For Damen

[bells_will_ring]

The first glimpse that Erasmus had of a man other than his teachers or fellow slaves was of a palace guard. He had been tall and strong and so commanding that Erasmus had thought he’d been one of the Masters from the Palace, perhaps even Prince Damianos himself.

“A Master?” his caretaker Pylaeus had scoffed, kindly, “That was a soldier of your retinue, sent to protect your litter. He is to your Master as a single droplet to the great storm that comes from the ocean and splits open the sky.”

Erasmus imagines that even as he was struck down, Prince Damianos had been glorious and strong and Erasmus himself unworthy. He would have been unworthy even before Kallias’s betrayal, his lie about their kiss that doomed Erasmus to this new life. He is tainted goods and as Damen said, being sent to Vere was a punishment. Being forced into a cage, being sullied as far as a slave can be sullied, being burned and beaten, it was all a punishment for allowing himself to become dirty and unworthy of his fallen Prince. Whatever this latest torture is, is all part of the same. It is now his life.

He does not struggle, as he is led towards court by the young, beautiful boy it is rumored is kept by the Prince Regent himself. He’s told only that he is to ‘perform’ for court and he tries to calm his wildly beating heart as he half-listens to the cheers and gasps of the crowd from whatever feat is happening just outside. He may be tainted goods, but he is still a slave of Akielos and will act as such. He is a slave and this slave lives to serve in whatever capacity he is told, regardless of who or what their Master may be. It is not his place, to question or judge a Master, he is only a slave, he is only a slave…

He repeats this to himself, concentrating on his breathing as the door is thrown open, a commanding voice ordering the room cleared. A flash of bright, blonde hair is enough to send him prostrate, trembling at the attention of the Prince, whose beauty is so unlike what Erasmus had expected from a Master, but no less striking.

“Rise and listen carefully,” Prince Laurent orders, speaking to him with a directness that Erasmus does not deserve. To be singled out like this by royalty is astonishing and he forces himself to pay attention.
“I will not say more but if you can face what is about to happen to you with bravery, something good may happen. Call upon your training and steel yourself.”

Erasmus does not understand, stares at the Prince’s retreating back with wonder for several minutes until he is yanked forward by his leash into the performance arena. He rights himself only to see flames, flames all around him whirling casually on the ends of some sort of torturous pole and eyes all around him, trained on him as he stumbles, legs betraying him as he goes to his knees. They are going to burn him, again. They are going to ruin the other leg.

He must be brave, he thinks, tears clouding his vision as his fear of what fresh torture this will be nearly wipes out his perfect training and the Prince’s own command. He is a slave and this slave lives to serve, he lives to serve, he lives…

His breath catches as his vision clears, wide, hazel eyes blinking at what surrounds him.
He has gone mad. People swarm around him, in strange costume, grass underneath his knees. Towering structures of stone rise around him and all manner of terrors surround him. This is not Vere and he has gone mad.

Comments

[princekiller]

Fresh from the market, Damen carried several bags weighed down with a variety of fruits and vegetables and packaged meats. He had attempted a number of meals as outlined in the cook book he had purchased weeks previous and he looked to trying another tonight, hoping that eventually he might become so skilled in at least one recipe as to share it with Laurent.

So far, he'd yet to manage anything he might deem worthy of sharing with anyone, much less Laurent, but Damen refused to stop trying.

And it wasn't as though he lacked time in this place.

The distance between his dwelling and the nearest market was a mere mile at most and Damen enjoyed the time in the fresh air though the creeping chill was something he'd not grown accustomed to as of yet. It would only get colder, he'd been told, a fact Damen could hardly fathom though it did somehow seem inevitable. He'd taken to covering his arms, even, replacing the article of clothing referred to here as a tank top with a shirt bearing sleeves of Laurent's typical length.

It was certainly too cold now to be wearing a chiton as the boy knelt in the grass--

Damen stopped, eyes falling wide as he realized what he was seeing. The boy looked terrified, trembling as he stared about at the people walking past. Damen had seen this boy before, seen him looking nearly as scared then as he did now.

'Erasmus,' he breathed, walking carefully closer, movements slow as to not scare him further.