Presents: The Dancer Prince
The Story That Started It All
The Dancer Prince
Youri screamed in agony as the seventh lash fell upon his back. The whip that was being used on him was one specialized for the purpose of taking skin off of the host. He cried like a banshee as the whip touched his hot blue blood. The whip was left colored by this blood, as it hit its pray again and again. Youri couldn't remember whether this was the ninth of ten lash that fell upon him as his voice became less loud, more subdued. He was loosing consciousness fast, as his cheeks became puffy red, sweat going down his entire body, causing his exposed back to hurt even more as the blood and salt mixed and reacted violently. He looked in desperation across the court yard for kind faces, but all he could see were detention camp guards laughing, or expression less faces that made up the crowd looking at him. He could faintly hear twelve in the back of his mind as the whip fell upon his back again. He phased back and forth, in and out of consciousness as he heard thirteen. Two more lashings and this torture would be over with, he screamed in ghastly pain.
"STOP! If you lay one more hand on him I'll have you executed!" A voice from the back screamed, as the caped tall man ran into the court yard.
The guard drew back, taking the whip in his hand that leaked fresh blue blood. He grunted as he looked over the man who had dared order him to stop his dispensing of justice. The caped man finished running into the center of the courtyard, followed closely by two armed men. As he took a moment to catch his breath, the wind caused the cape to wrap around him, hiding part of his face. A gentle icy blue eye, and part of the cape man's light brown face were visible to the crowd. His cheeks had a slight rose tint, showing the man had run has fast as he could to get here. Youri, who'd taken this needed break to breath, now realized that his voice box had been strained by his natural response to pain. He was scared, the guard would now be doubly annoyed at his incompetence, not to mention that he hadn't done what the Sergeant had wanted to force upon him. He was still the youngest, unclaimed prize of all those in this detention camp.
The cape from the man, finally wrested itself free, slightly waving to the side of the tall man. Standing at a tall two meters, the crowd could now see that at the top of his head laid a majestic crown. The crown was silver and blue in color, but since there was no sunlight out, the crown didn't reflect off anything. The Segan stared at the guard, his blue icy eyes showing both a mixture of anger and sadness. His eyes showed the kindness which characterized the persona, and he was taken aback by the violence that had forced him to put a stop to this. How could he be an heir to such cruelty? What had he done to deserve this cruel turn of fate, when all he had wanted was to see the civil war which had brought all these servants to this detention camp finished. His father had authorized all of this, he knew they were working under his orders, his terrible, immoral orders. Alexander turned to his guide, who had been trailing behind ever since he had run towards the scream. The guide, in charge of this detention camp, was a fat man who reeked of incompetence and alcohol.
"Colonel, I want this crowd dispersed and this young man brought to my quarters," the man ordered, glancing over to one of his body guards, "Run and tell my chambermaids that I want this person cleaned up immediately."
"Understood your majesty," The Colonel turned to his guards, "Put them all back to work, come on then, you heard the Prince!"
Youri took one look at his savior, he watched the cape, the crown, his eyes. Youri took one more breath and fell unconscious, his limp body hanging on the bounds that had kept his back exposed. The man ordered that two of the prisoners carry him to his quarters. He couldn't believe that this was what was happening in all the detention camps, these were the things which his father had forbidden him to see. He was glad he had disobeyed the orders of his father, he now knew what was happening in the "unknown" detention camps, but out of anger and sadness he had spoken out when it was not safe. He had challenged authority when he shouldn't have, and used his position in a manner that did not conform to his duties. He watched as the young man was carried away, and stared in horror at the marks on the back. He had scars of previous lashings, which had been reopened by the new seemingly terrible assault. He was moved by incomprehensible grief and sorrow, if only he had arrived earlier.
"Your Majesty," The man's assistant tapped on his back, "The man you ordered taken to your quarters has been laid upon your bed."
The man shook his head of these irreconcilable thoughts. He looked around the courtyard, staring at the buildings which were so utilitarian in purpose. All of the prisoners had been moved back to the mines to do hard labor, there only remained the Colonel and his two assistants. He hadn't even noticed that all of this had been done during the moment he had entered his mind to second guess that this was not a dream. It was real, however, whichever way he tried to deny it to himself he had seen what was truly going on in these detention camps. The Colonel had told him that some minor corporal punishment was been applied, but what he had seen was a gruesome application of physical force on a teenager. He could tell the prisoner wasn't very old, most of his pectoral muscles hadn't developed fully. He nodded to the Colonel, and his assistants.
"Is he awake?" He glanced over to his assistant, ignoring the fat Colonel.
"He has fainted, your Majesty," The assistant wondered why the heir to the throne would get himself so worked up about such insignificant matters, "He seems physically unable to take that kind of physical pressure."
"Physical torture you mean?" He asked rhetorically as he turned to speak to the Colonel, "Please cancel my tour for today, Colonel, I need some time to reflect on what I just saw."
"Certainly, your Majesty, you give me the word and I'll be right there, so long as it's not during my breakfast, lunch, or dinner," He laughed at his corny joke, which amused the Prince none.
"Thank you Colonel," The Prince bowed his head slightly, as the Colonel responded with an equal bow, "The Crown wishes you peace and tidings, go and continue your work."
"Yes, your Majesty," The Colonel replied as he turned around and headed for his office, pulling out some candy from his pocket to eat on the arduous walk across the court yard.
"There is always an old buffoon who looks like German sausage in our staff, why is that Richard?" The Prince turned savior asked, as he took his cape in his hand, turning around to head towards his quarters.
"I don't know, your Majesty, must be the Quadaz' chosen ironic destiny," Richard replied, as his co-worker and him followed the Prince with calculated precision.
The prince smiled, looking back towards the office of the fat Colonel. He didn't watch ahead, as he stared back at the commanding officer of this detention camp. If there were hundreds and thousands of commanding officers like him in all the detention camps in all of the Segan Monarchy, then it meant hundreds and thousands of teenagers were beaten like the one he had seen today. It was a humanitarian disaster which he couldn't speak out against in any way. Not only because he was second in line to the Segan throne, but also because he felt his father was quickly loosing patience with him. He had begun to think that his father was willing to kill him if it meant securing his own power base. He felt his father didn't love him anymore. He wrestled himself free of the thoughts that were jumping through his mind as he approached the doors to his quarters. His royal guardsmen applied the security code to the door as it whooshed open.
The Prince entered the room, taken aback by the pungent smell of fresh blood. He looked around his room, noticing something had changed. The room seemed as if it carried the air of something quite evil had happened here. The Prince hadn't noticed the evil qualities of the room until now, as he watched on his bed the victim which he had seen beaten so cruelly. He nodded for his guards to head to their quarters, as he watched the limp body on his bed. The young teenager had his back to the Prince, laying on his stomach. It would have been too painful to have him lay on his back, as that was where the most physical damage had been inflicted. The Prince counted the number of lash marks that was on the back of the body. He stopped counting at twenty-five, the unbearable idea that this young boy had taken so many lash marks was overwhelming. He walked towards one of the chairs in his room, as he sat upon it observing him.
The Prince observed the young teenager carefully, observing every physical detail he could observe with his eyes. He even imagined what he couldn't see without seeming rudely intrusive to the boy's privacy. He doubted the guards gave him this much respect, but he felt that he had taken a position and would stick by it. He looked, sizing him up in comparison to him. The boy was slightly smaller than him, he probably was no more than one hundred eighty centimeters tall, with a weight of no more than fifty-five kilograms. He was almost anorexically skinny, a sign that he had been badly underfed and heavily overworked. His hands had a delicate quality to them, which had begun to show a bit of roughness to them. While he was skinny, his physical features seemed refined as if he had barely done any work while he was at the Palace. Perhaps, the Prince thought, he had been a servant to some of the young princes and princesses that had been transferred to a separate detention camp. As he observed the features of his face, he seemed innocent and at peace. The Prince realized, he was finding him quite beautiful.
Youri awoke abruptly, finding himself in a strange bedroom. He was horrified, he was in the room of one of his captors, being all readied to become one of their sexual preys. He watched, and saw the strange caped man observing him. As the man stood up, Youri jumped the other way, running towards the doors which wouldn't open. He stared angrily at the caped man, unable to utter a single sound. He responded with animal instincts. The Prince walked carefully towards him. He tried any word he could to calm the teenager, he didn't mean any harm to him and he wasn't a pervert like the others in this camp ground. Youri realized, looking into his icy cold blue eyes that there was nothing to be afraid of this man. He now remembered what had happened in the courtyard, how he had been the only to speak up, to save him from physical harm. The Prince extended a hand to him.
"I'm Alexander," Alexander watched, looking for a response, "What's your name?"
"You--, err... Gerard," Youri had so much wanted to tell him his true name, but he had remembered Edward's words that the family had tried to make him survive.
"Gerard," Alexander smiled sincerely, "I'll make sure nothing happens to you ever again."
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