Claimer: All characters included in this story are all mine. Fan art/fiction is encouraged and appreciated!

Updated After nearly a year and a half, I’m going back and fixing up this story! Yeah! I’ve matured a great deal since first starting this story, not to mention I learned a lot about writing a GOOD story thanks to my AP English class! Hopefully, that will show in my updates.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing at all.

Story Warning: Homosexual relations, violence, torture, profanity, etc…

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The light outside was shining gently onto the kingdom. Their skin and clothes drenched in a thick sweat from hard toil, the workers were laboring out in the vast fields under the warm caresses of the bright sun. In the city, in the market place, in the public meeting areas, the guards were patrolling, the women shopping, the children playing. On a hill over looking the wonderful city was a large, stone palace. Shining valiantly, the sun made an effort to illuminate every crevice and nook of the stony behemoth and nearly succeeded, save for a single room. Black velvet curtains were drawn over the windows so that not a single tempting ray of golden warmth could seep in and kiss the heart of the inhabitant. Perhaps, that was for the best, for the bat in the room was none other than the prince of the kingdom and over his heart was drawn a curtain thicker than the one at the grand windows.

Prince Iroe was not an intimidating figure by any means or motives. He was tall, lanky and pale; he had a beauty meant for a princess and as a result often times wore a deep-set frown, giving him an aged countenance. He dressed in such a somber and sober manner that it seemed that he might have been born with the mind of someone thrice his age. Bluer than the deepest oceans, the Prince’s eyes took in the world around him with a calculating and wise gaze. Soft spoken and studious, often times, Prince Iroe hid behind the familiar, comfortable mask of a scholar: rarely voicing his own opinions. It was this same, defensive mask the Prince wore when his father, the good King of the land, rapped on his study door and ventured in; on the King’s face was a look of distaste as he took in the image of his son: somber, frail, weak.

Brushing a soft wisp of black hair behind his ears, the Prince looked towards his father, his expression unchanging. Neither moved an inch; the King was standing at the doorway, his son was lounged on a large chair, reading classes upon his nose and a book on the fundamentals of alchemy on his lap. Prince Iroe said nothing as he looked at his father before the side of his mouth twitched, looking as if he wanted to say something but thought against it just as the inaudible words touched his lips. Seeing that his son would not say anything, the humorless King spoke the first words.

“Enough is enough. It is absolutely shameful. Your brothers and sisters have already chosen one, but you, the crowned Prince, have yet to find one!” The King’s face was now red from rage as he saw his son not react at all. In sooth, Iroe had only blinked three times in the course of his father’s reprimand and nothing more.

After a few passing moments, Iroe slowly closed the old, roughed book and set it down gently, tenderly before taking off his spectacles and setting them down as well. “This again, Father?” he asked, his face looking exasperated; this was a familiar conversation according to the exhausted look on the Prince’s normally attentive and thoughtful face.

“Do not talk to me with such impudence, Iroe! I sired you and I would rather kill you than to have you speak to me in such a manner. Do not look into my eyes as if you are my equal,” he snapped, Iroe instinctively shifting his gaze respectfully. “Because you continue to delay in your princely duties, it is my conclusion that I must walk you through this part of your life if I hope to shape you into a proper heir. I have already picked out a suitable candidate and it will arrive latter this evening, after supper.” Stalling only a moment to let his words settle, the King abruptly left the quiet, dark study, the candles glowing dully upon the remaining human, giving him an inhuman look.

For quite some time, the prince sat in his chair, his mind completely concentrated on the dreaded “package” that would arrive that evening; the one thing that so tainted his personal honor like a sin, stained upon his skin. Getting up slowly, he went to his large windows and, with an uncharacteristic scream of frustration, he threw open the curtains, letting the sun see his scowl; it was also within the rays of the sun that the image of the distraught prince would forever remain, for he would not allow another to see his true self.

“A pet,” the Prince said with such frankness and bluntness that it seemed almost that the last hour had simply been a dream. Unfortunately, whatever dream the prince had been in had contorted into a grotesque parody.

A ‘pet’ in the kingdom was a euphemistic term for a slave. The thought of keeping another human in bondage made the prince feel light headed. He, unlike his siblings, had no need or desire for a companion, let alone a slave. However, it was his misfortune to be born with royal and noble blood coursing through his veins and thus it would also be his misfortune to be the unwilling master of a broken human soul.

Shuddering, cold despite the soft rays of sunlight, the prince walked towards the arrangement of candles and blew them out at once. The Prince was a lover of books and empathetic of his fellow man’s suffering and thus his stomach churned at the thought of what would be waiting for him that evening. However, now that he was forced into the situation, he had no choice but to comply with the tradition of the land. Needing guidance, he ventured out of his safe study and wandered to the east wing, his fingertips frozen to the touch, to visit his eldest sister, Ariola and her pet.