Rowan and Ash - Chapter One
Hey all! So I'm trying to ease my way back into posting - no promises as to frequency, since there's still a lot going on IRL (work is crazy and my husband is still having health issues) BUT I have this sitting on my computer so I thought I'd share. As mentioned in my previous post, I can't really tease much more from An Iron Blood Tale: Soot and Blood without dropping major spoilers, but I have been pecking at this little side project on those days when I need a break from AIBT, and it's been fun so I figured why not post it. (If you're wondering, AIBT is still my main project, but I won't be ready to start posting anything from that for some time yet.)
This is very much a side project, the premise just popped into my head one day and I started jotting it down. It's whumpy slavefic, so please mind the content warnings. I may eventually start posting this on AO3? But I'm still kinda undecided on that so we'll see! For now I thought I could at least share it here on tumblr. _____ Content warnings: whump, slavefic, m/m master/slave dynamics, captivity & restraints, self-harm, emotional distress, size difference, nudity but nothing nsfw happens Rating: mature Word Count: 2,220
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"He did it to himself," Sefton was whining, yet again, as they walked down the hall. "I won't have those ridiculous unfetterates reporting me to the Civil Ministry. I have witnesses. I didn't touch the brat. He simply went mad."
"Yes, you've made that quite clear, Lord Sefton."
"Heavens knows what set him off. I've done nothing but spoil the pet."
"Mm. Slaves can be unpredictable."
"Well, I've never in all my years—nothing like this!"
They came to a closed door towards the end of the hall, plainer than the rest in Sefton's sprawling home, and stopped. "He's in here, then?" Rowan asked, glad to change the subject. It would forever be the worst part of his job, listening to nobles moan about the shortcomings of their bondslaves like it was somehow the property's fault rather than the owner's. A common pitfall in his line of work, of course, but nonetheless exhausting. "Shall we see him? I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle."