Bow Before You

Chapter 2 Lust

A/N -read with caution ...non-con present

The prince started in surprise. His hand went to his neck where the ghosting of pain still lingered in his memory. When the sounds of clanging and stomping feet reached his ears from his very own tower, he widened his eyes in shock. This was too familiar. It was like a dream come to life, or was he in the dream? He was unsettled.

"You are wanted in the throne room." The leader of this group gruffly announced and then grabbed his arm without care for his station. The prince stared at the hand on his arm and then at the man who held it. This was far too familiar. Like it had already happened once already. Like before, the older man didn't look back at him and only dragged him along the corridors and stairs to their destination. The prince did not even think to struggle for the second time.

Yet again as he was pulled through the buildings and walkways to the outer palace where the throne sat, he saw the remains throughout. The ones who were alive still threw their harsh words at him as he passed. He could even recall the words used by each, as though he had heard them before. It had him shivering down to his soul.

"I found him, my liege." The man grasping his arm announced as he was thrown to the floor in front of the throne. He looked up to see the other man in the seat instead of his father. This time he did not get up, and sat in the dirt at his feet in unease. Would the man kill him? Was this where he would meet his death after all?

Maybe it had been a premonition? He stared at the man in silence, waiting to see what he would do. He could vaguely hear the whispers behind him and ignored them. His sole focus was on the man who had killed him in the vision. That same man who was staring at him with some interest.

"They said you were an arrogant brat that would not bow to anyone. It would seem the rumours are a bit wrong, hmm?" The man said to him goadingly. He still stayed silent, unsure of whether or not he should speak.

"Answer him." The man at his shoulder said, pushing him forward a bit with a rough shove. He growled at the man's touch and flashed a glare over his shoulder. That made the man on the throne laugh to himself.

"Not quite without merit, if that fierce look is anything to go by. Why are you so quiet then?" He narrowed his eyes and the prince replied.

"I know when to hold my tongue." Was his reply. His eyes met the man's for a brief second before looking down and keeping his eyes on the floor. He was shocked when he saw the boots that came up to him, and even more shocked when a hand grasped his chin to make him look up again.

"What a pretty face that tongue resides in. Tell me prince, what else can you do with that tongue?" His eyes held a dangerous light in them and the prince almost forgot to breathe. A thumb was forced past his lips in front of everyone and he hesitated to bite the hand that could take his head. Instead he warily watched the man's expressions as they flitted across his face.

There was anger, some sort of twisted passion, and a bit of satisfaction in those eyes. He did not resist the man's strange dominance, yet he did not answer it with anything. He let the man stroke his tongue with his thumb and pry his lips open wider. He did not even flinch when his hair was grasped in his other hand and his face was pulled up forcefully.

"I will let you live, for now little prince. But in return, you must do everything and anything I ask of you. You will be my whore and beg me for the scraps from my table. If you are good then you will be treated well, and if you are naughty you will die. Understand?" His eyes bore into the prince's and he nodded even with the man's hand still in his mouth.

He was terrified. Was he really serious about what he said? He did not know for sure. He just knew he did not want to feel the man's blade slice through his neck again. He let them drag him away and throw him into a room with nothing but a flimsy silk robe to cover himself. The prince shivered as he awaited his fate. His wait was long, and his stomach was growling with hunger before he saw another soul again.

It was him. He watched the prince cowering in the corner in his robe with dispassion. He beckoned him to him, and the prince complied. His kiss was rough and the prince could not keep up with it. He whimpered when his hair was grabbed and was dragged to the bed. There was no foreplay or sweet words to his actions. He bent him over and spread him wide.

The prince had never had a man before in his life. The experience was excruciating. He did not seem to care if the prince's cries were of pain or of pleasure. He just finished himself inside the abused hole and left him there to pass out from it. When he woke up again, the prince was just as he had left him. He gathered his strength to stand, and then promptly fell to the ground again.

There was blood on his thighs, and something else he did not want to identify. He felt dirty and hungry, but at the same time listless and without appetite. Is this what his father's concubines had felt like when he had visited them? He regretted ever looking down on them all those times that he had passed them in the gardens. No one deserved to feel like this.

The man came again, and then again. The prince had no idea how long it had been now. He only knew that the feeling of hunger had turned into a headache and sickness in the pit of his stomach. He could barely concentrate on the man's kiss and felt dizzy when he was yanked up to him. He saw a swirl of blackness with a sort of peaceful feeling. He welcomed it, for the quiet it would bring his mind.

He woke to feel a cool drink pressed against his lips and a cold compress upon his forehead. He drank greedily at the first water he had tasted in who knows how many days. His glass was refilled twice before he was sated and laid back with a sigh. The stern face above him was unamused and looked over his body with distain.

"Are you too proud to ask for food and drink then after all?" He growled at me. He shook his head faintly.

"I cannot ask if I do not see a living person in my sight." The prince replied with a tired voice. He looked surprised.

"Could you not go to the door?" He asked with confusion. The prince smiled at the question.

"First the door was locked. Then I was too weak to go to it." He responded honestly. He looked away from his questioning eyes in shame. The prince heard him clear his throat and then glanced at him. His face was schooled to indifference again, but the prince had caught a touch of concern before it did. He was not so severe as he wanted him to think. He stored that thought away for later.

"If you cannot even do as you are told, then I will set a keeper for you." His words were harsh but the intention was understanding. He left without touching the prince that day, and he was grateful for the reprieve of his attentions with how weak he felt.

The keeper was a servant that eyed him with distain. The old woman barely looked at him, brought him nothing but the scantest of meals and drink, and only when he begged for it. She did not help him to clean himself after the man came to visit him, and would avoid the room for hours afterwards. The prince felt his strength waning at an alarming rate.

Soon he came down with a fever. It made his head swirl with the ferocity of it. No amount of water that the old woman brought him was enough to quench his parched lips. It spiked higher and higher, leaving him in a state of delirium. The prince thought he saw him at his bedside. He thought he felt his cool lips upon his forehead. He thought he heard the echo of words filled with regret.

But then all he felt was peace.

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