Pomeranians! :3 And Spado based on the character art (hence a tan/brown Pomeranian rather than historical Spado, a black one).
And this chapter has actual fluff! I was beginning to worry that I wasn’t capable of it!
Master of the House
Chapter 11 - A Seed of Hope
However much James had regaled him with tales of the...unique...bond between master and dog, Clipper was still stunned to see Charles Lee drop down to his knees and start scratching the small brown head of the canine.
The sight transfixed him. The big, bad Templar, second-in-command to the Grandmaster himself, defeated by a small fluffy dog. The man didn’t even seem to notice the stains on the knees of his trousers from the grass he knelt in or the slobber from the dog’s tongue as Spado took to licking him.
Soon, the other dogs joined in, and Lee was buried in a pile of Pomeranians of all colors and sizes, all eagerly yipping and playing with him affectionately.
It was a bizarre and, were it anyone but Lee, a heart-warming sight. However, Clipper had not forgotten what that same man had driven Connor to or what he had ordered done to Stephane, and he resolutely turned away, seeking out his mentor.
Ah. There. A couple of the man-servants came out carrying him.
Out here in the open, Connor looked even worse than he had before. The illuminating sun brought attention to the lackluster quality of his skin, the gauntness of his cheeks, and the shadows under his eyes.
“I hadn’t realized he had become so fragile,” came a voice from behind Clipper.
Clipper stiffened.
Lee.
So he had noticed Connor’s arrival even through the throng of dogs demanding his attention. For some reason, that thought made him think just a little bit better of Lee.
The man strode toward the two man-servants bearing Connor, his dogs following him.
“He loved climbing trees and rolling through grass, didn’t he?”
It took Clipper a moment to realize that Lee was speaking to him. He nodded, then realizing the man was still staring at Connor’s limp body, answered in the affirmative.
“Yes.”
Lee nodded, a pensive, serious expression on his face. He turned to the man-servants.
“Set him there, against the bark” he pointed to a single large oak a short distance away. “On the grass is fine, I’ll have his clothes washed later.”
He turned to Spado and, giving him one fond rub, sent the dog over to Connor as the servants set him down on the grass.
As Spado eagerly licked Connor’s limp fingers, Clipper found himself staring at the dog’s master in surprise.
Spado and the other Pomeranians he could somewhat understand given that Lee was famous amongst Templar circles for his too intense love of the canines. On more than one occasion, Clipper had overheard several lower-ranked Templar grunts complaining to James that Lee treated his dogs better than he treated them (although since they also claimed that Lee had relations with said canines, Clipper never put too much weight on the drunken ramblings).
But this. This was another thread in the weave, another portion that made Lee who he was. The thread may be a single random thread, lost in the myriad of such that comprised Lee, but, given Lee’s reaction to his dogs and the way his servants seemed to adore him, it was probably the start of a pattern that Clipper was just beginning to see.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to see that pattern. He didn’t want to be seeing this in the man who had torn his life apart. Who had torn his friends apart and left his mentor a shadow of the great man he used to be.
He would never forgive Lee, no matter what. He wasn’t sure Stephane or Deborah or, if he were awake, Connor would as well. Too much was between them. Between their respective organizations. Between them personally. Too much had been done. And not enough.
But perhaps.
Lee made no move to join either Connor or his happily playing dogs. Instead, he chose to watch them from a distance, an unreadable look on his face.
Perhaps there was some hope.
-----
Charles watched as James’s Omega hesitated before making his way over to Connor and Spado. The man seated himself gingerly beside his former master, careful around the dogs and the man he professed to admire.
A few of the dogs came back over to him though Spado (loyal Spado who somehow sensed that his master’s wife needed him) stayed where he was. He knelt down to scratch the furry heads, feeling a warmth rush through him at the softly licking tongues and the bright happy eyes.
He reached into his pocket and, pulling out several small balls, sent them flying over the field with a flick of his wrist. Immediately, his wonderful Pomeranians took off after them, fur flying as they hurtled towards the balls.
The sun shone down on them so beautifully, making their coats glimmer and shine. They ran back to him, wagging their fluffy tails, soft balls in their mouths. A couple dropped their balls and began to tussle, yipping joyfully as they rolled in the grass.
Watching them play, innocently, blissfully, Charles felt happy for the first time that day.
Spado and his dogs. They were one of the few beings that would never betray him or disappoint him or be disappointed in him.
As he set the balls loose again, laughing at the antics of his beloved pack, he finally let himself relax.
It was good to be with his family.
-----
On the grass next to his beloved mentor, Clipper leaned against the trunk of the tree and began to speak.
“Spado really likes you, sir.” He stroked the soft fur of the dog. “He has good taste, that dog, despite his master.”
He sighed.
“I don’t know what has become of Stephane or Deborah. I hope they are well. They were being treated for injuries last time I saw them.”
He didn’t mention that the injuries were not the same ones they had sustained at the church.
He shook his head. Now was not the time for such thoughts.
“I know you will be surprised to hear that I am treated well. You never did think much of the Templar Order. But it seems the new inner circle is not as evil as the last one was.”
Except for the Grandmaster and Lee, of course.
“One of them is now my husband. I hope you won’t be angry with me, sir.”
And it hurt his heart to think of that possibility, that his mentor would disapprove of his life.
“He is not bad, my James. He did not force me when I was first given to him. He was kind.”
Clipper smiled fondly in remembrance.
“Sir, you wouldn’t believe what he has done for me. You wouldn’t think him a Templar if you knew. I cannot think him a Templar.”
Clipper hesitated, but the words slipped out of him like water from a broken dam.
“When I was first given to him, I was afraid. But he gave me a separate room and did not force the issue as some Alphas might have. And then...”
So engrossed was Clipper in the telling of his story that he missed the slight twitch of one of Connor’s hands.
Master of the House - part 12
And this chapter has actual fluff! I was beginning to worry that I wasn’t capable of it!
Master of the House
Chapter 11 - A Seed of Hope
However much James had regaled him with tales of the...unique...bond between master and dog, Clipper was still stunned to see Charles Lee drop down to his knees and start scratching the small brown head of the canine.
The sight transfixed him. The big, bad Templar, second-in-command to the Grandmaster himself, defeated by a small fluffy dog. The man didn’t even seem to notice the stains on the knees of his trousers from the grass he knelt in or the slobber from the dog’s tongue as Spado took to licking him.
Soon, the other dogs joined in, and Lee was buried in a pile of Pomeranians of all colors and sizes, all eagerly yipping and playing with him affectionately.
It was a bizarre and, were it anyone but Lee, a heart-warming sight. However, Clipper had not forgotten what that same man had driven Connor to or what he had ordered done to Stephane, and he resolutely turned away, seeking out his mentor.
Ah. There. A couple of the man-servants came out carrying him.
Out here in the open, Connor looked even worse than he had before. The illuminating sun brought attention to the lackluster quality of his skin, the gauntness of his cheeks, and the shadows under his eyes.
“I hadn’t realized he had become so fragile,” came a voice from behind Clipper.
Clipper stiffened.
Lee.
So he had noticed Connor’s arrival even through the throng of dogs demanding his attention. For some reason, that thought made him think just a little bit better of Lee.
The man strode toward the two man-servants bearing Connor, his dogs following him.
“He loved climbing trees and rolling through grass, didn’t he?”
It took Clipper a moment to realize that Lee was speaking to him. He nodded, then realizing the man was still staring at Connor’s limp body, answered in the affirmative.
“Yes.”
Lee nodded, a pensive, serious expression on his face. He turned to the man-servants.
“Set him there, against the bark” he pointed to a single large oak a short distance away. “On the grass is fine, I’ll have his clothes washed later.”
He turned to Spado and, giving him one fond rub, sent the dog over to Connor as the servants set him down on the grass.
As Spado eagerly licked Connor’s limp fingers, Clipper found himself staring at the dog’s master in surprise.
Spado and the other Pomeranians he could somewhat understand given that Lee was famous amongst Templar circles for his too intense love of the canines. On more than one occasion, Clipper had overheard several lower-ranked Templar grunts complaining to James that Lee treated his dogs better than he treated them (although since they also claimed that Lee had relations with said canines, Clipper never put too much weight on the drunken ramblings).
But this. This was another thread in the weave, another portion that made Lee who he was. The thread may be a single random thread, lost in the myriad of such that comprised Lee, but, given Lee’s reaction to his dogs and the way his servants seemed to adore him, it was probably the start of a pattern that Clipper was just beginning to see.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to see that pattern. He didn’t want to be seeing this in the man who had torn his life apart. Who had torn his friends apart and left his mentor a shadow of the great man he used to be.
He would never forgive Lee, no matter what. He wasn’t sure Stephane or Deborah or, if he were awake, Connor would as well. Too much was between them. Between their respective organizations. Between them personally. Too much had been done. And not enough.
But perhaps.
Lee made no move to join either Connor or his happily playing dogs. Instead, he chose to watch them from a distance, an unreadable look on his face.
Perhaps there was some hope.
-----
Charles watched as James’s Omega hesitated before making his way over to Connor and Spado. The man seated himself gingerly beside his former master, careful around the dogs and the man he professed to admire.
A few of the dogs came back over to him though Spado (loyal Spado who somehow sensed that his master’s wife needed him) stayed where he was. He knelt down to scratch the furry heads, feeling a warmth rush through him at the softly licking tongues and the bright happy eyes.
He reached into his pocket and, pulling out several small balls, sent them flying over the field with a flick of his wrist. Immediately, his wonderful Pomeranians took off after them, fur flying as they hurtled towards the balls.
The sun shone down on them so beautifully, making their coats glimmer and shine. They ran back to him, wagging their fluffy tails, soft balls in their mouths. A couple dropped their balls and began to tussle, yipping joyfully as they rolled in the grass.
Watching them play, innocently, blissfully, Charles felt happy for the first time that day.
Spado and his dogs. They were one of the few beings that would never betray him or disappoint him or be disappointed in him.
As he set the balls loose again, laughing at the antics of his beloved pack, he finally let himself relax.
It was good to be with his family.
-----
On the grass next to his beloved mentor, Clipper leaned against the trunk of the tree and began to speak.
“Spado really likes you, sir.” He stroked the soft fur of the dog. “He has good taste, that dog, despite his master.”
He sighed.
“I don’t know what has become of Stephane or Deborah. I hope they are well. They were being treated for injuries last time I saw them.”
He didn’t mention that the injuries were not the same ones they had sustained at the church.
He shook his head. Now was not the time for such thoughts.
“I know you will be surprised to hear that I am treated well. You never did think much of the Templar Order. But it seems the new inner circle is not as evil as the last one was.”
Except for the Grandmaster and Lee, of course.
“One of them is now my husband. I hope you won’t be angry with me, sir.”
And it hurt his heart to think of that possibility, that his mentor would disapprove of his life.
“He is not bad, my James. He did not force me when I was first given to him. He was kind.”
Clipper smiled fondly in remembrance.
“Sir, you wouldn’t believe what he has done for me. You wouldn’t think him a Templar if you knew. I cannot think him a Templar.”
Clipper hesitated, but the words slipped out of him like water from a broken dam.
“When I was first given to him, I was afraid. But he gave me a separate room and did not force the issue as some Alphas might have. And then...”
So engrossed was Clipper in the telling of his story that he missed the slight twitch of one of Connor’s hands.
Captcha: Thomas' name is?
Even Captcha wants me to bring Hickey back. O.o