The prince's head ached as his eyes opened. Heavy shackling bound his limbs, forcing his bruised body further down into the bed beneath him, sinking down like he had laid in the sand too long. He felt his heart beating and his eyes stung. His gaze languidly slid over to the left, fixating on the soft orange glow emanating from the fireplace's firebox. The masonry was rather gorgeous; a sleeping dragon rested on the thick stone mantle and a second, wakeful beast sat primed for flight, both their dark grey sides painted with a reddish tint. The prince's eyes ached as he watched the flame but they couldn't leave its view. Slowly, his eyelids covered them once again and he drifted off to sleep. In his dream he imagined himself back on the beach, watching the armada sail on as he drank of the kingdom's stores of wine with his father. The tide was coming in softly as the sterns of their ships vanished beyond the horizon, palm fronds shading them overhead and rustling quietly in the breeze, their multicolored paradise birds singing sweet songs. What a day that would be.
When he woke again the fire had died and there was a cracking of thunder somewhere far off. To his right, through imported fine glass framed in heavyset woodwork, the white peaks of the Great Northern Range rose sharply, pointed and bright as a display of wolf teeth polished for display by the arrogant, barbarous mountainmen with hearts consumed by sadomasochistic blood sports and various other cruelties that carried him here; it was the domain of the men that brought him to this place in chains, barely clothed, as he was drenched in the snow and the wind tried its hardest to tear his flesh from the bone. The stupid brutes would go between keeping their eyes on the path, slavish as trained dogs, and staring at him the as if he were a stuffed sow the whole trip. They carried him along on something of a portable stage and the people in the villages would ogle and heckle the prince as he was paraded through their lands - onlookers threw rocks and sticks at the royal along his path to the stone palace, laughing and shouting as their projectiles impacted his weak frame. His arms and feet were both drawn behind a wooden pole and tightened to immobility, elevated slightly off the floor; all he could do was keep his eyes closed and try to ignore it all. The grunting of the horrid men beneath him and the whipping of the wind all around, the ocassional patterings of hail. Sometimes the men would sing an archaic worksong and he would cry, but they neither heard nor cared.
That was all in the past now. He felt a warmer in here than on the trail at least, though a terrible could would ocassionally overcome him if a paticularly harsh breeze came through the window-esque opening in the stonework. The prince tried to struggle against his bonds, but it was ultimately useless. All it did was disturb the freshly-made bed and cause his bruises to hurt. He hopelessly rolled around until he fell onto the hard floor. His head hit first and he was gasping hard, his eyes slamming shut immediately and his mind clouded with agony. He couldn't breathe; he coughed and hacked like the black-lunged miners native to the land he found himself in, almost wishing he was back on the trail. He thought he could hear footsteps coming from behind the huge wooden door, the sound of iron on stone. The prince lay face down on the floor, his head spinning, wishing he had just taken the easy way out like the rest of his family. It was too late now, unless he felt like trying to bang his head against the stone some more until his skull cracked. It would be best to take whatever was given, he reasoned. The prince sat still on the cold stone as he waited for the door to open. Perhaps they would execute him. He doubted it, but maybe it could be so. He felt like he very well could have been dying. The blood would pool in his brain and they would bury him half-alive, if he got lucky.
In what felt much longer than it must have really been, the door swung open. A large man with a bundle of wood entered and started reskindling the fire. The prince hadn't seen this man before. His long, dark brown hair flowed about half way down his back. The man was covered in a red cloak of some kind from what he could gather. He left the room briefly and returned with a torch. Its light gave his face some definition; despite his portly body, his face was hard. He had bushy eyebrows and shaded eyes. The man bent down and stoked the flame. He put the torch in its holder and turned to face the prince. He stood over the prince. He had a long, blackened beard and eyes the same dark blue as the water of an ice lake. They looked at him with some kind of amusement. The man bent down beside him and put his hand on the prince's forehead. He grinned and took the prince into his hands and set him back on the bed. The former royal's head rested on a down pillow briefly. He couldn't help squirming. The man laughed as he watched, seemingly enjoying his distress. " There's really no need for all of this struggle. I will have your injuries taken care of in time. All I ask of you is to listen, and respond when prompted. Speak now if you can. " The prince nodded cautiously and pulled an assent from deep in his throat. " Very well. I am the king of this land, if you were unaware. There is nothing left of your realm. I expect you will act accordingly, " the man stated, his hand resting on the prince's upper chest. The prince's face contorted into a mix of shame and sorrow. " Worry not. You will have an excellent home if you choose for it to be so. You may opt to live in squalor, I suppose, but you would certainly find that disagreeable, " he said, appearing almost jovial, with the manner of a merchant offering a customer an excellent bargain.
The king sat for a time, just looking down into the prince's eyes. They had a soft blue quality he found rather enjoyable; they reminded him of the diamonds that came from the kingdom's mines, or like the feathers of the subtley azure-tinged birds that were seen at the lower altitudes of the mountains the palace was carved out of. His hair was a soft and colored like straw and it went down to his shoulders. It had bits of detritis throughout, most likely from the long journey from the capital of his homeland to where he was now, where he truly belonged. The king picked out a particularly large piece of wood that remained out of his hair before speaking further. " You don't seem all that excited for what's to come, " he observed, fishing the debris from the prince's hair and casting it towards the window. " You may have a wonderful future, if only you can open your eyes and see what is in front of you. The past is gone. " The prince shook his head. " It does you no good to fight. It would be painful to condemn you to slavery, Thern. It would truly be a miserable experience for me. You may very well have had other plans in the past, but the past is done with and you would be wise to act in accordance with that fact. I will explain the choice that stands before you and then you will make your decision. I would encourage you to keep to the choice you make, Thern. "
The prince shivered. The fat brute put its hand over his mouth and the prince groaned quietly. He could only imagine what these supposed choices were. Perhaps they'd offer him a position scrounging around in the cold wastes for woodland creatures to slaughter under threat of his own death. Or they would make him something of a maid, a housekeeper on the level of a common, provincial woman. He knew it would be something completely unbecoming of a man who was supposed to be off to the Academy in not even a year, a man who was destined to live among the brightest natural philosophers the civilized world had ever produced. He would sooner die than live chained to this filth. The way they all stared made him want to vomit. Crass barbarians, the whole lot of them. He knew what they were like. He had few options now. The beginnings of a storm had followed them the whole trip, and surely it must have coalesced by now into something firece. He could see the sky darkening and hear the wind whispering low in the distance, for the moment. But it would not stay that way, not for long at least. The mountains were famous for their long, slow winters that swallowed the unprepared whole. The days would shorten and the long dark would consume all. There were rumors back at home that the sun didn't come up for months at a time up here; day was as night and great tempests raged, perhaps as punishment for the improper ways of the region's inhabitants.
" Yes, sir, " he said, quiet at first, realizing escape would be fruitless and cooperation would be needed for any chance of success. His voice was not loud enough to be heard. He tried again. His throat was in anguish; it must have been a week since he had spoken, and if it were his decision, it would be many days longer. The king grinned and lifted his own hand off the prince's mouth. " What was that? I'm afraid I could not hear you, Thern, " the king taunted. He looked uninterested, as if he knew the answer, or like the prince were but an inconsequential amusement devised by one of the court's dullest inventors; or perhaps it was more similar to a rather boring jester's act. It was a humiliation beyond belief in any circumstance. The prince repeated the line in spite of this fact. The king nodded. " Very well, Thern. I must say that I am pleased with your cooperation so far. As a show of good will, your hands will be liberated. I would suggest you keep them to your side. I will not hesitate to reinstate their confinement. " The king pulled a key from the inside of his cloak and effortlessly flipped the prince over. The prince felt the cold iron come off of his hands. " Thank you, " he whispered, wanting to present as grateful and reverent. He chuckled and flipped the prince back over. " You are most welcome, Thern. I truly wish you no harm, " the king stated. He moved some hair out of the prince's face. " Perhaps you can reach a conclusion as to why you have been brought here. I would rather not be so, well, forward. Let us put it that way. " His hand rested on the prince's chest. " I can feel your heart beat. You know what I am going to propose, do you not? It is written on your face. "
The prince silently considered what this all implied with a great sense of displeasure. The prince knew that the men of the mountain often took young boys as lovers and prided themselves on it. It was undignified, a man laying with another; in any decent nation they would be put to death and that would be the end of it. They copulated with women out of necessity, but many of them seemed to primarily enjoy the company of other men, to the point of kidnapping younger males to be used as slaves of this most undignified sort in the most extreme of cases. How they went on this way was quite unimaginable to the prince, especially once he considered how repulsive the men were. He knew little of the women but he doubted they were much better. The king squeezed the prince's hand. " Speak now. Do you understand what is to come? " In a meek voice the Prince responded: " Yes, sir. I.. I do believe so. " He tried to keep as neutral a face as possible. They reveled in this kind of abuse; they took great pleasure in watching the faces of their victims turn pale and agoggle, watching as they sunk into mental defeat. It thrilled them more than the violation itself. They learned much from their carnivorous brethren in the prince's view. His future must follow that trajectory, it stood to reason. He cleared his throat and spoke again. " Am I to become a servant of some sort? " The shame came over him immediately, but he tried as best he could to mask it. " Not precisely, Thern. That is a reasonable guess, but it is incorrect. You do not have the body of a warrior or anything of that sort. You will not toil in the fields in the outer reaches of the kingdom as is common practice for subjects of your kind. No, there is something far greater that awaits you, Thern. The few that remain of your people do have some desirable traits. Some of them are skilled craftsmen and knowledgeable in many ways. There is something... special, I suppose, about you, " he said, putting his hand on the prince's chin. " Put simply, you are rather gorgeous. Our people may have had many disagreements, but I was never one to deny their aesthetic appeal, in the arts and in the flesh. You are certainly no exception, Thern. "
The prince bit his tongue to stop himself from speaking disrespectfully. He closed his eyes briefly to calm himself, breathing unsteadily. " Do not misunderstand me. You will not be kept as a slave, at least not in our understanding of the term. Perhaps in your underdeveloped ways you would concieve of it as such, " the king pontificated. Their eyes locked. " Thern, I would like to marry you. By submitting yourself to this proposal, your people will be allowed to maintain some semblance of their way of life. You will be kept in as comfortable of conditions as are possible. You will have certain... obligations, yes, but you will be allowed to do as you please assuming those have been met. I believe this to be much preferable to total destitution for yourself and your people. Would you not agree? " The prince hesitated before nodding his head. " Very well. There is a process to it all. Such things do not happen overnight. There are certain rituals and customs you must follow. I will guide you through them all, of course. As any husband should. Your feet will be unbound and you will come with me, to start the process. You are advised to do as you are told. There are consequences for your actions, you know. "
The king stood the prince up straight. His feet ached intensely; perhaps something had broken in them. He certainly could not stand on them for any meaning length of time. He fell back into his captor with a pained groan. " Ah. Lay back down, Thern. I will help you. " The prince wordlessly plopped against the bed and waited for further information, a dull throbbing shooting up his legs from his injured feet which hung off the bed. " We will have to move you along without use of your legs. Try as best you can to calm down, I will get this taken care of. I swear it to you, " the king said. He gingerly pushed the prince onto the bed completely, returning his head to the pillow. " It won't be long, Thern, " he promised the prince. The prince did as advised and attempted to take measured breaths in and out, his eyes focusing on an irregularity in the ceiling which produced a rather smooth circle. Air was pulled into his lungs and flowed out of his nose in slow, controlled streams, with some variation when the pain in his feet felt particularly torturous. The feeling never went away, but it came in and out much like his breath, lapping at the shores of his immediate awareness as the minutes stretched on.
As the king pushed the door open, a strange wooden mechanism presented itself. Chocolate-colored wood pieced together into a chair with smooth wheels built into its sides under the seat and a wide armrest on each side. " It should be rather helpful. I will push it once you have sat in the chair, " he told the prince. He shook his head. " I will just lift you into the chair, Thern. " The king slowly pulled the pillow from under the prince's head and put it on the seat. He scooped up the prince and set him down upon the pillow with care. The king pulled a blanket off of the bed and the prince gave a weak nod in approval. He draped it over the prince and patted his head. " Now, we will take you to be given medicine. The process may be a bit different from how it is commonly done, but only the best is permissible for you, " the king stated, grabbing onto the handles of the device. He pushed the door open further with his foot and wheeled the prince into the hall. There were stone reliefs carved into the walls illuminated by torchlight, surrounded by a square border of smooth, polished rock. The wheels made a muted drone as they rolled over the maroon carpet; the prince took this noise into his ears with a reserved smile, his pains slowly fading into the back of his mind.
The king set the device aside and opened the door to the doctor after a long walk through the castle. The prince's relaxation was so rudely broken as he was forced into awareness by a sudden touch from a new man's dainty hands. They conversed in a language unknown to the prince as the pain in his damaged feet got harder to ignore. He put his head under the blanket and cradled his face in his hands. After their conversation the doctor lifted the blanket and stared at the prince. The king tilted the prince's face up. " Like this. Do what you are told. Do you understand? I have certain things that need attended to. You will be taken care of well. I will return in time, " the king reassured him. The prince nodded and wiped his eyes. " Very well. Now, I must go. Behave well. " The king bent down and kissed the prince's hand. He flinched at the feeling. The king left and gently shut the door behind himself.
So the prince sat in the chair, staring at the doctor through lidded eyes. He was a thin man with a monocle on a chain and green eyes. The top of his head was bare and he had little other hair anywhere else. His skin was unnaturally pale, even by the standards of mountainfolk, scarcely flusher than the snowy peaks. He took a stick from his desk and pressed it against the prince's leg. " Do not worry. It is simple. I take measurements, " the doctor told him stiffly. The doctor took the staff to his foot and measured its width and length. " The foot is the problem, yes? " The prince gave a quick confirmation. " Good, good. Foot is problem, " the doctor said. He took a note of these figures on a thin paper of some sort. Then he took hold of the blanket and set it on his chair. " I measure from bottom to top, " the doctor said vaguely. He placed the stick close to his crotch, the bottom pushing down into the pillow the prince was seated on. " Sit straight, like stick, " the doctor commanded, guiding him into proper posture. The staff's circular topper rattled as it collided with the wall. " Do not worry. It makes noise. " Once the prince was in position, the doctor softly pressed the stick against him, making it perpendicular to the seat. He returned to the desk and took some more notes. The doctor shook the staff and listened to the noises it made, staring into it intently, as if being spoken to. He went back to the prince did a stirring motion with the long stick and stared deeply into the prince's eyes. He noted something else before he sat back down. " I work now. Do not try to stand. Fool. "
The prince looked away from the man and whatever activities he was engaged with. The room was stuffed with various things which were of more immediate interest; chunks of matter floating inside of thick, amber glasses, dried leaves smashed flat and dissected insects for display in large cases built into the walls. Shelves nearly overflowing with various books sorted by language and subject went far back into the dark on the left and displays of glassware of all kinds lined the wall to the right. Strange fish swam in an aquarium next to the man. A freshly skinned wolf's ossature stood preserved inside a glass case; the smell of death permeated the entire room and mixed incongrously with the scent of incense the man had just lit in preparation for his treatment of the prince, a slight floral undertone beneath it all. It was a strange olfactory experience, one he had no desire to experience more than was necessary. The discomfort of it all started to awaken the initial panic he had felt upon his arrival to this place, though he was in no position to do much about it. A faint, fading fear without form.
The prince sat straightbacked in the chair until the doctor had finished his decanting and sloshing around of liquids. A near-pink solution was presented to the prince in a wide-based bottle. The doctor held the glass and tipped it to the prince's lips. " Stay straight. In few minutes, you will fall asleep. Have dream. Tell me what happens. Remember many things, " the doctor instructed once the bottle had been emptied. The prince nodded, already feeling weaker from the drink. The doctor moved his chair in front of the prince and kept his eyes trained on the former royal's face. His eyelids drooped until they completely covered the prince's eyes rather quickly.
In his dream he stood inside a massive daedalum. Standing in the center, his arms spread wide and his head perfectly parallel with the ground. Once he tried to step forward the prince fell to the ground and lay face up as the device started spinning, spinning faster and faster. There were children laughing outside and looking at the painted images as he wailed and the machine kept spinning, spinning, spinning, the world moving too fast to see anything but colors in smudged muddy lines, revolving quicker until it could go no further, but it would not ever stop and it kept going forevermore, the blood from his impact with the floor of the device smearing across its pale surface, the children cackling as his screams became deafening and his ears rang, entombed within its whirling walls, unable to do so much as close his eyes as he continually bled, the inside of the machine's walls splattered with streaks of burgundy. The children left but the machine refused to cease its operations, coming to a stop slowly over the course of what must have been hours; when the daedalum finished its motions the prince was slowly awoken from his nightmare, brought into a world dark and impenetrable in his hypnopompic paralysis.
The prince was frozen in horror, eyes wide, mouth agape. The doctor used the prince's temporary calcification to speculate on possible maladies, making note of specific angles in the geometry of his face. His motor control was restored gradually until he could let out a tortured howl. The doctor hummed and waited until the prince shivered before speaking. " Good. Tell what happened. Be as specific as it can be, " he requested, bringing himself back to the desk. The prince was silent at first, pushing through the fear to collect his memories. " I was in some sort of machine, it was spinning around and around at a remarkable speed. I could barely see and I couldn't hear except for the laughing screaming children. Laughing at me and the pictures on the walls or both perhaps. I bled onto the ground and stared into the light and felt I had died and it was quite horrible but I was still alive. I don't know how it happened or what it was, it just spun, spinning faster until it couldn't keep going any quicker and I couldn't do a thing. " The prince reverted to its hard, still way once the doctor's request had been fulfilled. He dragged his records to the desk and looked them over, looking back from time to time to confirm the prince's status.
The doctor presented a thick, brown substance with hints of mossy green to the prince. The stopper was lifted off its vial and he forced the liquid into his patient, covering the prince's mouth with his own hand to insure the entirety of the dose would reach its proper destination. " Do not fight. Let relax. No fighting, " the doctor sternly commanded. The prince had strength nor will to disobey. He sunk into his own mind once more, flashes of blood in his eyes.
In his dream he was a long-taloned bird of the valley beyond the Great Northern Range, fitted with dark brown plumage and a long, light goldenrod beak. He sat in a great, thick tree with leaves his own size. From on high he saw a little house in the valley surrounded by red and green flowers, a small patch of pumpkins growing off to the side with a few implements lazily resting on the ground nearby which were still covered with dirt. In the shadow of the home stood a large enclosure for goats carved into the rock and an arrangement of faded pine settees which surrounded a central pond. Fish swimming quietly in the clear water as the summer breeze created light ripples across its surface, some insects buzzing around in patterns known only to themselves above. An intricate stonework ring was constructed along the water's outline, serving as a bridge over the river to the right which carved a path from the old glaciers of the Great North across the land and cascaded over the valley's walls, forming a waterfall that guarded a cave which was converted into a cool space for cheese and drinks. A company of people sat on the wooden furniture and conversed jovially, drinking from fine glasses that sparkled in the sun. A diplomat, a religious scholar, an illustrious luxury merchant, all speaking with a levity and joy unknown to their public personas. All united in a slow pleasure of viewing the natural world in its manifold forms, letting the world soak into them as they feel deeper into the sensations of drink and one another's words. As the sun fell behind the cliffs they fell asleep, laying in the short grass, the calm gurgling of the waterfall leading them off into the end of a day to be remembered for many years.
When night had taken its hold the prince swooped down and settled onto an embankment in the craggy surface of the valley's wall from which he could see in a window of the home. A young woman with long hair the color of his feathers sat in front of a butter churn on a pale birchen chair, a tired smile on her face. In some time a man came from behind and rested his hands upon her sides. His blond hair was short and his face was clean-shaven. His blue eyes were staring down at the woman, his hands trailing upward, eventually massaging her sagging shoulders. He laughed and took her hand, leading her to a room beyond where the bird could see. He lowered himself to the dirt and made his way over to a pseudo-staircase that lead inside the grey stone. He could now see the couple through a window. They were laying on a bed with white sheets. The woman sat up and a large hand went behind her head and under her hair, planting itself firmly on the small of her neck. She moved gently at first, but slowly she moved more erratic, wild, like the wavering of a flame. Her head hit the glass and she jumped. They looked out the window and the man pulled a white sheet over the glass after a few giggles from the both of them, disappearing behind the crudely fashioned wool curtain.
The prince stirred, briefly pouting as he returned to consciousness. He felt a warmness in his chest, a renewed comfort in his heart. A smile formed on his face and he felt little pain. The doctor stood in front of the prince and looked him over carefully. " You feel good? " The prince nodded and flashed a stupid grin. " Don't walk. We have to do it all over again if walk. Do not walk, " the doctor warned. The prince picked up on the severe tone of the doctor's voice and cringed. " Just no walking. Do not, " the doctor repeated, speaking a bit softer. " Now you sit there. The king comes soon. You will leave here with the king. " The prince sat mindless, watching with a confused glee as the fish swam their futile routes through the tank.