A small moving van idled out front the dorm, its back thrown open. Two doors laid longwise, propped up against the right wall, and two men in academy work uniforms carried a third door out the door. The pair worked in complete silence. They nodded to Aaron as they passed him. It was brief but one almost looked sympathetic before he broke eye contact as he stumbled with a muttered curse, shutting up as the other man glared at him and jerked his head back towards the dorm. They carefully laid it in the van before trudging back inside into the vampire's room, actively looking away from Varis as he sat on a chair in the middle of the living room, flipping through Aaron's medical files with a raised eyebrow.
Aaron grew more and more confused as he approached the house. Second from the right, with the Sinnenodel crest on the mailbox... yes, that was his dorm. So what was with the moving van?
He glanced at the doors in the back of the van with a tilted head as he passed, stepping back to let the movers pass when they came by, another door in tow. He nodded back to them and caught the one's look, and opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but closed it again when the sympathetic mover was urged on. Instead, Aaron made his way inside.
He left the door open for the workers and went down the hall, stepping into the study when the movers came back to let them pass. As he neared the living room, he noticed his bedroom door was open. Or, wait, that wasn't right.
His bedroom door was gone.
He touched the empty hinges on the door frame and leaned his head in curiously as he passed; a quick look told him that the doors for his bathroom and closet were gone as well. What on earth…?
Content for the moment to leave that alone, Aaron turned back to the living room, where Varis sat with a quirked brow, reading something. Aaron recognized the folder as his file of medical records; odd, since he’d left it in a drawer in his vanity. Had Varis been going through his things?
Doing his best to mask his confusion, Aaron arranged his arms behind his back and gave a curt bow of the head. His eyes flashed to the movers, who looked to be actively avoiding looking at Varis, before he spoke. ”Count Varis, you summoned me?”
Again, Varis ignored Aaron in favor of finishing his current task. The movers appeared from Varis’s room once more, lifting the vanity. Varis watched them shut the door behind them. “I requested this information last night. I expected a digital copy once you received my number yet you had them on hand and failed to provide them immediately. A good servant should exceed his master’s expectations whenever possible. This was an easy way to and yet you, Noila bred and trained, failed. Why?”
A spike of nausea shot through Aaron as Varis reprimanded him; a feeling he was growing more and more acquainted with. Varis’ jab at his lineage hurt; behind his back he gripped his wrists with white knuckles, but he kept his face a well-practiced mask.
"You retired after we spoke,” Aaron replied, eyes downcast. "I thought it best not to disturb you. Moving forward I’ll work harder to anticipate your needs.”
“I would expect nothing less.” Varis spoke, shutting the file. “This is twice you have disappointed me. I forgave you last night but I do not reward failure. We will discuss your punishment later however. We have more pressing matters to attend.” Varis stood abruptly and walked into Aaron’s room, sitting on the boy’s bed. He snapped and pointed at the floor in front of his feet, exactly like the night before. “My Lady and the Queen have decided to grace us with their presence this morning. I received notice shortly before I contacted you. You will be attending as my mage, not a Noila servant, so you will be sitting at the table with us. I expect you know how to handle yourself?”
Aaron nodded at Varis’ mention of punishment with grudging acceptance. He supposed that was fair. He followed obediently into his room (with another wary glance to his now-empty hinges as he passed) and recognized Varis’ implied command to kneel. This time he did not hesitate, though his ears did burn as he knelt in his own room. When Varis told him what would be happening in the morning, his eyes widened considerably, and a string of expletives rushed through his head, followed by a few hundred repetitions of the word "why?”
Luckily, having had the training he’d had, he did know how to handle himself, and he confirmed that with a curt "I do.”
“Good. However, there is something you must be made aware of for this evening. Although my Lady will be present, you must not address her. One of my Lady’s mages will be speaking for her and that is who you must direct your comments to. To do otherwise is to consider yourself her equal and few can handle the special interest she pays them.” Varis once again cupped the boy’s chin and evaluated him, looking with a much more critical eye than before. “You will need to dress as closely to my Lady’s current tastes as possible and make yourself appropriately presentable. Your previous masters may have been forgiving but my Lady is not. In consideration with your recent display of ineptitude, I will be present for the entire process in order to ensure you do not humiliate me or yourself during this event.” He released the mage and leaned back.
Aaron again did not resist as Varis lifted his face, taking care to avert his eyes from the Count’s own. And again, the human in him bristled at Varis’ patronizing manner, but he shoved the irritation down somewhere out of the way. When he was released, he hesitated only a second to run back through all that Varis had told him, before nodding to himself and standing, taking the hint to start getting ready. Although…
Not unlike the movers, he avoided looking at Varis as he made his way over to his bathroom, suddenly very aware of the number on his arm and the other consequences of having spent some time in the dust bowl that was the arena. He couldn’t avoid this, could he?
With no small amount of discomfort, but not daring to protest, Aaron tossed a glance back where Varis was sitting on his bed before ducking into the bathroom and reaching into the shower to turn it on. Without a door, Aaron was made aware that the bathroom was fairly small; he did his best to stay out of sight from the main room as he undressed and quickly hopped in, hanging his towel over the door to cover as much of the glass - of course it was made of glass - as he could.
Varis watched with mild amusement as Aaron ducked into the bathroom and attempted some sort of modesty. Varis followed, pulling the towel off the door as he did, and settling himself on the toilet. The vampire paid little attention to Aaron himself, focusing on the products he used and how he used them. Mostly natural, unscented - Varis disagreed with the products the boy used on principle but it wasn’t something that needed his attention now. Separate shampoo and conditioner, not those awful two in one products humans seemed fond of. Besides a quick demand to leave his conditioner in longer, Aaron passed Varis’ shower inspection. The basic part at least. Varis would be switching out what the boy used for products he preferred later.
Aaron inhaled sharply when Varis took his towel, doing his very best to ignore the Count as he set about his business. Unsurprisingly, he worked faster than normal, though he did take a few seconds to memorize Lilie’s number before he feverishly scrubbed it away. Varis once again reminded Aaron of his presence with a demand, which was followed, but the whole affair was over quickly. When he switched off the water, Aaron hesitated, jaw working as he exhaled slowly. He couldn’t bring himself to look through the glass at Varis, but he flatly asked, "May I please have my towel back?”
“You intended to use this one to dry yourself off?” Varis asked as he tossed the towel over the glass. “It would have been damp and made chafing much more likely later in the night, not to mention incredibly inefficient.” Varis took a moment to rifle through the mage’s cabinets, making a mental checklist. “When you get out, only lightly towel dry your hair. I have plans for it. I will be right back.” Varis stepped out for a moment, heading back to his own bathroom to pick up some supplies.
Aaron caught the towel gratefully, turning away once more to quickly - quickly, now - dry himself off and tie the towel around his waist. It was hard not to glare a hole into the side of Varis’ head as the Count rifled through his bathroom cabinets, but he managed until Varis left.
He took the chance to step out and dry himself more thoroughly, tossing cautious glances toward the doorway as he did. He dried his hair as instructed, and secured the towel once more around his waist.
“Boy, come here!” Varis shouted from his room. His bathroom was larger than the mage’s and it would be a pain to bring everything he wanted to use. Varis set up the chair from the living room in his bathroom and had cleared off his countertop, mostly. Only a few were for Aaron but he had so many, he could only shuffle things around so much.
Aaron stifled a groan but obeyed; he wanted to at least get some pants on first, but he didn’t dare keep Varis waiting. The Count was clearly on edge and Aaron was in deep enough as it was. He did note, however, that Varis had not once used his name since they’d met.
When Aaron made it through the door, Varis' jacket hung on a hook in the bathroom and he was rolling up his shirt sleeves. He nodded at the chair, indicating for Aaron to sit, and gently ran his hands through the mage's hair before picking up a comb and the hair dryer. The vampire worked steadily, combing out sections as he dried them. What few tangles he did encounter were quickly dealt with as he let his mind wander.
Varis expected her to show up at some point but the night school started was well outside his calculations. She shouldn't have been interested for at least a month. Something must have changed if her attention was free enough to stick her insufferable nose in his business again. Unless… He tugged a little too harshly at Aaron's hair and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Ryner wasn't stupid. As he combed, Aaron's ear caught his attention. A scar across his ear that hadn't been mentioned in his medical records.
“What's this?” Varis asked, tapping the comb to the scar lightly.
Aaron stayed still as Varis combed, and found himself fiddling with his fingers (his ring was back on his bathroom counter), a little uncomfortable, as he always had been, sitting still.
He, too, got a little lost in his thoughts as Varis worked. He still couldn’t believe that the Queen was coming. He couldn’t imagine why; maybe to check up on Academy proceedings (to Aaron’s memory, she had always been a bit of a micromanager), but that didn’t quite fit. The Academy was Princess Ryner’s baby, and even the Queen would have to admit that she ran a tight ship. And she was coming, along with Lady Sinnenodel, to see them? Lady Sinnenodel he could understand, she was probably just interested in her protege, but the Queen? Surely it couldn’t be for him. Aaron was aware that the Queen knew him, but he couldn’t imagine why she would care enough to come to the Academy on his account. No, there must be something else.
He was pulled out of his head with a wince as Varis yanked on a lock of his hair, and soon after, the Count tapped his left ear with the comb and asked him a question. Like a reflex, Aaron reached up and gently ran his fingers over his scar, as he’d done so many times before.
This time, though, a rush of memories hit him like a truck. They came in broken pieces; emotion without thought, sensation without vision, images without explanation. His left arm streaked with red. Anger and pain. Throwing punches. Throbbing in his ear, stinging in his knuckles, stars in his eyes. A hand around his throat.
"An accident," he replied, voice distant. He blinked the images away and took a deep breath, dropping his hands. “Just an accident.”
Varis raised an eyebrow and stared at the other for a moment in the mirror. The mage must know Varis could practically feel the distress the subject brought him. The vampire made a mental note. After all, just an accident wouldn't have been left out of his medical records. He could twist it as a lie and use it against the boy later. He finished blow drying the mage's hair, leaving it just damp enough to mold, and opened a jar of cream.
“And your family.” Varis continued as he worked the styling gel evenly into the mage's hair. “Tell me about them. A family tree only says so much.” He touched the mage's hair, pulling and tugging here and there into the messy style his Lady had enjoyed within the recent decade.
Aaron’s eyes flicked up to Varis in the mirror with a look somewhere between disbelief and suspicion. Funny, he hadn’t expected the Count to take much of an interest in him personally, beyond how he presented himself and what he could do. Perhaps he had misjudged the vampire. He’d hold off on that determination for now.
"Right now, my family consists of my mother, her two sisters, and myself,” he began, mood already lifting at the thought. A look of fondness fell over his features as he spoke, and a little smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "My mother is the eldest of the three, one of Princess Ryner’s mages. Her name is Adele, but they all call her Ella. The other two are twins. My aunt Clara - Clarissa - serves Princess Nox, and Aunt Dora - Isadora - actually serves Count Alder, the headmaster of Vampiric Studies here.”
He looked a little questioningly in the mirror at the hairstyle Varis was crafting - quite different from the neatly combed style he was used to - before continuing. "My mother is a Fire mage, but you’d never know it just from meeting her. Aunt Clara is a Sound mage, oddly enough, and Aunt Dora’s affinity…” He trailed off for a second, not sure how to describe it. "I forget exactly what she called it, but she can sense and influence emotion.”
“Alder.” Disgust dripped from the name. “A weak willed, insignificant insect. His opinions change with the seasons. I still wonder whose boots he licked to get where he is.” Varis rinsed his hands and turned to consider the mage. His appearance didn't need much help. Thankfully, since Varis had absolutely nothing in the boy's skin tone but some wings would make his eyes pop just a tad more but the tension in the mage's body would have ruined the eyeliner. Thankfully, the subject of conversation worked. Some of the tension around the mage's eyes relaxed, no longer threatening to ruin Varis' work. He held Aaron's chin again as he brought the eyeliner around his eyes, hand steady, and nodded at his work.
“Now, let's figure out what you'll wear. What do you have in the way of accessories?” Varis asked. His eyes drifted to the mage's ears and neck, flashing red briefly as a small hunger pang ran through him, while he considered his options.
Aaron frowned a little as Varis railed against Alder; he’d only met the man a few times but while he was exceedingly stiff, Aaron had never found any reason to dislike him. Besides, Aunt Dora seemed to like the Count, and that was really Aaron’s only concern.
Varis considered him for a moment before grabbing something that looked like a pencil, taking his chin in hand once more and instructing him not to move. Aaron struggled not to flinch as Varis dragged the tool around his eyes, eyelids twitching involuntarily at the bizarre sensation. Oh no, he did not like how that felt.
He blinked madly for a second when Varis released him, and when he glanced back to the mirror, his eyebrows shot up. He couldn’t resist leaning in closer to the mirror. Oh, that was bizarre. He tilted his face this way and that, examining his eyes closely. He didn’t think he was fond of the fact that his eyes - and by extension, his whole face - looked so different to what he was used to, but he couldn’t help but marvel at how huge a difference one little thing could make. Combined with his new messy hairstyle, as far as he was concerned there was a different man in the mirror.
He looked back to Varis when he was addressed and ran a mental inventory, though there wasn’t much to catalogue. "I only really have a few watches, my ring and a few pairs of cufflinks,” he replied. However, as soon as he closed his mouth, he remembered there was one more of some importance. A sudden look of muted horror crossed his face and he almost cursed at the realization, but he didn’t dare speak up. Hopefully he could put it on without Varis noticing he hadn’t worn it that day. Maybe he didn’t even know about it. Aaron hoped for the latter; he didn’t need another accidental slight tonight.
“Of course.” Varis sighed. “We'll start with your clothes. Come along boy.” Varis snapped and made his way into the mage's room, heading for the boy's closet. He flicked through, pulling one hanger inspecting it and then popping out to look at Aaron. After a few times, Varis stood in the doorway and propped his hands on his hips, gesturing at Aaron.
“Are you planning on wearing that towel to dinner? Off with it. I'm trying to coordinate your outfit.” Varis shook his head irritably and stepped back in, muttering to himself. He would have to fix this modesty complex the boy had. He picked up a black vest, white shirt, and a pair of black slacks. Varis need to spend some time adding a touch of variety to the boy's wardrobe as well. Varis had a red tie and a few gold accessories he could dress the boy in. He snatched up a pair of underwear as well and laid everything on the bed and held up each piece against the mage.
“Alright, get dressed and show me the cuff links you have. I may have to lend you those as well.” Varis instructed.
Aaron followed once more and simply stood at attention in his room as Varis went through his closet, emerging now and then to eye him up and down. Aaron was once more made aware of his state of undress, and of course as soon as that realization hit him, Varis had another command for him. One that made his insides squirm painfully.
Aaron’s face burned red as Varis ducked back into the closet, and it took a lot of courage not to hesitate and to let the towel drop. He’d always been a little self-conscious - growing up around creatures of otherworldly beauty tended to do that - but this was a little extreme. That, coupled with the memory of the Count’s lewd comment the night before, made his gut twist ever tighter.
He stood as sturdy as he was able, hands arranged in front of him this time (for obvious reasons), but couldn’t bring himself to look at Varis. His heart was racing - he wished he had on his watch so he could see the rate - and he struggled to keep his breathing even. All the while, Varis was acting as if nothing was amiss.
Finally he was told to get dressed, and he obeyed enthusiastically, pulling on the base pieces quickly with near-trembling hands. However, he took his time with the shirt and vest, making sure the shirt was tucked just right and the creases laid properly, and the vest was nicely centred. Face returning to its normal tone at last, he crossed the room to his dresser and pulled some things from the top drawer; a few were ring boxes, and the fourth item he pulled from a larger, flat accessory case, keeping it bunched up in his palm. He then turned his attention to the ring boxes, opening them and setting them side-by-side on the dresser.
There were three, all black; in the first was a pair of plain square, silver cufflinks; the second pair were gold and round, each with one tiny sapphire set into the face; the third was the pair his mother had given him the night before, gold and shaped like little shields, each with a rampant stag on the face in relief. Tiny little Starag crests, but without the burgundy backdrop. Aaron stood aside so Varis could see them.
Varis sighed as Aaron dressed. Ordering a series of fashion magazines for the boy was apparently the next thing on his list. He expected to overhaul a few things but it appeared he would have to overhaul everything. After Aaron stepped aside, Varis immediately grabbed his tucked in shirt and yanked it out, artfully creasing a few spots. He undid the boy's top button of both his shirt and vest and rolled his sleeves up neatly.
“Did the Noilas only ever teach you manners?” The vampire snapped before turning to look at each set. He picked up the silver links, turning the box this way and that before putting them down with a muttered “Over my dead body.” He pondered over the sapphire ones, running through his possessions, but setting them down as well as he came to the conclusion it would be a struggle to match them. He picked up the Starag crested pair and frowned before passing them to Aaron. “You'll wear these. Get rid of the silver ones at the next available opportunity.”
Aaron very nearly backed away when Varis took hold of his shirt, but held his arms out of the way anyway, not daring to interrupt. He was really growing tired of Varis’ micromanaging - he wasn’t a child, he could have just told him what to fix and he would have fixed it - but he didn’t exactly have much choice in the matter and he resigned himself to let Varis go through his motions. He seemed tense, and Aaron didn’t fancy the idea of getting in his way.
Aaron was, however, a little happier when Varis handed him the Starag cufflinks; they’d immediately become his favourites when he’d gotten them. He wasn’t thrilled that Varis wanted him to get rid of the silver ones, but luckily he wasn’t too attached to them. Maybe Lucan would want them.
He slipped the object in his hand into his pocket and plucked the cufflinks from their box, depositing it back onto the dresser. However, he was met with an obstacle in that the holes in his cuffs where they were supposed to go were rolled up near his elbows. What was he supposed to do with cufflinks if his sleeves were rolled up?
He crossed the room to the vanity, tossing the cufflinks around in his palm as he searched his outfit for somewhere to put them. The traditional route was out, but he figured Varis wouldn’t have told him to wear them if he didn’t think they’d fit somewhere. After a few seconds of searching his reflection - doing his best to ignore how thoroughly foreign his whole outfit was - he spotted the two tiny buttonholes at the tips of his collar. One was usually meant to secure them to the collarbone so the collar laid flat, but it was the only small opening Aaron could find. Maybe that’s what Varis had had in mind? He didn’t dare try it; he hadn’t forgotten Varis’ warning the night before about guessing. Instead, he slipped the pair into his other pocket and awaited Varis’ next command.
“Not putting on the cuff links?” Varis asked pointedly, an eyebrow raised.
Aaron looked over to Varis, eyes falling somewhere around the vampire’s shoulders. "I’m sorry,” he admitted, "With my sleeves rolled up I don’t know how to wear them.”
“So you can learn. I was beginning to wonder.” Varis said dryly. “You won't be wearing them. The formality they represent completely clash with your current outfit. It was a test and one you only partially passed. Put those away and follow me. We have a bit more work and then I will put you to your punishment.” Varis turned and headed back into his room, feeling a bit more in control. Bossing Aaron around helped his nerves immensely.
Aaron’s eyes fell and he nodded, a hint of a humourless smirk threatening on his lips at Varis’ little insult. Of course. Varis had him running around in circles in his own head; it was certainly going to be something he’d have to consciously work to get used to. He found himself longing for the style of discipline back home; expectations were still high and punishments still preferable to avoid, but at least there his instructions were clear.
The reminder of his upcoming punishment brought back that familiar spike of dread, but Aaron pushed it down, focusing on putting the cufflinks back in their box and returning all three to his drawer before following Varis out, fiddling with the object in his pocket as he went.
Varis had pulled out several wooden boxes from his closet and had them open on his bed. Each one contained several compartments and held a specific type of accessory, organized by color and size. Varis once again snapped at his feet and resumed inspecting a gold ear cuff.
“As much as I would prefer to dress you in silver, gold suits your skin much better.” Varis said, almost to himself as he turned and fastened the cuff over Aaron's left ear. He picked a necklace out of another box, a short gold chain with the Sinnenodel crest hanging from it, and held it against his neck. Not quite a choker, it still hugged close to his throat and left the pendant a tad higher than his top button. Varis picked up a red silk tie he left laying across the pillow and slipped it under the mage's shirt collar, tying it as usual but leaving it loose enough that the pendant was perfectly framed by the shirt. Varis looked Aaron over once more and nodded, satisfied with his work.
“I imagine this isn't something you are used to wearing.” Varis said as he returned the boxes to his closet. “Just be glad you avoided entering our service while my Lady was in a corset phase.” He turned to look at the mage and his eyes flashed red again as a wave of hunger hit him. He skipped his normal feeding time for his original plans this evening and he felt it. Perhaps it was time to indulge in snack. It's been a bit since he'd enjoyed it from the source.
“Have you been fed from before?” Varis asked sat on the bed next to the kneeling mage. “If so, where from?”
Varis snapped again, Aaron knelt again, it was all very quickly becoming routine. The ear… thing, was new, and the necklace with the crest felt a little more like a collar than Aaron perhaps would have liked, but he was pretty far into unfamiliar territory at this point and took it in stride. He was actually growing a little anxious to see what the final look was like; it took a conscious effort not to button his collar and tuck his shirt back in, so the least the outfit could do was look half-decent. It was all very much outside of his comfort zone. A running trend, apparently.
Varis’ next question, however, was unexpected. Hadn’t he wanted to wait until tomorrow?
"No,” he replied, "Starag mages are only fed on once they’ve been assigned to their charge. The Noilas are very strict about that.” Despite the lingering discomfort from the evening thus far, Aaron couldn’t deny that something like nervous anticipation was creeping up on him at the thought.
“Then your first time is mine.” Varis licked his lips as he looked at Aaron hungrily. “I prefer to drink from the neck but seeing as I just dressed you, I'll not run the risk of ruining your clothes. Wrist.”
Aaron’s heart rate spiked at Varis’ words; he couldn’t tell if the fluttering in his gut was nervousness, or fear, or excitement, or some unholy combination of all three. He fought to keep his breathing steady as he offered his arm. This was it.
Varis gripped the mage’s wrist firmly and brought it to his lips, savoring in the heat radiating off the boy’s skin. How long had he kept himself from feeding from a mage directly? Almost fifty years at least. Bottles were much more convenient, no need for maintenance and support, but lacked the exhilaration of feeding directly. He let his fangs rest on the mage’s wrist, taking a moment just to enjoy the feeling, the slight resistance and the softness glass couldn’t have. Varis pushed his fangs into the boy quickly. He kept it shallow, only allowing himself just enough.
If Varis had a heart, it would have stopped and then skipped several beats. Notes of orange and clove exploded across his tongue, forceful and bold and stronger than most bottles Varis normally drank from. The flavor was heady and rich, full of life and expectation, but what set it apart from the norm was the heat. It was just barely there, winding between the primary flavors and intensifying them, adding a touch of brightness to an already pleasant flavor. Varis lapped the wound shut and nearly threw the boy’s arm away.
“Study. Now. Sit at your desk.” Varis snapped, not looking at the mage.
Aaron’s heart pounded as he waited for the bite - he was sure Varis could feel his rapid pulse under his skin. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears as Varis seemed to hesitate forever.
Then, all at once, the waiting was over. Aaron inhaled sharply at the burn of the bite, squeezing his eyes shut and holding his breath. Then, as quickly as it had come, the burning subsided into bliss; Aaron exhaled slowly, feeling tension he hadn’t known was there melt away. His mother had described the sensation of feeding once as a sort of relief, like the end of a long day. What Aaron felt then might have been similar, but be it for his heightened state beforehand or some other reason, it was more… more. More than he’d bargained for.
Whatever it was crashed over the mage like a gentle wave, leaving him warm and calm. Truth be told, he was disappointed when it ended; and a little unsteady, apparently, as he stumbled when Varis threw back his arm, having to awkwardly catch himself with the other. He took several deep breaths as his faculties returned to him, blinking down with disbelief at his flawlessly healed wrist.
It took a few beats for him to process Varis’ command, but when he did he made his way to his feet obediently, if not a tad clumsier than before, feeling slightly more compliant as the pleasant warmth from the feeding lingered. He glanced between his wrist and Varis, who was looking away, before he simply turned and made his way to the study, sitting at his desk like he’d been told and leaning his head on his hand. That had certainly been something.
Varis waited until the boy left the room before letting his head fall forward into his hands. He licked at his lips, hoping a little stained his lips, as he gave himself a moment to recover. There was little question why the Noilas bred the Starag line if any of the boy's family had even a fraction of his blood quality. The stuff was addictive.
After taking a few long moments to collect himself, Varis joined the mage in the study and sat down at his own desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote a single sentence.
“I am my Master's servant and I will endeavour to use my critical thinking skills to his advantage.”
“For now, your punishment will be 1,000 lines. You'll spend an hour each day until the task is completed. This hour will be in the morning before the pastry delivery. For every mistake made each day, I will add ten more lines and increase the number of hours you will spend each day.” Varis said as he stood again. “You may start now to complete today's portion and you will continue until I am ready to leave. Do you understand?”
The few minutes that Varis waited allowed Aaron a chance to clear his head. His heart had slowed, but he could tell it still wasn’t quite normal; once again he wished for his watch so he could know the exact rate. The necklace made him acutely aware of it - he could feel it gripping his throat with every pump of his jugular.
He found himself flexing his hand, staring absently at the spot where Varis had bitten him. He knew that vampires could heal their own wounds, but that knowledge hadn’t quite prepared him to see it in action. It was an even quicker effect than a Life mage’s healing process. He rubbed the spot with his thumb, expecting some kind of soreness, but there was none; on the contrary, his muscles were soft and relaxed, not unlike after a long, hot shower. He took a few more measured breaths, using the techniques he’d learned to temper his heart rate and bring himself back to the present. Gradually, the warm fog from the feeding began to lift.
He was sitting straighter at his desk when Varis arrived, and suddenly he was aware of how he’d let himself go during the feeding. He was a touch embarrassed, but luckily - or perhaps not - there were more pressing matters at hand.
Aaron read over the sentence a few times, ears beginning to burn under his hair. His punishment was belittling, there was no denying it, and there was no doubt in his mind that Varis had crafted it that way deliberately. Writing lines was a punishment given to difficult children, and the wording of the phrase was also clearly meant to send a message. Aaron had never taken particular issue with the terminology of “master” - it was accurate, after all - but he had no delusions that Varis hadn’t capitalized the word for a reason. It wasn’t just a term, it was a title.
One of his tutors had made him write lines once, when he was a child, because he’d had an unreasonably hard time memorizing the product of 7 x 9. As a result, Aaron was quite sure that the answer - 63 - was carved somewhere on the inside of his skull, and to this day he could recite it on cue like a reflex. That had only taken 100 lines.
Aaron nodded down at the desk, resigned to his task. "I understand," he replied, retrieving a pen and a pad of paper from one of the desk drawers.
“After today, I expect your phone to stay in your room for the duration of your writing. I will not see your reflection disturbed.” Varis said and left Aaron alone to prepare for what was bound to be a long morning.
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