drop to the floor, still wide as I clasp my hands together to keep from trembling.
Then I catch sight of Addy through the crack. The half-filly meets my gaze, looking ready to trample the gate and get herself killed. I have to stop her.
I make a quick shooing motion, small enough that neither human will see it, paired with an emphatic nod. She gets the hint, thankfully. Looking frightened, she fades back into the darkness of her own cell.
"Oh? Well, that changes things." The noble has a playful look, like he's toying with one of us. I hate him viciously for enjoying my turmoil. "Now..." -he laughs to himself- "I definitely want this one."
I knew it- wait, what? My gaze snaps back to his.
"Young m@ster," the stableman begins, but the noble interrupts him.
"What?" he challenges, a gleeful glint in his eye. "If Circie wants it, then she can't have it."
How petty. I can't complain, though, if it's saving my life.
"And look." The noble actually reaches in and takes a lock of my hair, turning the turquoise fibers in his fingers. "It's not too mangy. Easy on the eyes under all that dirt. And better yet, I get to stick it to that glorified hedge witch that thinks she can tell my grandfather how to run his own house. In fact," he says, his hand brushing the side of my face as he turns the lock over in his fingers, "I daresay this is the perfect half-blood for me."
I'm caught between sinking my venomous fangs into his hand and yanking my hair away and scrambling back to farthest corner of the cell. Somehow, though, I don't do either. I'm frozen.
And I hate myself for it.
With a smug little laugh, Killi's hand withdraws from the window. "So! Any complaints, Dirk? Do keep in mind that I'm the grandson of the current leader of house Fain, while Circie is nothing but my grandfather's... current fascination. I will be taking this one, won't I?"
The stableman sighs in defeat (and I can smell his breath from here). "As you wish, m@ster Killi."
"Oh, and don't bother with one of your chains. I don't touch rusty iron," Killi continues like Dirk never spoke. "I'm more of an enchanted gold man, myself- so I brought my own."
I can't see what he means, but it sounds better than the chains they used to get me here. I'm still unsure how I never got tetanus or something.
"Now. Look up, half-blood," commands the noble- my new keeper.
I do so warily.
"I believe... you're coming with me," he says, and I note that he's speaking to me, not the stableman, for the first time. "If I must have one, then I shall. This one." And there goes that idea.
"Congratulations, half-blood," the stableman snarls, glaring down at me. I return the glare with equal fortitude. (Savannah would have been stronger- she would have sat there, unflinching and unphased.) "You might live to see another week. Now move."
Before he can unlock the stall door, I hold up a hand. I don't want to move or speak more than I have to, but I pray he understands and indulges the simple gesture.
I turn away from him, facing the back of my cell. I hope the disrespect burns him, but that's not why I do it.
"Savannah. Addy," I call.
Neither reply- thank the divines they're smarter than that- but after a moment of horrible silence, I hear four knocks- two from both sides of me, in perfect unison.
They're listening.
Now what do I say? I can't say all I wish to, but there is one thing I must tell them.
"Take care of each other. Don't..." my voice fades. "Don't lose yourselves. Divus, that sounds cheesy," I laugh bitterly. "Try to stay together. I hope you live the best life you can. Goodbye."
Blinking back tears, I turn back to Killi with an expression that dares him to comment.
"How sentimental," he simpers.
He commented. I bare my teeth and hiss, showing curved, thin fangs. Killi doesn't even blink.
The stableman unlocks the door. I climb to my shaky feet and exit the cell. I turn to my "owner."
WHACK!
Dirk lands a punch in my stomach. My knees buckle, and I wheeze from the ground. Killi gives no audible reaction. I don't know if he shows a visible one, but even if my eyes weren't watering, I wouldn't in a million years look up to see it.
"You respect your m@ster, you dirty piece of half-breed filth."
I cough, glaring at the ground. Soon I'll be out of here, and nothing could be worse than this.
Right?
...
As it turns out, I didn't escape the tetanus breeding grounds that are that place's shackles. Dirk locked a rusty, crusty, and musty pair of manacles around my wrists before I left with Killi (I refuse to call him m@ster). We stood outside the stables before a bustling street. Horse-drawn carriages, pedestrians with stuffy clothes and even stuffier airs, and vendors hawking merchandise from their stalls all contributed to the overwhelming noise.
Killi led me by the manacles across the street. I'd never been in a place like this before, having grown up in the mountains north of Montel. The organized chaos was foreign to me, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to balk against my chains and try to flee. The noise was unbearable, but even as overwhelmed as I was, I wouldn't risk the consequences captured half-bloods received when they acted out. I could handle this.
Finally, we reached the other side of the street without getting trampled. Killi hadn't looked back at me once. He dragged me up the steps of the biggest building I'd ever seen, with the exception of the capital building. Its steeple was visible towering over all the other buildings. I craned my neck to get
a better view of its looming arches and towers. For a moment, I thought Killi paused to let me look a little longer, but when a passing noblewoman scoffed and nudged her husband, Killi yanked painfully on the chain. I nearly yelped from surprise but managed to stay silent.
Inside what must have been the Fain manor, Killi waved away the human servants who flitted around him like flies. One of them, a severe woman with a face that looked like it could kill me with a glare, led me up a winding staircase that I couldn't see the end of. I was sure the scrawny old bat would be tired in seconds, but she must have been in better shape than I thought. She tired no sooner than I did.
We stopped on the second floor, where she hustled me into a room with a porcelain tub. She began tugging at my ragged shirt, much to my horror.
"What're you doing?" I exclaimed.
She didn't answer, only blew a whistle that summon several more servants into the room. They proceeded to make short work of my clothes, deftly avoiding my fingernails and flailing limbs (I did take care not to bite them- they were only doing as ordered, no matter how awful it was). They pushed me into the tub and turned on the faucet, showering me with scaling water. I hissed and tried to crawl away, but the rusted manacles held me there, and the severe-looking woman shoved me back in with surprising strength.
After the maids had scoured every inch of me- and I had been thoroughly humiliated- the woman I assumed to be the head maid pulled a white shift none too gently over my head. I blinked the hair from my eyes, but she was already dragging me to a nearby vanity. She pushed me down on the seat and started yanking a brush through my hair. Then she started twisting sections of it into braids that tugged my scalp hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.
As soon as she was done, I ripped them out, staring her directly in the eyes. She threw up her hands in exasperation, but thankfully had the good sense not to try again.
The head maid, instead of stupidly trying to wrangle my hair, just dragged me into the hallway again. It took a lot of strength not to bite her.
Three stories up, she directed me off into a hallway, and we walked down it a short way before she stopped and opened a door made of lightly colored wood. Inside was the most opulent bedroom I'd ever seen. I did a quick once-over of the room.
A gigantic four-poster bed walled by dark blue curtains stood in the center of the room, and there were too many pillows of all shapes and sizes to even fit on it. A pile of them lay in the corner, next to a set of simple double doors that I assumed led to Killi's closet. A vanity lay against the far wall, below a huge window that overlooked the entire city. If he decided the sunlight was irksome, translucent, glittering gold curtains could be pulled over the window for added privacy.
Bookshelves lined almost every foot of wall space, filled with every manner of book, bottle, and specimen. Half the tools there were unfamiliar to me. I wouldn't have expected the bedroom of a child of House Fain to look so studious, but for all I knew, they were just for show. A deep blue carpet emblazoned with the silver crest of House Fain covered most of the floor, and the walls were painted a reddish brown. An ornate light fixture hung from the ceiling. I didn't know how the candles fixed atop it could be lit without a ladder, but they burned brightly almost ten feet above our heads.
The maid ordered, "Sit over there," and I followed her gesture to a cushioned bench. I let my gaze flit back to her, let her believe for a moment that I wasn't going to obey. Then, with a little flick of my shoulders that exuded confidence (I hoped), I walked to the bench and sat down.
Okay, my actions said. I'll let you think I'm being obedient for now. As it suits me.
All the satisfaction of disobedience, but none of the consequence.
She didn't seem affected, though. At least not on the outside.
I scowled and, on a burst of impulsivity, walked over to the pile of pillows and blankets and stubbornly plopped down into the midst of it, glaring at the woman like I was daring her to do something about it.
She rolled her eyes. "Uncivilized pig."
I snarled.
"Well, well. There was a pretty sight under all that crud, huh?"
I sat up straight before I could remember I was supposed to not care. Killi stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.
"Guess I was right. I'm rarely wrong," he bragged.
The maid excused herself. I was glad to see her go.
Killi simply sank onto the bed- almost into the bed- and regarded me with dismissive eyes the color of the moon when it shares the sky with the sun.
"At least I have something worth looking at trailing me for now," he said.
My face hardened.
"Hmm? Why the face? Don't you know you're one of the lucky ones?" he said.
"Lucky?" I repeated, deadly calm.
Killi chuckled. "If I didn't buy you, you'd be fighting tooth and nail for your life in that hag's arena. And while I believe you can last your rounds, that's not the issue." He leveled me with a stare. "Not fun to tear up your own kind for the entertainment of the manfolk, huh?"
My hackles rose. "Don't pretend to know me. I hope you don't expect me to like you."
He snorted. "No, I don't expect you to like me. Hell, I own you. I expect you to be grateful that you're not being buried with the rest of Circie's used-up toys."
"Why aren't I?"
"You being under me pisses her off. And simultaneously, it extends your sorry little lifespan. I'd say mutual benefit has been achieved." He raised a sarcastic eyebrow.
My mouth snapped closed. I blinked once, caught off guard. I hadn't expected a noble to have any semblance of humor, much less sass. Killi smirked in satisfaction. Leaning forward and climbing off the bed, he stood over me. I didn't like that, which I'm sure he could tell by my scowl. Getting up now would only amuse him, so I was in a bit of a bind.
Then I thought of what to do. I leaned back in the pillows with my hands laced behind my head like I hadn't a care in the world. I closed my eyes and forced a relaxed little smirk, praying he wasn't about to attack me while my eyes were closed. That would burn his blood.
I heard a short chuckle, like he was amused by my antics. "And look. You get to rest your head in the most lavish mansion in the city. With a noble who isn't going to make you do anything but be a pretty little accessory on a golden leash."
I hissed at him without opening my eyes, flicking my tongue out to taste the air. I caught the faint scent of adrenaline and cortisol, meaning he should be scared. But why didn't he look it?
I soon found out why: because he was about do something that required some serious audacity. He grabbed my chin, staring into my soul when my eyes shot open. "Better than dying without having a chance to live, wouldn't you say?" he said.
I looked into his eyes without flinching. I hoped my yellow, slit-pupil eyes disconcerted him. I'd seen the reaction they provoked in unprepared humans.
He let go of my chin. Once he retreated back to the bed and sat down, I sat up and sat crisscross on a large, plump pillow.
"Now, hold still. The sooner I can cast the collar spell, the sooner I can get you out of these hideous cuffs." Killi took out something that glinted in the light.
I squinted at a simple solid gold collar. Gehenna no; I'm not wearing that thing.
Killi grunted, and a blue light emanated from where he covered the collar with his hand. When he removed it, a symbol was carved into the metal, still smoking like he'd smithed it in himself. He must have used magic to carve the glyph into the collar- how dependent on magic was this guy?
"Now, I'm finished with the glyph. Try not to resist," he said, giving me a look of almost warning. "It will only be that much more uncomfortable for you if you do. So hold still."
He took a deep breath, and I locked my muscles.
"Entrapta caru el, hurotai dominium!" he chanted, voice echoing unnaturally.
I gritted my teeth as a symbol burned on my neck. The collar floated over to me as if drawn by a magnet. Surrounded by orange light, it clicked shut around my neck as I resisted the urge to flail. I groaned against my teeth when the burning sensation intensified, but it was gone in a moment, leaving nothing but the memory behind.
Killian panted for a short moment before sitting up, the self-assured grin back on his face. "Flawless, as all my magic is," he bragged.
"What was the spell for?" I cursed myself for breaking my silence, but the question was more important than my pride.
"This collar ensures both of our safety. It lets me know your general direction at all times, and if you ever try to harm me, that mark on your neck will replace itself with the properties of burning steel. Same goes for if I ever have to activate it myself. With that in mind, I assume you won't make any rash decisions?"
I was too busy scheming to respond. My fingers absentmindedly ran over the symbol etched into the gold. Is it a mental link that gives him a sense of where I am constantly, or does he have to check it often? If I can't hurt him, that takes away some of my options. I wonder how long a distance it works over. If I can get far enough away from Montel before he realizes I'm gone, maybe he won't be able to activate the collar.
Killi must have taken my silence as resignation. "And I can remove those tasteless shackles now. You're welcome."
I gave him a deadpan look, and he chuckled. "Yeah. Nothing of mine is going to trudge around in ugly chains. I'm a bit more classy than that," he declared.
"Yeah, because collaring us is so much better," I snarked.
"Heh. That's what we have magic for," Killi simpered.
He bent forward and pulled a key out of a pocket at the top of his boots. He tossed the key to me, and I wasted no time in getting the shackles off of me. As soon as they were off, I took hold of them by one cuff and flung them across the room. I aimed for the corner of the floor rather than one of the delicate-looking bottles lining the shelves, not wanting to incur the nobleman's wrath just yet. He regarded me for a tense moment, both of us unsure whether I would attempt to flee.
After a second, when it was clear I wasn't going to get up, he loosened.
"So now, welcome to the Blue Keep of House Fain," he said. "Your new home."
I wasn't impressed with his dramatics. "Where am I to sleep?" I asked him. "Is my resting place in the servants' quarters?"
"Hm? Your resting place?" Killi looked highly amused. "If you think I'll let you out of my sight, you're mistaken. I've heard stories about what half bloods do when they're... unleashed."
"Name one that isn't Cassia and Ravenfell," I demanded, standing, but Killi kept talking over me.
"The spell lasts for as long as the magic is intact, or until I release it. Even as I sleep," he said with a pointed look at me. "So, since you're my first half blood, I think you'll get some more relaxed lodging." He gestured to the pile of pillows and blankets I'd just left. "See, over there is where you'll sleep. I've asked the maids for some comforters and cushions, but failed to mention that I was letting a half blood use them for the foreseeable future in my own sleeping chambers."
I puzzled over this strange gesture of goodwill, or something akin to it. Then I dismissed it; it wasn't like it made up for everything else.
"Should be better than a stone floor and some hay, am I correct?"
I made a sarcastic face at him.
"Thought as much. Hm. As of this moment, you are now the personal servant of Killian Fain." He giggled when I muttered, "Thought your name was Killi," to avoid snarling at him over the "servant" part.
"Now, let's get you dressed in something more, hrm, fitting. Of being my servant, that is," he said. "Shall we?"
Killian (a better name than Killy- I had started calling him Killy Billy in my head) stood. My head followed him sharply as his words sunk in.
Oh no. Formal wear.
This was going to suck.