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 meaningful 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 awaiting further information, a dull throb 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 moved the prince onto the bed, 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 an abnormally 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.
A strange wooden device presented itself once the king pushed the door open. Chocolate-colored wood pieced together into a chair with smooth wheels built into its sides under the seat and a wide bar 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, I will take you to be given medicine. The process may be a bit different from how it is commonly done in your land, but only the best is permissible for you, " the king stated, grabbing onto the handles behind 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 granitic rock polished into uniformity. The wheels made a muted drone as they rolled over the darkened vermillion 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 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. " 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 top 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. 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 in caramel-colored 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 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. A tenebrose fear without form clouded his psyche.
The prince sat straightbacked in the chair until the doctor had finished his decanting and sloshing 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.
In his dream he stood inside a massive daedalum. Standing in the center, his arms spread wide and his head 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 in trickles, taking a while to have enough for a torture 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 his 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 moss to the prince after a few minutes. 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, sipping 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 fell deeper into the sensations of drink and one another's words. As the sun drooped 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 up the grey stone to a rough-hewn perch. 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 became 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 routes through the tank. The prince grinned like an idiot and was quickly unconscious.
He had no dreams of which he could remember and woke to an inky sky populated with dark, desaturated clouds. His feet still ached, but he felt detached from it all, a bit floaty. It was the best he had felt in a while now. The fire provided a pleasant warmth and the bed was clear of anything potentially bothersome. He stared up at the ceiling once more and did his best to soak in the pleasant aspects of the environment. He felt happy with the situation for the moment. The prince yawned and rubbed his eyes. Part of him wanted to fall asleep again to avoid talking to the king. He did not particularly feel like a conversation with that man, and he needed rest to recover from what had been done to him along the trip anyways. Gradually, he slid deeper and deeper into rest once more.
The prince returned to the world shivering. He looked towards the window and the sun burned in his eyes; the prince whined and covered them with his arm. To his left sat the king. His thumb brushed across the prince's thigh gently. " You mustn't look at the sun, " he teased. " It is not good for your eyes. " The prince groaned as the other man's touch continued, but he knew he was in no place to do much of anything to oppose it. He considered reaching his hand out, but he knew it was no use; he felt feeble in all senses, for he knew resistance would be punished harshly. So he kept his mouth closed. The king's smooth touches continued, deftly sliding across the exposed area between his legs. The prince had been in nothing but his undergarments, relatively simple cottons that covered hardly anything. The silks had been carted into the palace on were pulled off of his thinning body upon his arrival, though they were in large part ruined completely anyways. Everything else was so miserable that the humiliation this should have evoked was not at the front of his mind until this very moment. His legs snapped shut around the king's hand; the king laughed and said: " Oh, you are such a prude, Thern. Much is to be done with you. That attitude will not serve you well. "
The king lifted his hand and put it on top of the flesh covering the prince's pectorals. " I wish you no harm, but you must accommodate my demands. There is no reason for any pain, Thern, " the king said. His hand slid down the prince's torso slowly. " Is that understood? I truly do not plan on you sustaining any permanent injury. If you make it so, I may have to inflict such pains against you. It would not be much to my liking, Thern, " the king said. His hand rested against a bruise on the prince's hip. " Not there... " the prince whimpered quietly. The king rubbed lightly. " Now, be quiet. Your time to speak has come to a close. I will spare you the worst of penalties for the time being. Be respectful, " the king instructed him. The prince whined but knew he had to comply. Slowly, he spread his legs wide enough for the king's hand to fit comfortably. The king chuckled and his fingers went below the thigh, touching the bed itself. " That is acceptable. I do not plan on doing that much with you in this way, at least not so soon. It would be undignified, " the king said, the tip of his thumb sliding across the bare flesh. " I suppose a king may engage in such behavior from time to time. I am no god, " he said, squeezing the soft skin. " I have never set my eyes upon someone so beautiful. I believe such circumstances may warrant ungodly behavior, so to speak. If you were to see that sordid woman beyond the peaks I am sure you would feel the same way. It is in the heart of all men, " the king said. He caressed the prince with tenderness for a while longer, savoring the sight.
After some time the king stopped. " Let us get you fitted and fed, Thern. It is necessary sooner or later, I suppose, " the king told him. He got off the bed and wheeled the chair over to the prince's side. " Let us go. You are to be clothed before breakfast is served. " The king helped the prince into his chair and they returned to the hall. Seeing the hall for the second time made it lose some of its luster, but it was still an interesting sight. He was reminded of his trip to the ‘doctor’. The images never left his mind; they like blood, smearing deeper, clogging up the the mind's folds. He could not imagine much of a therapeutic purpose for exposure to any such imagery, but his feet were, in fact, improving. His mind had felt dulled for a while now, so perhaps he was simply incapable of piecing it together for the time being. This brought him no comfort. He shook his head and sat still, waiting for his next destination.
They came to a grand room furthest from the bedroom the couple had been his whole stay. The room has a thick glass roof which allowed natural light could illuminate the area, giving any potential stylist or designer a better idea of what their vision would truly appear as. Many fabrics were strewn about the shelves, a few spools of yarn having fallen onto the soft maroon carpet. There were tablets containing sketches and commentary on said sketches all about a longue-esque area where two people, a man and a woman, sat along a long, low divan. The king approached with the prince in his chair and cleared his throat. “ Jarn. This is the prince. Do you see? “ The man sat up and inspected the prince’s appearance. “ Certainly, sir, I do. I see. Very beautiful. Would you agree? “ The woman nodded. “ Remarkable. I never thought it possible, “ she admitted, fidgeting with her hands. “ You may not touch him any more than is necessary. I understand your temptation, “ the king chuckled. “ Perhaps if he is dressed particularly well, a few rules could… well, how should we put it? A few transgressions could be forgiven, I suppose, “ the king suggested, a smirk covering his face. The prince shivered.“ That is quite the kind offer, sir, “ the man replied, followed by an uneasy laugh. “ You are already aware of our initial designs. I presume they meet your desire? “ The king gave an affirmative nod. “ So long as nothing has changed, they were most satisfactory. Bring your first attempts at their realization forth, Garthela, “ the king demanded.
The woman slunk into the background. While she fretted over the details the man and the king conversed, listing various details which the prince could really make no meaning of. He was meant to have paid attention to the precisions of textiles when he was younger, but it never stuck with him all that strongly, and it was never particularly relevant to his life before now. They spoke freely as he sat, stewing in his anxieties, like an animal fearing a visit from the veterinarian. He attempted to focus on the woman as she bent down and stuck her hands in a shelf near groundlevel. When she stood, she held in her hands a long violet garment. She was careful to not let it touch the ground as she approached the men. Garthela came slowly towards the king and stood by Jarn silently until the men had finished. She straightened their creation and presented it to the king. His hand ran over its surface, appreciating the smooth texture. “ Marvelous, “ he said. He guided the prince’s hand towards it. “ That is yours, Thern. It is the best in the land, for only the best is befitting of you, “ the king said.
The prince did enjoy the feel of the garment. It was even softer than what he had once worn, surprisingly so. “ That is what awaits, Thern. Now, fetch the undergarments, Garthela, “ he demanded. The king laid the purple garb out on the divan and she went back. She returned quickly, bringing with her a few fuzzy pieces the color of cream. “ I believe these will fit, sir, “ she said, handing them to the king. Jarn eyed them and the prince breathed out. The king took them and felt them before looking to the prince. “ You need to get up, Thern. You must have been rather cold the past few days. I aim to remedy that now, “ he stated. “ Your feet should be better now. If the treatments have been successful, you should be able to stand with help, “ the king told him.
The prince cringed at the thought of standing up. He felt no pain from his feet for the moment, but he suspected standing on them would reverse this progress. It would certainly be unpleasant either way, having to undress in front of these people and wear these foreign garments; they were people from across the sea, he could tell by their voices and red hair. The craftsmen of his homeland could have made something better in every aspect if they had not been so needlessly butchered by those maniacs from the mountains. He took a deep breath as the king’s hands went to his shoulders. They went beneath his armpits. The prince was lifted as such and his feet were planted down onto the ground directly in front of the king. He winced but did not need support to stand on his own.The king nodded with a satisfied smile on his face. “ Very good, Thern. You can stand. Very good, “ he affirmed, taking the prince’s hand in his with a light squeeze. The prince looked down at what he was going to be made to wear to avoid concentrating on anything else. Before long the king’s hands trailed down his back. His fattened fingers dug under the thin underwear. The king let them fall to the ground, exposing the last of the prince’s flesh to public scrutiny. “ You will need shaved before the ceremony. Otherwise, excellent, “ the king assessed. His hands rested on the prince’s thighs for an uncomfortable time. He asked the tailors: “ What are your thoughts? “
“ I believe our design compliment his form, er, rather well, “ Jarn replied, his eyes focused on the prince’s crotch at the moment. His facial expression was a hard to read; it presented a mixture of apprehension and interest. The prince looked him in the eyes for a moment and the man diverted his gaze. Garthela took longer to form a statement. “ I would agree. He is rather lean, after all. Any design much larger would have been infeasible, “ she added, speaking in a detached manner. The king nodded. “ I must agree. Let us continue, then, “ he said. Garthela handed the king the first item, a triangular piece of wool. The king took the piece and put it in the prince’s hands. “ I would like for you to make an attempt to dress yourself, Thern. “ The prince hesitated a moment before doing as asked. He lifted his foot slowly and put his foot through an opening. He did the same with his other foot. They felt tight on his body, but they were certainly warmer than he had expected. He had never needed such clothes, and he was certainly not happy to need them now, but he was glad to not be completely naked anymore.
The prince stared down at his body. He was thinned and infirm. This much was obvious to about anyone that looked at him. He was never particularly strong, but he was approaching emaciation now. There were bruises that ran down both his arms and some dotted his legs, shades of purple and yellow blending together with his naturally light flesh. His sides had various scars, some of which he did not even recall the source of. Looking at the marks made them sting anew, yet he was frozen, staring down at them with fascination. This was who he was now; he was shackled in every sense but the literal, and he was not all too far from returning to such physical bondage. There were eyes in all places, people who would maim him if the prince were to make a serious attempt at the outside world. The prince felt like crying for a moment before he composed himself. Crying would just make this experience all the more gratifying for his captor.
Something prodded at his upper back. “ You have been told to dress yourself, Thern, “ the king reminded him. Thern nodded silently and grabbed the next pieces of clothing. A fuzzy chest piece with leather at the bottom that allowed for tightening or loosening to conformity with the owner’s body, along with a thick strap of a similar design at the neckhole. Further leather in the center which was held in woolen loops built into the sides was fashioned in such a way as to be capable of constricting the chest and marked with symbols the prince knew to be of the mountains, though he did not know their meaning and did not feel as if he had a reliable way to understand. A triangular form surrounded by dots enclosing a thin line pressed deep into the brown sat in the median of the strap, alongside a few simpler constructions which diminished as they diverged from the centerpiece. He turned the garment around and saw metal pieces which bound some of the leather together. With an anxious exhale he put the thing on. It itched some, but it was better than the cold, to his mind at least.
The king gave a pleased smirk and tightened the leathers until it could go no further. He found it hard to breathe with how powerful the pressure exerted by the neckpiece was, and the compression of his chest did no favors either. His breaths became unsteady and labored as the king stared downward, clearly finding something pleasing in his reaction. “ It is quite an exquisitely crafted piece of clothing, “ the king said, the tailors visibly relaxing. “ It suits him very well. “ He handed the prince a new piece, a long pair of purple, woolen tubes that had similar leather bits as the last piece. The prince muttered something under his breath but acquiesced shortly. The king left the restraints on these pants alone for the moment. “ Beautiful work, Jarn. “ The male tailor gave a nod. “ It was only possible with Garthela by my side, sir, “ he stated. The king considered this for a moment before moving on. He gestured at the long, violet mantle from earlier wordlessly. The prince understood what this meant and took the mantle into his hands, then draped it over his shoulders. “ I shall tie it around your body, Thern. It is our tradition to keep the bride in a state of heightened modesty in the time before the marriage, “ the king explained, tying his cloak as to leave nothing but his face exposed to the air.
“ Now, it is time for you to receive proper nourishment. Off to breakfast, Thern, “ the king said. The prince hugged himself and his eyes closed briefly. There would come a time where this would all be a distant memory. He had not the slightest idea of what would come later, but he knew that this would not last. He would run away and commandeer a little boat and land in paradise and drink from coconuts until he was old and he would expire after a long life well-lived on the shores. That woman from the valley would fan him with a palm frond. Everything would set itself right. He just had to play the part long enough. The prince grabbed onto the handles of the chair for stability and walked beside the king at a pace slower than he would have crawled a year ago.
There was a time in the Great Northern Range before men. Everything knew its boundaries: the trees and shrubs ceased obediently before the peaks, the alpine animals that dwelled among and within kept to certain schedules, the wolves lived fearless and wild, the sharp slopes and thin air their home; everything ran in its own ways. The snow fell from the sky and the birds low on the mountain chirped in the soft morning sun as the gusts whistled. The lowland people had always looked upon the Range with great wonder. They had always believed they lived in the wake of something great; they lived among the calcified remains of massive beasts, picking at their remains for sustenance like lowlying scavengers, while some thought they lived in scarred terrain marked by the struggle of titans so large the surrounding mountains were seen most generously of pebbles lining their paths, largely beyond the consideration of their feral minds and tough skins.
In one year there was a winter unheard of in its ferocity. Cottonwhite clouds dumped wet puffs onto the slopes that was subsequently blown off in drifts onto the low country. The trees had long been barren, but they still groaned and shook in the wind as the men did. They wind howled as dozens of grey wolves in the overcast late afternoon and lightning struck both far and near with intense cracks. The people huddled together in their wooden huts until those crumbled under the weight of the snow, submerging them in the wet fluff; still, other were taken away with the squall, bruising their inhabitants with the remnants of their walls. Still worse were the few stricken by lightning, aflame in an instant, smoldering under the deep snowcover. In all cases the people were forced out, weeping soundlessly, tears frozen to their faces. The people were laying together in their misery. Death was sure to come soon; the lowlanders would inevitably be consumed by the frost, their corpses dragged unto the summit and feasted upon all year long by their carnivorous neighbors. They sat in fear and sank into sleep under the storm, their dreams blacker than black, haunted by images of glacial death and pestilence.
the moon shone in the sky between the clouds as Grile woke. There was little noise but the groaning of the pines and wuthering of the winter winds. His eyes were already dry from their whirling. But still, the mountain called; its apex glowed a gentle cyan against the blackened firmament. He pushed off his son and brushed the snow out of his beard and stood against the tumult. Grile trudged forward and made his way to their drink storage. He bent down and untied their stores, then ladeled the clear, firey liquid into his mouth. Its burn contrasted nicely with the gelid atmosphere. He drank to satisfaction under an evergreen, dropping the wooden utensil back into its container before tying it shut once again. He brushed the needles off the cover before he burped and rubbed his eyes. He bore down into the ground and clamored upward. His hands ached as he climbed against the gales, holding desperately to the craggy soil, digging his knees into the gravel-dense dirt, halting all progress until the roaring wind relented. The climb was slow and took all of the night. The moon disappeared behind the clouds, leaving Grile alone on the umbrous cliff. His animalskin pants were soaked through and his coat was little better. His knuckles were bruised and his knees battered. His body grew colder, nearer to unfeeling darkness; as his eyes were sliding shut, a dim light came from above the edge of his view. A faint crackling lost to the wind.
Grile reached a plateau illuminated by flame. The entire surface was without snow, covered with a wide garden. Many things grew from the clod: red and green fruits from a vine, multi-colored corn grown tall and hearty, eggplants low to the ground, round, bulbous orange things with stems sprouting from their top, and, perhaps most interestingly of all, a great crimson and gold vein of flowers bisecting the food crops, centered around a poppy, aflame and unharmed. Grile ran to the fire and got the closest he could, basking gratefully in its warmth. He ate of the bounty presented until he could no longer and fell onto the ground facing the heavens. In the morning, the flower burned still. Grile uprooted the flower with a rough stone implement and carried it down the mountain with unexpected ease, keeping the flower at arm's length to prevent the flames from licking at his face and setting his hair on fire. He carried the flame in peace, unbothered even by the wind that naturally reigned at such altitudes; his step was light, for the weight of death had left him during the long march from the vegetal garth. He continued until he reached the lowlands. The people were asleep, huddling, shivering as one solid mass. Grile replanted the flower at the foot of the mountain. From there the snow thawed and foliage grew to his knees. Then, it rose to his waist; the people awoke to a fattened Grile lazing in the tall grass. From that day until his death he would be the king of the lowlands.
In the beginning all was without form and darker than dark and blacker than black. In those times man was but soul; then he was made, alone and without mind, with no eyes with which to see and no ears with which to hear. He went unceasingly forth with nameless conviction. Then a great roar came from deep and the ground quaked before him; with tempestuous force the upswell covered the land. In those times man lived as fish, for he breathed water and could not bear to be without it; his eyes were peeled opened and the flesh around his ears wore off, exposing him to the tumult. He felt the very bottom of the sea, smooth and faultless, without apparent end or beginning, nothing below or above.
There was silence; then, a voice emanated from the cracks in the earth: " Come, man. " He crawled against the rumbling crust and fell through an enormous cavern. He fell without weight into the sunken bowels of the earth. Then the voice spoke once more: " A great many things await. Men are to live in glory, and you shall soon be free of this realm below land. " With much pain the webbing between his toes was cleaved and the slits which formed his gills were sealed. A tremendous updraft threw him out of the cavern and thrust him out of the ocean, onto the land above. He now could see a light above so bright it pained him. The voice spoke once again: " Avert thine eyes! Look no more; it is I and I am it. I give life, and that is enough. Thou shalt not gaze upon me, for the earth shall turn black. " Then, the sky closed and rain fell.
In the first days of the first man he was alone. The rain still fell and the wind's ceaseless roaring rendered him deaf. Large trees which bore fruit rose from the tall grass at the end of the first five cycles. Their fruit was soft, yellow and heavy; they hung low enough to be within his armspan. By instinct he grabbed the fruit and ate it whole at once and its sweet juice dripped down his chin; man came then to learn hunger and thirst. With his stomach overfull he laid down under the tree's long fronds deep into the reign of the moon. As the night drug past the rain slowed.
When he woke the next morning the rain had ceased and the nectar had stuck to his chin, with flies had congregating there. He reached for them but they did not go away. He had never seen such things, things that seemed alive as he was. He ran to the ocean and dipped his head below the water. The water was clear and many things swam freely, things he would come to call fish and other things as well. Once more he had seen no such things; the hunger returned in that time stronger than before. He raised his head out of the water, then held his breath and submerged his head once more. The fish made no attempt to escape his hand. He lifted the creature out of the water along with his head and then held it up high above him, centering it where he had last seen the sun. He returned to the shore and bit off the head. Then he forced his hand into the body and ripped the fish's spine from the chasm. The bone cut his hand and his blood mixed with the fish's and became one substance. He tore the innards out and swallowed them whole; then he licked the remaining coating of viscera and man and fish blood off his hands eagerly. He threw the spine and scales to the ocean. He went back to the ocean and trawled until he could eat no more and the moon was full above the water; then, man learned the love of death.
In that new time man lived among many creatures and his days stretched onward. He counted his days by the changes in the sky. He scratched the cycles in the bark of the fruit tree; for many days he did little but eat of the fruit in the morning and pick among the fish in the evening. This brought him great joy for a time, but it was soon without luster. On the fifth sun of the tenth cycle the storms of the time before the fruit returned. A massive tempest raged in the distance and great waves were building on the horizon. They grew ever larger before crashing on the shore and beaching the fish, still alive and flopping on the sand, along with the bones of their brothers. The man was swept off the ground and his head hit the trunk of the tallest fruiting palm; man was plunged into a dimensionless blackness for an inestimable time.
When his vision returned he found himself immobilized, his vision focused on a thing much like himself crawling out of the whitetipped, gently frothing sea. Its hair was brown as the trunks of the palms and long as their fronds, a weak lunar glow illuminating the thing's features. There were clumps of wet sand strewn throughout its hair like stars in the darkest nights. It shambled up to the beach slowly but with much effort, as if bound as man had been in his earliest days. He watched with desperate anticipation as it rose unto its feet. It was much like himself yet entirely distinct in spirit. As it stood, its dripping wet hair covered the entirety of its face, draping its chest in shade. It kept forward until its pale form covered the entirety of his view. Its eyes were a pale brown and possessed an inviting character. The thing waited patiently above him, bare and expectant. It was much like how he waited for his fish when he went for dinner under the moon. After a time, it lowered itself upon him; it was warm against him in the cool night and smelled of the sea. It seemed to sense his paralysis, for it rubbed itself against him and laid its soft hands upon his skin. Its lips moved unto his own and its tongue slid into his mouth, on top of his own. With this gesture his immobility was cured; then, they did as such together until the dawn came.
When the man had recovered his other had gathered the ripest among the fruits and fed them to him by hand. He took the chunks of fruit gladly and suckled the excess nectar off of the thing's hands. She would take large bits and let the juice flow where it may. She slowly filled his stomach, but he was left still desirous. It put its hand on his leg and smiled. The man leaned forward and licked the remains of the fruit off its face as if he had never tasted such. Then, his lips searched the other's in search of more, without satisfaction. When none came, he pushed his hands into its soft skin, and it made no attempt to remove itself. It titled its head and closed its eyes as he licked its throat clean of juice. It soothed his back with calm rubs as he bore it down into the sand. Its legs tightened around him and he pushed into it without restraint. They lay together in this way all day until neither could do more. In that way, man learned the love of life.