Freedom of my Heart
Timeline: the AU of the old Roma; movie-verse (as much as it can be, since Gambit wasn’t in the movie =)
Main chars: Logan, Remy LeBeau
Rating: NC17 for obvious reasons………
Archive: www.i.com.ua/~lebeau
Author: Psycho
Beta work: Kirstyn Middlemiss (great beta-reader, I shall admit)
Part1
“Slavery”
PROLOGUE
He felt tired, like he had ran hundreds of miles – his healing factor had almost expired after healing his back from the last whipping. Not that breaking that supervisor’s jaw wasn’t worth the punishment though.
Now he was on his knees, his arms chained spread–eagled to two posts on both sides of him. The room was familiar – he had been in similar ones twice already, each time during the slave-market.
His tough muscles bulged under heavily tanned skin, as he pulled against the shackles. In vain. He should have known better, they don’t leave precious slaves any chance for escape. And indeed, he was a precious slave, at least that was the conclusion he’d come to, since he was never sold on the open market, only in these rooms.
He knew the slave-traders usually packed slaves into groups with several nice items and a few old people, who were not able to work anymore. The pack would be sent whole, so if someone wanted to get those good slaves, they were forced to buy the others too.
On the other hand, precious slaves were much more likely to be sold single as they were, allowing for haggling over the price. They were sold in the special closed market, where only the richest people were admitted. That was where he was now.
Sometimes he wondered what was so special about him. He didn’t look even a bit handsome, yet he was said to have undeniable charisma. That was the only reason his current trader didn’t want to sell him to the quarries.
“The only thing they need there is sheer strength! I can’t fucking waste the money I’d lose by giving away that one.” The Trader had said once, pointing to him while talking with his ‘right hand’ – the supervisor’s chief.
He did have strength, much of it in fact. His solid muscles rolled under tough skin with his every move, and the supervisors always made sure he got the strongest cuffs, not quite certain what the limits of his power were.
Another reason was probably his ability to heal. It was handy for customers – since they were positive he’d work three times as long as an ordinary slave. It was also handy for supervisors – they felt free to whip him even right before the slave-market, and needed only to wash off the blood to have him all nice and healed and ready for show and sale. The most important fact though was that it was handy for him. It enabled him to stay well even without food or water, and to keep his head clear. It also helped him greatly during his numerous escapes, along with his sharp senses.
His head snapped up, as the chief entered the room. He rumbled lowly and deeply, while the man slowly walked around him, looking him over to decide if he was really ready for sale, or if they had forgotten something.
Finally nodding, the man crouched in front of the slave, gazing into his deep hazel eyes. The rumble turned into full-fledged growl, his upper lip pulled back, baring two sharp fangs.
The chief grinned and tilted his head to the side. “I think we’re gonna get a great piece of gold for you today, pansy one.”
Evil sparks danced in hazel eyes. “Go fuck yerself.”
He was almost ready for the chief to slap him, but he didn’t. Instead, he chuckled ironically. “Speaking about fucking. Did that man, your last master, really fuck your tight hole, or is it just people’s tongues speaking?”
The lips moved in unspoken threats, yet he managed to put all his hatred into a growl.
Suddenly Chief’s hand darted forwards and tangled into rich black hair, yanking the slave’s head back. There were mere inches between their faces, as the chief spoke.
“Pray you find your new master today, Logan.” He hissed. “Or I promise I’ll send you to the quarries.”
The man who was named Wolverine after his gladiator career, hissed under his breath. “Go try, fucker.”
That was when the hard slap finally came, making his head swing to the side.
PART1
Logan heard the first customer’s approach long before he finally entered. A fat flabby guy smelling foully of fish and wine, his small eyes searching around for god knows what. Wolverine’s guts wrenched at the sight. ~No way I’m gonna let this geek buy me.~
The man inched closer, the trader by his side, chanting his usual advertisement speech. “……this one is a really strong item – just look at those muscles! And… he’s got a surprise.” The trader smiled, pulling out a knife.
~Oh, shit…~ Logan winced, as the blade sliced into his shoulder. A bit of blood trickled down before the wound closed itself. The trader wiped it of with a cloth and smiled at the sight of customer’s wide eyes. “Yeah, he can heal!”
~Yeah, I can, but is that a good reason to slash me every damn time?!~ Logan thought, giving the customer a glance from under his eyebrows.
“Is he always that grim?”
“Well, mostly yes, but I doubt with all his bonuses that you’ll be bothered much about that small feature. The slaves aren’t usually happy anyway, you know…”
Logan looked up at the customer and muttered. “Fucking flabby ass.”
The customer’s eyes went wide at that, and the blade of the trader’s knife slightly cut into Logan’s cheek. ~Would have cut deeper if I haven’t dodged~ Logan thought.
The customer grimaced in disgust and turned around. “I’m not going to buy a slave who doesn’t know his true place.”
“Yes of course not Sir, but he’s…”
“He’s of worth to nothing but the quarries!” the man spat and left, the trader quickly following him.
The trader returned several minutes later with two guards by his side – muscular men in shining harnesses. He stepped up to Wolverine, staying on the edge of the safe distance where he was sure the man couldn’t reach him.
“You’re gonna pay for what you said, right after the market – and before I follow that fatty’s advice and send you to the quarries.” He spoke quietly, yet his voice was shaking with rage. The fat man had been offering fifty Denaria for Logan – more than a nice price, since he had bought him for only thirty Denaria.
The ordinary slave on the open market wasn’t worth much more then several Denaria only – yet he was sure Logan would never get over there.
“I’m gonna fucking sell you today, slave. And if I don’t…” he lowered his voice. “You’ll begging for death after the market is over.”
Logan didn’t flinch at that. He had heard those inane threats many times before, and he knew perfectly well that there was nothing they could do that he wasn’t able to live through. Each time he left the chambers more or less alive, and that was how it was always going to be.
The trader stepped back, and the guards moved closer. One of them grabbed Logan’s hair, snapping his head back, forcing him to open his mouth, while the other took out a leather strap and put it between the two layers of sharp teeth and tied it on the back of Wolverine’s head. Logan tried to bite the guard’s hand, but didn’t succeed in it, with the strap preventing him from closing his jaw.
“That’s gonna ease down your talkativeness!” the trader snapped angrily and went out, followed by the guards.
Logan watched them leave and chuckled around the discomforting strap. He was going to be sold to the quarries, but he was damned if he wasn’t going to get his fun first! The chuckle was bitter though, the one of a man who had nothing left to loose.
The next customer was a young girl, probably some patrician. She was very agile and hyped, circling around him time and time again, fingering his skin and ouch-ing and wow-ing about the great look of him. Wolverine got tired of it two seconds after the start, and was now observing the wall in complete boredom.
“Oh, he looks so nice! A true berserker” she turned to the trader. “Oh, is it true he was a gladiator?” She squealed.
He nodded. “Oh, yes, the famous Wolverine.”
Logan rolled his eyes. Fucking brainless mumbling kid – even worse than that fatty.
The girl walked around him again and gave a playfully shy look to the trader. “Oh, and may I… you know… since I’m gonna buy him… I’d like to see him nude.” She managed to push out, her cheeks reddening.
A heavy growl/sigh left Logan’s throat, as the piece of cloth around his hips was taken away. He remembered the time he growled and snapped when he’d first been undressed in front of the audience. Must have had funny look reacting like that. Only later he learned to use the grim confidence he outwardly exuded when presented this way, but the girl’s over-excitement was grating on his nerves.
She circled him once again, her gaze almost palpable on his ass, then got to the front again, staring at his shaft, her eyes sliding up over the six-pack of his stomach, his broad chest, strong jaw… to those two hazel eyes.
That was when she actually froze on the spot, the smile fading from her face, the blush turning into paleness. For several moments she stared into those threatening pools of death, and they stared back at her.
She turned away and almost ran out. The trader gave Logan a sharp glance, promising all possible and impossible tortures, then exited. The guard placed back the cloth around his hips and left too.
For the whole day clients came and went and Logan systematically scared off those of them who decided to buy him. The stares of the trader were getting sharper every time, since the day was already coming to the evening, and the market was starting to close up.
The trader stood in front of Logan, the slave’s eyes at the level of the man’s navel. “You just sentenced yourself to death, whore.” He snapped.
Logan was left motionless, thinking about his knees sore from long standing and about if it was true that the slaves in the quarries never saw the sun again from since the time they were brought in.
The trader was ready to motion to the guards to lead Wolverine to the cell, when a little slave-kid ran in and bowing lowly muttered. “A new customer is waiting outside, master.”
“It’s your last chance, bitch.” The trader muttered through gritted teeth before exiting.
He went outside, shocked it was so dark already, the sun low at the horizon. A tall lean figure stood near the exit of the building. He was dressed in silk, possibly red, yet it looked crimson under the last rays of the sun. Man… no, more like a kid, with a straight back and head with the chin held up in graceful confidence. On the dark background of his face his eyes were totally crimson, slightly glowing in the darkness.
The trader sucked in a breath. “What is the mighty patrician looking for?” he smiled broadly. The kid didn’t smile back.
“I be lookin’ for de charismatic middle-aged man, monsieur.” He spoke softly, yet there was some certainty in his voice that gave away the fact that he was used to giving orders.
“Sure, we have some items mighty patrician might like to see.”
The trader walked through the building, the patrician following him. He still wondered if he was a kid or not. The face was young, yet those eyes carried the statement of someone who had seen everything in this life and then some. Compared with the previous customers, this one was terribly gorgeous, everything from his auburn hair to his silky clothes matching to each other creating the impression of natural beauty and incredible taste.
He showed him several possibilities, including a black-skinned Negro with bright yellow eyes – the best candidate to be sold for good price. Yet the patrician ignored them all.
The trader resorted to the last option. “I’ve got one more item the mighty patrician might want to pay attention to. This one, though, is… bad mannered, I’d say.” ~Better to lose the customer than be accused liar for selling the under-level stuff.~
Logan snapped his head up as he heard footsteps. Soon the trader opened the door, leading someone in with him. For a moment Wolverine observed the newcomer, then snorted. The kid looked so girlish he’d have considered him gay. Yet all gays he had seen got some crazy spark in their eyes the moment they saw him. This one didn’t.
He didn’t circle him either, just stepped towards him, his weird crimson eyes travelling over Logan’s form briefly.
“He’s stronger than anyone you…”
“Shut up” the young man muttered, not tearing his eyes from the rough slave who was currently on his knees in front of him. The trader stepped quietly into the corner of the room so as not to disturb the customer.
The young man crouched down, catching Wolverine’s stare. Warm crimson pools looked into deadly hazel chasms for a long moment, then the patrician reached forward to Logan.
“Careful, he bites.” The trader warned from the corner.
Long slim fingers untied the strap with apparent ease and took it out of slave’s mouth. Logan licked the sore corners of his lips, never tearing his eyes from the young patrician’s. The kid looked as if he was searching for something within Logan, something Logan didn’t have the slightest idea about whether he had it or not.
Finally the boy got up and turned to the trader. “I buy dis one.”
An statement of shock passed over the trader’s face, but was quickly gone. “How much would mighty patrician want to pay?”
“Two hundred Denaria.”
The trader gagged and nodded quickly. “The mighty patrician can have the slave now. Would the mighty patrician…”
“Remy LeBeau.” the boy said softly, obviously tired of the way the trader addressed him.
“Would Remy LeBeau want to pay now or shall I wait for his slaves to bring me the money later on?”
Without a word the patrician took out a small leather purse-bag and removed two big golden coins. The trader smiled, taking the money, and nodded to his guards to bring the shackles for the bought slave. The patrician shook his head.
“I be havin’ my own cuffs, monsieur.”
Two lean guys seemed to appear from nowhere. They were both dark skinned, almost like Negroes, yet their skin had a weird blue glitter. Moreover, their pupils were green, and in the form of a slit like those of a cat.
Logan wasn’t watching them though. In his head he summoned up the factors: dark streets, only a few people outside, the whole night of darkness. All he needed was to get outside, and there he’d be free, and if he’d be fast enough – he’d be free for much longer then several minutes.
The moment the trader’s guards opened the locks, Logan sprang up and jolted to the door. It was his chance, the streets would be half-empty by now, so he could hide somewhere and…
It didn’t seem to be his day. Before the trader’s guards could react, the two guys near the patrician were already pressing Wolverine to the floor, his wrists cuffed behind his back.
Logan growled under his breath and squirmed in the hold of the boys, yet they didn’t even flinch. That was when it hit him – the boys were just as strong as he was, maybe even stronger, and a great deal more agile. ~Hell, I saw them, and they looked fragile!~
Logan almost roared, yet forced himself to relax in their hold. He hadn’t managed to escape, so there was no good to go on fighting now.
The cuffs felt peculiar for some reason, only now did Logan’s sore wrists feel the difference. These cuffs had leather padding on the inside, probably to stop slaves’ wrists getting hurt. ~How fucking full of care!~ he snapped mentally while being dragged upright.
The patrician turned around and walked out of the room, Logan following shortly behind, the hands of the boys firmly on his arms.