Image of Mattin Brenson from The Bargain. White skinned human with short blond hair and blue eyes. He's wearing a leather collar and a light blue shirt with yellow accents. He stares off to the left with wide, hooded eyes, one arm held across his chest, the other hand held out as if rejecting or pushing away something. Text: Better than I've been in a long time.

The Bargain (S4 Finale)

Hey, short season this time. The next season, season 5, will be the last season. If all goes well it will start posting in March. Until then, Moira and the crew of the Meadowsweet will be back and getting into more trouble in Season 2. See you soon!

Season notes: traumatized people people triggering each other, abuse, torture, fictional slavery, con noncon*, (attempted) blackmail

Image of Mattin Brenson from The Bargain. White skinned human with short blond hair and blue eyes. He's wearing a leather collar and a light blue shirt with yellow accents. He stares off to the left with wide, hooded eyes, one arm held across his chest, the other hand held out as if rejecting or pushing away something. Text: Better than I've been in a long time.

Coming around the bend in the road to see the manor spread out before him was a pleasure Mattin never expected. He could hardly believe the difference from his arrival half a year before. Then, the trees surrounding the manor had been in their late-summer foliage, but he walked in terror, blind to the beauty. He had been alone, desperate, and convinced he was about to throw his life away.

Now, early spring had the trees covered in a faint green mist, as buds formed on twigs and branches. Marta walked beside him, and Mattin still reveled in the joy and relief of having her safe, if not unharmed. Ahead rode Lady Jahlene. His mistress—if only in his thoughts. After being at her side so long, he missed her presence, but he wanted to be close to Marta as they arrived at his home—and now hers, if she chose. For Jahlene said Marta could stay as long as she needed.

The spring sunlight was still weak, but Marta gasped as she saw the manor shimmering with blue fairy lights. Mattin had, more than once, examined the dark gray stone with tiny bluish crystals scattered through its surface, but knowing what caused the glinting light didn’t take away from the magic.

Never could Mattin remember being so content, so at peace, with his life and the world around him.

As they approached the manor, the doors opened and the household came spilling out. Brit strode through the mob, his sheer presence forcing order onto chaos. By the time Jahlene dismounted, her people stood in two neat rows waiting to greet her. Of course, even Brit couldn’t stop the cries of welcome and excited waves. Not, Mattin was sure, that he tried all that hard.

Marta hung back and to the side, uncomfortable with the noise and the crowd of strangers. Mattin was torn between staying with her and going to Jahlene. He hadn’t made up his mind yet when a blond streak caught his eye. Elose nearly knocked him over. He laughed and spun her around. When he set her back on the ground, she pulled him down for a long kiss. “Mattin! God and Mare, we’ve missed you. But I get first dibs. Told the rest of the boys they could make do without me for a week.” Before Mattin gathered his scattered wits she noticed Marta. “Oh! You did it! I knew you would!” She held out two hands to Marta and beamed at her, “Welcome! I’m Elose. Mattin’s told us all so much about you.”

Marta blushed and looked to the ground, clinging to Mattin’s hand, “Thank you, Elose. I’m… I’m…”

Parlen, of all people, came to the rescue. “Miss Marta, Elose can be a bit rambunctious, but she means no harm. Here.” Parlen offered her hand. “Mattin has much to do, but my duties don’t start until everything is unpacked. I wrote ahead to Brit, so he’ll have accommodations ready for you. Allow me to help you get settled.”

To Mattin’s surprise, Marta loosened her death grip on him and gingerly took Parlen’s hand. “I’d like that,” she murmured. Parlen led her around the gathering and into the manor. Mattin stared after them the whole way.

After a moment, Elose bumped him with her hip. “Mattin?”

He shook himself off and grinned, “Better than I’ve been in a long time. But… I really hope I’m imagining things.”

“Nope. Parlen’s smitten and your sister is halfway gone. Interesting times.”

Mattin shook his head and went to help direct the unpacking. He wanted to make sure everything Jahlene needed would be on hand by the time she finished talking with Brit.


Several hours later everything was finally sorted out. Once he finished with the luggage, Mattin didn’t know what to do with himself. He recalled, vividly, the mistress informing him that when they returned from court, she would assign him to other duties. The thought pained him, but he couldn’t change it. The important thing was that he didn’t know what his new duties would be. After hemming and hawing for several minutes, he decided to find out from the source.

He found Jahlene and Brit conferring at her desk. Presumably going over everything that had happened during the winter.

A lead weight sat in his stomach, and his feet fought him at each step. Knowing the lady would be aware of his fear and that it would hurt her made the fear worse. As he entered the room, Brit said, “Oh, and I cleared out the old corner room for Mattin. You were only using it for storage, and having him near’ll be convenient for both of you.”

Mattin froze, unable to breathe as nausea churned in his middle. Jahlene seemed surprised too—or at least she paused in her notations. When she spoke, her tone was dry as dust, giving no hint of her thoughts. “Mattin, move your things to the corner room in my suite. Brit is right; it will be more convenient. When you finish, come back here and start transcribing the various notes from court into something coherent.”

Able to breathe again, Mattin bowed and left the room to gather his belongings. He found the corner room, a small (though not as small as his last room) space between Jahlene’s bedroom and the rest of her suite. Boxes had cluttered the space when they left last fall. Brit had cleared the room and replaced them with a bed—a proper bed—and a small chest. A few moments later, his clothing and few personal belongings were in the chest, and he returned to the office, wishing the whole time he could know the mistress’ feelings.

But she hadn’t sent him away. It was something. In fact, it was a lot.



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