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Bonds of the Imperium

Chapter Two

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

19th February, 2024

All Rights Reserved.

In the opulent halls of Titus's manse, the air was thick with the aroma of delicacies prepared for the feast. Noble guests, including their patriarch, from House Veridian had gathered at Titus's request, anticipating an event of celebration and revelry. Senator Lucius Cervus, Titus's father, stood at the head of the banquet table, an overflowing goblet of wine in his paw, his scowl deepened with each passing mark on the nearby sand clock.

As the servants quietly moved about, refilling goblets and setting out delicious and succulent grains, roasted and raw vegetables, perfectly seasoned plants and other delectables. Yet all the merriment and small talk didn't cover for the absence of Titus and Octavius. The guests from House Veridian were patient, being a minor house, they knew the patronage of such a powerful noble was on his time, yet they began to exchange curious glances, the atmosphere tense with unspoken questions. Meanwhile, Senator Lucius's impatience turned into fury. He seized the opportunity with both paws, indulging himself in the intoxicating effects of the wine, his aggression mounting with each mouthful.

An hour past the appointed time, Titus, looking dishevelled, strode in his faithful and loyal House Guard, Octavius, dominating the room with his glance, a subtle snort escaping his nostrils. As the guests mostly fell silent, all eyes turned towards the late arrivals. Senator Lucius, already inebriated, slammed his goblet down, then knocked it over, the wine spilling like blood across the linen cloth, the sound reverberating around the hall.

“Late?" He bellowed, the alcohol fuelling his anger. “Do you find my time yours to waste? House Veridian – are insignificant, my time, is not! You can not even be bothered to arrive on time?"

Titus, smoothing out his formal tunic with his fingers, trying to maintain his composure, bowed respectfully. “My apologies, father. We... encountered unexpected matters that required attention."

His father's scowl deepened and he snorted disdainfully. “Enough excuses. You embarrass me before your guests. Sit, now."

As Titus sat, an involuntary wince flickered over his face, Octavius taking a defensive stance to his lord's left, his eyes seeing everything, dismissing everything, yet he remained as stiff as marble. As Titus clapped his paws together, the feast formally started, but the tension lingered. Senator Lucius, now thoroughly inebriated, seized every opportunity to criticise and belittle his son. The grand hall was filled with his powerful, dominant voice, as he condemned Titus for his lack of a mate and offspring.

“Look at you, Titus," the senator sneered. “A buck of your noble house and stature should have a mate by now, heirs, sons – to carry on the Cervus legacy. Instead, you parade around with your..."

Flicking a dismissive glare at Octavius, who remained neutral in his stance and expression, seemed oblivious.

“Your house guard, as if that creature is your equal!" Raged the Senator, in fine, and atypical, form.

Titus, feeling the weight of his father's disapproval, forced a polite smile. “Father, I am attending to my duties and responsibilities. When the time is right..."

“The time is right now!" Senator Lucius interrupted, his face flushed with his anger. “You disgrace our house with your negligence! A noble house requires an heir – a son! Your lack of commitment reflects poorly upon my house!"

Octavius, standing behind Titus, could feel the tension in the air. His fists clenched involuntarily, behind his back, but he maintained his stoic expression. Titus, caught between his duty to his house, and the love he shared with Octavius, navigated the treacherous and turbulent water of his father's expectations.

“Whose this?" growled the senator, grabbing Caspian cruelly by the wrist, bending it unnaturally, until Caspian shrieked and dropped to his knees, the platter crashing to the floor as he sobbed and whimpered.

“Slave, you dare speak in my presence, without permission?" Senator Lucius' rage, spittle flying from his lips.

House Veridian to a single individual, shrank back in their chairs, eyes wide, ears back and nervous, uncertain what to make of the cruelty of the Senator, but knowing, they had no right to interfere.

“Let my servant go - “ Titus spoke quietly. “He is a gift, from house Veridian."

Caspian, eyes watering, knelt, his ears as flat as they could go, Senator Lucius's paw feeling like the next move would shatter the young gazelle's wrist.

“Look at him, a gift – an exotic gift, from a weak, lesser noble house, unworthy of licking the mud off of house Cervus's hooves!"

Snarled the senator, then with a disgusted snort, shoved the gazelle away, who awkwardly tried to pick up the platter with one hand, the other held against his chest.

“Maybe, what your insolent servant needs – is what you need..." Senator Lucius grinned lecherously at his son. “It has been a while, you're just like your mother, may the gods bless her and keep her. You need a real buck. I wanted a son, someone like me, proud, regal...I got you..."

“Perhaps... now is not the time, father..." Titus spoke quietly, glancing at the Patriarch for House Veridian. “I wish to thank them for their kind gift, it was – unexpected, and I have questions that need - “

“You honour us," Spoke the patriarch of House Veridian, observing the tension, discretely signalling to his kin to remain composed.

Despite the awkward circumstances, they retained their air of dignity, understanding the delicate politics at play. Caspian, having retried the platter, his eyes downcast, ears flattened in fear, as he backed away.

Senator Lucius, fuelled by wine and arrogance, ignored the patriarch, continuing his verbal assault on Titus. The remarks about Titus needing a 'real buck' like himself, and the comparison to Titus's mother, were lecherous and disrespectful. As the atmosphere grew heavier, the guests from House Veridian exchanged uneasy glances.

Titus, struggling to maintain expected societal decorum, shot a pleading look at Octavius, silently communicating a need for restraint. Octavius, although seething with internal rage, held himself in check. He couldn't let his emotions override his duty to protect his lord and lover.

“Father," Titus began, his voice quiet and close to breaking. “I appreciate your concern, but this is neither the time nor the place."

Before Senator Lucius could respond a subtle twitch of Titus's ear made Octavius begin to move. Titus redirected his attention, quite pointedly, towards the patriarch of House Veridian.

“I must express my gratitude for the gift you have bestowed upon me. It is indeed unexpected and holds great significance. I would like to discuss this matter privately, with you, Patriarch, at an appropriate time."

The patriarch, recognising Titus's efforts to redirect the conversation, nodded appreciatively. However, Senator Lucius, feeling insulted, slammed his paw down on the table, drawing every set of eyes towards him.

“A gift? A trinket from a house beneath our notice? You treat it like it is some grand gesture," the senator scoffed, his disdain evident. “Your lack of heirs overshadows any meaningless slave. What use is such a beast if it does not secure the future of House Cervus?"

Octavius's jaw clenched, his patience at a razor's edge, and just as sharp. The verbal attacks on Titus's personal life were difficult to endure, but he held firm by a superior strength of will. Titus, maintaining his neutral expression, responded with diplomatic grace and civility.

“Father, I understand the importance of securing our legacy. Rest assured, I am taking the necessary steps. However, the matter requires careful consideration and can not be rushed." Titus explained, trying to placate his father's temper.

It did not...

With a snarl, Senator Lucius leapt from his chair, knocking it over as he took two steps towards where Titus sat, before Octavius's paw came down on his shoulder – gentle, yet his fingers did something and Senator Lucius's muzzle creased in confusion, then growing pain, turning into unspeakable agony. His knees turned to jelly and using his free paw, Octavius gripped the senator by the ornate belt, holding him up.

“I kindly request you depart my master's domicile, my lord. It would be in the best interest of all parties involved. Your presence has been duly noted, and I trust you understand the delicacy of the situation. Please, allow my master to continue his celebration undisturbed."

Relaxing his grip slightly, Octavius force-marched the Senator out, with gentleness, but intent, the Senator snarling and making threats as he was taken away. After some time, Octavius returned, once more taking his place beside Titus, his face betraying nothing as he clasped his paws behind his back.

“Did..." Titus gasped, both surprised and shocked.

With a courteous shake of his head, Octavius replied quietly. “No, my lord. I did not inflict permanent harm upon Senator Lucius, but I do not think I will be welcomed by him –“

Titus swallowed, then his quivering hooflets rattled against his goblet, as he lifted it up and took a deep drink, using the strong wine to try and soothe his nerves.

“Please, forgive the interruption, continue - “ Titus nervously stammered, taking another drink

As the feast continued, Titus found himself contemplating the reason behind House Veridian's gift of the gazelle buck slave, Caspian. His mind raced with questions, suspicions creeping into his thoughts like shadows in the dimly lit hall.

Why this specific gift? Is it truly, just a measure of goodwill, or is there a hidden motive? Titus pondered, swirling the wine in his goblet absentmindedly. Could House Veridian be aware of my inclinations? Are they trying to leg-snare me in a political trap?

With a gentle cough, the patriarch of House Veridian reached towards the absent Titus, Octavius's twitch obvious, before the captain relaxed. Almost timidly, the patriarch lightly placed a paw on Titus's bracer forearm, drawing him back from his thoughts.

“My Lord Cervus," Spoke the Patriarch formally. “We understand the complexities paralysing the senate. With our dear, beloved Emperor Augustianis – assassinated, we fear the political turmoil that is threatening to tear our beloved empire apart! We fear, my lord, there will be blood not only in the senate but on the very streets. House Veridian seeks an alliance, with your esteemed house. This gift is but a symbol of our sincerity."

Titus blinked, the revelation unfolding before him like a map, as he weighed the words carefully. It wasn't just a simple exchange of pleasantries; there were politics, and undercurrents beneath the surface. Titus considered the possible benefits and risks of aligning with House Veridian.

They seek an alliance. Is this alliance born out of genuine goodwill, or is it a strategic move? Titus mused, his gaze seeking out Caspian, who silently sobbed in the corner, almost obscured by the shadows there, clutching his paw against his chest. If I accept, will I be leg caught in a web of political machinations, or will it truly be a partnership for mutual benefit? My house is strong, theirs is weak, but we are both of herbivore breeding – the Wolfen and Vulpinus Houses would see us as prey...

Titus, though accustomed to the intricacies of political manoeuvring, but not as astute as his Senatorial father, couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty. The path before him was shrouded in shadows, and he knew that every decision carried consequences.

As the feast continued, the weight of responsibility began to weigh him down like a millstone strapped around his slender neck, the delicate dance of politics demanding his attention.

*

At last, the guests departed, leaving Titus's manse in the quiet aftermath, the atmosphere shifted once again. The grand hall, once filled with tension and political undertones, now exuded a sense of calm. Silently, his servants cleared the remaining food and, a wave of Titus's paw stopped them from taking away the wine. Titus, now freed from the scrutinising gazes of other nobles, let his kinder nature emerge, shedding his normal stiff, formal self like his tunic.

Approaching Caspian, who whimpered and kept his gaze down, Titus's expression softened. The earlier confrontation with his father and the intricate dance of politics were momentarily set aside. He gestured for Caspian to join him, away from the eyes of fellow staff, Octavius following behind.

“Caspian, may I have a moment? I wish to discuss something in private." Titus spoke quietly.

Caspian, still in pain and discomfort from the earlier encounter with Senator Lucius, meekly bowed his head and obediently followed Titus into the large, extensive library, a more secluded part of the manse. Once they were alone, with Octavius standing guard at the door to the library, Octavius quietly shut the door, giving the two privacy.

“I," Titus swallowed, then looked away. “the senator's actions were cruel and unjust, and I apologise for that. I would like, with your permission, to inspect your wrist and ensure you receive proper care."

Caspian blinked, fearfully lifting his head up, surprised by the unexpected kindness, as he extended his injured wrist hesitantly. Titus, delicately examining the gazelle's wrist, noted the tender places. It was a start reminder for Titus, of the harsh cruelties he himself had suffered under his father's tyrannical rein – even more so – after he'd been drinking.

“Please, drink this - “ Titus spoke, taking his goblet and filling it from a pewter pitcher, then holding it out. “It'll help..."

With delicacy, the gazelle nervously took it, holding it up and sniffing at it. With a shy, furtive sip, he blinked and set the goblet back down.

“It's Elderberry wine, quite sweet – a favourite of mine, but I understand, you're probably not used to - “ Titus waved a paw and gave a lopsided smile. “All of this. Now, please, my servant – sit with me?"

As he sat on a lounge, once again carefully and with a shudder, Titus leaned back and sighed in comfortable ease, Caspian nervously sat as far from him as he could, keeping his head bowed in submission.

“No, please, come closer – I won't hurt you, I promise - “ Titus smiled warmly, patting the cushions beside him.

Timidly, Caspian edged closer, until Titus smiled and tenderly placed a paw lightly on the gazelle's quivering thigh in a sign of friendship and understanding.

“My lord - “ Caspian's breathless whisper come.

“Easy, it's alright," Titus replied, calmly and gently. “Now, please, speak only truth with me. It seems House Veridian's gift – you – has come with a cost. I want to assure myself, through your truthful words that you are not a pawn in political games. Your well-being matters to me."

Caspian, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, murmured a quiet acknowledgement. In that private moment, away from the facade of politics, Titus revealed a gentle, compassionate side, that sought to alleviate the suffering caused by the power struggles of the aristocracy.

“I'm..." Titus smiled nervously, then gently placed his fingers on the side of Caspian's muzzle, turning it to gaze into the wide, fearful eyes of the gazelle. “Not like...other Lords. I'm – different..."

Confused, the gazelle merely stared into Titus's eyes, not comprehending. Titus sighed quietly, gently reaching up, he tenderly placed his fingers against Caspian's furred cheek, Slowly, he traced patterns on the gazelle's cheek with his fingers, his touch feather-light, an exploration of comfort, rather than desire. The vulnerability and pain in Caspian's eyes echoed Titus's own uncertainty, and in that shared vulnerability, a silent understanding began to bloom between master and servant.

As Titus turned Caspian's face towards his own, the flicker of scented beeswax candles played across their features.

“Different..." Titus confessed with a soft smile, his thumb light brushing against Caspian's cheek. “In many many ways, my dear Caspian. I hope, in time, you'll come to see the authenticity of me, truly see me, behind the facade of the mask I must wear in public."

Caspian's eyes slowly lost their fearful look, as he cautiously reached out, then replicated the light touch on Titus's cheek, his own fingers ever so timidly touching the Whitetail's cheek, Titus smiling and leaning his head into the gentle caress.

Caspian's mouth opened, his pale tongue delicately tracing his furred lips, before vanishing again as he swallowed, seeking words he dared not utter to his lord and master.

“Speak what is in your heart, my servant." Titus gently coaxed him, his paw slightly moving up Caspian's thigh, eliciting a quiet gasp from the gazelle. “Be at peace, I won't hurt you..."

“My lord... master..." Caspian's breathless whisper barely reached Titus's ears. “I've never..."

Titus blinked slowly, then smiled and gently touched noses with Caspian, before he leaned his head closer, giving a gentle whisper into the nervous Gazelle's ear.

“I promise, I won't hurt, or frighten you. You were given to me as a gift, I refuse to accept you as such, I do not condone slavery. I would merely offer – something special to you if you accept it – given freely, a sign of trust and respect."

In the quest sanctuary of the library, away from the prying eyes and whispers, Titus and Caspian found a moment of intimacy. Titus, sensing Caspian's apprehension, approached from a position of tenderness that went beyond the confines of master and servant.

Gently, Titus lifted Caspian's muzzle between his paws, his touch light and considerate. Their eyes met, and in that shared gaze, unspoken words passed between them. Titus, with a soft smile, closed his eyes briefly, savouring the quiet connection they were forging.

As Titus turned his head, he pressed his lips against Caspian's in a gentle kiss. It wasn't fuelled by fiery passion, like he shared with Octavius, but rather a subtle longing for something more profound than merely master and slave. It carried the weight of unspoken promises and a desire to explore the deeper depths of their connection. The kiss lingered briefly, a silent pact forged in the hushed library, where the boundaries between master and servant not only blurred, but shattered, giving rise to the possibility of something beyond friendship – and way beyond what Caspian imagined could be possible.

“My..." Titus gasped, his eyes widening and his smile almost from ear to ear. “I never imagined - “

Caspian flushed, his ears swishing back as he gave a subtle twitch, then nervously dropped his gaze, as if he was afraid of what his master would say.

“Shhh," Titus murmured, placing a hooflet lightly on Caspian's small nose, Titus's smile gentle and reassuring. “I can smell your scent, I can smell that scent – even stronger..."

“Master, I wasn't always a...a slave - “ Caspian stammered. “Amongst my people, the Quindarra, we - “

Titus blinked, his ears pricking forwards, as one paw lightly began tenderly tracing random patterns on Caspian's chest, ever so gently working downwards, feeling the gazelle's muscles and pelt quiver.

“The Quindarra?" Titus murmured, leaning forward to gently lick at Caspian's throat. “Tell me... about them, about you...please?"

Caspian gasped at the unexpected licking, instinctively lifting his horned head up and back.

In that vulnerable moment, Titus's action spoke to Caspian, bringing memories of his former life, of the role he had, in his tribe. The gentle tracing of patterns on Caspian's chest was new to him – not unpleasant – just new. Each gentle, sensual touch a deliberate exploration of the gazelle's body. The subtle beats of intimacy echoed in the hushed library, where the weight and expectations beyond the closed and guarded door seemed to dissipate.

As Titus leaned forward, his warm breath caressed Caspian's throat, leaving a trail of memories and anticipation. The licking, a tender gesture, was an unspoken language of comfort, a reassurance that their bond went beyond what Caspian had been led to believe.

Caspian, his body responding instinctively, felt the gentle sensations ripple through him. The lifting of his head, a reflex, exposed his vulnerable throat and a low, quiet gasp escaped his mouth. In that moment, the rhythm of their encounter harmonised with the beats of their hearts, as Titus murmured meaningless words, kissing and licking down Caspian's chest.

“My people, the Quindarra - “ Caspian's words were becoming more rushed, his blood pumping faster and faster. “We were a peaceful – nomadic people. Hunter-gatherers, who moved with the ebb and oh..."

Titus snickered gently, his tongue flicking over one of the Gazelle's nipples playfully.

“Of...nature. Following the great herds. We took only what we needed – giving thanks and..."

Caspian twitched, then Titus giggled again, working his way off the couch and kneeling down, as he continued tenderly kissing and licking.

“Offering prayers, for the spirit of the animal we killed, so we may survive... We... I had a special place – amongst the Quindarra, we expressed our affections openly, but this.. this is different."

Titus, understanding the significance of Caspian's words, paused in his gentle movements, looking up through his long eyelashes, his gaze meeting Caspian's with tenderness and understanding.

“We are different," Titus affirmed, his voice gentle. “And here, in this moment, our differences offer us a chance to blend into something...unique."

“Mas..." Caspian began, then gasped, his back arching inwards as he felt Titus's tongue where he never expected, the warmth of it – then the Whitetail's bony ridges at the top of his mouth, as he eased his head forward, the breath, hot and warm...

Caspian's mind was swept away like a thunderstorm back on the plains of his homeland, sentient thought and rationality swept away in this downpour of sensations and pleasure he'd never imagined, despite his own experiences of performing such, for visiting members of other tribes...

*

Octavius's ear flicked something prickling the back of his nape, like an eldritch spirit. For an hour, he'd stood guard, stoic and immobile, that feeling growing within him. At last, with an exasperated snort, that immediately made him chastise himself, he looked left and right. He was alone, then sighed quietly and turned almost silently as his large paw quietly turned the handle of the door.

Opening it a crack, he mentally praised the servants for their care and attention, before he pushed it a little wider and glanced through into the library, his already wide eyes expanding as his ears swished back, then with cautious movements, he shut the door again and returned to his stoic, silent vigil.

When the surprisingly high pitched up-scaling squeal from Caspian rang out, Octavius gave a gruff chuckle and shook his head, resting a paw against his forehead as he bowed his head, then shuddered and returned himself to his placid, patient state, his paws clasped behind his back, but the smile – the smile – he couldn't wipe off his muzzle.

TO BE CONTINUED