First Day of Breaking Free

15th day of the 11th moon, 1105 HC

It's been over two years since Damion regretfully surrendered at the end of the civil war instead of fighting to the death. He's been Water Master Mulsae's personal captive this entire time, spending almost every moment with him, both awake and asleep.

He just tries to endure. He takes life moment by moment and tries to endure being a pet and sex toy. He's not allowed to die. He can't find a way to escape. So he simply tries to endure.

Damion's life is generally pretty boring, but ultimately kind of peaceful in a weird sort of way. As Mulsae likes to remind him, he has no worries or concerns. He just does as he is instructed. There is no weight on his shoulders. No need to plan for the future. No need to worry about the past. He's allowed to simply be Right Now perpetually.

Damion spends most of his time reading. Mulsae taught him how to read and write, and now that is his primary activity. He's a slow reader, given how long he went illiterate, but he's given ample time to practice, and has no rush to ever complete a book.

Sometimes Damion reads fiction to escape reality and join another world. Sometimes he reads non-fiction so he can learn more about the world and the past. Mulsae enjoys talking with him about what he's reading and will helpfully point him towards books that might interest him. Mulsae doesn't restrict what he can read, and instead seems to enthusiastically encourage whatever interest Damion expresses.

The fucking has reduced in frequency as it seems to do in any relationship, even a master and pet relationship, apparently. They may even go a couple days without fucking at all. Damion just enjoys the experience. He perceives it as a momentary dip into blissful sensations and relaxing afterglow. Mulsae is an attentive lover, enjoying focusing on Damion's physical pleasure, making it easier to endure.

Mulsae and Damion train together every day. They run through a training routine and then spend the second half of their time sparring. Damion was gloriously able to break Mulsae's nose. Many times. He's broken Mulsae's ribs and fingers, too. Many times. To much delight.

Damion is the better fighter and Mulsae knows it. Sure, when using magic, Mulsae has no equal. But without magic and fighting almost as a mortal? Damion is far superior. Mulsae tries to learn everything he can. At first Damion resisted giving any tips, but his walls eventually fell and now he freely points out Mulsae's mistakes and how to improve. The pet really is teaching the master.

They had gotten into a routine. Damion believed this would be the rest of his life. He stopped looking for avenues of escape. He had stopped worrying about the future and completely stopped thinking of it at all, let alone how to change it.

Then, suddenly, Harmura's Sanctum Masters decided to get involved.

It was incredibly strange when, nine months ago, Mulsae sat on the floor with Damion to give him the news. Mulsae was being summoned to a Masters' summit to discuss Damion's status. Enough Masters believe that Damion is a slave, and therefore Mulsae is in violation of the Harmuran Civil War treaty. They want to assemble to decide if the abolition of slavery applies to more than just humans, and whether or not Damion is a slave or a prisoner.

If Mulsae does not appear at the summit, all trade between the Water Sanctum and the other Sanctums would be cut off. The Water Sanctum would be ostracized. Mulsae explained that he had to put his Sanctum first and that unfortunately he had agreed to put Damion's fate into the hands of the other Masters.

Mulsae apologized profusely and even a few tears escaped. He had promised Damion that he would always be there for him and take care of him, but the Masters might prevent him from continuing to take care of Damion. Mulsae promised that he would always try to take care of him in whatever way was possible based on the Masters' decision.

Damion's mind was blown at the revelation. Someone cared about what was happening to him. Someone cared about the situation of his life. And now the most powerful people in Harmura were gathering to discuss him and his life and would decide what they thought was best for him.

Mulsae believes Damion is a prisoner, and therefore the treaty doesn't apply. He had spoken of his theories at length to Damion.

It had taken nine months for the summit to finally occur. First the Masters wrote correspondences to each other detailing their opinions. Then they had long scheduling disputes, mostly having to do with the Masters of the Flame and Ground Sanctums because they believed the lifestyle of a Windborne to not be worth their time.

But finally, finally, the date had come, it wasn’t cancelled at the last minute again, and Mulsae is right now on the other side of the palace in a meeting with the Masters while Damion waits patiently in Mulsae’s room.

He's standing at the window gazing upon the scenery from this mountain palace. They're on the face of the mountain looking over the Marsh Sanctum. Far across the expanse, beyond low ridges and pale mist, the Marsh Sanctum rises from the wetland gloom.

Beneath him, Harmony Mountain comes alive around the palace's central plaza. Spirit lanterns drift in measured orbits, casting halos over etched murals. The Spirit Portal rests at the center, offering a glimpse into something otherworldly.

Damion is startled with a knock on the door. He looks at the door but doesn't answer it. He's not supposed to. There's another knock and someone asks with a muffled voice through the door, "Damion, are you there?"

He approaches the door and announces back, "I'm here."

"You've been summoned to appear at the summit."

"What?" he blurts out confused.

"They want you to come join them. They sent me to escort you."

Damion blinks, stunned. Someone else is acknowledging him? He didn't realize he was standing in stunned silence until the muffled voice speaks up, "Will you please come out so I can escort you?"

Damion shakes himself out of his stupor. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Mulsae said I am not allowed to leave the room."

"Mulsae was part of the decision to have you join them."

"I don't know that. I only have a disembodied voice telling me Mulsae supposedly gave permission."

There's a long pause, then the muffled voice says, "Would you come if I brought you a note from Master Mulsae?"

He thinks about it for a moment. "Yes."

"I'll be back," and then footsteps can be heard receding.

Damion sits down in front of the hearth and warms his wings. He's still in a stupor. These people, these incredibly powerful people in control of all of Harmura, care about his life and they actually want him present for the proceedings. Proceedings being held all because of him.

He's just a bastard born Emberai who never hoped to leave Scaldmere except for deployments. Yet here he is atop Harmony Mountain in the palace of the Celestials, and being asked to join a meeting with the highest ranking individuals of all Harmura. Damion gasps when the enormity of the situation hits him.

After being lost in thought for some time, there is a knock on the door again. "I have the note you requested," and a piece of parchment slides under the door.

Damion picks up the note and reads it.

Damion,
You are such a good boy.
Please leave the room and
allow yourself to be escorted
to me.
See you soon,
Mulsae

Damion tentatively opens the door and is greeted by a Sylvaran man. They both look at each other in stunned silence. Damion is momentarily distracted by his wings. They are beautiful. They are covered in green feathers tipped in azure highlights. They are so green and so beautiful and look so soft to the touch.

The man makes his stunned silence apparent by clearing his throat and asking, "Wouldn't you like to put on clothes?"

Damion blinks down at himself, "I never wear clothes. I haven't worn clothes in years."

The man's jaw drops and openly gawks at him. He regains himself, however, by snapping his jaw shut and schooling his features back to normal. The man shifts uncomfortably as he thinks.

"This is normal for you?"

"Yes."

"Mulsae expects this is how you will appear?"

"Yes."

"In front of all the Masters?"

"He didn't say in the note that I should change my appearance," Damion grabs the note and hands it to the man. The man's eyebrow twitches up and he can be seen mouthing the words 'good boy' and 'what the fuck'.

The man hands the note back to Damion and expels a loud sigh as he places a hand on his brow to think momentarily and process what the fuck is happening.

The man clears his throat, "Well, they are waiting for us. If Mulsae is aware of your appearance, then I'll let the other Masters decide how to deal with this."

The man makes a gesture to follow him, "Let us go, then."

Damion lifts a hand and brushes the threshold. Nothing. No resistance. No chill. He steps forward, then steps again and finds himself in the hallway. Mulsae didn't put up a water seal, otherwise he'd be suffocating right now. His heart is warmed that Mulsae had trusted him and he passed the test.

Damion follows the escort, enjoying the view of those luscious green feathered wings the whole way. He passes through quiet halls of pearl-veined stone, past drifting spirit-lights and reliefs that shimmer faintly with the passing of magic. But his eyes are on those wings.

They approach a set of grand doors that open soundlessly by a pair of Sylvaran servants, and reveal the Central Plaza. It's wide, circular, and open to the sky. Slender white obelisks ring the space, each etched with one of the trigrams that the Sanctums represent.

At the heart lies the central Spirit Portal, a circular entrance to the spirit realm. No one gets too close. No one speaks near it. The air here feels sacred, soft and charged, like the hush before a vow. As they circle it, the portal remains a perfect circle, but the landscape it reveals shifts: ocean cliffs, mountain mists, sunlit orchards, each echoing a different Sanctum's spirit.

The escort turns to a stairwell carved into the mountain’s face, just beyond the obelisks. Damion follows, and the light dims as they spiral downward.

They enter a round, low-lit chamber. Its walls are a blend of burnished bronze and translucent skyglass that glows faintly with spiritlight. Eight curved spokes extend from a shallow basin at the center, its water pulsing softly. Each spoke represents a Sanctum, etched with its trigram in shifting hues.

Half the room is enclosed, the metallic walls warm-toned and echoing gently with each footfall. The other half breaks open into wide windowed doors, all flung back to reveal a stone terrace suspended above the clouds. Pale stone pillars ring the terrace, framing a breathtaking view: mist-draped ridgelines and, far below, the wetlands of the Marsh Sanctum.

The seven remaining Masters are present. The eighth has been missing for a millennium. Each is accompanied by their chosen partners, except Mulsae, who sits alone with an empty chair at his side. They're already seated in a ring encircling the basin, forming a space that feels both sacred and exposed. Mulsae is clearly set apart from the rest.

Damion walks up to Mulsae and kneels to his left.

A Master expels an exasperated sigh, "There is so much wrong with this situation." He has dark skin and his Master's stole is green with the Thunder Trigram embroidered on it.

"Oh for gods sake he's naked!" exclaims a stout Master with dark skin, whose stole around her shoulders is brown with the Ground Trigram.

"His kneeling automatically presumes his status. He should be seated in a chair," coldly declares a Master with black skin wearing a white stole with the Heaven Trigram etched in silver.

"One issue at a time. It appears we should pause the proceedings to address these issues," says a pale Master who seems to exude peacefulness. Her very voice seems to relieve the tension in the room. Her stole is grey with the Marsh Trigram.

"First issue raised is regarding Damion's clothing. Ground Master Dalenna has declared this is an issue. Does anyone oppose?"

They all eye each other and no one says anything.

"Does anyone oppose getting him some clothes to wear?"

Mulsae uncrosses his legs then crosses them again in reverse. All eyes shift to him.

After a beat of silence the Marsh Master declares, "Alright, let's get him something to wear," she snaps her fingers, "Can you bring in a robe for him?" A servant bows and leaves.

"The second issue raised is the matter of him kneeling. Heaven Master Halion has declared this is an issue. Does anyone oppose?"

"He should be allowed to attend these proceedings in any position that keeps him comfortable," Mulsae says cooly, picking some lint off his knee.

"How can we possibly know what he wants with the threat of you looming over him?" the Thunder Master spits out then eyes the rest of the assembled people, "Water Master Mulsae has spent the past two years brainwashing the poor man."

A Master of fair skin says calmly, "He should be presumed to have a status the same as any other person and should be seated in a chair." His stole is yellow with the Mountain Trigram.

The servant returns with some grey and white robes and hands them to Damion with a bow. He accepts them then looks up at Mulsae who nods at him. Damion stands and puts on the robe.

The Marsh Master puts up a hand, "Before you kneel again, Damion, let's take a vote. Yay he should be seated in a chair, Nay he should remain kneeling as he was. Let's start with Flame Master Sorvak."

"Nay," says the Master with coppery skin and a red stole with the Flame Trigram.

"Nay," from Ground Master Dalenna.

"Marsh Sanctum abstains as usual," says the Master running the proceedings.

"Yay," declares Heaven Master Halion.

"Water Sanctum abstains," adds in Mulsae.

"Yay," says the Mountain Master.

"Yay," the Thunder Master says with a roll of his eyes.

The Marsh Master continues, "The Yay's have it. Damion, please do sit in the chair to the right of Water Master Mulsae."

Damion looks over at Mulsae who merely nods at him again. Damion takes the seat but sits awkwardly and tense. He's not used to this. He's used to kneeling, lounging on the floor, or curled up in a plush oversized chair. He hasn't had to sit on a hard chair in, well, over two years.

"Are there any other issues that should be raised regarding Damion's attendance?" The Marsh Master casts her eyes around the room and no one says anything.

"Let's continue, then. The first question to be answered is whether the treaty that ended the Harmuran Civil War intended for the abolishment of slavery to apply to all beings, or grants only humans freedom from slavery. Since the treaty had not specified species it is up to interpretation."

The Marsh Master continues, "One argument is that the lack of specification means the abolishment of slavery applies universally. The opposing argument is that since the war was specifically for the abolishment of human slavery, then the treaty applies only to humans."

"Does anyone have anything further to say?" the Marsh Master gazes around the room.

"Since there are no further comments regarding the issue we shall put it to a vote. Yay indicates slavery is abolished universally throughout Harmura, and Nay indicates slavery is only abolished for Humans within Harmura's lands. Flame Master Sorvak, you will start."

"Nay," he responds.

"Nay," Ground Master Dalenna decides.

"The Marsh Sanctum abstains," the Marsh Master declares.

"Yay," from Heaven Master Halion.

"Yay," includes Mulsae.

"Yay," the Mountain Master votes.

"Yay," says the Thunder Master.

"The Yay's have it. We have agreed that slavery is abolished universally. Mulsae is not permitted to have a slave."

Damion has been trying to follow everything and has been overwhelmed. He hears Mulsae's name and knows a decision has been made against Mulsae. Is he losing? Does that mean Damion is winning?

"Next issue is Damion's classification. One interpretation is that Damion is a prisoner. The other interpretation is that he is a slave. Does anyone have anything further to say?"

Mulsae sits up, "We need to first define what makes an individual a slave and what makes one a prisoner."

"Water Master Mulsae has proposed we need defined definitions of the terms before we can continue. Are there any objections?"

"The definitions are obvious, it's a waste of our time," snaps Flame Master Sorvak.

"It's not obvious," Mulsae says and picks some lint off his lapel, "I find the difference between slavery and arranged marriages to be ambiguous at best, and identical at worst. It seems as though I could marry Damion and be able to do whatever I want with him without these objections."

"You can't force someone to marry you," the Mountain Master rolls his eyes.

"Oh really?" Mulsae raises his eyebrows, "Arranged marriages are traditionally done without the consent of the woman."

"Consent is required for marriage, even arranged marriages," Master Sorvak presses.

"I agree with Water Master Mulsae. Traditional arranged marriages tend to extract consent under duress," the Thunder Master says sympathetically.

"Oh, this is ridiculous! We can't possibly allow Mulsae's treatment of Damion to redefine marriage!" exclaims Sorvak.

"I would be very comfortable with ensuring and enforcing that all marriages are consensual," the Thunder Master says coolly as he sits back and places an ankle on the other knee.

"As long as it is ensured Damion is well cared for, I would be willing to part with him in order for us to declare that all of Harmura enforces all marriages to be consensual. Truly consensual, not made under duress," Mulsae sits back in his chair.

"Why are we discussing marriages?" asks Heaven Master Halion.

"Mulsae, how do you always make everything a clusterfuck?" groans the Mountain Master as he shakes his head.

"That's twice now I have been addressed without my honorific. I cannot allow these insults to continue," Mulsae sits up straight and puts on a stony face.

"All of us shall be addressed with our honorifics," the Marsh Master declares. Mulsae nods in gratitude.

"We've gotten derailed," reminds Heaven Master Halion.

"All the more reason to support my proposal that we define slavery and imprisonment. And let's add on marriage. We need to understand the boundaries of each of these three classifications," Mulsae sits back in his chair.

"I can't believe we're talking about slavery and marriage in the same breath," Master Dalenna says exasperatedly.

"I concur," Sorvak rolls his eyes.

"This is what Water Master Mulsae does. He confuses things," the Mountain Master says with a wave of his hand.

"Nuance has never been your strength. A lesson you still haven’t learned." Mulsae glares at the Mountain Master, who growls in response.

"Water Master Mulsae, Mountain Master Garrick," the Marsh Master pleads, "Do not let the personal business between you two seep into these proceedings."

"The betrayal that got my family slaughtered is just 'personal business'? His hand personally killed my father!" scoffs Mountain Master Garrick.

The Marsh Master stands, "Let's break for lunch and let cooler heads return. Any objections?" She gazes around the room and sees only shaking heads, "Thank you for attending, let's break for now. Lunch will be delivered to your rooms."

Everyone stands and begins to depart. Mulsae turns to Damion and puts a hand on his shoulder, "Is everything okay?" Damion nods. "Let's go back to our room and we'll talk more." Mulsae and Damion begin to depart and an escort finds them to lead them back to their room.

They are escorted to Mulsae's room and head inside. "You can choose whether or not to remove the robe," Mulsae mentions as he climbs into the bed.

Damion considers. He's kind of used to the freedom of not having clothes. He feels a bit confined, it's just too big and flowy. He decides to take off the robe, folds it and places it on the foot of the bed.

Mulsae pats the bed next to him. Damion crawls onto the bed and Mulsae guides him to put his head in his lap. Mulsae promptly starts stroking Damion's hair.

"How do you feel about everything?"

"I don't know," Damion whispers.

"What don't you know?"

"I feel a lot of things."

"Like what?"

Damion sighs and thinks for a moment. "I want to have freedom," he whispers.

"I understand," Mulsae soothingly replies.

"But I don't know where I fit in the world any more. I'm no longer an Emberai soldier. What am I? Where do I go? What should I do?"

"If they order me to release you then you can go and do anything you want. What do you want?"

"I don't know... I guess, I want to belong somewhere, with someone, but I don't know how that can be possible after everything you've done to me."

"You don't want to be with anyone who would judge you for the past two years. You should find people who accept you exactly the way you are, no matter what has happened."

"Does a place like that exist for me?"

Mulsae sighs, "Honestly, I don't know. I can't tell you it will be easy, because it won't be. The world is a cruel and judgmental place."

"I don't know what I want to happen," Damion whispers.

"It's out of our hands now. The Masters will decide for you where you will go after these proceedings: come home with me, or go off somewhere else."

Mulsae turns Damion's head so they can look each other in the eye, "I will always try to take care of you, as much as the Masters will allow me. If all I can do is give you a stipend for the rest of our lives, then that's what I'll do. You needn't suffer, I'll lift you up. If you're ever in danger, call for me and I will save you. Do you understand?"

Damion solemnly nods his head, "I understand."

They lay in quiet with Mulsae gently caressing Damion's hair. Then there is a knock at the door, it opens and two servants come in with trays of food.

"Lunch, Master Mulsae," then the servant gasps, "Oh! Master Mulsae! I'm so sorry, I didn't know we'd be interrupting anything!"

Mulsae waves a hand, "You're interrupting nothing. Come, set the trays on the desk."

The servants scurry over to place the trays on the desk, averting their eyes from the bed and Damion's naked form, then hurriedly scurry out the door and close it with a soft snick.

"Hungry?" Damion nods his head. "Let's get up then," Mulsae says while giving his shoulder a double tap.

Damion sits up and they both roll off their respective sides of the bed. Mulsae drags a chair to the front of the desk and sits, and Damion kneels in front of him. Mulsae feeds him off his chopsticks as he's done for the past two years.

Damion rarely has an opportunity to feed himself. Only on the rare occasions he is left alone all day. This is just the routine now. He doesn't even think about it anymore. He simply enjoys the flavor of the food.

When they finish eating, Mulsae says, "I have some work to do before the proceedings start. You can read while you wait." Mulsae stands and circles around the desk to sit at it properly then pulls out some parchment and writing tools from the drawer.

Damion stands and grabs a book from his side of the bed then sits on the floor in front of the fire. He warms his wings while getting lost in a fictional world.

Mulsae eventually finishes his work and grabs his book and sits on an armchair by the fire. Damion scoots over and leans on Mulsae's leg. This is their normal. They read in each other's company and sometimes a question Damion asks about his book strikes up a conversation.

Not too long after Mulsae wrapped up his work, there is a knock on the door. Mulsae stands to answer the door to find a Sylvaran man who says he's there to escort them back to the proceedings.

Mulsae looks over at Damion, "Put back on the robe and let's go." Damion scrambles up and dons the robe. The Sylvaran escort then leads them back to the meeting chamber.

They arrive at the meeting chamber and everyone is already seated. It's clear they were summoned purposely so they would appear last. Mulsae and Damion take their seats.

The Marsh Master begins, "Thank you all for returning. We last left off with the proposal from Water Master Mulsae that we should first define terms for those being a slave, prisoner, or spouse. One argument is that these definitions are required to proceed, while the opposing argument is that it is a waste of time for these proceedings. Any other comments before putting it to a vote?"

She gazes at the Masters and none speak up.

"We shall vote, then. Yay if we should define these terms, or Nay if it is unnecessary. Flame Master Sorvak, you go first."

"Nay," he practically growls.

"Nay," says Ground Master Dalenna.

"Marsh Sanctum abstains."

"Yay," from Heaven Master Halion.

"Water Sanctum abstains," adds in Mulsae.

Mountain Master Garrick is about to speak, but then his red haired partner whispers in his ear. He grimaces and looks pleadingly at the red head, who returns an even more pleading expression. Garrick sighs, "Mountain Sanctum votes Yay," he says with bitter disappointment.

"Yay," declares the Thunder Master with satisfaction.

"The Yay's have it. The next item of our agenda is to define these terms. Water Master Mulsae, since you have initiated this proposal you may start by providing your definitions."

"Thank you, Marsh Master Selune," Mulsae inclines his head, "I have proposed these definitions and written them down. I have a copy for each Master." Mulsae stands and walks the circle to hand a single sheet of parchment to each of the other Masters. Mulsae hands his copy to Damion to read.

The parchment reads:

Servant: One who freely chooses
to enter a contract to provide
their labor in exchange for a
price. The servant may cancel
the contract and cease their
labor at any time without
notice and leave without
retribution to themselves
or loved ones. A servant
cannot be harmed or put to
death.

Spouse: One who freely chooses
to enter a contract to provide
exclusive sexual intimacy and
companionship mutually with
another. The spouse may sever
the contract at any time
without notice and without
retribution to themselves or
loved ones, and leave. A
spouse cannot be harmed or
put to death.

Prisoner: One whose life is
controlled as retribution for
their behavior. A prisoner is
not free to leave. A prisoner
can be harmed and even put to
death.

Slave: One whose life is
controlled due to birth or an
immutable nature of their
being (e.g. species, skin
color, eye color, etc). A
slave can be harmed and even
put to death.

"I did not agree to bring the definition of servants into this discussion!" exclaims Dalenna.

"Water Master Mulsae, the definition of servants was not part of the original proposal," says Marsh Master Selune calmly.

"As I was defining these terms, I felt the contrast was necessary to point out. We can merely use it as a tool for discussion and table having an official definition of servant to a separate vote," Mulsae explains.

"We will use the concept of servants as a discussion point, but no decisions regarding a servant's definition shall be part of this proposal," Master Selune declares. Dalenna sighs in exasperation.

"This is what he does, he muddles things. He's a master of confusion," Master Garrick grumbles.

"What is the point of a contract if one side can just cancel it without notice!" growls Master Sorvak.

"It is because of the nature of the power imbalances between a servant and manager, and between a man and woman in traditional marriages. It ensures the weaker party is treated well during the period of the contract. It prevents the abuse of the power imbalance," Mulsae explains.

"This makes contracts with servants and spouses useless," complains Dalenna.

"As an alternative, we could have a long and complicated set of definitions on how to prevent abuse to servants and spouses," Mulsae says with a wave of his hand, "But in reality, these contracts are about restricting the behavior of managers and husbands, not about obligating servants and wives to service."

"Let's table these two definitions. We're here to decide if Damion is a prisoner or slave," Heaven Master Halion cooly presses, "We should focus on those terms."

There's quiet as everyone reads their parchment.

"Of course this definition makes Damion defined as a prisoner. But we all know that no one would ever treat a prisoner the way that Mulsae is treating Damion," admonishes Master Garrick.

"In what way?" Mulsae asks as he sits back in his chair.

"We don't fuck our prisoners," growls Garrick.

Mulsae hums, "Is it not a common punishment to allow soldiers to 'have at' a prisoner? Is it not common for guards to 'have their way' with prisoners, especially female prisoners, with no consequences?"

Everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats.

"They don't sleep in our beds, we don't pamper them with luxuries," presses Garrick.

"It is certainly common to provide prisoners luxuries in exchange for information or a form of labor," Mulsae counters.

"What do you get in exchange for the luxuries you provide Damion?" inquires Heaven Master Halion.

Mulsae shifts in his seat uncomfortably, picks some lint off his sleeve, then says cooly, "Obedience."

Garrick scoffs.

"We don't brainwash our prisoners," interjects the Thunder Master.

"Isn't torture a form of brainwashing? We commonly torture to change their mind about sharing information," Mulsae says with a raised eyebrow.

"But it reverts as soon as the torture is alleviated. Damion's mind may very well be permanently altered," explains the Thunder Master.

Everyone's eyes turn to Damion. He shifts uncomfortably.

"What is the definition of brainwashing?" Mulsae asks.

Garrick's hands snap up defensively, "Oh no, we are not doing this again. He's going to have us debating the definition of every word and these proceedings will never end."

Grumbling spreads through the room.

"Then let's return to the definition of prisoner that I have proposed. What is wrong with the definition?" Mulsae tries to direct the conversation.

"We know what you're doing to Damion is wrong," the Thunder Master says sympathetically, "We just apparently cannot pinpoint what exactly is wrong."

"None of you are willing to change in order to defend Damion," Mulsae eyes each attendee in turn, "Everything you say I am doing wrong is something another of you does in your own Sanctum. One or more of you is going to have to make changes to your own Sanctum in order to free Damion."

Garrick rolls his eyes, "All we would have had to do is take a vote about whether or not to free Damion, but we didn't. And now Water Master Mulsae has manipulated these entire proceedings to try to strong-arm us into blanket policy changes across Harmura."

"You can allow me to keep Damion, or you can free Damion and also free others who are treated similarly," Mulsae declares stonily.

"Thunder Sanctum is not opposed to making policy changes in our own Sanctum in order to minimize this sort of excessive abuse," says the Thunder Master.

"Heaven Sanctum is also willing to make policy changes," Master Halion declares.

Sorvak scoffs, "Flame Sanctum is absolutely not willing to make policy changes in order to free some Windborne bastard." He growls.

"Ground Sanctum is not willing to make policy changes in exchange for Damion's freedom," cooly declares Dalenna.

All eyes turn to Mountain Master Garrick.

"The Mountain Sanctum-" Garrick starts, then his red headed companion interrupts him. Garrick's eyes pop open as wide as saucers, "Absolutely not!" he exclaims in a hushed tone. His companion speaks again more firmly, and little more loudly and 'my mother' can be heard through the murmuring.

Garrick loudly sighs, "Mountain Sanctum needs to have a side conversation."

"Okay," Master Selune stands and speaks up, "We'll take a ten minute break." Garrick and his companion stand and walk to a private space on the terrace.

Attendees stand and stretch and have low conversations with each other. Mulsae turns to Damion and suggests, "Let's stretch and get some air."

They stand and stroll over to the terrace balcony and look over at Marsh's landscape far in the distance. Damion flares his wings slightly to feel the gusts of wind flick into the feathers of his wings.

"Do you have any questions?" Mulsae asks softly.

"I wouldn't know where to begin," Damion says with a shake of his head.

"Yes, it can be hard to follow," Mulsae says sympathetically. "My goal right now is to force policy changes in exchange for letting you go. If I have to let you go, I want something good to happen because of it. We're cruel to our servants. We're cruel to our wives. We're cruel to our prisoners. We're cruel people and allow cruelty to fester. I want someone to have a better life if I am forced to let you go."

Damion looks up at Mulsae to try to really see him. He originally considered him the epitome of evil. Damion furrows his brow. But things have been peaceful with him as of late, and now here he is professing to want to improve people's lives.

"I have been evil," Mulsae admits softly, "There is no excuse. But I can explain it by saying I have been prone to fall into the trappings of tradition and the absolute power afforded to Masters," he turns to face the meeting room and smirks, "Well, near absolute power. It amuses me that they are all fine with killing and torturing individuals, but here they are calling a meeting to judge me over my treatment of you."

Mulsae jerks his chin to Garrick and his red headed companion speaking animatedly to each other, "Garrick's guest is Zeven, who is the son of..." he jerks his chin towards the Flame Master, "... Sorvak who is absolutely cruel to his wife, Zeven's mother. Zeven's clever, he sees what I'm trying to do, so he's trying to ensure the population that gets improved treatment is wives so that his mother may be freed."

Mulsae jerks his chin to the Thunder Master, "Deryn also appears to be supporting the rights of wives. I'm not sure what his motive is, though."

Mulsae turns to Damion and steps close, putting his hands on Damion's hips and his forehead to Damion's, "I honestly don't know which outcome I want, either. I don't want to part from you, but the idea of helping wives across all of Harmura is tempting."

Damion is amazed at the turn of these events. If he understands things correctly, the decision here hinges not just on his freedom, but the freedom of an untold amount of other people across Harmura. And if he isn't freed, no improvements will be made to anyone else's life, either. With others on the line, he wants to be freed so others may be freed.

Mulsae smiles and caresses Damion's face, "You're a good boy, Damion. It's in your very nature. I wonder who I would have been if I had a friend like you all my life."

Sorvak passes by and openly scoffs at them. "Disgusting," he sneers.

A servant approaches and gently tells Mulsae and Damion that the proceedings are ready to begin again. Mulsae nods in acknowledgement and ushers Damion back to their chairs.

Everyone gathers back into the meeting room and takes their assigned seats.

"Thank you for returning," Marsh Master Selune says calmly, "We had taken a break just as the Mountain Sanctum was to declare their willingness or not to make policy changes in their Sanctum. Mountain Master Garrick, please give us your decision."

Garrick looks at Zeven and sighs, "Mountain Sanctum is willing to make policy changes," he says regretfully.

"The majority agree to make policy changes to their Sanctums," Selune summarizes.

"I said that I would absolutely not be willing to make policy changes!" exclaims Sorvak. He eyes everyone in turn, "You cannot force policy on my Sanctum."

Everyone shifts in their chairs from discomfort.

Selune speaks up, "Generally, sanctions are agreed upon by the other Sanctums if one Sanctum will not adhere to the policy changes. We had threatened Sanctions on the Water Sanctum if Water Master Mulsae did not attend these proceedings."

Sorvak narrows his eyes, "You wouldn't dare place sanctions on the Flame Sanctum. I produce the weaponry for Harmura," he turns to Heaven Master Halion and points at him, "Your Sanctum would be defenseless without my weapons and mercenaries," he then sits back and crosses his arms with a smug expression, "I am sure that Shinra would be more than willing to take up any trade deficits you create for me."

There is faint rustling of fabric and low murmurs as people discuss with their partners. Mulsae, however, stills preternaturally.

Fuck, I didn't expect Shinra to be brought into this, Mulsae's voice enters Damion's mind. Damion looks up at him quizzically. Shinra wants to conquer Harmura, and if the Flame Sanctum allies with them we're done for.

"If your proposal is to work with our enemy, then perhaps we should instead put an end to your reign, Flame Master Sorvak," Mulsae says smoothly, "We can take our chances with your daughter, Valena."

Fire flares in Sorvak's eyes.

"Shinra has been positioning itself for peace with Harmura. Their Official Envoy, Daeshin, has been making her rounds with trade proposals," Heaven Master Halion says coolly.

"It's a lie. Their positioning is for war. Daeshin is not an envoy of peace. She is a harbinger of doom," Mulsae narrows his eyes and gazes at each person in turn.

"You know I hate to agree with Water Master Mulsae," Garrick says with disgust, "But," he then says with more honest assertiveness, "He is correct. Shinra is positioning for war. Daeshin is not an envoy of peace."

Mulsae nods politely at Garrick in acknowledgement for his support.

Sorvak rolls his eyes, "You two are the youngest Masters. You know nothing of war."

"I was engaged to Daeshin," Garrick says sternly, "I ended our engagement when I ascended to Master because her lust for power is limitless. She wants a Sanctum for herself, and she intends to take one by force."

"The Shogun of Shinra is the one who makes the decisions, not Daeshin," Sorvak defends.

"And the Shogun of Shinra has sent the most depraved individual I have ever encountered to be a supposed envoy of peace," Garrick says firmly, "What does that say about how important peace is for Shinra?"

"I concur that sending Daeshin is suspicious. She praises peace, but she wears a comb decorated with teeth. Supposedly of those she has tortured," Thunder Master Deryn comments.

"We have lost the point of our proceedings once again," Halion sighs and rubs his forehead with his thumb and forefinger in frustration.

"Heaven Master Halion is correct," Selune speaks up, "The goal of this part of the proceedings is to define what is a slave, versus a prisoner, versus a spouse. Mulsae has proposed definitions of each, and there has not been a consensus. Does anyone else have proposed definitions?"

Mulsae waves a hand flippantly, "The Flame Sanctum has declared they will refuse to adopt any definitions into their policies. Flame Master Sorvak is refusing any check on his power, and yet the goal of this summit is specifically to be a check on a Master's power."

Mulsae sits forward and looks each person in the eye, "If Flame Master Sorvak refuses to have the authority over his lands and people questioned, why should I submit to these proceedings that are specifically questioning the authority I have over the people of my Sanctum."

Sorvak scoffs, "It's not my fault if my Sanctum has a better negotiating position than your Sanctum."

"Does that mean that the Flame Sanctum's weapons grant them more power over the rest of us? Are we inherently unequal? Mountain Sanctum suffers a trade deficit. Does that mean they shouldn't even have a vote because they have little political or economic clout?" Mulsae argues.

Zeven whispers frantically in Garrick's ear. Garrick scoffs and murmurs 'No'. Zeven glares at him then speaks up, "Mountain Sanctum requests a ten minute break."

Sorvak groans, "Again?"

"Zeven, this is highly irregular," Selune cautions, "You are here as a courtesy, not to participate."

Mulsae sits back and waves a hand, "Let the scorchlet have some time to whisper in Mountain Master Garrick's ear."

"I concur," Master Deryn agrees.

"Anyone else want to break?" Selune asks.

"I could use a breath of fresh air," Master Dalenna sighs.

Selune stands, "Then we'll have a ten minute break. Thank you." Everyone stands and murmuring starts as people talk to each other in hushed tones.

Mulsae guides Damion back to the balcony overlooking Marsh Sanctum. They gaze out and Damion enjoys the wind in his wings.

"What a ruckus you have created, Mulsae," Deryn drawls as he approaches them nonchalantly. He gazes at Damion up and down, "Who would have thought a bastard born Emberai would have the chance to change all of Harmura."

Damion stares at him quizzically, "What?"

"We're all so appalled at what Mulsae has been doing to you that we are willing to change our Sanctums in order to free you," Deryn supplies.

"And we have all been so disgusted with Water's Sanctum of the Cutting Deep that we refuse to allow Mulsae to win," Deryn says coolly, "We are going to free you, and we are going to improve all of Harmura in the process. Congratulations, Damion."

Damion's jaw drops. Deryn smirks at Mulsae and strolls away.

Mulsae turns to Damion and smiles at him sadly. He reaches out a hand to caress Damion's cheek, then reaches up to caress his hair and puts his hand on the back of his neck, pulling him forward so their foreheads touch.

"This is the end of our time together, Damion," Mulsae says softly. Damion's eyes widen to the size of saucers. He can't believe what he is hearing. His life is going to change. He has a future.

Dread then sinks down into Damion's core. But he has no idea what to do with that future.

A servant approaches them and tells them it's time for the proceedings to start again.

Everyone strolls back to the meeting room and circles the edge to find their seats.

"Thank you for returning," Selune starts, "Mountain Sanctum had something they wanted to say?"

Garrick clears his throat and adjusts his clothing, "Yes. The Mountain Sanctum proposes that if Flame Master Sorvak refuses to have his Sanctum follow policies set by this summit that he should be removed from power."

"Water Sanctum agrees," Mulsae says quickly.

"Thunder Sanctum concurs," Deryn announces.

Sorvak's chair flies back from the force of him jumping to his feet, "What?!" he exclaims, "We're here to free a fucking bastard Windborne from the Water Sanctum and somehow this summit has been twisted to remove me from power?!"

Sorvak points at every Master, "The only way to remove a Master from power is death. Are you really willing to execute me? You'll just be putting yourselves closer to the executioner."

Sorvak yanks his wife to her feet, "We're leaving. These proceedings are a sham."

"The summit will continue regardless of your presence," Selune says emotionlessly, "If you choose to leave, decisions will be made without your input."

Sorvak's face turns red. Fire flares in his eyes. His wife grimaces and glances at the wrist Sorvak is gripping tightly. Then his wife closes her eyes and can be seen breathing deeply as her entire body tenses.

"Is this really acceptable to do to one's wife?" drawls Deryn.

Sorvak suddenly lets go of his wife's wrist. It can be seen to have a red hand print burned around it.

The Masters glance at each other.

"I support defining marriages to prevent these sorts of abuses of power," Halion says.

"Thunder Sanctum concurs," from Deryn.

"Water Sanctum agrees," says Mulsae.

"Mountain Sanctum agrees," says Garrick sadly.

Dalenna sighs and says, "After a display like that, Ground Sanctum is forced to concur."

Sorvak flares his arms, "This is fucking ridiculous!" he bellows then turns around yelling, "Get me a godsdamn chair!"

A servant scrambles forward to lift his fallen chair and put it back in place. Sorvak flops in the chair with a huff, then waves at his wife to sit down.

"Now what?" Sorvak bellows in exasperation.

"We are back to the definitions of slave, prisoner, and spouse. There is no consensus on Mulsae's proposed definitions. Are there any other proposed definitions?"

"I propose we break for the evening to give us time to research and draft adequate definitions," suggests Deryn.

"Heaven Sanctum concurs," says Halion.

Zeven whispers in Garrick's ear. "Mountain Sanctum concurs," Garrick sighs.

"Then we'll break for the evening and come back together in the morning," Selune declares.

"Before we go," Deryn interjects, "I believe that Damion should be given his own accommodations separate from Mulsae." Damion's breath hitches.

"Flame Sanctum agrees," Master Sorvak says with a sneer towards Mulsae.

"Mountain Sanctum agrees," Garrick says confidently.

"Damion will be granted his own accommodations," says Selune, "Stay here and someone will escort you to your room," she says pointedly to Damion.

Damion's jaw drops.

"If that is all?" Selune looks back and forth, "Then we're on break until the morning. Dinner and breakfast will be served to your rooms."

Everyone stands and mills about murmuring quietly to each other.

Mulsae turns to Damion and takes both of his hands in his own and smiles sadly, "You're on your own tonight. If you need anything, let me know," he taps a finger to his head. Mulsae will keep attention on Damion through telepathy. Damion nods solemnly. Mulsae squeezes Damion's hands and steps back. Damion watches him turn and walk away, having absolutely no idea what he's supposed to do with himself.

Fortunately he doesn't have to stand dumbfounded for too long because a Sylvaran man approaches him and offers to escort Damion to his room. Damion nods and follows silently.

They arrive at a door and the escort opens it and enters. Damion follows him inside. The escort turns and gestures at the room, "Are these accommodations adequate?"

Damion barks a laugh, "Yes, it's fine."

The escort bows and exits the room, closing the door behind him with a soft snick. Damion circles around in awe. It's all his. He can do whatever he wants.

What does Damion want?

He flops himself on the bed and stares at the ceiling. What do I want?

After a while, there is a knock on the door. Damion doesn't move at first. There is another knock. Then Damion realizes it's his room and therefore whoever is knocking expects him to be the one to answer.

Damion gingerly opens the door and finds Master Deryn and Zeven standing there. He blinks at them in surprise.

"You're going to come and help us," Deryn says.

"What?" Damion asks, puzzled.

"We need to understand what has been done to you in order to best ensure our definitions achieve our goals," says Deryn.

"And those goals are...?"

"To free you and my mother," Zeven says bluntly.

Damion just blinks at them blankly, "What?"

Deryn sighs, "Just come with us." He grabs Damion's wrist and tugs him hard so he stumbles out of the room and starts dragging him down the hallway. Zeven snickers and closes the door to Damion's room before following behind them.

Deryn leads them down a couple hallways then into another room where Master Garrick is seated in an armchair with a bored expression. Deryn sweeps a hand around the room, "Let's all sit."

Zeven sits in the armchair opposite Garrick. Deryn plops down on a couch with his legs wide and arms resting on the back. Damion nervously looks around and then sits in front of the fire to have his wings warmed up.

"You don't need to sit on the floor, Damion," Deryn says softly.

Damion ruffles his wings, "I like to warm my wings in front of the fire."

Deryn smiles sympathetically, "Okay. Whatever you like best. Feel free to sit in a chair or the couch if you change your mind, okay?"

Damion nods, "Yeah, okay."

There's a sharp knock on the door. Deryn yells, "Come in!"

Representing the epitome of elegance, two Sky-Touched stride into the room. One is a red-headed woman in an exquisite ensemble with red eyes, and the other is a man with long flowing black hair and blue eyes.

"Valena?!" exclaims Zeven, then whips his head to Deryn, "You invited Valena?!"

"Hello, little brother," Valena says coolly, "A pleasure seeing you again. What's it been? A hundred years?"

"We are dangerously close to taking down your father. Valena deserves to help and needs to be temporarily hidden so she isn't murdered in a fit of fury from your father," says Deryn nonchalantly.

Deryn looks up at the two new arrivals, "Please, sit." They take up spots on the couch opposite Deryn and sit comfortably. Zeven gawks at them while they move to sit.

"Damion has been thrown into this, so I'll start with introductions," Deryn begins, "Damion is the incredibly handsome Emberai here, this is Mountain Master Garrick, his confidant, Zeven and Flame Master Sorvak's son," he points to the two newcomers, "Valena, another child of Sorvak and presumptive heir, and her husband, Maedor. And just in case you forgot, I'm Thunder Master Deryn."

Damion nods and swallows, "Nice to meet you." Actually, he's fucking intimidated to have such powerful people surrounding him. How did his life just turn around like this? Last night he was being fucked by Mulsae, and tonight he's in a meeting to conspire to take down a random Sanctum Master he barely knew existed yesterday.

Deryn claps his hands together, "Our goal for this evening is to define slave, prisoner, and spouse in such a manner that frees Valena and Zeven's mother from Sorvak's grasp, and prevents Mulsae from continuing to treat Damion so abysmally."

"By the gods, how did you ever get to the point where a definition of terms can take down my father?" Valena asks.

Deryn waves a hand to brush the question away, "Long story. You can thank Mulsae for it later."

Valena and Maedor look at each other with an eyebrow raised.

"I have an idea of everyone's motives except for you, Deryn. Why are you invested in this?" Garrick asks suspiciously.

Deryn shrugs, "Can't a Sanctum Master fight against injustice when he has an opportunity to?" Valena smirks.

Garrick narrows his eyes at him, "Historically speaking, it doesn't happen."

"Well it should," Deryn snaps, "Let's not question my motives. Let's get to work."

Preventing work from moving forward, there is a knock on the door and it opens with a servant carrying a tray of food. They gaze around the room and blink in surprise.

Deryn calls out, "Yes, sorry. Damion, Zeven and Master Garrick will be taking their meals in here. I have also invited two guests."

The servant leaves the tray on the desk and bows, "We'll come back with 5 more dinner trays."

"Thank you!" Deryn shouts as the servant disappears behind the door.

Deryn rubs his hands together and smiles conspiratorially, "Let's get started, shall we?"

Garrick waves a hand flippantly, "We all know what Mulsae is doing to Damion is more like a slave than a prisoner, but we don't know how to define why," Garrick puts his thumb and forefinger to his forehead and growls, "Mulsae is so frustrating. He provides these definitions that clearly make Damion a prisoner, and seem to make sense, and yet we just know in our guts that they're wrong. What he is doing to Damion is wrong."

Damion clears his throat, "But from what I can see his definitions give wives much more freedom. Why not just accept his definitions and free the wives and let me continue as I am?"

"No," Garrick says firmly. "These proceedings are specifically about you. We can't not address your problem while simultaneously making sweeping changes to a completely separate issue."

"And besides," Garrick's hands grip the arms of the chair tightly, "I'm here to fuck over Mulsae," he turns to Zeven and then Valena as he relaxes his hands, "I feel for your mother, I do. But I didn't come here for her. I came here to put Mulsae in his place."

There is a knock on the door and five servants come streaming in with dinner trays. They each walk up to someone to hand them a tray. One offers a tray to Damion. He's shocked. He's been included, not ignored and passed over. He's a person again. He gingerly accepts the tray and carefully places it on the floor in front of him.

Conversation stops as everyone gets situated with their trays. Damion just stares at his. He hasn't had his own food and an opportunity to feed himself in over two years.

"Damion," Deryn says gently, "Why aren't you eating?"

Damion shakes away the stunned thoughts in his head, "It's new to me. Mulsae always fed me. From his chopsticks," he then says much more quietly, "Like a baby."

The sounds of chopsticks dropping onto plates echo. Maedor's hands are by his mouth as his says, "I can't believe Mulsae did that to you. He's changed so much since we were kids," he lowers his hands, "He seems to be more like his father now." He shakes his head.

Damion sighs and picks up his chopsticks. They feel foreign in his hands. He picks up some food. Such a routine experience feels so fresh and new to him. He raises his own chopsticks to his own mouth and sucks off the bite. He sighs contentedly. It feels good to do this for himself.

"Damion," Deryn speaks gently, "Can you please tell us your story? Can you help us to understand what has been happening to you?"

All eyes turn to Damion. A flush washes across his skin. His throat bobs as he swallows. "Where do I start?" he says hoarsely, "What do you want to know?"

"What is your day-to-day life now?" Zeven asks softly.

Damion sighs loudly, "It's pretty boring. Kind of peaceful. We train and spar in the morning, and I read in the afternoon while he works, then we usually read together and talk in the evening, oftentimes we go flying. Unless he has guests over, then we all lounge in the parlor while they chat."

There's quiet as everyone looks at each other. Then Maedor asks as softly and gently as possible, "And the sex?"

Damion squirms uncomfortably. He swallows and whispers, "Yes."

"What is the nature of the sex?" Maedor asks even more gently, if that is even possible.

Damion flicks his eyes around the floor. He doesn't want to discuss this. No one knows about it. It's just between him and Mulsae. He wants this to himself.

Deryn crosses the room to sit on the floor a few feet in front of Damion. He tries to speak carefully, like one would try not to startle a scared animal, "The sex is what calls out to us as being so wrong. The details can help us to understand what's happening so we can put restrictions on it."

"What does it matter," snaps Damion, "Raping prisoners is already standard procedure, why do you care if Mulsae does it to me?" He averts his eyes to the side and stares at the floor.

The others look at each other again. Valena speaks up, "There's something wrong with what Mulsae has been doing, but we can't quite put our fingers on it."

"Just ban rape altogether and be done with it," whispers Damion.

After a few moments Garrick says, "We can only help one population at a time, and right now our goal is helping wives... not prisoners."

Damion loudly sighs.

"Can you start at the beginning? Tell us what happened?" Deryn asks soothingly.

Damion groans and rests his elbow on his knee and his forehead in his hand. He takes a deep breath in and out, then he says softly, "Rape is his primary form of torture."

Maedor gasps.

Damion sighs and continues speaking with his forehead in his hand, "His goal is to strip dignity, so he uses the repeated humiliation of a man raping a man to break someone..." he clears his throat, "... to break me."

Damion takes a deep breath and continues, "He's very... good... at it. At giving pleasure. Sexual pleasure. One can... I can have the choice of either suffering pain and humiliation through the rape, or enjoyment and bliss. In the beginning he kept me so tired and exhausted that... I chose enjoyment in order to recuperate my energy. That kind of choice just further strips dignity."

Damion sighs and says so softly it can barely be heard, "So we have sex daily and I... enjoy it. To survive. To cope."

"That's so wrong," Maedor whispers into the quiet room.

Garrick clears his throat, then says much more brutishly than he should, "What about the anal plug? We've heard about an anal plug."

Damion sits up and rolls his neck and shoulders. Gods, this is so uncomfortable. He takes a deep breath then starts, "He's been using the anal plug to modify... my... hole... to... make it easier to fuck me. Less prep time. It's been... successful. I don't need any prep anymore. Just oil."

Tears start to fall down Maedor's cheeks.

"Thank you, Damion," Deryn says sympathetically, "That was difficult for you and I really appreciate that you opened up for us so we can understand things better." Damion dips his head in acknowledgement. He keeps his eyes down on his dinner tray and aimlessly pushes around the food.

Deryn stands up. As he walks towards the desk he says, "I have an idea for the definitions of slave and spouse," he grabs some parchment and writing supplies, "We can then use Damion's story to figure out appropriate restrictions to place on prisoners that would force Mulsae to free Damion."

He kneels down at the low-lying table in the middle of the seats and writes down the definition of a slave.

-------------------------

Slave: One whose life is completely controlled by another. There are no restrictions on this level of control, the slave may be harmed or even put to death.

-------------------------

"This basically says that absolutely anything can be done to a slave without restrictions," explains Deryn. He looks around and everyone nods their heads.

Deryn then writes down his definition of a spouse.

-------------------------

Spouse: One whose life is joined with another with whom they work for each other's mutual benefit. They may not cause each other harm nor kill each other.

-------------------------

"This should hopefully fit Harmuran opinion of what marriage should be while still prohibiting domestic abuse. Mulsae couldn't just marry Damion and treat him the same way," Deryn explains, "And Sorvak has to either stop dominating and abusing his wife, or give her up."

"Hey, look at that, Valena," Maedor turns to Valena with a wide smile, "With this definition we're spouses!"

Zeven looks at them puzzled, "You don't fit Mulsae's definition of spouses?"

"Nope," Valena smirks.

Deryn waggles his eyebrows at Maedor and Valena in a knowing fashion.

Deryn smirks, "Anyway!" he looks down and points at the definition of 'slave', "I think a prisoner is essentially a slave but with restrictions," he looks up at everyone, "What are those restrictions?"

"No one sleeps in the same bed as their prisoners," Garrick declares.

Valena nods, "I can't think of any good reason why anyone would share their home with their prisoners."

Deryn looks around and sees nodding heads, "Okay, first restriction is that a prisoner must be housed separately from their captor," he writes it down on the parchment.

Deryn looks up, "Any others?"

"The anal plug," Maedor whispers, "Changing him just to please Mulsae. It's repulsive."

Damion sighs, "There's also the tongue ring," he sticks out his tongue.

"Oh gods," Maedor gasps immediately grasping the implications of it, "I'm so sorry."

"Mulsae changed Damion's body just for his own sexual pleasure," Zeven shakes his head solemnly.

Deryn takes a deep breath, "So a prisoner's body cannot be altered for the purpose of sexual gratification of the captor," he looks at everyone for approval.

"There's no good reason for it. No one does it," Garrick says bluntly.

Deryn nods and writes it down. He looks up, "Any more?"

Damion clears his throat, "What about the pet thing?" he says hoarsely.

"Can you explain?" Deryn says gently.

"He calls me his pet. He likes to pet me, and for me to sit between his legs, curl up in front of a fire. He'll lead me around by a leash," Damion explains.

"He's effectively having you do things for his personal gratification. It has nothing to do with your imprisonment," says Deryn.

"He calls it part of his breaking process. That he does everything for a reason in order to break me," Damion explains further.

"Has he said why he wants to break you?" asks Deryn.

Damion shrugs, "He wants me as a personal pet. He wants me to be a shame upon Scaldmere to prevent another civil war."

"He is literally specifying two separate purposes: one for his Sanctum, and one for his own personal gratification. It's the personal one that is so reprehensible," points out Zeven.

"It is common to have a prisoner do things for the benefit of the Sanctum. It is disgusting when someone forces a prisoner to do something for their own sick pleasure," Garrick presses.

"I agree," Valena adds.

Deryn looks around and sees nodding. "Okay, how about: prisoners cannot be manipulated or coerced to perform behaviors for the personal gratification of others," he suggests.

"Any more?" Deryn looks around, "I believe this is enough to free both Damion and your mother."

"What about why someone has become a prisoner. They shouldn't be born prisoners. They shouldn't just be imprisoned because someone wanted them controlled. There should be a reason why someone is made into a prisoner," Valena adds.

Deryn nods. "Mulsae was correct in adding those clauses into his definitions." He speaks while writing, "A prisoner's life is controlled because of their prior behavior." He looks up and sees everyone nodding.

"I'll write this up more clearly," Deryn studiously focuses on his writing.

"We're slaves," Maedor says softly, "By these definitions, we're Sorvak's slaves."

Valena nods, "He closely controls our lives. We live with him and he coerces us to do things for his personal gratification," she squeezes Maedor's hand, "And we didn't do anything to deserve it. I was born as his child, and you were forced to be my husband."

Zeven nods gravely.

Deryn looks up, "We're taking him down. It's all ending soon," he returns to his writing and finishes up.

He turns the parchment to face everyone, "This is what we have."

---------------------------

Prisoner: One whose life is controlled by another for the reason of the prisoner's prior behavior. A prisoner may be harmed or even put to death. However, there are restrictions on the treatment of a prisoner. None of the following can occur:

- They cannot be housed with their captor

- Their bodies cannot be altered for the purpose of sexual gratification of others

- They cannot be manipulated or coerced to perform behaviors for the personal gratification of others

If any of these restrictions are violated, the prisoner is instead classified as a slave.

---------------------------

"It looks good," Zeven breathes.

"It's good," nods Valena.

"Garrick," Deryn looks over at him, "Will you vote for these definitions? Will you apply them to your Sanctum? Will you vote that Damion is classified as a slave?"

Garrick gives a curt nod, "Yes. This meets all of my goals and I am happy to apply these definitions to my Sanctum."

"That's two votes between you and me. There is a chance Halion will see the logic in this and also vote for it," Deryn says.

"Sorvak won't vote for this, he knows this will force his entire lifestyle to change," cautions Zeven.

"Mulsae will vote for it," Damion says quietly. Everyone looks at him. He looks up at everyone. "He told me he's willing to let me go if it means improving the lives of wives across Harmura," he says shyly.

Everyone sits up and looks at each other in shock.

"He really said that?" Valena asks incredulously.

"He said his goal with these proceedings has been to have something good happen to the people of Harmura if he is forced to let me go," Damion says a little louder.

They all sit in stunned silence. Deryn breaks it, "Mulsae appears to be a complex individual."

Damion puts his face in his hands, "He can be overwhelming, for sure," he shakes his head, "He's been so evil to me, but also gentle. He really acts like he cares for me, but also wants to dominate me." He sighs.

Maedor eases the tension, "I'm sorry he's been putting you through that. Hopefully you'll never be under his control ever again."

Damion nods and smiles sheepishly.

Deryn puts his hands on the table in a gentle 'thump' sound that catches everyone's attention, "The evening grows late. I believe we've accomplished what we needed to do. If there isn't anything else, I'd like us all to disperse so I can get some work done before sleeping."

"One thing," Zeven raises a finger, "Valena, I believe you should evacuate our siblings. Father may very well become explosive over this and they'll be at high risk of being harmed. You all should stay here until he has been dealt with."

Valena nods gravely, "I'll retrieve them and bring them here."

Deryn smiles sadly, "Okay, if that's all, let's get a good night's sleep. It's a big day tomorrow," he turns to Damion, "I'll escort you back to your room. I know these halls can be confusing."

Damion nods, "Thank you."

Everyone stands and bids their farewells before filing out of Deryn's room. Deryn gestures to Damion to follow.

Deryn chats while they walk, "Do you know what you're going to do next?"

Damion expels a slow exhale, "No fucking clue. I can't go back to Scaldmere, and I have no idea where else I can fit in the world."

"Selune has domestic abuse support networks and safe houses. I am positive she'll invite you to stay and use their services," Deryn explains, "You aren't alone in not knowing your place after being controlled so firmly for so long. These support services will help you find a place."

They reach Damion's door and stop. Deryn turns to him and places a hand on his shoulder, "Good luck, Damion. I wish you the best."

Damion ducks his head, "Thank you."

Deryn smiles then turns and walks away. Damion watches him until he disappears around a corner.

Damion enters his room and closes the door. He stands there gazing around the room. He has no idea what to do. I guess I should just sleep, he thinks.

He removes the robe and tosses it over a chair then crawls into bed. After a moment he scoots over to the center of the bed. He lays on his back and flares out his arms and legs wide, and stretches out his wings so they dip over either edge of the bed.

He lays there content to take up space. Making himself large. Owning the bed just for himself.

He closes his eyes intending to sleep, but it doesn't come. He's thinking about the future. About an actual future. And it's just filled with confusion and anxiety. He has no idea what is in store for him.

He gets flustered and turns to his side to curl up. After more moments of anxiety he huffs and turns to the other side into an even tighter ball. Finally he gets up and paces the room. The room starts growing heavy. Confining. His breathing becomes rapid. Stressful. Razor blades fill his lungs. Fuck, I'm having a panic attack.

He sees the door to the balcony and rushes outside and drinks in the air while bending over the balcony. It doesn't work. He's still starving for air.

Then Mulsae's voice floats through his mind, Breathe in... hold... breathe out... hold... breath in... He follows the instructions blindly. He has no idea if this is a memory or Mulsae is actually in his head. But he's so starved for air it doesn't matter. The instructions continue until his breath is effortless and the razor blades are gone. The anxiety is drifting away and calm is drifting in.

Finally he breathes in the fresh crisp air deeply then lets out a long sigh. There is so much ahead of him. So much is unknown.

He lifts his gaze to the heavens. The stars here above Harmony Mountain shimmer through thin, high clouds. Gentle, serene, untouched. But they aren’t his stars. Not like those above the Water Sanctum, where the night sky gleamed sharp and endless, reflected in every canal and pool. A place where even the stars seemed doubled. His chest tightens. His last time to see that mirrored sky has already passed.

Everything is changing. It's already changed. It's happening so fast. He's being quickly whisked away to a strange new future.

He flares his wings. He wants to fly. He has always burned up emotional energy by flying. I want to fly. I want to fly. I wish I could fly. Then it hits him. There is nothing preventing him from flying. He stands on the balcony. He can just leave. He can jump into the air and fly up, up, up.

He looks around, for what he doesn't know. He's used to being scared. Of worrying he might do something wrong. But supposedly he's free now. Mulsae has been giving his blessings to let him go. So perhaps he can just... go.

He raises his arms and stands on his tip toes. He slowly shifts his weight forward so he tilts ever so slightly, ever so slowly, and then the tipping point is breached and he falls forward rapidly. His wings give a mighty beat and he's floating. Gliding.

He glides upwards and flaps his wings so he flys up, up, up. He dares a look back to the palace and it grows smaller and smaller. He's leaving it all. He's leaving Mulsae. He's alone and Mulsae is left behind.

He focuses forward back to the sky. He's flying up. Up and away.

He's so high the atmosphere cannot hold him aloft any higher. He's getting drunk on oxygen deprivation. He looks down at the sparkling lights of the palace. Everything is so tiny. So insignificant. So unimportant.

He circles around the palace and makes a gradual slow descent with every revolution. The details of the palace become clearer. Larger. Meaningful. Important. He's wanted at the meeting tomorrow. Where he'll be officially freed and countless wives will be granted greater rights. Where one specific woman, the shy redheaded wife of the Flame Master, will be rescued.

He circles slowly down back down. He circles the palace. He finds his balcony and lands softly. He's wanted for something tomorrow. Something good. He pictures the face of the shy red headed woman. He pictures the red blistered mark on her wrist. She'll hopefully be freed tomorrow, too. Because of him. Because of everything he went through, her suffering may end.

He steps back into his room and crawls into bed under the covers. He wraps himself up tightly.

Tomorrow everything will change. And he drifts off peacefully.