"Of Princes And Slaves"
Part 8
by Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

 

- Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr) -

The closing of the tent-flap behind my sisters left only little light inside, as dark had already fallen while I was greeted by my brother, my friends. But my sisters had lit an oil-lamp and in it's soft golden light I could see him, lying on the floor, still bound, still dusty but not ignoring me anymore. Instead, his big brown eyes were looking at me with fear.

I crouched down next to him, resting my forearms on my knees and watching him thoughtfully. How different he looked now. Dirty and not so self-assured. But still there was pride lurking in his eyes and still there was an arrogant line to the way he pressed his lips together. But he was afraid of me now, there was no doubting that.

Good. He might learn what it meant to be a slave after all. He might learn what he had done to me. He might even learn how to be sorry without me having to hurt him. Because that was something I was loath to do.

None of my friends had asked any questions concerning him, concerning where I had been and what had happened to me. As my father had accepted me back, whatever might have happened while I was gone was erased as if it had never been. At least to them.

But here prince Nekhem was, a living reminder of what I had endured. As long as I looked into his beautiful face, there was no forgetting how he had forced himself inside of me, no forgetting of how he had turned my own body against me.

And still I noted with a bit of regret that I was not able to hate him. I had witnessed to much innocence in him and had seen to much of his naiveté to hate him as I should have. I wanted him to understand what he had done to me, how close he had come to destroying me, but nothing more. The longer I looked at his helplessness the more my anger dissipated to be replaced by something else.

I slowly reached for his face and could not suppress a smile, when he instinctively flinched away from my touch and then stopped himself. So brave, so stupid. I rubbed a thumb over an especially ugly smear of dirt in his face, cleaning it away and his expression changed to confusion. Whatever he had expected - this was not it.

Time to surprise him some more.

From beneath my robes I drew the long dagger my father had given me, right after he had embraced me in welcome and again his eyes widened with fear. The temptation to play with him, to keep him in fear a while longer was strong, but that was not what a honorable man should have done, so I turned him on his stomach and cut off the ropes that had bound him for two days now.

Then I sat back on my heels and watched, as he hissed in pain when blood flowed back to his hands and feet. How he rubbed his abused wrists and looked at me with silent questions in his eyes.

"Drink." I said and tossed him the water skin. He obeyed gratefully enough and I thoroughly enjoyed watching pearls of clear water run down his throat, marking clean paths in the dust. My fingers itched to touch him and I felt heat creep under my skin. How simple it would be to press him to the ground, to taste those soft lips - taking, not receiving this time. To rip off what remained of his clothes and to use him as he had used me.

But he was mine now. There was no need to hurry. I could have him whenever I wanted. And right now my father had asked for my company. Had asked to share dinner with him. I could still have him later.

"Do you know how to care for a horse?" I asked him, completely startling him. Again his eyes where full of confusion. It made him look even younger, even sweeter.

"A little." he answered.

"Good. Outside are the two horses we arrived with. Go care for them!" I ordered him, watching him closely as I did so.

For a very short moment his eyes were bristling with fury, but then he regained his composure. His shoulder were stiff and haughty, when he sketched the least meek bow I had ever seen.

"Yes, master." he answered, his voice wound so tightly it almost hurt my ears.

And then he quickly left the tent.

I sat on my heels for a while longer, picking up the water skin and drinking myself, tasting his lips on the worn leather, wondering at the calm emptiness in my heart. Should I not feel triumphant? Should I not feel good? Was this always what revenge felt like? This silent nothingness? Or was it just that after all that I had endured there was not enough emotion left inside of me, to feel right now?

Spirits of my ancestors, can you hear me? I am home. I have returned! Why do I still feel so far away, so detached?

Silently I prayed, asking for guidance, asking for a respite from my troubled thoughts. Asking for rain on the dry wasteland that was my heart. Slowly the sounds of the camp drifted into my mind and the laughter of children playing, the crackling of the cooking fires, the calls of my friends, my brothers in arms warmed my aching heart.

For them I had gone to battle on that fateful afternoon. For them I had fought and lost. But it was for myself that I had survived my captivity. Now I would have to learn to live again for my tribe. Maybe I just needed some time to truly return. And surely I needed my family.

Stepping outside I noticed with a small smile that the horses as well as my new 'slave' where gone. It would be quite interesting to find out if he would be of any use as a slave at all.

Then two of my sisters spotted me and were beside me in an instant, dragging me over to my father's tent, filling my ears with their happy chatter, dampening my somber mood. Maybe I did not feel like smiling yet. But I could smile for them.

---

- Prince Nekhem (Orli) -

"Go care for the horses!", he had said.

No word of consolation, no sign of regret. A gesture of care, though, he had allowed himself. Well, I thought to myself, at least he wouldn't neglect me or hurt me for fun, I was pretty sure of that. But why then had he taken me captive?

To show me off to his tribe of olive-skinned thugs? If so, there had been very little actual showing-off since we had arrived here. His sisters had been the only ones to take further notice of me.

To proof his martial supremacy? No point in proving that, he should have seen that I was no match for him on this field the first moment he laid eyes on me. And surely there was no honor at all in capturing a sleeping boy who trusted you with his life.

Though, probably, I shouldn't have done so in the first place. Damned Oathbreaker!
And now I was here in this shabby settlement in the middle of the desert, tending to the horses.

What, by all the secretive ways of Bast, was that to be good for? Had the gods really deserted me or was there a design in all this?

Sure. I was here to learn a lesson.

It had to be so. I just could not see that the gods would abandon me for nothing, and if they hadn't, I could only be expected to learn something I could not have as a Prince of the Realm.

I had not even the remotest idea of what this lesson might include, but apparently being a slave was a step on the way. Well, I decided, each path starts with the first step, and so if it is the will of my Gods, I will become a slave.

And if not, I added grimly to myself, I will kick some godly balls if ever I am to arrive in the Realm of the Dead, and thoroughly so. Let's just hope for them they do have a plan. Hear me?

My newfound resolution straightened my ruffled thoughts like a bird might straighten his wind-blown feathers, and for the first time, I really looked at my surroundings.
Huddled together like for protection, about a dozen dark tents stood in a narrow valley shaped by a cluster of rocks that jabbed out of the endless sand like the teeth of some long-dead, mystic beast. At the end of the small gorge, in the shadow of the jagged stones, there was a small lake, clean and cool and immeasurably precious in this place.
On the valley's wide side, where it opened into the endless desert, the tents stood a bit apart, surrounding a wide fireplace that already blazed in the fading light of the early evening.

They had their horses standing together in another short valley close by, kept there by nothing but a symbolic fence of sticks and rope. Some camels were there as well, some others dozing next to the tents, disdainfully staring down on the humans bustling back and forth among them.

I took the horses that had brought us here and walked over to some men standing close by.

Cursing softly, I noted that the sandy ground was littered with tiny and not-so-tiny, sharp rocks, and not wearing any sandals I had to pick my path carefully, hopping like a surprised Ibis from foot to foot.

Trying to ignore the amused stares of the men as best as I could, I tried to sum up all the meekness I could find within my weary heart and asked them:

"I beg forgiveness for my ignorance, but my master has asked me to care for his horses. Will you tell me what has to be done?"

They gave me stares as if I had asked them if they could be so kind and get a shard of the moon down for me.

So what's wrong? I am new at this. I still have a lot to learn.

'From Prince to Slave in thirteen lessons', I heard the mocking voice of the high priest of Osiris in my mind. Was it really something one could learn? Or was it more like Lady Meret said about being in love? Either you are, and then you know it, or you don't know, then you aren't.

I have always preferred the views of the High Priestess of our Lady Isis.

So why, then, were they staring at me like that?

One of the men reluctantly, almost cautiously, showed me towards some brushes and how to use them with the horses, and I thoughtfully began to brush the animals.

'Go tend the horses!", he had said.

Ardeth. Ardeth Bey.
Suddenly, my barbarian slave had a name, and just as suddenly wasn't a slave anymore.
But I was instead.

I smiled at his name, though. Exotic, this name was, dark and strong and manly just as the one who bore it. Thinking of him, I felt slightly strange as I noticed that though he had broken his oath not to harm me, although he had taken me captive and used me as his slave, I could not bring myself to hate him.

No, not at all I could despise him, and with sudden clarity I understood that saying of Lady Meret about being in love. I was, and I knew.

Just perfect. Now what was I to do with this information but feel even more unhappy? Go to him and tell him? He'd think me completely mad. Keep silent and suffer for the rest of my life? Not really an option, either.

Fruitlessly pondering my unwieldy dilemma, I cleaned both horses, even scratched the pebbles out of their hooves and oiled them.

I knew I loved him, and there was no question to that. And yet I was afraid of him as well. I did not know what he had in mind with me, how he would make me pay for what I had done to him.
Not that I completely understood why he was still thinking I had dishonored him, anyway.
But this whole 'revenge for making him suffer' context made me feel more than just a little quesy. No, I honestly was afraid, and it was hard from keeping my mind from imagining all sorts of things.
Painful things, even more so as they were inflicted by someone I loved, apparently despite all.

But as it seemed, even that would be part of that lesson I had to learn. Hear that, deities of my people? I just hope you have a good explanation for this on the day you will have to face me. A very good one.

Grim with determination, I took the two horses back to the tent where Ardeth had cut loose my bonds and tied their reigns to the same stone, just as I had found them. And then, as I found the tent deserted, I knelt down next to its entrance and waited for my master.

I would be a good slave, I swore to myself, even if I would have to bite my tongue just as Ardeth had done that night I had found him kneeling next to my bed.
I would fulfil my role with as much grace and humility as I could muster, as it was the place my gods had designed me to take.

Hopefully.
For them.

----

- Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr) -

The talk by the cooking fire of my father's tent was as it had always been. Concerning horses, neighboring tribes, fighting, gossip. Everything was, as if I had never left. My brother sat next to me and we both quietly listened to my sisters' chatter about this or that, sometimes getting admonished by my father for their lack of modesty or decorum.

"We will have to find a good horse for you." my brother said after our sisters had handed us pieces of warm bread and wooden bowl with the cooked meat and roots they had prepared. "The mares you have come back with are not fit for a warrior."

I snorted in agreement. And them deeply inhaled the scent of properly spiced food. Home. This truly was home.

"Are there any foals?" I asked my brother after taking a first spoonful. "I would like to train my own mount again. It will take a while, but..."

"...it is the proper way to do it." my father concluded for me and smiled at me full of pride. "My son, I'm sure we'll find a promising young stallion for you to tame."

I thought back on my beloved Marek whom I had lost in that fateful battle. He had died a proper warrior's death. I had raised him from the day he was born and what a proud horse he had been. He had fathered many foals and he had been a true companion to my heart. Surely his ancestors looked at him with pride on whatever field of the afterlife he was grazing now.

As if reading my mind my brother said: "Tebeth will deliver soon. The last foal fathered by your Marek. It would be only right if you took that one."

"If it is a stallion..." my father said, but I smiled silently.

"Whatever it will be, proud stallion or clever mare, I'm sure Marek's foal will serve me well."

Both my brother and my father looked at me in surprise. A mare was seldom used as a warrior's mount as they were too intelligent and too headstrong usually. But a wiser horse might have saved me from captivity, and if I was able to tame my headstrong prince, no horse would be a challenge.

I ignored their curiosity, instead devouring my food. There had not been much for a slave in Theben. Even if he was a prince's slave. And on my ride through the desert I had given most of the food to Nekhem. He was much frailer than me and I didn't want him to come to harm before I could present him as my trophy.

Talk turned to camp gossip. Especially to Ahkim, a young warrior barely out of his teens who was eyeing Selima, the second oldest of my unmarried sisters with interest. Much giggling among my sisters ensued. But she didn't seem disinclined at all and he was a good man, wielding his sword with grace and he had a good hand with his horse.

Finally dinner was over and both me and my brother got up to go back to our own tents.

"Aren't you going to feed your slave?" Rhesa, my oldest sister asked with quite a bit of reproach in her voice and I almost blushed. I really had completely forgotten about the boy. Before I could get myself in further trouble with her by revealing this, she simply pressed a bowl with the leftovers of our dinner into my hands.

Ignoring the giggling from my other sisters, I squared my shoulders and left in as dignified a manner as I could muster.

I found Nekhem kneeling next to the entrance to my tent and the two horses again tied to the stone before my tent.

"Didn't I tell you to care for them?" I asked the princeling, trying to sound stern.

"I did, master." he answered and again I could hear that slight mocking in his voice. "But you didn't tell me where to put them."

True. I hadn't. Should have known he wouldn't do anything without me expressly telling him to.

Holding out the bowl to him I said: "Eat." And then I took the horses down to the lake to let them drink their fill before I led them over to the meadow where the others were grazing. Returning to my tent I watched Nekhem scratch the last bits of food out of the bowl, feeling a bit guilty. If I was able to care for horses I should be able to care for a slave as well. And that certainly included feeding him.

"Come inside." I told him, when he put aside the bowl and made no move to follow me into the tent.

Why was I suddenly feeling so awkward around him? He was the slave, I was his master. There was no need to keep my mouth closed anymore. Granted, I had never been a talkative person, but right now for some reason I tried to keep any talk with Nekhem to an absolute minimum.

On the other hand I really didn't know what to say to him. He probably was rather angry at me for taking him prisoner like this. Of course it was his own stupidity which had brought him into this situation but that wouldn't lessen his anger.

I peeled out of the many layers of my clothes and sat down on my bedroll with a deep sigh. He was kneeling next to the closed tent flap, eyes firmly on the floor, exuding an air of mixed fear and hostility. Was this how I had looked to him on the barge going to Theben? Probably. Clearly I had badly underestimated his patience, considering how long he had put up with my behavior. Right now I was feeling like slapping him for his insolence. But damn me if I would loose my temper where he hadn't.

So I just extinguished the oil lamp and curled up on my bedroll, wrapping the woolen blanket around me, that Rhesa had kept for me in a silly hope that I would return. The night was rather chilly and soon I heard Nekhem move closer to the bedroll.

It was with quite a bit of surprise that I noted how much I hoped he would come to me like he had that night in his chambers, snuggling up to me. But he didn't. Instead he curled up at the food of the bedroll.

With a soundless sigh I closed my eyes, intend on falling asleep right away. But the constant tossing and turning of the princeling kept me awake quite thoroughly. Combined with the occasional unhappy little sounds he made it was just impossible to find any sleep.

Finally I sat up.

"Nekhem, come here." I told him.

For a moment there was complete silence. Then I heard him move up to me in the dark of the tent. When I touched him to pull him under my blanket he recoiled but then allowed himself to be tugged into my arms. He definitely was afraid of me. He was as tense as a bowstring and it took quite a while till he relaxed. At least he didn't move anymore and the scent of his hair in my nose - dusty and dirty but still very much himself - was strangely reassuring and I drifted off to sleep snuggling close to him.

--

Waking up with him still in my arms was rather frightening. For a moment cold fear gripped my heart. Cold fear that we were still in Theben. That I was still his slave. That nothing had changed, that my return home had been just a pleasant dream.

But then the sounds of my tribe's camp drifted through the cloth of the tent and I knew that everything had changed. He was mine now.

Silently I watched him. He looked so sweet and young asleep. His long lashes dark smudges against his pale skin, his lips relaxed into a happier expression than he had worn the last days. Almost without thinking I let my fingers trail through his soft curls and he sighed in his sleep, leaning into the caress. How enticing he was.

I felt my cock stir in interest. Maybe now was a good time to repay some of what he had done to me. Hadn't he used my dreams against me as well? Gently I touched his delicate cheekbones, running my thumb down to his beautiful mouth. His lips opened slightly and he snuggled closer to me.

But only for a short, wonderful moment. Then he awoke with a start and jerked away from me, his eyes wide with fear.

---

- Nekhem (Orli) -

I had known this would happen sooner or later, but this was, well, very soon.

Doing as a good slave should, I had tried to sleep at his feet as he had not provided any kind of place for me.
When he had ordered me into his arms, I had obeyed, rather happy to feel the warmth of his body around me, his proximity and bedroll far more comfortable than the hard ground at his feet. I could imagine we were happily together, cuddling in his tent, looking forward to a bright tomorrow that would rise out of the night.

But the morning that now had risen was not as bright and loving as I had imagined. For I was his slave, and his intend to make use of me was clearly written in his face. And in the way he pressed his anticipative manhood against my tighs.

Half-asleep, I had been able to enjoy his touch for the first moments, revel in his hands caressing my face, but with the realisation of how things really were between the two of us, all tender desire left my heart.

Yes, I had wished for him to come to me like this, to lie next to me with his cock hard and hot and throbbing of desire. But he did not want to make love to me, he wanted to use me. And that thought hurt so much I could hardly breathe.

And yet, a cold voice in my head answered, it is in his proper rights to do so. You are his property, by your own fault, to do with as he pleases.

I knew this voice was right. Especially about this being my own fault. It had been me who followed the voice of his heart despite everything his friends or his common sense had told him, however little he possessed of that anyway. It had been me who accepted his duty as a slave, for it had been given by the gods, so why did I shy away now?

Forcefully, I made my body relax, sink against the warm skin of the man holding me. His caresses had stopped when I first shied away from his touch, but as I started to kiss his chest, his hands began to move again. Snuggling close to him, I tried to make myself feel desire at the touch of his strong hands, to think he was caressing instead of groping, and for quite a while, I even managed.

Being touched by him so passionately was like a rush, my body catching fire wherever he put his hands to my skin, my mind dissolving into loving incoherence. Still there was that nagging thought that he merely used my body to scratch his itch just like I might use an ivory stick to scratch my back. I tried not to mind, tried not really to let it sink in.

But when his hands went lower on my body, touching, fondling, caressing, and I realised just in which way he actually intended to use me, my brittle self-control shattered.

"No," I whispered. "Not like that."

Ardeth must have noticed my sudden rejection, for he grabbed my chin, turning my face to look at him, asking:

"What's that, pretty slave? Afraid of being taken by a real man?"

"I'm not afraid," I hissed back at him, "I'm appalled."

With a sudden move, more acting out of instinct than anything else, I jerked my head out of his hand and jumped up.
I just had to get out of here, get away from him. I had to think.
Struggling with the light blanket that now huddled around my ankles, I tried to reach the tent's flap before he could grab at me, but being the experienced warrior he was, Ardeth had no trouble of getting me back where he wanted me. With a sudden move, he thrust his legs at my ankles, making me stumble, and quick as a striking snake, he grabbed at my feet, pulling me back to him.

I fought, punched at him, slapped him, tried to bite and scratch. But he merely laughed. Soon, he was above me, kneeling on my legs, his hands holding my arms firmly pinned to the ground above my head. And his laugh was astonished, angry, coarse of both lust and repulsion.

"You fight like a girl", he said, licking my cheek like a lion might lick at a gazelle he had just brought down before finally biting her neck.

How could he do this? How could he hurt me so, despite the fact that I loved him? And how stupid and pitiful was I to still cling to this emotion? I was a Prince of the Realm, and I should not be treated like this!

So you're still a prince, that cold voice in my head said again, cruel and precise. Interesting. How long did you think would you be able to cheat your gods? How long will you still stay a prince who pretends to be a slave?
Be a slave, if that is your choice!

Almost choking on the cognition, I knew it was right. If I really were to follow the will of my gods, I would have to submit to their will. In any way.
Even if it would include my lover to destroy the love I held for him in my heart.

Like water flowing out of an up-turned bucket, all tension suddenly left my body, and I relaxed by sheer force of will. So then be it, I thought to myself with my eyes closed, and said with a voice tight with tears I was biting back:

"Please be gentle, Master, for it will be my first time."

I looked up into his face looming above me, his dark curls like a halo of night, his eyes as hard and unmoved as stone.
Still hearing my own voice echoing in my head, I wondered at how broken and small I could sound. Was he happy now? He didn't look like it.

There was almost a disgusted sneer in his face when he let go of my arms, though I was not really sure at what he was so appalled. I didn't move.
Nor did I move when he turned me around to lie on my stomach, his hand between my legs. I did not squirm when he pressed his fingers against my entrance, wet with spittle, did not yelp in pain and repulsion as he pushed them inside.

My soul, like my body, lay prostrate in front of him, my soul maybe even more so.

I would haven given this to him freely, and gladly so, had he ever asked. This way, I merely felt used, not even abused.

When Ardeth changed his position to lie between my legs, I had to bite my lips, though. I was afraid, and though he had taken more care to prepare me than would have been expected from my master, I already knew it would hurt. He was pretty huge, and my body had never before been used this way. I had always hoped I could save this up for a man who would value this gift.

But apparently, the gods had decided otherwise.

I could feel his cock pressing against me, and I could almost feel the desire to cramp up and make it as hard as possible for him to enter. But that would have been out-of-place, wouldn't it? Once more, I forced myself to relax, and immediately he slid into my body.

It did hurt. Not as much as I had feared, but still. Pain of the heart is always harder to bear as the one of the body.

My owner shivered above me, his whole body shaking, his cock deep inside of me. Take me, Master, I thought defeatedly, if that is what you want. I'm yours anyway.

He began to move within me, his muscled body moving with all the power and grace I had expected of the warrior. Thrusting hard, I could hardly suppress a yelp whenever he pushed himself inside me.
It wasn't bad, not by far. It wasn't as if he'd hurt me deliberately, and his body was as if having been made for this. But just as well, he didn't mind if he hurt me or not, and his movements spoke more of a single-minded urge than of passionate love-making. If he hadn't used me merely for a quick rush, I might even have learned to enjoy it.

But soon, the initial excitement fled my body, and all that was left was remote pain and loneliness, immense loneliness that threatened to swallow my heart.

Ardeth went on, increasing in speed as well as in fervor, yet I was as if I had left my body merely to sit next to it to watch. I wouldn't have noticed the peak of my Master's passion but for two grunts and a shiver, and a suddenly slimy feel between my legs. He stayed on top of me for a few moments longer, panting.

Then he suddenly got up, dressed himself in a hurry and left the tent without a word.

Nothing.
No gentle 'Are you alright?', no cruel 'Good lay. You'll get to like this, one day.' Nothing.
Not a single word.

I felt like a rag.
Slowly, I left my spread-out position, curling up first, then instinctively beginning to clean myself with what was left of my once-so-precious cotton skirt. Sitting on Ardeth's bedroll, wiping off his seed from my ass and balls, I felt tears run down my face freely.
I felt used, dirty, empty.

I would have given you my body to be your temple with all my heart, for nothing but a single word, a gesture.
But instead of worshipping me, you prefer to defile me.

So alone, so empty, so terribly lost. For a long while, I just sat there and cried without a sound.

And that was how his eldest sister found me.

 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

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