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 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 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 gained a reddish white 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 with his father, 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 and their multicolored paradise birds would sing 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 the snow drenched him in cold water 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; 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. He hopelessly rolled around until he fell onto the hard floor. His head hit first and he was gasping hard in pain, 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 these lands, finding the whole situation to be much more unpleasant than even the worst moments of his passage through the mountains. 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, which he really did not. 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 head 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 restocking the fireplace. 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 little he could see. He left the room briefly and returned with a torch. It gave his face some definition; despite his portly body, his face was hard. He had bushy eyebrows and eyes covered with a perpetual shade. The man bent down and lit the wood alfame once more. 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 something like 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 his kingdom's mines which were exported around the globe, 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'd 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 cruel ways of the region's inhabitants. There was no point in escape, he would certainly not survive.
" Yes, sir, " he said, quiet at first. 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 natural philosophers; or perhaps it was more similar to a rather boring jester's act. It was a humiliation beyond belief. 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 cloak and effortlessly flipped the prince over. The prince felt the cold iron come off of his hands and he felt his face. " 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. He didn't want to believe the obvious fate this was hinting towards. 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 men 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 it seemed. 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. " 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. He looked the prince in the eyes. " 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. "