NB: By request, seventh arc in the Five Gold Rings canon
Rating: Mature Audiences – for content and themes
Summary: The Immortal Anton is now universally accepted as the Sire of the High Master William Aurelius (aka Spike) and his Esteemed Consort, now Childe, Xander, just as he is to the Full Blood Aurelian, Connor. He has supported them all in the past, perhaps now it's his turn
Spoilers: Canon is Post S7 BtVS and S5 AtS.
Warnings: M/M – if you don’t like boys together, don’t play here!
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters nor make any money from stories etc, and bow down to their original creators Joss, et al., plus all the wonderful online writers who continue to give the Buffy/Angel verse characters life.
Spike and Xander woke side by side to bright sunlight, both were in soldier’s garb, and kneeling in a full down position, their sword at one hand, shield at the other, and straight daggers sheathed at each ankles. Intuitively they knew, they were part of the first line, all slaves of the young Master.
His benevolence had, rather surprisingly, let them live and fight rather than be slaves, in exchange for their loyalty. He even vouched for their right to a sword after the last skirmish where close on one thousand of their forward forces had been killed. And now the handsome youngest son, their ‘lieutenant’ was on his horse high above their position. As was the custom of the time, the front line was primarily made up of friends, brothers and gay lovers deliberately placed side by side with their Master’s brand clearly scarred into their skin. They all knew, for their foe to kill one meant needing to kill both.
Sword and shield at the ready, Spike took one more rueful look toward his partner before they charged.
It was strange and odd… the knowledge of their Sire, their own history and extensive reading, and physical training…
Surprisingly, many of their first wave survived the onslaught. How, few could establish. yet now they knew that not only the day had been won, but the enemy had conceded the war and withdrawn.
Many individuals were feted by their compatriots in arms that night, but particularly noted was the skill and heroism of the half blind slave and his exotic, blonde partner. Both had fought with tenacious determination and tireless, deadly accuracy worthy of any noble on the field. Back to back, they had been unstoppable. It was not typical of slaves to be so vehement in their task, but all knew, they did belong to the young son of their supreme ruler Kleisthenes’ cousin, Anton. At nineteen, he had emerged as a leader of men, and not only of the Greeks who came voluntarily, but also the slaves that were assigned him. It seemed he had a charisma and kindness, a ruthlessness and power, that all men were drawn to, they were inspired by it and as a consequence, utterly loyal to the man.
For two months, Xander and Spike washed in the sea and ate with their fellow soldiers (their only option) before retiring to the tiny tent near their master’s own. All behind the ridge that separated them from the sea that marked the last marker of their victory or doom.
Both men knew to respond to the young master’s call and, as did all servants of the rich, with their orientation known then exploited, they had been well schooled in acts of pleasure, regardless of their official role as soldiers. They pleasured their Master regularly by mouth and in ways most girls would understand, and paid no disrespect by their fellow soldiers as it was a task that needed doing by someone.
After the army’s final triumph, the two were provided extra food, a quantity of wine and double the usual measure of oil as a rich reward for their efforts during the campaign, yet were still required to service their master. Both Spike and his Mated Consort had all their original memories, along with their new ones, and both coincided with the natural affection for Anton, so the two did as was expected.
Their fellow soldiers retired to enjoy a well earned reward with partner of choice (or purchased favor) prior to the four days’ march home. Meanwhile Spike quietly led Xander through the camp to their Master’s tent, nodding to Anton’s body guards, they held hands and swung hips provocatively as they had been taught. The guards were well aware of their Master’s ‘needs’and knew better than to comment, so ushered them through.
Surprisingly, they found Anton on his knees beside his own surgeon, holding the hand of a young man who was bleeding to death. The individual was wounded and blood flowed profusely from deep gashes in his side and lengthwise down his thigh. He was barely breathing and as pale as white marble with blue already on his lips. The rudimentary stretcher in the centre of the tent would be the final resting place of one of Anton’s most trusted body guards, a man who had fought ferociously to defend his master as the second wave of attack had flanked their defenses early in the day.
Xander and Spike knelt respectfully as Anton prayed to the Gods for clemency in the afterlife as the man passed on, his mortal form, now bathed in blood, expiring quietly.
Xander and Spike then raised their Master and led him back to their own tent in silence.
There would only be comfort on this night, and while the Master rested, the body of his loyal servant would be dressed and prepared for burial. The young Master deserved love and solace… and in the morning was pleasured gently by four hands and two mouths, none demanding, simply loving and centering him. And he felt it. He was cared for, just as he cared for others.
As they lay by their Master’s side, all sated and he relieved, they felt the beginning of the shift.
This time waking was utter torture.
Both Sire and Childe awoke to burgeoning bellies contracting as nature demanded and, mere hours later, experienced the agony of bearing children… Yet Anton was there fleetingly. Even though only twenty, he looked genuinely concerned. The two servant girls somehow knew he was the father, but also that the new children were already condemned to servitude courtesy of their mothers’ position in the house.
The (thankfully) healthy children were delivered within hours of each other, and the two mothers were very sore but well. (Xander quietly resolving to say something to Helle, mother of six(!) if they were ever able to return). The young father Anton visited after the births, seemingly amazed that he could be the father of the small beings now wrapped in white swaddling and presented to him as he entered the tiny hut at the edge of his father’s property. And strangely Xander and Spike somehow knew… the images and memories that consequently overwhelmed them were his…
As soon as ‘of age’, the young Anton was encouraged to ‘sew his seed’ after initial lessons with an older, more experienced female relative, and had done as instructed.
The two girls were both slaves in the household, though his father had insisted that all be treated with respect, and beatings of any sort were kept to a minimum.
Barely returned from the war, Anton had made the connection at the Tribute to Dionysus – the god of wine and festivity – a huge party held by his father to bless the grape picking and crushing season, and an event at which the two female slaves were serving. He invited them to walk with him and bedded them both as the party was in full swing – concurrently, amongst the vines. The girls were flattered by the beautiful young Master’s attentions and acquiesced, even agreeing to his request that they *all* kiss and touch lying nude on his outspread white and crimson garment. He took their maidenhood and pleasured them in turn, all the while encouraging roaming hands and giving such carnal pleasure as to make the Gods blush.
By the end of the night all were utterly exhausted, sated,… and weeks later the two women would find that they were pregnant.
Spike and Xander’s world shifted from Anton’s memories to the present – or as present as the bizarre shifting timeline could be.
They were attended by a midwife, who treated them with a matter-of-fact motherly calm and felt themselves being cleaned and a new pad of cloth placed strategically to catch the blood.
Tiny mouths were gently guided to breasts that had not been there (for the Master and his Childe) a day before, and both vampires had the extraordinary experience of their milk ‘dropping’ as the cry of a new baby somewhere close drove their bodies to instinctively provide. As a consequence both cuddled their new born daughters even closer, pressed leaking nipples against impossibly small lips and had the joy of feeling a tiny mouth latch on and begin to suck with surprisingly little fuss. For Sire and Childe the act was akin to the sharing of blood – profoundly moving.
The ensuing three weeks, as they came to terms with their form and their status as both slaves and mothers, they saw their young Master briefly almost every evening. But as their babies turned one month old, in a terrifying raid in the middle of the night, they were torn from their shared hut – along with their children – and forced to present themselves to their Master’s Father. The Senior of the household and cousin of the King.
Anton’s father was a daunting man, so unlike his pretty son. He had been scarred in battle, his face and one arm bearing the mark of another man’s sword. He was generously built and taller than most men. He stood in a full white and gold robe, silvering hair and tanned skin seeming to emphasise his power.
Anton was kneeling at his father’s feet, head bowed as the terrified women entered.
“Are these the two?”
“And they are loyal to you only? The children positively yours?”
The older man’s voice raised to a bellow, “How can you be sure??!! These young strumpets might have bedded a dozen men…”
The two now desperate sobbing girls bound, gagged and prostrate in front of their master, could hear their babies crying somewhere nearby, yet could neither defend themselves nor assist their children, let alone the young man who had fathered them.
Anton raised his eyes to meet his father’s, “They had no need, Sir. They are of our slave group and live in the quarter defended by our three best Eunuchs. Father, these women have been loyal to a fault. *Please* father… Let them remain as part of my household, their new children also. Please Father?!”
The aging gent rose, his ire obvious but also aware that he was not without bastard children, so offered clemency. “Only! under these conditions… Your wife to be, Cliementes, must never know of this. The women will be marked and forever enslaved, never to be taken by another. The girls will be spared marking but only if they are chosen by a free man for marriage will either of the two children be freed from this household. In that case, given their dubious status, it will by up to you to provide a small bond on their day of release. Understood?”
Anton, on the brink of tears nodded.
His father nodded grimly, “Now… Give the order.”
Less than an hour later, the two now naked slave girls screamed into roughly applied gags as they were pinned to the ground then brutally branded on the neck, upper arm and right buttock with a hot iron. Still bleeding from childbirth, the two were then subjected to being violated with a blunt object and suffered a beating that left Spike’s female form with a badly broken wrist and Xander blind in one eye. (Just before passing out, it did occur to the brunette that history had a sense of irony after all.)
The two girls were dragged back to their hut where they openly wept as their babies were silently returned to them.
They had assumed the babies would have been killed but the look on Anton’s face as he personally handed over the two tiny bundles to the injured, marked women was one of intense regret and pain. They knew that if they ever said *anything* of their children’s origins, their lives and those of the girls, would be null and void.
For Spike and Xander, the next four months were spent performing their duties, now marked and disallowed to serve in the big house, they were the lowest of the slaves, forced to carry water and food for the animals and other slaves in their master’s care, and to clean horse stalls and assist with tending the garden, all with babies strapped to their backs.
Nights were time for cooking meagre food rations and spending a little time with their children. Their solace was that each week on a Saturday evening, a soft knock on the door saw Anton at their door. Nothing was ever said for fear of others in the slave quarter overhearing, but he would brush their neck scars with genuine distress and kiss them chastely on the forehead before delivering small packages of meat or fruit or something for the children. He would sit with the two tiny girls, though they were usually sleeping when he arrived, and would depart as silently as he came.
In one of the last visits before their next shift, Xander and Spike learned that Anton had made new arrangements for his girls and his father had agreed to the concession. The two children were to be deemed free at the age of fourteen and were bequeathed a small sum of money so the two might survive at least until they could make their own way and find work and husbands. Their mothers, however, were marked, forever to be slaves, but lucky to be owned by a rich and relatively liberal family.
They bedded down on the rather damp straw bed, rather happier than previous days, then their world moved again.
Connor had engaged a full time medical/magical team to monitor the health of the three. At least now all seemed to feed reflexively, Anton included.
Family still hovered nearby and asked for regular reports from those monitoring the magical signatures.