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Dalamar's Return	By : pip Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 2792 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author: Pippychick
Fandom: Dragonlance
Pairing: Raistlin/Dalamar
Spoilers: Dragonlance Legends series
Warnings: READ THE WARNINGS – Later chapters will contain very disturbing scenes.
Disclaimer: The world of Krynn, Raistlin Majere, Dalamar Nightson, the Tower of High Sorcery and other mentioned events and characters belong to Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman (authors), and are also, I believe, the property of TSR and Wizards of the Coast. I make no money from this. Please don’t sue me, it’s not worth it.

A/N: Many thanks go to Augustus for beta reading. Thanks also to Skryer for the comments.
Content Tags : BDSM D/s M/M Torture, Non-consent, Slash

Dalamar’s Return

Chapter One
Dalamar stood before the Shroikan Grove, wondering why he had returned. He had told the council that despite everything, it was an honour to be the apprentice of one so powerful, and that was true to a point. But still, it was not the complete truth. A look of pain crossed his face as the five wounds under his cloak began to bleed again. He sneered at himself. He had the look at that moment of a young Raistlin Majere, before the test had taken his youth. Back then, Raistlin had reserved that same sneer for any kind of weakness in himself.
Casting his mind back to when he had been marked, Dalamar swallowed. He would never forget being held captive in those hourglass eyes, exquisitely aware of his pain. He knew in that moment he would return to his shalafi, if not precisely why.
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Dalamar gained his chamber just as dawn was beginning to break, not that the cursed trees from the grove let much of the light through. He was tired; he had missed a night’s sleep thanks to the meeting. However, Raistlin intended to leave that very morning, and so Dalamar waited to be summoned, still trying to understand what had brought him back. He could have stayed away, but he still felt loyalty to his shalafi, despite everything. And in truth, he deserved the pain that Raistlin had inflicted on him. His thoughts whirled around in meaningless circles and it was not long enough before two disembodied eyes appeared in front of him, making him start back, jolting him from his reflections.
The guardian politely informed Dalamar that he was expected in the study, and disappeared. He steeled himself to see Raistlin again. Just a few last minute instructions. Raistlin would not require any help to cast the time-travelling spell, and would dismiss him almost immediately. With these calming thoughts in his mind, Dalamar murmured the words that would take him to the study door.
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Knocking on the door, Dalamar entered the study to confront his master. Raistlin sat behind the heavy oak desk, a strange smile on his lips. He motioned for Dalamar to take a seat, watching him closely. The dark elf sat down opposite to him, wary of the smile Raistlin wore.
“So, you have returned… apprentice. I half expected you to stay away; you are more intelligent than some others I could mention. Why did you return, I wonder?” The smile was still there, and Dalamar heard the slightly mocking tone, but Raistlin’s eyes were cold and reflective, revealing nothing.
Dalamar met his gaze without flinching. Raistlin knew his secret now; there was nothing to be gained in hurting Dalamar more. He was needed to keep the tower for his shalafi’s return. “I returned because -” he started confidently, and then stopped. A brief but expressive look of misery flashed on his face, reflected in his eyes, when he remembered the council meeting. Trying to warn the Conclave, but all the time unintentionally furthering Raistlin’s cause. Every word and deed no longer his own. He was only Raistlin’s playing piece in this, unable to stop himself.
These thoughts flitted through Dalamar’s mind quickly, and he soon brought them under control. Raistlin had him, but there was no point in losing all dignity. “Because… you are my shalafi,” Dalamar finished coolly, unaware of what his eyes had revealed.
“Ah, yes… I can just imagine it now,” Raistlin replied to his thoughts. “You told them of my plans and they refused to believe you. And when you became angry they dismissed you.” Dalamar shuddered inside at the deviousness of the man in front of him. Even as one of the black robes himself, he was not one who could manipulate so easily. Dalamar envied this ability so much he could taste it.
Raistlin laughed softly under his breath. “Poor Dalamar,” he said, sarcasm dripping from the words. “That dismissal must have brought back some memories for one such as yourself, dark elf.”
Dalamar looked up, his dark eyes flashing in anger at the reference to his loss, the hounding from his elven homeland. The words to a spell rose in his mind at Raistlin’s taunt. He gripped the edge of the desk so tightly that his knuckles went white, and slowly brought himself back under control. All the while, Raistlin smiled at him, humour finally reaching those mirror-like eyes.
“Careful, apprentice, it would not go well with my plans if I were forced to kill you, especially now. I do not intend to leave for several days, and I have need of you.”
Dalamar’s eyes glittered again, this time with a thirst for knowledge. Several days! Of course, he knew that Raistlin could leave anytime he wished to. He was travelling in time, after all. Dalamar had learnt much already from Raistlin, and he certainly did not object to learning more. The magic was everything. “My apologies, shalafi.” He spat the words out; they tasted like ashes in his mouth. “What is it you intend to do?”
Dalamar became uncomfortable when Raistlin simply sat, staring at him. His last question rang in his ears, and Dalamar felt a sudden thrill of fear. He thought of his plans for further betrayal, the offer of help he had given to Par Salian, and he saw the knowledge of it in Raistlin’s eyes. He began to tremble involuntarily; unable even to imagine the punishment Raistlin would inflict. As he stared, hypnotised, Raistlin stood and pointed at him.
A strange feeling came over Dalamar. Panicking, he tried to rise from his chair but was prevented from doing so by an unseen force. He opened his mouth to utter a counter spell, but found he could not speak. All Dalamar could do was watch, and silently curse himself for being a fool, as Raistlin came towards him. He would not die. Raistlin had said he needed him, and he did not believe that was a lie. But then he could make a person wish for death with all their being. Dalamar shivered.
Raistlin leaned over, almost touching him; his hands rested on the arms of the chair. His gold-tinged lips lingered over Dalamar’s, then moved to his ear. “I have discovered something new, and wish to experiment with it,” he whispered, in answer. Dalamar shivered again at the sensation of Raistlin’s breath on his ear, even as his skin turned to ice at his words.
Standing up straight, Raistlin turned away and coughed, making a quick motion with his hand. As Dalamar watched he saw the guardians approaching from the shadows of the room, and fear as he had never known it assaulted him. The veins on his neck stood out as he tried desperately to move himself away. But the guardians came closer still, and at their touch Dalamar’s skin froze. They lifted him from his seat and held him mere inches above the floor, straightening his arms out to either side of him in a cruel imitation of crucifixion. It seemed to amuse Raistlin, who asked mockingly, “What crime have you committed, apprentice?” But then his face became serious, and his eyes regained that deadly fascination.
Reaching out, Raistlin grabbed handfuls of Dalamar’s robe and tore it apart, revealing the still-bleeding flesh beneath. He looked into Dalamar’s eyes. “You are lucky I did not take your beating heart, elf.” Raistlin’s eyes flickered to the guardians who held Dalamar in their grip. “They have been commanded not to harm you. But their touch is unpleasant, is it not?”
He waved his hand across Dalamar’s face. Dalamar moaned in pain as his head fell forward, freed from the spell. Raistlin held Dalamar’s chin and lifted his face so that he could look deeply into his eyes once more. “I would advise you to answer me…apprentice.”
“Yes! Shalafi!” Dalamar cried instantly, as Raistlin looked into his soul with those golden eyes. He held the eye contact a while longer, watching his fear. Then Raistlin began to laugh softly.
“Oh yes, you must answer,” he said thoughtfully, almost to himself. Waving his hand again, he dismissed the guardians, and Dalamar fell to the floor on his hands and knees, where he remained, trying to catch his breath.
Dalamar looked at the floor as Raistlin walked away from him, looked at the tears that fell into the dust, and hated himself. He was astute enough to understand what was happening, even as he realised that he had known all along. Secretly he had known, and he had still returned. The revelation brought more tears as he looked up at his shalafi. Raistlin had ensnared him, and there was no escape. Dalamar’s young, lean and muscular frame trembled.
Raistlin stood at the window with his back to Dalamar. Without bothering to face his apprentice, he addressed him. “You may leave me now. Go to your room. Eat, sleep, but do not try to leave. The guardians have been instructed to bring you to me if you try to escape.” Raistlin looked around for a moment. “I promise you would live to regret the attempt.”
Dalamar stood and clutched his torn robes around him. Escape! Dalamar uttered a strange, broken laugh at the suggestion. He began to walk to the door when Raistlin spoke again. “Dalamar.”
He stopped and turned to face his shalafi.
Raistlin was still staring out of the window. “I do not wish you to cover up those wounds in my presence again.” Raistlin turned and stared at Dalamar, his golden eyes glittering dangerously. Dalamar looked down at the floor as he released his robes resentfully, showing his master the marks his body wore.
Raistlin looked at Dalamar, and a smile reached his lips. “Good. Now go. I will summon you in a while.”
Dalamar looked at Raistlin from under his long eyelashes, his expressive face trying to show hate, fear and humiliation all at once. “Yes, shalafi.” Then he was gone.
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Dalamar's Return