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“Have the fire put out.” Those were the first words he ever heard Torveld speak, and it had been - it had been a dream that Erasmus had abandoned. He had given up hope of rescue, tried to find happiness in the fact that one of their number was not suffering - and Torveld saved them all. This was what the Veretian Prince had spoken of, when he had told him to be brave. The fate of two dozen of his kind rested on his shoulders, and Erasmus would not fail them.The Prince was there, waiting, when he was called up. A reassuring smile, and he felt some of his terror fade - and then he met the man who had saved him. He was spoken to softly, in Patran - a tongue familiar unlike the harsh sounds of Veretian. Torveld, who had introduced himself as such, stroked his hair, got him to sit beside him.The boy-pet glared at him, and conversation took place above his head, and Erasmus flushed when he was offered a few pieces of food - he was used to feeding the man he served, not the other way around. But he ate, careful, his lips brushing the other man’s fingers. This, at least, he could do.He had been brave and honest, and the kind Veretian prince was correct - it was enough. They were saved. There would be space found for them in Patran wagons, and there would be care provided - Torveld broke off from discussion with the Prince to order a Patran doctor to see to Erasmus’s friends, the other slaves. They would be cared for.They were safe. Erasmus managed to get through the meal, holding himself in perfect form, struggling to follow what was said. At the end of the night, Torveld stood, and offered him his hand, and he took it, shyly.A cold lump formed in his chest. The man he faced was handsome, with kind eyes. He had saved them. He had shown Erasmus the perfect treatment that he had been raised for, and he was grateful for that. But as they headed to the man’s rooms, his heart beat too fast.It was not just the expectation of pain. If nothing else, Vere had taught him he could survive pain. If he could hold for the brandings, as the brute Govart- he did not fear the touch of this man, who had rescued him, who was kind. He had always hoped for a kind man and whilst the stories of Damianos showed him strong, and Erasmus had wished for that, they showed him to be good as well, and - Torveld would not be fighting gladiators, or winning the Okton. But he flashed a smile at Erasmus that looked almost shy, and Erasmus was glad for that. Torveld was older, but he was handsome, and he was an accomplished rider. Erasmus did not doubt that he would be a good partner.But.It was Erasmus who was lacking. Erasmus had spent his entire life preparing for Damianos. He knew which sandal he put on first, the order of food he enjoyed, his favourite songs. He could recite epics six hours long for Damianos’s pleasure, knew what he enjoyed on a First Night, knew what he enjoyed on a night after.He did not know that for Torveld. He could ask the man’s servants, but they might not know - Patras did not study to such an extent. And he had no First Night left to give.He had learned a long time ago how not to shake as he held himself, but he was not sure he was managing it. He knew it was Vere - Vere which had undone his lifetime of careful practice. Vere, and - and before. His value had been spent before he had left Ios. He was trying to hold himself still. He had not studied for this.Torveld smiled at him, and warm lips brushed against his forehead. “You are a treasure, aren’t you?”Erasmus bit his lip. He didn’t know what answer he was meant to give - Kastor-Exalted had apparently been more prone to teasing, Damianos-Exalted to blunt sincerity. It was not impossible that the information he needed was somewhere - that the pinless boys might have been taught- he released his lip from between his teeth.“I should like to hold you, tonight,” Torveld told him softly. “I should not wish to rush your First Night, but I would like you close to me.”“Yes, Exalted-”“You may call me Torveld, Erasmus,” Torveld reminded him, and he had a servant bring clothing - a sleeping shirt. It wasn’t a chiton, or the silks worn by a pet. It was Patran fabric. He hesitated.Torveld helped him dress in it, his hands gentle, smiling at him. It felt safer to be touched by him, and Erasmus pressed his thighs together tightly. It was agony on the healing burn, but it meant that no glimpse of the wound would be seen.He was afraid, suddenly. That Torveld would see. That he would fail - that his failure would not only cost him everything, but lose his companions the chance of safety.“You can show me, if you would like,” Torveld said softly. “I heard… I heard you were burned. I don’t blame you, only those who harmed you.”Erasmus nodded, and let Torveld guide him to the bed, and allowed his legs to part. He was afraid, because for a moment Torveld looked angry. But then his smile was kind, and his touch was gentle. Some men could tend to anger, and that was their right, and you simply needed to learn how to please them. But Torveld was not one of those.“I would like a doctor to examine this tomorrow, my darling,” Torveld told him softly. “Just so that I can check it is not worsening… I will call a servant to bring a salve, if that- if that is acceptable?”Erasmus nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He did not think a salve could fix the ruined flesh.Torveld had one brought, and then dismissed the servant, and guided Erasmus onto his lap.“I… I would like to- if you would rather put it on yourself, you can…”Erasmus shook his head, and then gasped as Torveld slicked his fingers, rubbed them gently across the wound. It hurt a little, and Erasmus tried to hold in his whimpers. Torveld was quick but careful, and swathed his leg in a bandage of clean linen once it was done, his other hand stroking Erasmus’s back as he murmured praise.“That should make sure it does not become more inflamed, and help it to start healing,” Torveld told him, and kissed his forehead again, cleaning his hand with a scrap of cloth and then gently wiping the tears from beneath Erasmus’s eyes. “I am sorry, my darling Erasmus…” It was not a prince’s place to apologise to a slave.“I am sorry I cried.”“Don’t be. Prince Laurent told me you were brave, and I can see that…”Erasmus smiled, softly, and let Torveld bring him to bed. He was ready, for whatever was wished for, and he tried to show it without being too bold. Torveld did not seem to want to be entertained that night, but his arms were warm.It was not like a First Night. That did not happen, and he was relieved, and felt guilty for being relieved. But there was no pain, no cruelty. He was encased in the safety of Torveld’s arms, where nightmares could not get him.In the morning, he woke alone in bed, hearing soft voices in Patran from the neighbouring room. Torveld - and Damen, the only one who would not be coming with him. Erasmus supposed that he could not face the thought of leaving his master, and whilst Erasmus would miss him, he understood. He had spent only a night in Torveld’s bed, but he understood - this was what he had been waiting for. He let discussion drift over him, the words passing above him. The bed was warm. It smelt of Torveld. He wasn’t afraid while he was here.Torveld returned, after a while, and kissed him with sweetness. Lessons, learning how to angle your head, how to breathe - none of it had explained it would feel like this. And Torveld ordered food fetched for both of them, and let Erasmus feed him pieces of apple and grape, and fed Erasmus in turn.“We are hunting today. If you feel well enough, I should like to see you at lunch. If you cannot face seeing the Veretians-”“It would be a great honour to serve-” Erasmus answered in flawless Patran, and Torveld smiled and kissed his forehead again. He helped Erasmus dress, and took his hand within his own. Torveld’s hand felt safe.“Damen… explained,” Torveld said softly. “No harm will come to you or your companions now. And I… I do not consider you sullied. None of you are. If you… when you are ready,” he smiled now, and Erasmus dared to think the man might be shy, “we can have your First Night. But for now… I wish to care for you, if you would let me.”“I should like that,” Erasmus answered, blushing softly as he was fed another grape. It was strange - Torveld’s behaviour was… it was like being courted. Erasmus had never expected to be courted.As Torveld helped him change into suitable clothing for the day ahead, and brushed a kiss against Erasmus’s ear, he thought he liked being courted. He thought that Laurent might have been right when he said that Erasmus could do this. He didn’t know what Torveld enjoyed. But he would learn.Shyly, he reached up and adjusted the lacing on Torveld’s tunic and was rewarded with a kiss.