Adrian looked down at the key that lay in the palm of his hand. Though only slightly longer than his middle finger, the key was surprisingly heavy. Rather simple in design, it was made out of a marble like stone. At one end the key was solid white then further along wispy blue lines began to appear. These lines quickly thickened and darkened until the other end was a solid royal blue. The colors contrasted with the black of his glove. Stylized roses where etched into the same blue white stone surrounding an elaborate keyhole.

Resettling his bag on his shoulder, Adrian turned the key in the lock. With a nearly silent click the lock turned and the door swung inward smoothly on well-oiled hinges. His boots made no sound as they sunk into lush carpeting and he dropped his bags with a muffled 'thunk.'

Slowly turning, he took in the room that was his for the next few days. Rooms, he corrected silently as he noted the doors that could be seen from where he stood.

The room he was in now was open and spacious; the walls were white with a gold and silver trim. Pillows of varying sizes and colors were scattered about the room. Turning to the right he saw the source of light. A huge window with an even bigger window seat, bookcases stood to either side of the window. To the right were some couches and more pillows, beyond that a kitchen. Straight ahead was another ornate door.

Adrian turned violently, startled by a sharp gasp, his hand going automatically to his sword half drawing it. He had a glimpse of eyes so deep blue as to rival the carpet set in a pale face, before a slight figure threw itself at his feet. Long blond hair cascaded like the purest silk.

Angry at his automatic reaction, Adrian slammed his sword back into its sheath as he stared down at the trembling figure.

"Get up."

Whisper flinched slightly at the harsh voice. Trembling, he stood. Goddess help me! Why wasn't I warned that he was here already! Nothing's prepared! I thought I had a few more days before the pain started again! His thoughts ran frantically as he stood head bowed, his long hair partly obscuring his face as his new master slowly paced around him.

Adrian carefully took in the beautiful figure before him. The long blond hair - no, blond was to tame a description - the silken sheet of fantastically blended white, cream and pure light gold, reached to the small of his back. A thin braid hung on either side of his face with thin silver silk threads entwined in them and then capped off with small silver beads. The body was slight, almost delicate, his skin pale and smooth and unmarked except for…

Curious, Adrian paused, then ran a gloved finger over the faint tattoo stretching from nape to tailbone. The skin under his touch shuddered. Eyes narrowed, Adrian pulled back. He's frightened. Poor boy. Why does everyone assume I'm going to hurt them? I haven't made a violent move since I…

The thought trailed off as he guiltily remembered his reach for his sword. "I'm going to put my things away and take a bath, when I get done I want something to eat." Guilt made his voice hard. Turning sharply, Adrian stalked off.

Whisper absently set out the things he'd need for cooking, his mind running in frantic circles. He tried to gather his thoughts and make sense of his impressions. Whisper had been too frightened to look directly at his new master and too shocked to evaluate him. Pausing, Whisper closed his eyes and pictured his master as he had stalked around him; his boots had made no noise in the thick carpeting and when he had stroked Whisper's tattoo…Whisper shivered.

He had found that he was amazingly sensitive there; a well-placed touch could bring either pain or pleasure, as many of his former masters had soon realized. The gentle touch, the feel of thin leather stroked slowly down his sensitized spine, had left his nerves tingling with pleasure and a shameful want. Whisper felt sick. Why did they have to tease him like this? Wasn't it enough for them to hurt him in body, did they have to humiliate him also? Turning his thoughts away from the useless act of self-pity, he returned to his evaluation of his new master.

He was a big man, tall and lean, clad all in black.
Black hair pulled back from a widow's peak over a severe face.
He had radiated cold cruelty, aggression and control.
Not an easy man, hard.
Eerie gold eyes.

Whisper shuddered, that was one rumor that matched. What if all the others did?

Adrian mentally sighed in pleasure as he sank into the bath. The first room he had entered had been the bedroom. The huge canopy bed with the white silk and gold embroidery went well with the rich cream carpet. Unlit wall candles had been liberally placed around the room along with a surprising number of mirrors in strategic locations. Adrian had taken a moment to stare at the utter opulence of the room before remember his original destination. Luckily he had quickly spotted a door off to one side that he found, to his immense relief, led to the bathroom. Rich cream carpet had turned to rich cream marble. The tub was large enough to accommodate his long frame with room left over. Set up against the wall and sunk into the floor, it was more of a small pool than a tub. A heavy metal design was built into the wall against the tub. Looking at it Adrian could see it was cunningly designed to hold soaps and towels along with boxes that he assumed contained other bathing materials while still appearing to be a piece of art. Idly he noted it was exceedingly sturdy looking.

Leaning back and relaxing, or as much as he would allow himself to relax, into the hot water Adrian stretched. He suppressed a groan as abused muscles made their displeasure known.

Glancing at the massage table he though wistfully of a massage. Maybe the boy…. Adrian let the thought trail off as in his mind he saw again the fear and the repulsed shudder. No, he didn't want that, he'd had enough of that to last a lifetime. And those that weren't afraid of him hated him.

His mouth twisted in a bitter smile.

All except Tira. Gods, Tira poor stubborn Tira.

Gone, gone, gone, all because of him. A wave of loneliness, guilt and anguish welled up, surprising him with its intensity. Adrian struggled for control as his old enemy made good use of the surprise. An ache welled up and his throat tightened, making it became almost impossible to swallow. His chest ached and his eyes stung, he felt like he was drowning. No, he couldn't lose he control like this, he couldn't show… Adrian held himself rigid, willing the emotions away.

It didn't work.

He sank down into the water, allowing it to muffle and cradle his sorrow.

Gradually he became aware that the pain in his chest was more from the lack of air than the emotional pain. Rearing up form the pool Adrian grasped the shelving for support, bracing himself as water ran off him in rivets and he gasped for air. Releasing one hand he rubbed tiredly at his face, tears mingling with the bath water.

A soft sound had him turning violently for the second time that day. And found himself, as before, staring into deep blue eyes.

Whisper slipped quietly into the bathing room, head lowered, finished with cooking. He paused, hovering on the threshold waiting to be noticed. The sound of rushing water broke the silence and Whisper look up in what he intended to be a swift glance.

It wasn't.

The sight that lay before him captured and held his gaze.

Water glistened as it cascaded off a broad well-formed back. Slick, black hair shone wetly against taught well-tanned skin but it was not the masculine power or sensuality shown that so stunned Whisper. It was the back it's self or rather, what was on the back.

Scars, numerous scars crisscrossed the broad back.

Old whip marks were easy to recognize while others looked like knife cuts, fresh bruises stood out in sharp relief gradually fading to a sickly yellow.

The sight held Whisper; he had never seen such scars or signs of pain on another person. He had served only aristocrats or rich merchants who had never faced an active like that of this master. Of course this one would have scars, would know pain but the idea was so strange that it's full meaning had never occurred to whisper. Masters did not have scars; they did not suffer or know pain

But here was proof that this master did. But to BE beaten? Who would dare…? How did he get…? Shocked and confused Whisper stepped back gracefully avoiding crashing into anything even in his confusion. Still his shocked gasp was enough, for His master spun round his hand going for the sword that was no longer at his side.

Whisper found himself pinned by a pair of glittering golden eyes and a face contorted in fury.

"What!" the irritation and fury in the sharp bark caused Whisper to flinch.

"Mm..m.master the food is ready." Whisper stuttered, terror crushing all other emotions.

"I'll eat when I'm done." Whisper stood frozen like a bird before a snake.

His face flushed, his master stepped forward, fists clenched.

Whisper began to shake, his legs collapsed from under him and he knelt, huddled, his head pressed to the floor, an attempt to placate. He heard an angry growl and harsh breathing. Cringing, Whisper tensed.

"Get out! Get out now!" The voice was a contorted snarl.

Whisper's thoughts whirled.

What was going on? Others had been displeased but they had always beaten him. Why hadn't This master? His anger had been almost tangible. Even with the beatings at least he knew what the other masters wanted. He stared blankly at his shaking hands, and clasped them convulsively

Mind games, he must be playing mind games.

Had those been tears? Masters don't cry. As for the scars, this new master was a warrior, none of his other masters had been, and most likely he got them in battle.

Whisper's thoughts continued to babble as his confusion and fright mounted and under it all a small ember of resentment was being fanned.

A door opened on silent hinges, fabric swished and a heartbeat came closer. Whisper knelt, pressing his head against the floor, his hair pooling out around him, saying nothing.

Silence. A risked glance reveled his master's face was tight and angry.

"Master" he tried hoping to sooth. Whisper flinched as he saw his master's face tighten even further. Goddess what had he done this time?

"Do not call me that" the words where tight and grating "My name is Adrian."

"Master Adrian."

"No I said……….." The master sighed, sounding tired and defeated. "Never mind."

Traitorous relief flooded Whisper, his master was not displeased with him, and yet… Shame and self-hatred rose up like bile.

That's right tremble like a whipped dog. How far the mighty have fallen. What would your family say if they could see you now? Oh they would weep, prince. Prince of whores, prince of groveling bootlickers. Have you no pride? No honor? Where are your precious ideals now? Slave!

Shut up! Shut Up! Whisper hissed at the silent voice.

Who was this man to judge me? By what right should I cower and faun like a whipped dog? A whipped dog indeed to be so grateful for thrown scraps of approval. The small ember of resentment grew brighter fueled with bitterness.

Adrian stared down at the trembling figure so delicate and precious like a carving of the finest crystal beautiful and very, very breakable. A fragile little thing with no choice but to serve you, you damn fool, he has no choice you could do what you wished, most likely he's used to being treated like the piece of art that he is not in the scared hands of a murderer. Is it any wonder that he's frightened? Have some decency Adrian, dreg some up from you bitter soul and try to be kind, you do remember how don't you? Adrian almost smiled at the Acid mocker, it reminded him of Tira on one of her more energetic tirades.

"You have nothing to fear from me." Adrian tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, low and even.

The blond cascade did not so much as twitch.

Adrian sighed. "What have you heard of me?"

"Rumors."

Adrian had to strain to hear the soft and trembling reply. He laughed harshly. "Oh I can guess what they said about me. Poor little boy stuck with a monster for a master! Don't worry, I'm not kind nor am I particularly good, but do as I say and I won't hurt you."

He waited but there was no reply and his slave remained so still he might as well have been a statue.

"You may go."

Whisper rose gracefully, his head remained shielded by his hair and bowed as he crept backwards.

"Stand up and walk!" Bellowed Adrian, his good intentions forgotten. Whisper snapped upright and bolted.

Wearily, Adrian collapsed into the overstuffed chair and glared at the hapless food. Darkly he downed the goblet of wine. And promptly grabbed for the water to douse the raging forge that had taken up residence in his mouth.

Adrian stared at the goblet in shock. When had he? It couldn't have been.. that spineless little bird? Slowly his lips began to twitch, weathered pain lines creased into laugh lines as Adrian began to laugh.