He was not entirely certain when the Lady Hazel had died. He had been carrying her injured form on his back for days, stopping to eat and sleep only when their bodies could do without no longer. He had been charged with her safety, as the legion had fallen apart around them. Daughter of the General he had been given to her as her sworn vessel. He lived and breathed and existed only to please her. And now she was dead. He eased the corpse to the ground beside him. Any attachment or ties he felt had vanished the moment the breath had left her body. Now it was just an empty vessel. Much like he was, in fact. He sat down besides the corpse, and considered. He knew the legion was demolished, there had been no doubt of that course. That was the only reason he was here with the Lady, who should have been treated to all the luxuries of her station. He had no Master, no Lady. He was empty. The empty creature sat besides the course as the day slowly drifted past him. Waiting, waiting for nature to take its course. It was awfully slow going, starvation and dehydration would take weeks to over take him. But this was his path, for he had no other. He had been trained under the belief that without a Master, he was a nobody. A nobody did not do things for their own provocation. "Speech"

The safety and comfort of the trees was something that Aslatiel had come to crave and enjoy. She was small so she could climb rather high without much difficulty. Her brothers all had their silly long teeth, but she was glad to have inherited a set of retractable claws. They allowed her to reach the crooks of trees where she could curl into a little, cream colored ball, and forget everything for a while. After her night of sparring and star watching with Indigo, Asla needed some time alone to decompress. Her brother brought such a buildup of emotions within her that it was difficult to breathe sometimes. Coupled with the face that they had to hide their love for one another... was it really surprising that it was too much to bear? Shouldn't her father be happy that they loved one another? Shouldn't he be happy knowing that they would treat one another well and that he would never have to worry about either of them being abused at the paws of another mate? It all made sense to the girl. Why didn't it make sense to him? The young woman picked her way quietly through the wood, her soft pawsteps a habit now more than a conscious effort. She had just about reached the tree where she was intent on spending the remainder of the night when she smelled it. Death. Corpses had a rich scent to them. Each different type of corpse had its own unique smell. An elk wouldn't smell like a rabbit. A rabbit wouldn't smell like a puma. This corpse smelled different. Coming around the side of one of the larger willows, she discovered why. There was a large brute sitting there, still as can be. Beside him lay a dead wolf. Aslatiel closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling lightly and committing to memory the scent of a wolfs corpse. It was valuable information. What were they doing here though? Did he not smell the scents of packs on either side of him? Though an unclaimed territory, the scent of Ashen and Armada ran thick here. Maybe he didn't care. Was he deep in grief? Only one way to find out. Astatiel cut her path backwards, looping around so that she placed one of the larger streams between herself and this man just in case he was dangerous. The stream wouldn't help much, but it would take him a moment to cross and that moment would be all that she needed to climb up one of the trees. The cream and grey youngling stepped out into a patch of moonlight that filtered from above, making her appearance very clear. She wasn't trying to hide. "Are you alright?" Soft tones crossed the distance over the stream. Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked over the wolf and his corpse. She waited for him to speak. "Speech"

The soft sound of a female voice broke him from his reverie. He did not know how long he had sat there, but his muscles felt stiff. A familiar burn, he had been forced to stillness many times in his life. Slowly, so not to pull anything, he raised his head to find the cream-blue beauty. Intense violet eyes, and the softest, long ears that adorned a distinctly feminane face. Her bright colors marked her as nobility, the drabs breed for work came from stock of dull sheen. His brown to russet tones were almost unusual, and the reason he had been given to a lady of high standing. Could it be that he had found another? Ah, yes. She had asked him a question. He twisted his body into a deep bow, kissing the earth beside him. Ignoring the… rather aromatic scent of the empty vessel beside him. “Forgive this Humble Vessel, My Lady. It appears I have lost my Master” a hint of dry flavour entered his tone. The type that would assure a beating. "Speech"

It took the man a moment to realize that he'd been spoken to, but he eventually looked up and in her direction. Pale eyes caught her attention and, for a moment, Aslatiel was transfixed by them. In fact, she was someone taken aback by his entire appearance. He was large. Not quite as large as her brothers, but still large. The varying russet and cream tones were pleasing to the eye. He held himself well and had the lean but powerful body of a warrior. A fighter. She possessed the same lean body, though in a much smaller package. His words surprised her. His master? So this big, strapping young lad was a slave? What a pity. Then the gears began turning in Aslatiel's mind. He was a slave. His master was obviously dead. Would he continue to be a slave or would he become his own man? How could she seize this opportunity and turn it in her favor? Grey ears flicked forward at his words and she eyed the corpse of the woman beside him once more. "She must have been weak." Deciding that the man meant her no harm, Aslatiel picked her way across the stream using rocks and roots. Coming up before him, she looked up at the man with her vibrant galaxy gaze. "I am Aslatiel Fatalis. Princess of the Ashen Armada. What is your name?" "Speech"

He raised his head from his bow, keeping his posture ever so slightly tilted downwards. So not to offend his betters. It was his prerogative to lay down his and die beside the empty vessel. His life was worth less than hers, and it was the greatest shame that she had died before him. Basilisk had no intention of dying today. It was a small, rebellious spark. Proving that not all life had been beaten from the slave. “This is the empty vessel that had once housed her.” He said, indicating the body and saying nothing on her ability to be weak or strong. That was not his place to lay judgment upon, after all. She introduced herself as a Princess, even better then nobility, Royalty but not from a sect he was familiar with. He could not recall hearing of the ‘Fatalis’ sect. But then, he was just a humble slave, who was he to know his betters? He bowed his head again, as low as he was able to. “This One is named Basilisk, if it pleased you, My Princess.” he said humbly, but that spark had not yet faded. This royal Princess had deemed him worthy of a moment's attention. Perhaps also she offered a chance at life? “Would the Esteemed Princess take a gift from this Humble Servant? this one little to offer you, but the bones of this empty vessel.” he indicated again the lifeless sake of meat beside him. "Speech"

The man gave his name and added a little 'my princess' behind it. Aslatiel shook her head. "No, when it's just the two of us, I'd have you call me Aslatiel." She liked the sound of his voice and would be pleased to hear her name on his tongue. Asla was feeling pretty pleased anyway, but hearing him say her name would be a pleasure for sure. Basilisks words met her ears as he offered the gift of his former masters corpse. Again gears turned and the young wolf tilted her head ever so slightly. "To be a servant you must have a master. If yours is gone, then you aren't a servant, are you?" She was working her way into having him ask to serve her. She wouldn't be the one to ask. She was a princess, after all. She shouldn't have to ask, right? Perhaps he didn't want to be a slave any longer. If that was the case, then he certainly had his freedom at the moment. Not that she would be a horrible master. He simply wouldn't have any choice but to participate when it came to her less than savory ways. "Speech"

“As you wish, Aslatiel” he rolled her name gently off her tongue. It was the first gift he had ever received, and he savoured it. She was very strange, as far as princess’s go. Speaking words not orders to the empty slave. He wondered what peculiar place she was raised that she would do such as this. At her words, part of his hope fled. she was Master, were her words and friendly, affable nature a front for a cold dismissal? Did she know that release for him meant death? Cold fingers of fate crawled up his spine, and he considered his next words very carefully. “If This One had no Master, then This One’s standing orders are to wait for death, Pri-Lady Aslatiel.” His words were careful, and humble. He kept the dry humor well out of his tones this time. This was life or death, after all. “If it pleases you, are you not Master?” okay, a touch of dry entered, but he was stating the obvious. "Speech"

He spoke her name and Aslatiel smiled. Just as she'd suspected, she liked her name on his tongue. It was going to be a struggle for him to remember not to call her princess, but he'd get the hang of it eventually. Basilisks next words worked him right into her pocket. A slave without a master had to wait for death to claim him. "Oh, well we can't allow that to happen, can we?" The small fae gave a little shrug. "I suppose I don't have a choice but to be your master." Aslatiel padded close, leaving barely any room between herself and the big, earth and russet brute. "Swear fealty to me, Basilisk. Tell me that you're mine and mine alone." A bit of heat crept into her tones. A heat that she'd only recently learned. As she waited for him, she cast her plum colored gaze towards the corpse on the ground. "Was she ever mean to you, your previous master?" Asla didn't like the idea of the dead woman having been mean to Basilisk. He would be her slave, but she wouldn't mistreat him. Not much, anyway. Nothing... lasting. "Speech"

He felt it had somehow all been a test. What would a slave do, if offered freedom? Would he follow his last edict and wait for death? Would he throw himself onto the mercy of the master? His words had pleased her, he wasn’t certain of it. He had passed whatever test she had laid before him. She approached, the regal Princess that was to be his Master. Her words were formal, and he knew his place instantly. He sank to his knees, kissing the paw closest to him. Her fragrance was of pack, but he could tell little else past the stink of death beside them both. “I, Basilisk Once of House Martilis, swear my eternal allegiance to the Most Lustrous Princess Aslatiel Fatalis of the House Ashen Armada” Shit, had he gotten that right? Or was it House Fatalis Sect Ashen Armada. Shit well, he was up this creek now. He could only forge on and see what his punishment might be. “That I might be hers, and hers alone, until my dying breath” He raised his head cautiously, though he did not lift it too far. “My ignorance is unforgivable, but I do not understand the question, Lady Aslatiel” he apologised. He did not cringe, but awaited the punishment of her displeasure with wry acceptance. "Speech"

Basilisk easily and quickly spoke his vows and Aslatiel smiled again. He was at her feet though and she didn't like that. The girl placed one paw upon him, prompting him to rise. "Now that you're mine, there are some rules, Bas." Yes, she'd already given him a nickname. "When other are around, you're nothing more than my guard. You must pretend that I'm not your master. There are some within my pack that don't understand. I'd hate to have you taken away from me." She wasn't the ultimate power there and slavery was frowned upon. If he could pretend that he was simply her guard, then no one would think anything of it. "If you agree, let's seal it with a kiss." Hey, when an opportunity knocks... The big boy didn't seem to understand her question about his former master. "Did she harm you? Cause you pain? Make you do things that you didn't want to do?" Aslatiel had no doubt that the woman had indeed abused Basilisk. His demeanor was one that had been bred and raised to serve and never question. Well... Aslatiel intended to change that, if only a bit. "Speech"

She spoke of rules and he dipped in his head in agreement and acknowledgment. “As you wish, Lady Aslatiel” and she gave him his second gift. From a lifetime to two in one day. How peculiar. Bas he rolled the name about his thoughts for a time. He had been given nicknames before ‘Imp, slave, thing’ were among them. Wait, what was she saying? He cursed his inattention at the fascination of his nickname. Did she really just say that her pack was unaccustomed to slaves? A growl slipped past his lips, and he ducked his head quickly to hide it. He would not be taken away from Aslatiel. He had given his undying allegiance. The lady had given him gifts. The gift of her name, and his. “As you wish, Lady Aslatiel. I will not do anything to prompt a situation where they might try to take me from you.” A kiss? today was too strange. “As you wish.” he whispered, lowering his head to the Princess, so she might bestow this kiss wherever she wished upon his person. He was distracted by her clarification of her question, and he paused. “She inflicted pain, and I inflicted pain upon myself at her behest. She placed me into the path of pain for her amusement, as is her right. There is nothing I do not wish to do, Master.” Pause. "Er, Lady Aslatiel" he corrected. "Speech"

He seemed genuinely pleased with her requests and with, what she could only assume, was the use of his nickname. The sudden flare of anger in his gaze amused her. He agreed that he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his position. "Be sure that you remember." A strange fondness had begun to form. Maybe it was just happiness at having someone that would serve her without question. As Bas made himself readily available for the kiss, he stopped in order to answer her question about the dead whore beside him. She had hurt him and she had forced him to hurt himself. Well... Aslatiel placed her lips against his in a soft, somewhat breathy kiss. Brilliant purple eyes searched his face before growing cold as she pulled back to direct that gaze at the dead wolf on the ground. He corrected his words, but she was barely paying attention. Her gaze had begun to travel the willows until she found what she was searching for. "Bas, can you lift me up?" She pointed to one hanging, rope like vine above them. Once he lifted her, she used her claws to grab onto the branch, holding it tight until he brought her back to the ground. "Now, could you grab your old masters leg and drag her over here, please?" Once the dead woman was close enough, Aslatiel wrapped the branch around her leg, tying it tight. It was difficult to hold on to, but she managed. When Asla released the branch, the corpse sprung into the air, swaying back and forth. "If you felt anything for her, you might want to look away for the next part." She would give him a moment to either turn his gaze away or continue to look. "Speech"

She pressed her delicate lips straight to his in a flash of heat and surprise that left him breathless. Goog gods, she was the strangest Master he had ever served, but he wasn’t complaining. He watched the heat flee her expression, and knew that the time had come for the full sum of his punishments to be laid upon him. He held steady, prepared for whatever she might throw his way. But her attention had already left him, leaving a befuddled mess of feelings and thoughts in her wake. “As you wish, Lady Aslatiel” he agreed, moving to assist her as she had requested. Luckily, her small frame meant he could do so without fail. She grabbed the vine she wished and brought it back to earth with her. He was utterly befuddled at this time. By everything, but he kept his servential posture, and tried to guess what she would need as best he could. Intuition was prized among slaves, after all. It wasted breath to tell a slave ‘exactly’ what to do. He grabbed the empty vessel - specifically by a leg and not a scruff - as directed, and dragged the small form towards his Master. Once he realised she intended to tie the rope, he lifted the leg so she could move the rope beneath the limb with ease. He watched as the sack of meat sprung into the air, his confusion not lifting for a moment. He sat at her side, keeping his gaze on the scene. He felt nothing for an empty body. The soul had long since departed, and with it, any loyalty he had sworn to her. If he looked away, he might not be able to offer immediate, and precise assistance to his Master. He had no intention of letting her down. "Speech"

Basilisk didn't turn away. Really, she suspected that he wouldn't. Things were about to get a little gruesome. Raising up on her hind paws, Aslatiel sank her claws into the belly of the dead woman. Jerking downward, she began to slice through the soft belly flesh. It was softer and more tender than flesh elsewhere. It ripped and tore easily. Even so, Aslatiel was small. She had to slice downward several times, but eventually she achieved her goal. The dead woman's entrails tumbled outward, landing in a squishing thump on the ground beneath her. Blood and gore trailed outward as did the smell of her rotting bowels and flesh. It was disgusting, but it was what she deserved. The woman had been disgusting in life, let her be so in death. Now spattered in dead blood and bits of viscera, Aslatiel smiled to Basilisk as though it was nothing. Just another day in the life of Aslatiel Fatalis. "Now that that'd done with, we should introduce you to my father, don't you think?" Patting his paw with one bloodied set of pads, the small wolf smiled again. "Come along. We'll introduce you, get you fed, then get you settled in." She could tell that he was hungry. She was a little hungry herself. They could eat together. Where was she going to have him sleep? Hmm... if she was feeling bally, which she usually was, she'd have him sleep in her new den with her. How else was he going to guard her sufficiently? With a soft huff of amusement, the girl led the way. "Speech"

Basilisk had fought in battles where he did not know the enemy, nor the reason for fighting. He had dueled against other slaves for the entertainment of his Masters. Every bit of it had seemed senseless to Basilisk. But the senseless tasks all had one thing in common. It served his Master in some way. So the sudden, gruesome action of the Princess wasn’t entirely shocking, but it was unexpected. He watched as her claws dug into the corpse. Noting carefully the unusual length of them as they rendered flesh. He did not know what purpose his served his Princess, but he would have to find out. He had to know the nature of his Master, so he could serve without hesitation, without delay. She smiled at him, and he dipped his head subserviently back. “As you wish” he agreed. If she was a Princess, it was only logical to assume that Daddy Fatalis was King. A slave was not introduced to a King. Ah but he forgot himself. He was not her slave in the eyes of the king. He was her Loyal Guard. He almost groaned at the thought of food. How long had it been since he had eaten? Long enough for his stomach to feel like it wished to consume itself. There had been no time for simple pleasures like food in his mad rush to take the Late Lady Hazel to safety. He followed obediently after his new Master. Knowing that she had saved him from a slow, agonising death. "Speech"

They walked away from the hanged woman and Asla stopped to rinse the blood from her paws. She made sure that the dead wolf was out of sight before she released a sweet howl, calling for her father. She hoped that he would let her keep Basilisk. You never knew with him though. She was always in trouble for something. He might deny her a guard. Ah, but didn't he want her to always be safe? Who would mess with her with Basilisk around? He was a pretty big guy. "Don't forget to pretend, okay?" She continued to walk back towards the pack lands, intent on meeting her father on the way. Basilisk was so much larger than she was. Her brother's were larger, but they were her brothers. She liked the way that she felt beside Bas. It was a pretty interesting slew of feelings. "Speech"

He waited patiently behind his Master, until she reached the stream. When she placed her paws in the water he was quick to wade in and stand across from her, reaching his own paws forward to gently massage the blood from her paws. His touch light and gentle in some places, but firm with pressure in others. He had learnt his way around muscles at a young age, and knew exactly where to place pressure. He helped her clean her paws, massaging her limbs as he did so. Once they were clear of the water, and heading in (to him) an arbitrary direction, she raised her head and called. He assumed, for her dad. He would be lying if he didn’t admit some trepidation to meeting this King, and the role he was intended to play. He knew he could not slip up, and what the cost of that would be. "Speech"

A call from his daughter gained his immediate attention. The Warlord bounded from the territory and into the woods. It was uncommon for Asla to call for him outside of pack bounds, and well there had been no urgency in her tones… Well, he was only a father.

He found her quickly, she was not far from the borders now. She had a stranger in tow, standing politely one step behind her, and to the side. His face expressionless. The Warlord glanced at him with some curiosity, and then turned his attention to his daughter. “Asla, you called?” he asked. He assumed this had something to do with the stranger at her side. Was Asla, like Azure, going to bring home a stray today? His lips tucked at their corners at the thought.

Basilisk had insisted upon washing her paws and she let him, but warned that he couldn't do so in front of others and reminded him that he wasn't a slave unless they were alone. He understood and followed along. She had liked the way he washed her paws though. His touches had been gentle, almost reverent. It was something that she could get used to. It didn't take Sirius long to show up. The girl graced her father with a smile as he approached. She nodded and turned her attention to Basilisk. "This is Sirius Fatalis, Warlord of the Ashen Armada." The smile remained. "And my father." She then turned her attention to Sirius. "Papa, this is Basilisk. I found him in the woods, hungry and alone." Here was the tricky part. "Basilisk has agreed to be my guard and has sworn fealty to me." Her purple eyes pleaded with her father, asking if she could keep him. "I'd feel a lot safer while out exploring if he was with me." "Speech"

The idea of being a secret slave was utterly baffling to Basilisk. It had been beaten into him from a young age that he meant nothing to anyone that was a citizen or higher. It was not something that he had ever had to hide before, considering his utmost obedience had been expected. But, despite the strangeness, he would not let her down. Oh shit Lady Aslatiel’s side had illusioned him on what to expect. The creature that appeared before them was the largest he had ever seen. He had extra long canines in his mouth, and Basilisk's idea that no matter what, he would keep someone from parting him for Asla began to evaporate. Not that he wouldn’t still try, of course… He dipped his head in polite greeting - not servant to master, but anyone to King. “It’s a pleasure to meet you” he said, cutting out any of the fawning words that made its way into his normal speech. “It would be my pleasure to keep her safe, Sir.” he said as Asla finished introducing him as her guard, and not her slave. "Speech"