“I finally created the ultimate slave contract where the victim is enslaved by their own free will, they may be able to break it anytime but the repercussion will be emotionally immense.”
“My lord, these are just adoption papers”
oh here’s part 2 -- Anon Guests
[AN: I can only guess that these are from two different Nonnies, but the second link supplied leads only to the first bit. Alas, alack]
Lord Aszhatt glared at the seneschal. "But they must fear me, love me, do as I say... I have the ultimate control over their entire life."
Seneschal Pirseptiv sighed. "You had that power before, my lord. The only difference here is that you have... personal oversight."
The former orphan had been watching the interplay. "Iz Dada?"
"Oh gods," muttered Seneschal Pirseptiv. "For want of a better word. Yes. There will be duties, of course. But the finer points are going to take some... mutual understanding. Do you have a name?"
The new adoptee shrugged and made the "I dunno" noise.
"You are my slave," announced Lord Aszhatt. "So when I say 'Slave', you come running."
"M'kay," said the kid.
Day One.
"Slave!"
Slave came running, just as expected. Cleaned, deloused, and still in their nightshirt. Barefoot, and just a little grubby from their breakfast. "'Es Dada?"
"Read me the news sheet whilst I breakfast."
Slave picked it up, upside-down. "It says... blablabla. Big important people doin' big important things. Blablablablabla. Anna Princess fought a dragon, anna 'venturer save the worl'.... um... an' I gots a new Dada."
Realisation slowly dawned. "You don't know how to read," said Lord Aszhat. He took the news sheet away from the child. "Sit on my knee. I will show you."
Slave ate half of his breakfast for him, but also learned how to painfully sound out the printed words on the page.
"Why didn't you get dressed?" asked Lord Aszhat. "There are plenty of clothes for you."
A blank, uncomprehending stare. "They for later?"
"You have lots of clothes, and you can change them every day. You should change them every day. And you need another bath..."
Day Five.
"Your esses are still backwards. Like this. The dragon burns the next letter in the word, and then flies around to the left so he can surprise the army from behind."
"Which one's left, Dada?"
"Remember how the L goes? Hold up your hands nice and flat with the thumbs out," Lord Aszhat demonstrated. "See which one makes an L for you? That's the left."
Slave held up their hands, marvelling at how they could make an L. "Oh... Thank you Dada."
Lord Aszhat said, "You need a better name than 'slave'."
Year Five.
Amity Aszhatt had pulled her bow taught.
"That's it," cooed her dad. "One eye to get the aim. Two eyes for the distance[1]. Deep breaths. Loose only when you're ready."
The arrow flew like a song, straight for the bullseye.
"HAHAHA! Yes! That's my darling girl! You won't ever go hungry for want of that!"
She smiled. "Is it time for swords yet?"
He drew, but she knew he would never hurt her. "En guarde!"
Year Fifteen.
Lord Aszhat had a vicelike grip on the shoulder of his daughter's swain. "You understand that this is my precious treasure of a daughter. You treat her like she's your precious treasure... and we will have no further problems."
"...'essir," squeaked the swain.
Years after that.
"What have you found, my love?"
"My dad's 'contract' for me," Amity smiled a little sadly at it. "All I had to do was fear him, love him, and do as he said. It wasn't that hard. Except for the fearing part. I don't think I was ever afraid of him."
"Dear. Those are adoption papers."
[1] Those who know archery, feel free to correct me.
[Image by Bruno Fernandes on Unsplash]
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