"Phaulkin," muttered King Phiaden, "So nice to see you at the dining table for once."
"Yes, Father," replied Phaulkin, staring down at his food and pushing it around on his plate, only taking miniscule bites occasionally. They sat at the long mahogany table in the dining hall that was over fifteen meters long and mostly empty. The ceiling was excessively high and there were tall windows lining the crimson walls framed by creamy satin curtains and gold moldings of ivy and vines at the top.
"So, baby brother, how do you like the new slave I got for you?" Phox sneered, breaking the silence, "Is he to your satisfaction?"
Phaulkin did not even justify Phox's comment with a response. He simply stuffed a forkful of overly priced gourmet food into his mouth and chewed slowly.
"Phaulkin, answer your brother. It is so disheartening to have your brother constantly doing things of good will for you when you do not even thank him or return the gesture."
Phaulkin looked up and blinked at his father. He swallowed slowly, "I apologize, father. You see, I would happily buy a slave of the finest quality possible for my brother, but I would never want to tempt him with being unfaithful to his future wife."
The glare Phox aimed at him seemed to burn, but he just allowed the smallest hint of a smirk appear on his face as his father praised him. Phaulkin was the heir to his father's throne and while this meant he inherited an entire planet to bend to his will as well as substantial royalties, luxuries and his father's favoritism, it also meant he was forced to marry the princess from another major planet. Phox despised all of his possible brides, finding them repulsive and unappealing, and felt a wave of nausea hit him every time his future wife was mentioned.
"Speaking of which," King Phiaden said, "The King of Midaern has offered you the hand of his youngest daughter, Alliananisiana."
Phox rolled his eyes, "Father, if I am going to marry a woman, I need to be able to pronounce her name. And I don't want some rejected little girl from some downtrodden planet in the middle of nowhere."
Phaulkin tuned them out as they began bickering. This all seemed so trivial to him. So Phox was going to marry some woman he didn't want to. So what? He was going to have a whole planet to run. He wouldn't have to bother with his wife. She would produce heirs for him and dress up pretty for social occasions. She'd be his arm ornament. She would be nothing more. That was the way Phox would have it.
On the other hand, Phaulkin had nothing. Phox would probably send him away to some backwater planet to negotiate trade enterprises and peace treaties. He'd be alone and his brother would ignore him. His prince status would be renounced as soon as Phox's first son would be born and he'd be forgotten. Forgotten, alone and worthless; that was his inevitable fate.
"Master Phaulkin?" as mousy servant girl asked. None of the servants had names to Phaulkin because there were too many to keep track of and they got rid of some and got knew ones every other week or so. It was all very confusing to Phaulkin, but he turned to her despite this. She kept her eyes averted to the ground and spoke softly, "The young slave in your quarters has requested something to eat. Shall I fulfill his request?"
"Yes," replied Phaulkin, "Also find him some bed clothes and something to wear tomorrow. Take him something from the Laerie storage room"
The servant girl bowed and hurried away timidly. Phaulkin turned back to the table to find Phox grinning at him while his father looked at him with an expression of mixed confusion, curiosity and displeasure. The Laerie storage room was full of clothes made by the Royal tailor. He made the most elegant and fanciful clothes on the planet. He was constantly making something, whether it was for the Royal family, fine things for the staff to wear at special occasions or gifts for visiting royalty, and it always ended up being exceptionally beautiful compared to all other clothes. If he had nothing to make, he just made what ever he would like. The room was very full.
"When will I get to see this new slave you fancy so?" The King asked. It was very obvious to the king that this slave was something quite special. His voice was always firm and commanding. That was exactly how he ruled his people and Phaulkin hated it. His father made he feel like an incompetent peasant every time he spoke to him.
"May I please be excused, Father? I am feeling unwell," replied Phaulkin, avoiding looking at his father once more.
"Perhaps you need to eat more," suggested Phox. Phaulkin glared and hissed at him, causing Phox to be somewhat taken aback. Phaulkin didn't react to his taunts and teasings often, but when he did, he did so with physical violence, not with looks and animal noises.
Phaulkin rose from his seat, "I bid you good night, father, brother." With that he left as quickly as possible without running. He wanted to be alone. For some odd reason his father's question had struck much deeper than it should have. What was it about this boy that he found so compelling? He was so open and honest and kind. He was completely different from anyone Phaulkin had ever met.
He had to think about this. He couldn't afford to get so attached to someone when they would either leave him or be taken away from him. That was what always happened. Thinking would help him work through this. He had to be alone, but going back to his room wouldn't work because the slave was there. What was he going to do?
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Xan frowned at himself as he looked in the mirror. The bed clothes they had brought him felt very odd and he wasn't sure if he really liked them or not. The top was made of a black silky fabric that fit over his chest like a second layer of skin and shined when the light hit it at an angle while the sleeves were made of a sheer gauze that held tightly to his bicep and belled out at the elbow to a too-large hem around his wrist that hung oddly down to his mid-thigh when he held his arm at a 90 degree angle from his elbow and down to his knees when he allowed his arms to fall down straight. His pants were made of the same silky fabric and clung too tight in all the wrong places (which would be all the right places to the rest of the population), but were covered in several layers of the gauzy fabric to give a feeling that could only be described as "swishy" as he walked.
He scrunched up his nose, turning another direction. He looked like a prostitute. Maybe that was what he was in the first place. Why else would there be no mat on the floor for him to sleep on? Why else would he have no duties whatsoever? Why else would he be given clothing of this make? He was worse than a prostitute. He was a whore.
He wanted to cry. Xan had never kissed anyone, let alone slept with them and now his first time was to be forced by a prince of the kingdom that was destroying his people, his home. At that moment Xan wanted nothing more than to kill himself. Yet, knowing his luck, he would probably attempt in and get caught by Phaulkin who would then punish him.
"I want to go home," he whispered, tears glistening in his eyes. The thoughts rushing through his head were too much to bear. Would Phaulkin hurt him? Would it hurt? Would he bleed? Would Phaulkin hold him afterwards or reject him and force him to sleep on the floor for crying or being unsatisfying? Perhaps Phaulkin would close his eyes and pretend to be with someone else and cry out the other person's name, leaving Xan to feel dirty and alone.
There was a knock on the door and Xan jumped, quickly wiping away the tears that had escaped his eyes and replying, "Yes?"
Another young servant girl poked her head into the room, "Slave of Master Phaulkin, I was wondering if you have finished your dinner so I may take the dishes to be washes."
"Uh, it's alright," he answered, "I c'n do it m'self."
"You speak with a strange accent," the girl said. He noticed that her voice was monotone and had no accents or emphases at all. It gave him an odd, creepy feeling in his stomach.
He shrugged, "It's only when 'm nerv's er stress'd."
She nodded and entered, picking up his dishes from the cushion at the base of the window sill he had sat at when eating. She was very thin and wore a short black dress with a frilly white apron, black tights, and shiny Mary Jane's. Her hair was straight and went down to her lower back. It was so dark it seemed to blend in with the pure black of her dress.
"Wha's yer name?" Xan asked as she headed for the door.
"I am a native slave and therefore have no name. I have been trained for this since the age of five and have never found a need for a name," she replied and paused right before exiting and turned back to him, "You have no need to be nervous. Phaulkin is a very stupid man. He will not touch without your consent and even if you do consent, he will not touch you any further than he feels you are comfortable. Some have been rejected by him so many times that they have been put to death. I suggest you learn to get rid of your accent quickly if you ever want to see your homeland again."
And she left with a slam of the door behind her. Xan merely swallowed at the cryptic warning. People had been killed because Phaulkin had refused to sleep with them? This was such a screwed up place. He nearly jumped ten feet when the girl stuck her head back inside.
"Actually," she said with a grin, "My name in Mayana. I'm from Newad in the Flogria sector. Phaulkin is hiding from you in the library in the North wing if you were wondering."
With that she was gone in a flash and Xan was once more left stunned. Oooh, she reminded him of Tenki. She always did things like that just to mess with people. He laughed and turned back to the mirror. Ok, so it was a bit tight. It was bearable. He could deal with this. He was a Fayelian after all. He needed to be strong for his people. He needed to be strong for his family.