Take me to the other side...
On a very special anniversary, Brandon and his king sat on a comfortable, velvet lined chaise, overlooking a vast plain and a ground of many altars that had almost been his end.
He smiled at his king from his position lying over his lap, reaching up to brush his hand along smooth, soft porcelain cheeks.
“I love you, Ville.”
The king smiled and placed a kiss to his hand, bringing his own arm up to touch Brandon in a similar way as he shifted him up further on his lap so he was more comfortable.
“I love you, too.”
Brandon was content to remain that way for eternity, so long as his king kept sliding his hands through his hair and gently touching his face, but there was something he needed to know.
“If I may ask, Highness…why did you do it?”
His king’s eyes closed as though in remembrance and when they opened again, shining bright green into Brandon’s own blue, they were very pensive, filled with a depth of thought he knew from few others beyond this man.
“I am not certain, my Brandon. I only know that I will forever thank the gods for my decision on that day.”
Brandon closed his eyes and fought to remember what he could of that day. He had only been a babe, barely having lived two years, but there were snips, snatches of memory that sometimes returned to him when he needed reassurance of his continued life.
“No, please! We are but humble peasants, do not take away our only joy!” A blonde woman screamed as the guards carried her precious infant son to the altar, where the coals were already burning in preparation for the small sacrifice to the gods.
Her husband had followed her up until the actual altar had been in sight, at which point he had turned and returned to his place of work, leaving her alone to plead for the life of their child.
Ville had been in the early stages of childhood, barely more than five years old, the son of the wealthiest king of any land in the universe that existed then.
He had usually found it his place to remain silent by his father’s side while they gave their sacrifices to the gods, able to bear the screams of their families with his face buried in his father’s clothing and his lip clenched so hard between his teeth it had started to bleed afterward, many a time.
That fateful day, he had let himself look up for but a moment, and the sight of the beautiful babe with sweet, shining blue eyes, dark curls, and little fingers and toes that naturally reached out for the guard despite what the man was about to do to him had made Ville sick to his stomach.
He had not been able to restrain a cry, and his father had turned to look at him in question, holding up a hand to stop the sacrifice of the infant as the guard had held the wrapped bundle above the statue of the god it was to be for, above the flaming altar that spit and crackled at the little one’s soft, tanned skin.
“Yes, my son?” His father had asked, kneeling to his level as he had begun to cry, tears falling down his young face and onto his father’s hands where they held his cheeks.
“Please, father, don’t let him die…I will take him as my servant, and I will take care of him…don’t let them kill him!”
The king had been confused. “The gods request a babe must die for their satisfaction, and for the continued prosperity and peace of our people, my son.”
Ville had been ashamed of himself, but unable to restrain the words. “So take another child, please! Do not let that one die, please, I cannot bear it!”
The king had retained his puzzlement, but nevertheless, had motioned the guards to bring the babe to Ville and to seek out another infant for sacrifice because this one would remain untouched so long as Ville wished.
Ville had held the baby tenderly as he had been taught to do with his younger relatives, shushing him as he had started to cry upon seeing the unfamiliar face and gently brushing his curls from his wide, deep blue eyes with careful hands.
The woman, having stopped screaming at the first sign her child would be spared, had stumbled over to a nervous Ville and had clasped his shirt between her slender hands.
“Thank you, sweet boy prince, thank you…I know you will care for him well.” She had bowed to Ville and then to the king before making a teary escape from the sacred grounds where the altars rested.
Ville had gently rocked the infant in his arms and stared at his father with a grateful smile; despite the king’s confusion, he had smiled in response and led his son home to the queen.
Brandon’s lips parted and his king could see the question he was prepared to ask.
“No, my darling, I do not ever regret my decision that day. Though it hurt me deeply to see you beaten when you failed to accomplish the tasks my father set, even then I did not regret saving your life.”
Brandon’s voice died in his throat and he leaned up for a kiss from his king, holding those same smooth, soft cheeks with his tender fingers as he brushed his tongue over the older man’s lips.
In all of the twenty years he owed to his king, Brandon had not ever left Ville’s side, not even when the former king, Ville’s father, on the verge of his death, had threatened to end their relationship with the sacrifice that had been stopped years earlier.
“Brandon, I should tell you…if you were to want to leave, you now would be allowed…”
Brandon quieted the nervous king with his lips and smiled. “I have no desire to ever leave you.”
In short order, Brandon’s clothing littered the flat stone of the room, and Ville’s hands were the preparation for the smooth act their lovemaking had become.
And as they made love, they whispered love, from king to servant and servant to king, through dry desert air.
***
Oh yes. Historical fiction. (*shudder* I have no idea where it came from. I'm usually a huge OPPONENT of anything involving history, mainly because it bores me to tears and sleep.
I love you all! Comments are entertainment in the dreadfully boring world of Statistics!
He smiled at his king from his position lying over his lap, reaching up to brush his hand along smooth, soft porcelain cheeks.
“I love you, Ville.”
The king smiled and placed a kiss to his hand, bringing his own arm up to touch Brandon in a similar way as he shifted him up further on his lap so he was more comfortable.
“I love you, too.”
Brandon was content to remain that way for eternity, so long as his king kept sliding his hands through his hair and gently touching his face, but there was something he needed to know.
“If I may ask, Highness…why did you do it?”
His king’s eyes closed as though in remembrance and when they opened again, shining bright green into Brandon’s own blue, they were very pensive, filled with a depth of thought he knew from few others beyond this man.
“I am not certain, my Brandon. I only know that I will forever thank the gods for my decision on that day.”
Brandon closed his eyes and fought to remember what he could of that day. He had only been a babe, barely having lived two years, but there were snips, snatches of memory that sometimes returned to him when he needed reassurance of his continued life.
“No, please! We are but humble peasants, do not take away our only joy!” A blonde woman screamed as the guards carried her precious infant son to the altar, where the coals were already burning in preparation for the small sacrifice to the gods.
Her husband had followed her up until the actual altar had been in sight, at which point he had turned and returned to his place of work, leaving her alone to plead for the life of their child.
Ville had been in the early stages of childhood, barely more than five years old, the son of the wealthiest king of any land in the universe that existed then.
He had usually found it his place to remain silent by his father’s side while they gave their sacrifices to the gods, able to bear the screams of their families with his face buried in his father’s clothing and his lip clenched so hard between his teeth it had started to bleed afterward, many a time.
That fateful day, he had let himself look up for but a moment, and the sight of the beautiful babe with sweet, shining blue eyes, dark curls, and little fingers and toes that naturally reached out for the guard despite what the man was about to do to him had made Ville sick to his stomach.
He had not been able to restrain a cry, and his father had turned to look at him in question, holding up a hand to stop the sacrifice of the infant as the guard had held the wrapped bundle above the statue of the god it was to be for, above the flaming altar that spit and crackled at the little one’s soft, tanned skin.
“Yes, my son?” His father had asked, kneeling to his level as he had begun to cry, tears falling down his young face and onto his father’s hands where they held his cheeks.
“Please, father, don’t let him die…I will take him as my servant, and I will take care of him…don’t let them kill him!”
The king had been confused. “The gods request a babe must die for their satisfaction, and for the continued prosperity and peace of our people, my son.”
Ville had been ashamed of himself, but unable to restrain the words. “So take another child, please! Do not let that one die, please, I cannot bear it!”
The king had retained his puzzlement, but nevertheless, had motioned the guards to bring the babe to Ville and to seek out another infant for sacrifice because this one would remain untouched so long as Ville wished.
Ville had held the baby tenderly as he had been taught to do with his younger relatives, shushing him as he had started to cry upon seeing the unfamiliar face and gently brushing his curls from his wide, deep blue eyes with careful hands.
The woman, having stopped screaming at the first sign her child would be spared, had stumbled over to a nervous Ville and had clasped his shirt between her slender hands.
“Thank you, sweet boy prince, thank you…I know you will care for him well.” She had bowed to Ville and then to the king before making a teary escape from the sacred grounds where the altars rested.
Ville had gently rocked the infant in his arms and stared at his father with a grateful smile; despite the king’s confusion, he had smiled in response and led his son home to the queen.
Brandon’s lips parted and his king could see the question he was prepared to ask.
“No, my darling, I do not ever regret my decision that day. Though it hurt me deeply to see you beaten when you failed to accomplish the tasks my father set, even then I did not regret saving your life.”
Brandon’s voice died in his throat and he leaned up for a kiss from his king, holding those same smooth, soft cheeks with his tender fingers as he brushed his tongue over the older man’s lips.
In all of the twenty years he owed to his king, Brandon had not ever left Ville’s side, not even when the former king, Ville’s father, on the verge of his death, had threatened to end their relationship with the sacrifice that had been stopped years earlier.
“Brandon, I should tell you…if you were to want to leave, you now would be allowed…”
Brandon quieted the nervous king with his lips and smiled. “I have no desire to ever leave you.”
In short order, Brandon’s clothing littered the flat stone of the room, and Ville’s hands were the preparation for the smooth act their lovemaking had become.
And as they made love, they whispered love, from king to servant and servant to king, through dry desert air.
***
Oh yes. Historical fiction. (*shudder* I have no idea where it came from. I'm usually a huge OPPONENT of anything involving history, mainly because it bores me to tears and sleep.
I love you all! Comments are entertainment in the dreadfully boring world of Statistics!