Armana's Gift

ZEVAN

     She was fire, the dark red hair and stunning wings and she was in his blood. Brave and foolish, youthful even though she was into her prime, she still had some measure of naivety. The glorious quick witted remark she's slapped him with had stunned him. Steel under there, something she had been hiding or too afraid to use earlier. That intrigued him. He would see that she never suffered here. He would keep her as safe as possible.

     In only a few short weeks, they were able to find some rhythm. He had to be awake very early and she would arise with him, quietly helping him get ready so that he may take some extra time to sleep. She'd taken to setting his uniform out at night, keeping their fire tended and room cleaned, helping the other slaves who were assigned to them. She kept busy and he had realized it was so she felt helpful. She was quite literally locked in with him when he was in the room. Other males avoided her with a vigor that impressed him and the females were beginning to whisper that maybe she should have just been assigned to them, since she didn't do much else except tend her own shared room.

     Everything she did impressed him more and more. He worked hard and so did she, in her own way.

     But he told her nothing and she told him nothing. They didn't speak of who they once were. Sometimes they spoke quietly about their days but not often, mostly they were too tired to talk and only fell into sleep quickly.

     The days passed quickly for him and he heard the first young male say it.

     "So, if you aren't bedding her... can we?"

      Zevan turned to the young male slowly, his lips back in a snarl. He raked a look over him and growled.

      "I'll remind you the feelings I and the Housekeeper have on the idea of the slaves bedding one another. And where would you bed her? Our room? Your barracks? In the woods outside by the stream?"

      "She's a Priestess! She probably wouldn't care!" The young male threw his arms out and a few other males got a chuckle.

      He growled then, grabbing the young male and slamming him to a wall.

      "You've been here a century. Which is only fifty years shy of the average lifespan of slaves in this household. I've been here for over seven hundred. Don't think about this again." He pushed the male back into the wall, snarling. "I'm not bedding her to keep her alive, you stupid child."

      The other males were quiet at that, looking away from him. There was a reason Lornak put him in this position. He kept them in line for him, but Lornak put a lot of money into his Avium slaves and wanted them to live longer. His bat slaves he slaughtered with good fun and he tormented the Aviums but he tried not to kill them when he could deal with punish in other ways. And Zevan liked being able to keep his people alive, considered it more important then his duties as Butler.

      "She's a Priestess and therefore, no, you can't bed her. I'm going to keep her alive, damn you. Because the last thing I want is to see someone who serves our gods and goddesses murdered because you wanted to get your fucking cock wet."

       Older males were nodding all around him. The very few who had survived as long as him or near to it. Only one is the group had been their longer, Reshan, a kind gentlemen who had gotten by through being unassuming and nearly invisible. He was an owl Avium and they were different from other Aviums. They were good at being silent, going with the flow of it all, waiting patiently for their time to take action. Reshan was one of the few who told him centuries ago not to try and revolt. Zevan remembered to never ignore Reshan's opinion on matters again.