Anders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
apurrstate) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
makinglies2016-08-18 11:44 am
apurrstate) wrote in makinglies2016-08-18 11:44 am
Entry tags:
Hindi Sad Diamonds
When he woke up this morning, it was to an aching back and a cold hard cot stuffed away in the back of his master's home. The sun had barely turned the morning air blue and purple and already the streets were alive with merchants setting up shop for the day, Master Irving included.
Hours later, his life had turned upside down.
The chill of the evening was already setting in even with the sun dipping into the horizon, but Anders could feel it all too well against his bare skin and, what little clothing he was wearing, was hardly protecting him from the air. The sleeves of what could barely be called a shirt when it really only covered the top part of his chest and left his abdomen open to the air, were so sheer his arms were clearly visible in them. The long stretch of bare skin was only interrupted by the wrap artfully tied low around his hips, his legs encased in some sort of thin but stretchy material that showed off exactly how long they were. The clothes themselves were in rich shades of blue he never could have afforded for himself in all his life, but the most ostentatious part of the entire outfit were the strings of small pearls artistically string through his tied up hair.
He felt like a show animal and, he supposed, that was exactly what he'd become.
Anders tried not to stare at the opulence of the room he'd been left in and instead focused on poking into every nook and cranny to see if there might be a way to escape. As he searched, his mind drifted over his insane situation and questions of just how exactly he'd managed to end up here.
Being bought to be the palace's potion maker and healer seemed like a dream come true and the women who'd picked him up seemed nice enough and certainly beautiful enough to have come from the palace themselves. But then he'd been brought in through the back and put through what could only be called luxurious torture. They'd shoved him into the longest and most fragrant bath in a tub he would have sworn was as big as the entire hovel he'd just come from. Isabela and Merrill (as he'd come to learn) had stayed with him every step of the way, even as other servants came and went to help with various stages of his 'cleaning,' trimming his hair and nails and waxing him in a way he swore was actually a new torture technique used by the rich, all finished off by the two women dressing him up like he now was and dumping him in this room.
Isabela made it very clear very quickly their intent for bringing him here wasn't simply to make potions and heal ailments, he was meant to be a courtesan to none other than the Maharajah. He'd lost his breath in that moment. Few had even seen the man, much less knew much about him. His presence was more like that of a distant god to those in the town, affecting their lives but rarely visible. Perhaps it wouldn't seem so utterly terrifying if the two women hadn't filled his head with images of some large quiet brute with the sexual prowess of the very god citizens painted him to be. At least, that's how Isabela painted the picture. Marrill's side of things was much more vague, but tried to highlight the good things like how the lord Hawke had a very nice smile when he used it and had a lovely voice that was smooth as silk. He'd had to bite back the sarcastic retort about how that was sure to make him feel better when the time came.
On top of all of that, he knew well what was expected of a courtesan, he'd known plenty of women who dismissed the notion and many who longed for it and Anders knew he really wanted no part of it, he had no interest in 'satisfying' whatever lords or ladies the Maharajah decided he would 'lend' Anders to. He might be dressed and painted to be some show horse, but he wouldn't be treated like one.
Which was why he needed to find an escape route. Even if this first night couldn't be avoided, he would find a way out and finally gain the freedom he'd thought he'd been stepping into this morning. He should have known there'd be a catch.
The sound of the chamber's outer door opening had Anders scrambling away from a somewhat promising view of the balcony and the wall beside it to avoid his intentions being found out. He stood, heart pounding in his head and chest, in the middle of the grand room, eyes fixed on the doorway. This was it, he was only seconds from meeting a man rumored to have an iron fist and unflinching dedication to break whatever got in the country's way. He would surely be a terror of a man.
Hours later, his life had turned upside down.
The chill of the evening was already setting in even with the sun dipping into the horizon, but Anders could feel it all too well against his bare skin and, what little clothing he was wearing, was hardly protecting him from the air. The sleeves of what could barely be called a shirt when it really only covered the top part of his chest and left his abdomen open to the air, were so sheer his arms were clearly visible in them. The long stretch of bare skin was only interrupted by the wrap artfully tied low around his hips, his legs encased in some sort of thin but stretchy material that showed off exactly how long they were. The clothes themselves were in rich shades of blue he never could have afforded for himself in all his life, but the most ostentatious part of the entire outfit were the strings of small pearls artistically string through his tied up hair.
He felt like a show animal and, he supposed, that was exactly what he'd become.
Anders tried not to stare at the opulence of the room he'd been left in and instead focused on poking into every nook and cranny to see if there might be a way to escape. As he searched, his mind drifted over his insane situation and questions of just how exactly he'd managed to end up here.
Being bought to be the palace's potion maker and healer seemed like a dream come true and the women who'd picked him up seemed nice enough and certainly beautiful enough to have come from the palace themselves. But then he'd been brought in through the back and put through what could only be called luxurious torture. They'd shoved him into the longest and most fragrant bath in a tub he would have sworn was as big as the entire hovel he'd just come from. Isabela and Merrill (as he'd come to learn) had stayed with him every step of the way, even as other servants came and went to help with various stages of his 'cleaning,' trimming his hair and nails and waxing him in a way he swore was actually a new torture technique used by the rich, all finished off by the two women dressing him up like he now was and dumping him in this room.
Isabela made it very clear very quickly their intent for bringing him here wasn't simply to make potions and heal ailments, he was meant to be a courtesan to none other than the Maharajah. He'd lost his breath in that moment. Few had even seen the man, much less knew much about him. His presence was more like that of a distant god to those in the town, affecting their lives but rarely visible. Perhaps it wouldn't seem so utterly terrifying if the two women hadn't filled his head with images of some large quiet brute with the sexual prowess of the very god citizens painted him to be. At least, that's how Isabela painted the picture. Marrill's side of things was much more vague, but tried to highlight the good things like how the lord Hawke had a very nice smile when he used it and had a lovely voice that was smooth as silk. He'd had to bite back the sarcastic retort about how that was sure to make him feel better when the time came.
On top of all of that, he knew well what was expected of a courtesan, he'd known plenty of women who dismissed the notion and many who longed for it and Anders knew he really wanted no part of it, he had no interest in 'satisfying' whatever lords or ladies the Maharajah decided he would 'lend' Anders to. He might be dressed and painted to be some show horse, but he wouldn't be treated like one.
Which was why he needed to find an escape route. Even if this first night couldn't be avoided, he would find a way out and finally gain the freedom he'd thought he'd been stepping into this morning. He should have known there'd be a catch.
The sound of the chamber's outer door opening had Anders scrambling away from a somewhat promising view of the balcony and the wall beside it to avoid his intentions being found out. He stood, heart pounding in his head and chest, in the middle of the grand room, eyes fixed on the doorway. This was it, he was only seconds from meeting a man rumored to have an iron fist and unflinching dedication to break whatever got in the country's way. He would surely be a terror of a man.
no subject
He tried to make his smile encouraging. Maker damn him, but he just wanted to find a way to put a smile on this man's face. He thought, maybe, if he could just see that, it would be enough. He could leave and find that freedom he'd longed for, knowing he'd brought some happiness to someone who more than deserved it. "Surely there's a few hours in a day where the Maharajah can be set aside."
no subject
He loves the idea instantly, that thought of escape even if he knows he'll need to come back before sun-up. They'll send out a search party otherwise, hassle people trying to find him, maybe even start up a massive witch hunt to find out where he'd been taken. They might even blame Anders, and that thought puts an incredibly disappointing damper on the whole thing. "Well, maybe it's not the best idea..."
no subject
He leans forward, his hand falling close to the side of Hawke's hip, still only covered for the grace of the blankets. "No, don't go down that route, wherever your mind just went, it's not allowed. We can make this work, I'll take you out of here and, for a couple hours, you can just be Hawke." Bright Amber eyes searched the pure silver of his lord's. "Give me two days, the night of the second day, I'll have a path and a plan and we'll be back before the dawn. I swear it to you." The air was still between them, Anders just close enough to feel Wolfe's breath against his skin, but clearly waiting to hear the maharajah's answer.
no subject
Least of all you, he adds silently, very aware suddenly of how close Anders is to him, how he can feel the subtle heat from the other man's presence, how he knows he's allowed to just take him if he feels like it, just suddenly overwhelm the blond with his own physical weight and the weight of his station both. But he finds that's not what he wants. He does want Anders over him, beneath him, around or inside - he can hardly admit that but the thought does linger as a tantalizing formless thing in the back of his head - but he wants it with permission. He wants it on Anders' terms. Strange for the maharajah, he knows, but he won't be seen as a licentious monster.
"Alright," Adalwolfe whispers, mouth dry and eyes alight with the danger of it. He can't help but be excited at the prospect too, however dangerous. Freedom, if just for a little while. A chance to stretch his legs and do something new, and with company far better than magistrates and bureaucrats. "Let's escape."
no subject
He brings Hawke's hand up and brushes his lips to the knuckles as one might to show reverence to the jewels normally adorned there, but there was only pale skin beneath Anders' lips. He pulls all the way back and put a small amount of distance between them. "I should let you rest now."
Part of him toyed with the idea of an invitation to stay, what it might be like to drift to sleep in this man's arms, the finest silk surrounding them as they were lulled to sleep by each other's breathing. It was a very romantic fantasy, one tempered by another one that scared him more, one where he stayed and found out not just what good might come from a sweet night like that, but also whatever else there might be to learn. Was Hawke the snoring type? Did the grand Maharajah steal the covers at night? Did he talk in his sleep? They were more intimate details a true lover might know instead of a dalliance. Yet Anders wanted to know them.
Regardless, he slid off the edge of the bed and took a step back, offering a simple bow and a wink before heading for the door. He certainly shouldn't stay if it still wasn't his intention to truly 'warm' his lord's bed, it would send...a message if he stayed. He just couldn't figure out if it would be a bad or good one.
no subject
He's not sure he would have, even had his voice been found. There's no knowing if a request to stay would be taken as an order; so high is Adalwolfe's authority that he never knows if anyone - save his family, Varric, or Isabela - is doing as he asks out of will or obligation. He finds he doesn't want Anders to do anything out of obligation laid on him, intentionally or no. He just wants this man to be himself, and that's the man Adalwolfe wants to know better. Perhaps even intimately. (Definitely intimately, as guilty as that makes him feel for so many other reasons.)
His stomach does a fully little flop for a moment at that wink and then Anders is gone with the sound of rustling silk. Hawke is alone, again, but somehow it's not the same oppressive loneliness that it was before. The air smells of violet and vanilla and spice, the things Isabela has all his courtesans wear because she knows he likes the scent. But there's something else to it as well, and Hawke lays back and lets his memorizing the smell of Anders send him to sleep.