There's nothing here but what here's mine.

[standsonhigh]

This wasn't, exactly, how he had planned his return. He had expected to be on home turf, a place he understood and wanted to be. Surrounded by worshippers and already plotting. Not here with some strange man using the power he gave specifically to his followers to bring him back. The books of Saxon weren't meant to be public knowledge, they were his private notes, and yet this man decided to drag him into a world he didn't want to be in.

The Master always had a funny feeling that magic wasn't something he should of ever tried to toy with because as it stood, he didn't like where this was going. It defied the logic he knew.

Voldemort was a strange creature, a very unpleasant one at that. He looked sickly and his eyes were red like an albino. Still, he didn't say much on it, he'd looked worse himself and damages were just a sign of ambition and desire. It always took everything out of you, especially with humans.

The drums were raging in his head as he followed Voldemort into this meeting he'd decided to attend. He'd only been back a few days and already he seemed to of captured the imagination of this tiny little creature who was all but eager to introduce him.

An ancient ruler from another reality must of been interesting.

He didn't walk behind Voldemort, he kept in step, not willing to seem a lesser. Hey, the dark lord brought him here. If he was going to play with this merry band of psychopaths, he wanted to seem equal.

Comments

[liquidsky]

Barty had no delusions about what the Master truly felt about his tears, neither a stranger to sadism nor the man's obsession. He wasn't holding back his tears and whimpers for the sake of not annoying him, but for his own pride and refusal to give him the satisfaction.

He still had to blink away tears when the Master paused, flinching at first before realizing that he was playing at being sweet instead of kicking him around. So there was that, at least. He shrugged before he could think it through, but luckily his brain had caught on by the time he spoke up.

"Yes. I want to be yours."

And there was a stubborn streak that kept him from saying his name at right that moment, but that was a very subtle act of defiance that made little difference when the words were still true and when the pain started up again, because then he screamed his name.

[standsonhigh]

The Master didn't even bother to hide his smile as he powered through, not even stopping when Barty cried, screamed, jerked slightly. He just wanted to hurry up and get this done. It was losing it's spark of amusement and he didn't want to ruin it by making it into a chore. Rassilon forbid!

Once the mark was gone, all that remained was the harsh burns the Master had caused. He sat back and admired his work, gently running his fingers along the burn, not a single dot of ink left behind. Half the job was done, now for the other part.

He reached down and gripped Barty's face, holding it tight in his grip to make sure they had eye contact. "Now beg me to mark you like a good little loyal servant."

[liquidsky]

Barty's eyes blinked open, blinked away tears as his eyes tried to focus on the Master through the pain. He swallowed, frowning as he worked out the words and fought the first impulse of shaking his head. He didn't want to be marked right now. He was hurting, he was shaking, he felt weak and wounded and the last thing he wanted was to beg anything of the man who did it.

But he had a brain and he knew he had no choice, ultimately, so he dared to look at his burned mess of an arm and did as ordered. "Please, Master, mark me. Make me yours."

[standsonhigh]

"Good boy," the Master offered back, pulling Barty into a swift reassuring kiss before grasping his other arm and holding that one still instead. It was more awkward, what with the angle he had to shift himself to do this properly, but he wanted to make sure he did this right. His first practise at his mark. Others didn't get his mark, some occasionally got a crude 'M' branded on them to make a point but he didn't give them his mark.

Only Barty had earned it.

Starting once again, the Master swiftly and skilfully wrote his name in Gallifreyan on the trembling arm. And no, not his chosen name or his old nickname, his true name. The name that only the Doctor knew. It was still very special to him and so few had earned the right to see it.