Season content notes: torture, nonsexual dubcon

That night, Housekeeper threatened dire punishments for Dannel’s destructive tantrum and took great glee in barring him from dinner. Early the next morning, Lord Falthro ordered Dannel to attend him.

Dannel refused to drag his feet in heeding the master’s call, despite the chill of dread clawing at his insides. Perhaps the master would at least tell him how he planned to proceed.

When he arrived at Lord Falthro’s chambers, the master told him to put together a plate from the lord’s personal breakfast and then wait in the next room to be summoned. Not about to lose the chance to eat after going without dinner, Dannel quickly filled a large plate and included a few extra slices of bacon. Then he bowed and slipped out of the office to eat and wait.

Soon enough, the sound of voices came in from the master’s office. Johas’ gravelly tenor turned Dannel’s quickly-eaten food to lead in his stomach. He hesitated on the next bite, but Lord Falthro’s words resounded through him. No matter what you face each day, unless you wish to die, you eat. Food is life, and not eating makes death that much more likely.

Dannel had chosen slavery over death that day. He would not give Johas the satisfaction of his death now. Bite by miserable bite, he continued to force down the now-tasteless food.

He was halfway through a pastry when a bell rang. He swallowed, brushed himself for any crumbles, and stepped through the door to the master’s office. For a moment, his eyes met Johas’. The old man’s face contorted in horror. Dannel looked to Lord Falthro. The fae lord signaled for Dannel to come kneel at his side.

Johas gasped. “Please, Lord…”

“Peace, councilor.” Lord Falthro rested a hand on Dannel’s shoulder. “Do you know this man well, Dannel?”

How could he forget the man who helped him climb the old oak for the first time? Who took him fishing. Johas often sat by the fire to debate Dannel’s father on some point or other, and their voices together would lull Dannel to sleep. Tears threatened, but he set his eyes wider to fight the burning at their corners. “I thought I did, Master.”

Lord Falthro smiled grimly. “I thought that might be the case. The councilor asks that I execute you.” Dannel closed his eyes and breathed in the fire of anger to drive out the pain, drive away the tears. “He believes he is being merciful, offering you a release from your torment. How do you reply to that?”

Torment? Yes, this life was torment. From the agony of Lord Falthro’s tortures to the unconcealed hatred of most of his fellow slaves. But Lord Falthro had dealt honestly with him, the master’s servant offered compassion and a tart tongue in equal measure, giving each as he needed them. And the rest of the manor would soon learn the truth. Even if they never welcomed him, their hatred, too, was honest. He would find no daggers in his back here. And to that, he held the “mercy” of a man who had called him “nephew,” but refused to even visit him in the gaol or hear his plea. “Master, I would suffer at your hands for a thousand years before accepting this man’s ‘mercy’.”

Tears seemed to glitter in Lord Falthro’s eyes. Then he turned a hard look on Johas and Dannel was sure he had imagined the wetness. “I would advise you to say nothing further, councilor. You and your fellows have tried my patience enough.”

“I am sorry, lord, that was not my intent. That one’s father was like a brother to me.”

“I see.” Lord Falthro met Dannel’s eyes. From the grim set of the master’s lips, Dannel suspected he really did see. “Sometimes the greatest punishment is truth. Will you trust my judgment in this, Dannel?”

Rage swamped Dannel. Johas had all but been his family. Until yesterday, he had believed that the old man had argued for his innocence. Dannel had never been a violent man, but at that moment the idea of personally introducing the old man to Lord Falthro’s glamourhame was very, very tempting. He did not want to be a man who could torture other men. “I… I know I do not trust my judgment, Master.”

“So be it.” Lord Falthro gestured for Dannel to seat himself in a chair. Dannel did so, deliberately taking a seat that placed him in a circle with the fae lord and councilor. At this meeting, he was the equal of either. Since the chair had been pushed against the wall earlier, Lord Falthro obviously agreed with him. “I have good news for you, councilor,” Lord Falthro said, “Contrary to what you have been told, your brother’s son is a good and honorable man who would never intentionally hurt an innocent.”

“Lord,” Johas growled, “I do not know what games you play, but with my own eyes I saw the evidence. I refused to believe until I saw.”

Dannel glared at the councilor. He said nothing, but let the old man see his hatred and rage. How could there be evidence against him? He was innocent.

“Why did you agree to send Dannel to me, councilor?”

Having once, very briefly, tasted the full force of the fae lord’s glamour, Dannel suspected what was coming. He found himself looking forward to it.

“We believed you could learn where the other two children were. You failed in that, lord.”

Lord Falthro sat back. “It seems, councilor, that you have forgotten what fae are.” Johas seemed to freeze in his seat. “Allow me to remind you. Tell me your secret, councilor. Tell me what causes the deeper agony you try to hide even from yourself.”

“I lay with Dannel’s mother.” Johas’ eyes flew wide as Lord Falthro’s glamour forced his honesty. “I may have condemned my own son.”

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