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Master of Slaves	By : arsenicstings Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Seifer/Squall Views: 1307 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 15
- 16
Master of Slaves
By: Baby Chiba

Chapter 16: A Modest Proposal

The war drums beat.
Soundlessly, Squall’s eyes shot open. They strained against the lack of color. Only different shades of black could be discerned. He clutched at his hammering heart. Unsure of why it beat so veraciously.
But then he heard it.
Faint, though it was, it was there.
A strangled moan; an agonized groan.
It did not come from his lips.
He threw aside the duvet cover and stood with the intent to pursue the sounds, but was sordidly reminded of his maiming lacerations. He fell heavily to the ground and instinctively clutched his ankles, trying to choke the pain from his feet.
He heard the sounds again.
Pure adrenaline possessed him. He used his arms to slide his body across the floor since he could not walk. He would not allow the Counts acts to render him helpless. Once in the hallway he could decipher the origin of the sounds. The guest bedroom.
Seifer.
Squirming his way down the hall into the guest bedroom he conjured horrid thoughts, thoughts of the Count exacting revenge on Seifer.
Hyne. What if the Count had somehow overpowered Seifer and was torturing him? If he felt nothing else for the man, guilt would be it, if he were being subjected to torture!
Thankfully the guest bedroom door was left ajar. Squall had no idea what awaited him on the other side of the door, but he barreled his body through as if that nagging inclination to run the other way never existed. He pulled himself to his knees and waiting a moment for some extravagant reaction. When nothing happened his eyes scanned the dark room for shadowy silhouettes of any inhabitants. He found none, save for Seifer, groaning in pain. He shuffled on his knees along the floor, nearly toppling face first a few times, to the bedside.
“W-wh-wha.” It was barely more than thrown together syllables in the semblance of a word that came from Seifer’s lips.
The time for confusion was now.
“Seifer?” The name sounded foreign coming from his mouth.
No response.
He leaned in closer, his eyes adjusting in the dim moonlight.
“Sei-.” He cut himself off as he touched Seifer’s wrist.
It was ice.
He could see now that Seifer was shivering uncontrollably in a heap of cold sweat.
“What the fuck.” He spat out.
None of this made sense. It housed a profound unease in him.
He pulled himself up onto the bed with Seifer and rolled in next to him. He gasped as his skin connected with Seifer’s. It was fucking frigid and clammy, like a servant of Shiva’s. Squall exhaled shakily, fighting against a string of shivers as he molded his stomach against Seifer’s clammy back. The union did not last long. Seifer erratically elbowed Squall in the ribs and twisted away.
If Squall had not seen Seifer’s eyes glossed over in milky oblivion, he probably would have punched him back. The blonde looked possessed.
He needed medical attention. First, he needed to last through the night. His chances were grim.
Squall grappled with Seifer’s feeble flailing arms and a knee as he tried to mold against him again. However, with Seifer incoherently battling him, he could not get close. Squall threw his body on top of Seifer’s, using his legs and arms to pin Seifer in a mirror position.
The blonde groaned harshly.
“Shh, Seifer. It’s okay.” He coaxed, trying to calm the blonde.
As Seifer stilled he applied less pressure on his limbs. Satisfied Seifer was calm he worked them into a position where Squall’s body heat could benefit him most. Chests pressed against one another and legs tangled, an intimate position, yet a grave situation. Squall expected nothing less from their volatile relationship.
During the night the blonde would torque his body weakly, but Squall would coax him to stillness with reassuring whispers in his ear, until he was just a mass of shivering flesh. Squall pried his eyes open as they began to close, fearful of waking up next to a cold corpse.
Hyne help them both.

Hyne answered his pleas because Squall was awakened by a bronchial cough, followed by a string of incoherent curses and limbs twisting violently out of his hold.
“The fuck…” Seifer muttered.
At the first jolt of activity, he was stinted. There came that guttural groan he had heard last night, and Seifer recoiled into himself, holding his side.
He could not even muster a curse of pain. The agony silenced him. For someone with such a high threshold for pain, it wrought an unnatural anxiety in Squall.
Squall watched Seifer lay there stone still in a fetal position, and the tremors return before he said something.
“ You need a doctor.” It was almost inaudible.
Seifer acknowledged nothing. Squall was not sure he had even registered the words.
The brunet made a move to hop off the bed, but Seifer’s hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist. Slowly, he brought his head up, forehead slick with sheen of cold sweat.
“What do you care?” It was more of an accusation than a question. The pain had made him bitter.
Or perhaps he always had been.
For once, Squall was looking down at Seifer. He had the upper hand. But he could think of only one thing. He didn’t like it. Not at all.
“I’m not about to see you die.” He bit back and went to slide off the bedside.
Seifer squeezed his wrist harder, his hand trembling in the process.
“ Don’t get on your feet.” He husked breathless.
It was killing him to speak, but his pride would not allow Squall to see him completely unable. Though he scoffed in his head at the blonde’s stupidity, he understood it. The situation was reversed not too long ago.
“ I didn’t see this coming.” Irvine’s voice shot through the tension.
Squall looked up to see Irvine standing in the doorway. Seifer did not move.
Irvine shook his head, vocalizing Squall’s scoff, “ Came to check on the kid, but he’s babysitting you.” Brows furrowed he stepped into the room, coming behind Seifer and putting a hand on his back. They both recoiled at the same time. Irvine shot a look over to Squall. Violet eyes alight.
“ How long has he been like this?” He drawled; his octaves lower than normal.
“Hours.” Squall breathed, looking down at Seifer, concern knitting his voice.
Irvine tsked a few times before shoving his hands in his breech pockets, “ Should have let the Doc look at you last night.”
“Irvine.” Seifer pushed the faltering snarl from his throat.
Squall was not sure if Seifer was pleading with Irvine for help, or chastising him.
Irvine sighed, “I’ll get the Doc. You stay with him kid.”
Squall dumbly nodded as Irvine turned on his boots and strode out just as briskly as he had walked in.
The brunet turned his attention back on Seifer. The blonde had started to unfurl his body and lay in the bed, but he struggled with even that. Squall shifted closer to him and gently began assisting.
“Don’t.” Seifer spat out, though his throat choked off most of the word.
Hyne his pride…
A quiver escaped his lips as he forced his body to obey and lay on his back in the bed. A sliver of pity and admiration burned in Squall as he watched the proud blonde’s face twist in agony.
He was resilient. He’d give him that.
The thought that Squall should be gloating right now crossed his mind. Weeks ago if he would have seen the blonde in this state he’d have a grin ear to ear. He would have thanked Hyne above for a punishment long overdue. However, in the face of his fantasies, there was no elation. He felt more unease with the fact that Seifer, who had come to epitomize strength and stubbornness in his mind, was now succumbing to an unknown aliment. A foe he could not fight off because he could not see or touch it. In that moment he realized the sheer fragility of his morality, and of Seifer’s.
The tremors had subsided substantially from last night, but they were still present. Squall had a notion that Seifer was beating them back to save face…and losing energy fast.
Once Seifer was settled Squall assumed his earlier position to lie atop of the sweaty blonde.
And was immediately met with resistance, “Don’t.” He rasped, haphazardly swatting a hand in Squall’s face.
Aggravated that he was being put in a position of helplessness, he grabbed Seifer’s swatting hand, hard, “ The body heat will help.”
Seifer hadn’t seen a storm in Squall’s eyes like there was now for weeks. It was still intoxicating, even though he felt as if he would die any moment. And so he surrendered.
Swallowing hard he felt Squall’s hard, hot body press against his. The irony that he’d wanted this to happen for weeks, and when it did, the circumstances had to be life and death, hit him hard.
Squall was right; the heat from his body was not only comforting, but also saving him from hypothermia.
They both laid there in silence, trying not to feel the utter absurdity of the situation.

“I swear boy, your pride will be the end of you.” Doctor Kadowski chastised as she walked through the door.
She shot Seifer an interesting glare, mixed with pity. It spoke volumes to how much she understood Seifer and his past.
Her appearance was slightly more disheveled then last night, no doubt testament to her lack of sleep because of the untimely callings.
“Up, let me look at you.” She motioned from Squall to roll off Seifer and for Seifer to present his wounds.
Squall did so wondering how Seifer would explain his invisible assailant to the Doc. However, Seifer said nothing. Instead he shot Squall an apologetic look before reluctantly pulling his shirt up, revealing, much to his chagrin, a very irritated laceration.
“Bloody Hyne above Seifer, why didn’t you speak up last night!” Irvine voiced the words that Squall’s frozen tongue seemed incapable of speaking in that moment.
Doctor Kadowski simply pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.
“Who did this to you?” Irvine continued, taking a step closer to inspect the gore, yet remaining a good distance away.
“ The Count.” Seifer rasped out.
It was ugly.
The wound rested right above his right hip, a gaping laceration that oozed slightly black looking mucus.
Squall did not understand how he could have missed it. Seifer’s nightshirt had been stained by it, yet he still missed it…
Squall remained stone still on the opposite bedside of Seifer.
Seifer bowed his head. No doubt embarrassed that it had to come to this.
The Doc dipped her head to inspect the wound. Seifer flinched.
“ Don’t you dare, this was your doing, now deal with it.” The Doc chastised, not missing a beat as she continued prodding at the wound with a medical instrument.
She smelled it before standing upright, her brows knit furiously. She looked confused.
“ It smells like Malboro.” Her voice took on a very grave tone.
The blonde chuckled bitterly and leaned the back of his head against the headboard.
“Fucking sadist…” Irvine drawled under his breath.
Squall was missing something.
Squall blinked, “What does that mean?” His voice was small and low.
“It means the dagger was coated with poison.” Seifer bit out harshly, his voice wavering in what could have been pain or anger.
Squall’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
He had meant Seifer to die. His intentions were very clear. Squall felt nauseous. He’d actually felt sympathy for the Count… but he really was just a monster.
“ I can’t just cauterize it, I’ve got to draw the poison out first.” The Doc interjected in a somber tone.
Seifer let his lashes close lightly and gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. By the hardening lines in his face, he knew what was coming…
“It's going to be a hell of a detoxing process Seifer…” It was not reassurance, but the Doc needed Seifer to know what he had gotten himself into.
“ Just do it.” His voice was so strained the syllables rolled as one off his tongue.
Squall glanced at Seifer’s hard face, his eyes unfocused and milky, a heavy sheen of sweat plastered his locks to his forehead, his skin drab. Squall wasn’t sure Seifer was fully cognizant. He would have agreed to anything to get the pain to subside.
And after his consent, he remained silent.

The Doc had to go into town for some necessary items. She was gone only a matter of minutes yet for Seifer, and his silent sufferer, Squall, it felt like an eternity.
Squall did not know what he expected to see when the Doc returned. A magical potion that would cure the poison painlessly? A salve? An antidote? But a murky jar of slimy creatures was definitely nowhere in the line of possibilities. The liquid that housed the creatures inside the jar was a greenish-brown, the color of renounced lakes that remained stagnant for eons. Algae decorated the inside of the jar and tiny suctioning mouths cleaned the glass, the mouths of the most vulgar looking creatures. They were black and shapeless, with no eyes, and certainly no heart.
Chills ranked up Squall’s spine as his mind concocted ways the Doc planned on using those creatures. The brunet mindlessly looked to Seifer’s reaction, expecting distain, or at the very least distaste.
Seifer remained silent and passive. The only way he knew the man was alive was the rapid rising and falling of his chest.
“Leeches. They’ll suck the life out of anything. But for our purposes, they will suffice for sucking the poison out of your system.” The Doc explained, cradling the jar in her hands.
Suddenly Squall felt suffocated. He felt as if he were the one trapped inside that murky jar. He looked again to Seifer’s reaction.
The man was void of any emotion, no resistance, no distain, no elation, nothing.
“Irvine, tie him down.” The Doc commanded.
Irvine hesitated for only a moment, as he absorbed the surprise of the Doc’s instructions. He rooted through Seifer’s armoire and pulled out thick twine.
“ No, something stronger. It has to hold him.” The Doc interrupted.
Irvine craned his neck towards her, face still in shock, then put the rope away and drew out heavy chains.
At the sound of the harsh clanking, Squall clenched his jaw. His stomach churned. That old familiar sound was anything but harmonious to his ears. However, these chains were not meant for him.
The bitter irony of martyrdom.
Irvine looked to Seifer as he approached with the chains for any sign of resistance. Seifer gave nothing. So Irvine proceeded to chain Seifer, as he would have a slave, to the bed, wrists above his head, ankles to either bedpost.
The image of Seifer chained to his own bed, by his own devices burned in Squall’s retinas. This was the image of divine justice. Hyne had answered his many pleas for revenge. A life for a life, chain to chain.
The Doc pulled on the chains, satisfied that Seifer was properly restrained she then proceeded. With one last look at Seifer, Irvine left the room.
The lid of the jar came off with a sickening pop. Squall swore from the other side of the room he could hear the little creatures sloshing around in their cesspool of algae. With metal tongs the Doc pulled a squirming creature out and placed it directly on Seifer’s open wound.
The response was immediate. Seifer growled, his abdomen tightened and his chains clanked lightly as he fought against the sensation of tiny teeth clamping onto his exposed tissue. She placed another, and another and another, until the wound was obscured by black writhing creatures, greedily sucking away. With every leech the sounds it wrought from Seifer became more and more wretched. He fought valiantly to remain in control, but he was no God… As the leeches started drawing the poison out, he broke.
He arched painfully off the bed as much as his restraints would allow him. He twisted his torso in angles that should be anatomically impossible. His eyes darted across the room, searching for anything, something to act as a reprieve, a sheen of panic set in his dark emerald eyes as he realized, there was none. He would have to bear this all the way through, to the end, or die.
Squall watched Seifer’s face contort with the excruciating realization. He wanted to offer some sort of solace, wanted to reassure Seifer that he would come through the waves of pain just fine. But Squall could offer nothing. He could only watch, a mortified voyeur, offering distant support. Even watching was unbearable.
Squall stood from his chair and took a step back from his place at the side of the bed. Then another. And another. His own pain forgotten by the morbid display before him.
Seifer was seething, screaming, grinding. It looked like he was seizing.
Squall backed up until the back of his thighs hit an armrest of a chair; he half fell in it, half over it. Tearing his eyes away from Seifer he scrambled to his knees, grasping the chair for support.
Every visible appendage and muscle on Seifer’s body was strained and tight. A thick vein of purple protruded from his neck, it seemed to wind under his face then protrude back out in his forehead. The muscles in his arms and chest quivered and pulsated in time with the leeches.
This was too much. Squall felt unsteady. He would never have wished this on anyone…but in fact, he had. He was lightheaded.
Seifer screamed a blood-curdling roar, and frantically thrashed about in his bondage. His neck snapped side to side so violently Squall wondered if it would snap off.
“ When will it stop?!” Squall didn't realize he’d asked it amid the screams.
The Doc turned around to face him, unfazed by Seifer’s reaction, “ Not any time soon.”
It was too much. He couldn’t take it. He scurried on his knees out the bedroom door, covering his ears, trying to drown out the awful shrieks and screams. His own chest was rising and falling to a similar rhythm as Seifer’s. The blood beat loud in his ears. He practically slid down the winding staircase belly first and crumpled into a heap of limbs at the bottom. He rolled onto his side and crawled to the front door. He needed to get away from the sounds. Just as he started pulling himself up the door handle to open it, it opened from the outside. He unceremoniously felt forward onto the cold cobblestone, looking at two immaculate boots. He looked up at Irvine’s stoic façade with a hand on the doorknob.
Irvine looked down at Squall disinterested, brought his half finished cigarello to his lips and turned on his heels.
Squall pulled himself up and crawled over to a softer spot on the stone porch, allowing his ears time to adjust from echoing screams to the quieter sounds of the morning city.
Irvine slowly paced in front of his parked carriage as he drew the last few wisps of tobacco from his cigarello. He lazily flicked the butt onto the unpaved street in front of Seifer’s manor and turned his attention to Squall, exhaling a cloud of smoke that spiraled elegantly into the sky.
“Get in.” He commanded softly, motioning with his head towards his parked carriage.
Squall blinked, unsure if Irvine was addressing him. They stared at each other for a moment. Irvine’s face was unreadable, but patiently waiting. He did not know why, but he obeyed, and slunk himself over to the carriage, pulling his own weight up the small metal stairs and onto the cushioned leather. Irvine made no move to aid him. Which was just as well, Squall would have refused it if he had.
Irvine stepped in after Squall and sat facing him. Irvine knocked on the wall beside him and the carriage slowly started to sway in motion. He could hear the clicking of the metal horseshoes against the stone street.
“ I’d say let’s go for a walk but that would aggravate your…warm disposition.” Irvine drawled irreverently, looking down at Squall’s shredded feet.
“ I have nothing to say to you.” Squall bit out gruffly.
The shock wore off and was replaced by his everlasting resentment for the man that brought him to this dreadful city.
“ Then listen.” Irvine snapped back just as quickly, yet devoid of bitter emotion. “ Seifer is a very practical man, but when something, anything, catches his fancy, it compromises his logic.” He paused, sizing Squall up, “ He should have never released you. He acted on impulse and he was wrong.”
Squall opened his mouth, but Irvine was faster.
“ Hold your tongue a moment longer. I’m not suggesting he keep you as a slave…” Irvine looked out the small window at the passing activity in town, “ he’s beyond that.” He trailed off, “but you need papers to pass through the city borders.” One more look, this time Irvine’s eyes trailed over his frame, it left Squall feeling vulnerable, “ You’d never make it out without being picked up and traded among slave owners.”
Squall drew in a thoughtful breath, unsure of Irvine’s motivation. It went against everything he stood for. It made him weary.
“ How do I get my papers?” He humored Irvine.
He was met with a sharp, “ You don’t. You are not a citizen therefore are not entitled to the same rights as one.”
This was dead logic. Was Irvine trying to persuade Squall to stay with Seifer as a slave because the reality was, it was probably the best option?
“However… there are ways in which you could acquire papers.” Irvine finished, a strange glint in his eyes.
He had Squall’s attention.
“ Become an indentured servant in the Almasy household, you’ll be granted amnesty and given the rights of a partial citizen. You could report him if he abuses the powers granted him as a feudal lord.”
He did not like the idea of servitude in any capacity. However, if there was an end in sight, perhaps it was tolerable. He mulled on it for a few moments.
He looked out the window at the passing street vendors and food stands, “ How long?”
“ A year and a day. After that period of time, you’ll be a resident of Galbadia and free to travel within and outside it’s walls whenever you wish.” Irvine finished gently, an elbow propped on the back of the seat and his head resting against his palm.
Squall tried to play the proposal out in his head.
He scoffed softly, “ He won’t accept.” He thought Irvine a fool for suggesting such a thing.
“ You’re right. He’ll denounce the idea the second he hears it.”
Squall frowned, floundered by Irvine’s dead logic yet again.
“ But…” A resounding possibility, “ he cannot denounce you. Ask him and he will grant you.”
Squall shook his head his eyes still steeled on the window, “ He won’t.”
“ Did he not run to your rescue when he found out the Count possessed you?”
“ He did the same for Nida. It means nothing.” Squall shot back, bringing his attention back to Irvine.
“ Perhaps, but what have you to lose? You only stand to gain from this.”
“ What if he rides with me to the borders?” Squall asked, scheming alternate possibilities in his head.
Irvine chuckled, “ You’re a pretty thing. Someone will eventually pick you up, without papers; it will be a repeat of last night. And without citizenship or even residency in any nation, how much can you expect? Do you wish to be a vagabond for life?”
He was right. Captivity could happen in any nation. He had been lucky to dodge slave traders for as long as he did. Luck can only take you so far though.
Squall exhaled pensively. His eyes steeled over in thought. It was by no means ideal, but it was something. It was hope.
Irvine saw the gears turning in Squall’s mind and silently smiled to himself. The seed had been planted. Now it was up to the kid to make the proposal. He opened the window behind him to speak with his driver,” Loop around the city a few times.” He paused and looked over at Squall, “ unless you’re eager to get back to that medical anomaly of a blonde.”
Squall narrowed his eyes at Irvine; the pinpoints of his eyes would have been sharper than a hawk’s talons if he had to make a comparison.
Irvine chuckled and shut the window, “ It’ll be a while, would you like some tea?”
Squall rolled his eyes and chose to ignore the man’s dry humor for the duration of their ride…if possible.

TBC…
A/N: Hi guys!! I always seem to begin these with incessant apologies for taking so long! I want to thank all the readers who have stayed with the story to this point. A special thank you to the readers that took the time to message me and plead with me to continue. This chapter is dedicated to you! I promise I will finish this epic. It is my love child, but life beckons.
I’m not sure how many literary geeks I have as followers but this chapter’s title is an ode to Jonathan Swift’s ‘A Modest Proposal’. I think if Irvine could have met Swift, they would have gotten along smashingly!
As always please review, it is what motivates me!
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Master of Slaves